#why mix part 2 and stands???? cause life is too short to care too much about making this anything other than self indulgent
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they met over a chess match !!
#yes this is my self insert oc ill post more abt her some other time but yeah silly little self shipping teehee#why mix part 2 and stands???? cause life is too short to care too much about making this anything other than self indulgent#my au that takes place 5 years after the events of battle tendency (so joseph dresses like in arakis new style) and is just rly dumb n sill#the stand is Ace Of Spades btw#im in the process of making a yumeship sideblog as well so i can be annoying on there properly but ill still post actual art on here#joseph joestar#jojo fanart#jojos bizarre adventure#jojo part 2#jjba fanart#jjba part 2#battle tendency#digital art#jjba#fanart#jojo no kimyou na bouken#jojo's bizarre adventure#yumeship#yumeshipping#selfshipping#self ship#self shipping#oc x canon#canon x oc#adora dodie#josado#not a single comment about how ugly the chess pieces are i am aware and i was conciously lazy (dani has already bullied me about this)
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Prima Vista Part I
Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.7k Warnings: dubious consent (because of alcohol), just copious amounts of sex, oral, squirting, 69ing, college shenanigans, obnoxious frat boys, terrible fashion choices A/N: At long last, here we have the beginning. Massive thanks to @pleasantanathema and @whats-her-quirkâ who have been cheering for me since I told them I wanted to right a âlittle college AUâ for a âlittle collabâ June and I have been planning for a while. Also, I donât know where Iâd be without Laurenâs fraternity knowledge, so extra thanks for that, babe. I hope everyone has as much fun with this fic as I did.
God, you hate frat boys.Â
Their sense of entitlement, all their fucking house pride. Brother this, brother that. It's annoying. Add in the factors of being an athlete on top of it, and they're downright insufferable.Â
So it makes absolutely no sense that you're at a fucking Pi Kappa Alpha party.Â
Your friend, Hitch, dragged you here (naturally), and it wasn't like you could really object considering she's the only real friend you have on campus. You study together and switch off between dorms to watch movies and bitch about classes. She's the complete opposite of you in many different ways, but you soul-bonded over biology and that was that.Â
Unfortunately, Hitch decided she would leave you to your own devices almost immediately, opting to skip over to a game of beer pong and flirt with a boy in her statistics class. You have no idea why considering he has a fucking bowl cut, but she's been talking about him for weeks now.Â
The party is filled with loud music and too many people with red solo cups. There's no way they're all of age, so you're already paranoid that the cops are gonna raid the place, but there's nothing you can do besides leave. It's a tempting thought.Â
Before you can, though, there's an uproar in the kitchen, and curiosity gets the best of you. Moving from your place against the wall, you make your way over to peek in and see what's going on. A large group of frat boys, what you think are sorority girls, and whoever else wants to join are raising their cups to cheer. An especially loud voice rings out above the rest, "One win down, eleven more to go!"Â
Claps and supportive shouts are nearly deafening.Â
"I think we can do it! Do you think we can do it?"Â
More cheers, more hollers.Â
"Let's hear it for UC lacrosse!"Â
You have to cover your ears this time. Should have known this party was to celebrate the win earlier that day.Â
When the crowd parts, you see the ringleader, Erwin Smith who is very well-known on campus for three reasons: he will talk your ear off about history if given the chance, he's irritatingly gorgeous, and he will fuck any pretty girl with a pulse.Â
Againâyou fucking hate frat boys.Â
To ease your bad mood and possibly encourage you to have some semblance of a good time, you shuffle further into the kitchen to grab a drink. You feel a little exposed, not dressed like many of the other girls who are either in rompers or the classic sorority chick outfit (giant college shirts that cover their shorts). You are in a crop top, torn shorts, and a floral cardigan. Not your best outfit, not your worst.Â
There's no way you're touching any of the pre-poured cups or the jungle juice, opting for an unopened can of mediocre beer.Â
You feel someone approach you from behind, glance over your shoulder to see nothing but a broad chest covered by a fucking hawaiian shirt.Â
Craning your neck, you're met with another familiar face, one Mike Zacharias known as 1) Erwin's best friend, 2) one of the tallest guys on campus, and 3) the best lacrosse player on the team.Â
You haven't spoken a single word to him but that doesn't stop him from grinning at you, flipping shaggy hair from his face, and chanting a low, "Shotgun, shotgun, shotgun!"Â
"Are you god damn joking me?" You ask with a raised eyebrow.Â
"Hell no!"Â
"I have shotgunned a beer literally once in my life, and at least half of it ended up on my shirt."
"That's alright," Mike's smile shrinks to a smirk. "We're all about getting chicks wet in Pike."Â
Face falling, you scoff, "Yeah, okay, I'm leaving."Â
You sidestep him, cracking open the beer, but he follows close behind you. It makes a little bit of fear spike in your gutâeveryone knows the horror stories that accompany many fraternitiesâbut you're mostly just annoyed.Â
"Hey, what's your name again?"
Again. As if you've actually formally met before.
"Why do you care?"Â
Mike does not hesitate when he answers, "'Cause you look like you're having a shit time here, and I'd like to change that."
You roll your eyes, let your head loll over your shoulder to look at him again. If you're being honest with yourself, he's kind of extremely hot with his undercut and flippy hair, not to mention the stubble that's grown out just enough to make you think thoughts for a split second. Â
"A noble cause," you quip. "Truly."Â
He chuckles, watching too closely as you take a sip of your beer.Â
"So? Name?"
After too big of a swallow, you answer him, and light green eyes brighten a little.Â
"Oh, you're Hitch's friend, right?"Â
Of course that would be your only identifier on campus. Hitch is insanely pretty and very outgoing. It makes sense that people just know you as her tag-along.Â
It doesn't stop you from feeling slightly offended, though.Â
"Yeah, and you're Erwin's friend, right?"Â
"Among other things," he snorts. "Mike Zacharias." He holds out a massive hand that you eye before taking, figure you shouldn't be too much of a bitch and make a bad impression on the most highly regarded frat at the college. Â
"I know who you are, dude. Not many people don't."
"Aw, flatterer."Â
That grin is back on his face, lopsided and far too charming, and you definitely need to get away from him before you down a couple more beers.Â
"Freshman?" He pries, and somehow you wind up at the staircase, leaning against the wall and praying he'll just stand beside you instead of caging you in.Â
He does, and you let out a breath of relief.Â
"Sophomore."
His eyebrows shoot up for a second. "Fuck, you've made it through a whole year flying under my radar?"Â
You give him a wholly unimpressed look. "Wow, you really know what to say to a girl, don't you?"Â
"That came off as shitty, sorry. I just mean, like, you're super cute. Feel like I would have committed you to memory if I'd seen you."
Your face heats up probably more than it ever has in your life, but you still snap, "We haven't had a single class together, I never go to your games, and this is the first Pike party I've been to."
Mike nods. "Ah, that explains it. Just haven't given anyone a chance to notice you."Â
"Sure, let's go with that."
Another several sips. You hiss at the taste, and Mike laughs.Â
"Can't handle beer?"
"Can't handle shitty beer."
"Ouch. Want me to grab you something else?"
He really doesn't seem to understand the warnings all girls have heard over the years. That, or he just doesn't care. You don't know him well enough to pass that kind of judgement.
"Uh, no. I always make my own drinks at parties."
"That's understandable." Except it isn't. He doesn't have a clue.Â
"Well, you can go grab one, and I'll just finish this one for you. Don't want it to go to waste."
It's your turn to smirk now. "That desperate to swap spit, Zacharias?"Â
"Like this?" He laughs through his nose. "Nah. But I can think of other ways."
"We've been talking for literally two minutes."
"I'm perfectly capable of making decisions in two minutes."
"Not any good ones obviously."
Tilting his head, Mike thinks out loud, "Can't tell if that's an insult aimed at me or yourself."Â
"Take it however you want. I don't really care."
His eyes glint with amusement. There's no way you're escaping this any time soon.Â
Long, thick fingers close around the top of your can, and he gently tugs it out of your hand then keeps those eyes locked with yours as he takes a sip.Â
"Gross." You try to keep the teasing tone from your voice.Â
"Just go get another drink."
You actually listen, mostly to get away from him but also because you could go for something easier to stomach.Â
A game of King's Cup is going on in the kitchen, a five obviously being drawn because everyone suddenly pantomimes holding a steering wheel. It's surprisingly fun to watch, so you post up next to the counter after mixing orange and pineapple juice with rum.Â
"Four's whores!"
"Categories! Different beers!"
"Seven heaven!"Â
"Ayyy, waterfall!"Â
You shake your head as everyone drinks for way too long. Some people are already swaying in circles where they're sitting. Others are simply red-faced.Â
"Wanna play?"
"Jesus! You came outta nowhere."
Mike looks too smug for your liking, but doesn't say anything, just crushes the empty can in his hand and throws it into the trashcan next to the back door, all gooseneck and perfect arch.Â
"Let me guessâyou're reigning champ at beer pong."
"Nah," he waves you off. "That's Erwin and Nile. King's Cup howeverâŠ"
"King's Cup isn't even a competition. It's just flipping cards and getting fucked up."Â
"Well, yeah, but it's still fun."
You let out a heavy sigh, eyes still trained on the game going on, then concede, "Once this one is over, I'll play. Just to get you off my back." And because he won't have the chance to talk to you for the duration of the game.Â
"Excellent."
You manage to finish your drink by the time the round ends, have to rush to make another as Mike strides over to the table and steals the two seats that have been vacated. They're right across from each other. You don't know if you'd prefer that or just sitting next to him so he can't stare at you.
Sauntering over, you plop down and place your drink in front of you. The guy to your right is quick to introduce himself with hooded eyes and a self-assured smile. You give him basically the same treatment that you've been giving Mike, making him pout and turn away as a freckled girl deals out the cards.Â
It's fast paced, and you find yourself drinking more than you'd planned. Mike picks you as his buddy (of course), and the guy next to you makes everyone drink for nearly thirty seconds straight when he pulls an ace.Â
Still, you find yourself laughing as people scream and curse. You catch eyes with Mike often, and as you finish your second drink, he begins looking very attractive. More attractive than before. So attractive that you allow him to pour your third cup.Â
"If you roofied this, I'm gonna be real upset with you," you tell him just before taking a sip. He added more rum than you did, but that doesn't surprise you.Â
"Hey, one of Pike's virtues is being a gentleman."
As soon as he says it, about seven people around the table shout, "Pi Kappa Alpha!" like some kind of sports team, and you roll your eyes so hard it hurts.Â
You're drunk after this game. And, then you make another drink and get plastered. Meandering around the rest of the party, bodies begin to blur together, the music fades in and out, and you barely know what you're saying to Mike anymore as he follows you close behind in the same state. For every drink you've had, he's had two, and now he's walking around with a cup full of jungle juice nodding at his brothers, smiling at all the girls who look at him.
His room is downstairs unlike most of the others, right at the end of the hallway. It makes it far too easy to end up inside, but as soon as the door closes and his huge hands find your hips, your world disappears entirely.Â
*
The first thing you feel when you wake up is a nauseating pounding in your head. The second is a very large body behind you.Â
God dammit, you think, trying to recall the events of the night before.Â
Pi Kappa Alpha. Hitch left you, so you hung out with⊠Mike Zacharias? From the lacrosse team?Â
Frowning, you try to look over your shoulder, but all you can really see is a head of hair. However, you can feel the coarseness of his beard against your bare shoulder, and that's enough to solidify that it is indeed Mike behind you.Â
Shifting some brings more of your physical state to your attentionâyour naked chest under the blanket, the way your legs are pressed together, your pussy between your thighs⊠swollen? Jesus, what did he do to you last night? You can also feel something dry and crusty on your stomach which is both disgusting and relieving. At least he had enough sense to pull out.Â
Luckily, his arm isn't wrapped around you which makes it much easier to sit up on your elbow. It takes you a while to locate your clothes around the room from where you are, and even then, all you can find are your shorts, shoes, and bra. You peer around, trying not to groan at the headache threatening to make you black the fuck out all over again, but that pounding as well as the nauseating churning of your stomach is making it difficult.Â
You slide out of the bed, basically crawling to the little pile of discarded clothes. As you fumble with fastening your bra, you glance around one more time in search of your shirt and cardigan, but itâs no use. What you do see, however, is the obnoxious Hawaiian shirt Mike had been wearing the night before, and well⊠Youâd rather not leave the Pike house topless, soâŠ
Snatching it off the floor, you slip your arms through the giant sleeves and somehow manage to button up about half of it. Then, youâre flying out the door, desperate to be in your own dorm, curled over your own toilet, in your own clothes.Â
Oh, thank god his room wasnât upstairs, you praise, trying to remember the way to the front door. There are numerous bodies and tipped over cups to navigate through, and you cringe at the various odors that assault your senses.Â
You see the door from across the room, so close and getting closer as you try not to trip over anything, but as you pass the kitchen, you hear a smooth, familiar voice greet, âGood morning,â in a smug way.Â
Erwin is leaning against a counter, smirking over a steaming cup of coffee. Heâs wearing only sweatpants, his hair is a little mussed, and for a split second, you understand why he pulls so many girls.Â
Still, you roll your eyes and continue movingâa classic DNE situation, but the frat boy doesnât seem to get the message, instead calling out, âNice shirt!â
âFuck off, Smith,â is the only thing you utter before leaving, slamming the door behind you.Â
*
Mike easily catches the frisbee that spins directly at his face then quickly throws it back to try and catch Nile off guard. It works, and the brunet curses and has to go running after the flying disc.Â
A few girls watching from the nearby fountain clap and yell his name, wriggling fingers in a wave as if he can actually see that far away. Mike gives one wave of his own hand then turns back to the grass where Nile is jogging back to his place.
âYou did that on purpose, you asshole!â He spits.
Mike shrugs his shoulders, yells back, âGet better at frisbee, and you wonât have this problem!â
Nile throws the plastic so hard that it flies off toward the fountain, making all those girls scream and dive for cover.Â
âYeah, Iâm not getting that,â Mike shakes his head. Nile drags his fingers down his angular face before setting off on yet another trek, apologizing profusely then standing around to flirt like usual.
Blowing hair out of his face, Mike considers joining his brother, but before he can, he sees a familiar figure turning on the sidewalk, about to pass the fountain and head toward Hartley Hall.Â
His feet are moving before he really registers it, glad his long legs can carry him quickly even at a walk. Mike calls out when heâs a couple yards away, and you turn to him, eyes growing wide before you start to move faster.Â
He can just barely make out the words, âNope. Not doing this,â and chuckles, catching up the rest of the way.
âHey, chill, I just wanna talk.â
You turn to look at him, head tilted up, squinting against the sun, and Mike has never been more thankful for his height because you look so god damn cute all small and irritated with him.Â
âWhat is there to talk about? I donât even remember anything.â
âYeah, neither do I,â he says, lacing fingers together behind his head. âShame.â
âWhatever.â
Mike tries and fails to hide a snort, nods at Nile as you both pass him and the gaggle of girls surrounding him. Mike has no doubt his friend will get at least one phone number out of it, if not all of them.Â
âDid you at least have a good time before you blacked out?â He ventures.
You shrug your shoulders, hitch your backpack up a little higher. âMaybe. But, if I was just around you the whole time, probably not.â
âAw, come on! What did I ever do to you?â
âYou need a list?â
Mike nods. âWould probably help.â
âFor brevity's sake, Iâll just say that you started the night trying to get a literal stranger to shotgun a beer and ended the night fucking said stranger and⊠Not holding back, apparently.â Mike frowns, about to ask what you mean by that, but you elaborate before he can. Voice dropping, you question, âDo you have any idea how fucking sore Iâve been for the last few days? What the fuck do you even have hidden in those stupid shorts?â
âIâd be happy to show you again.â He grins sideways, and when you shoot him a venomous look, he figures itâs time to change the subject. âAnyway, I may have done that and more, but youâre the thief.â
âExcuse me?â
Mike tries to sound nonchalant as he accuses, âStole my shirt and everything." Honestly, he's a little upset that he didnât actually get to see you wearing it.Â
âIââ
âThatâs my favorite shirt, you know?â
You laugh. Finally. âAre you serious?â
âAbsolutely.â
âThat shirt is fucking heinous, okay? Youâre lucky I didnât burn it.â
âDoes that mean I can have it back?â
You make a little noise in your throat, something between a grumble and a growl, but you check your phone and tell him, âFine. My next class isnât for another couple of hours, so justâŠFollow me.â
It takes immense effort to not skip to your dorm like a little kid, but Mike is excited. Heâs not gonna try anything weird, but just seeing your space? Heâll be able to get a better feel for you. So far, all he knows is that you live and breathe sarcasm and canât handle your liquor well. Itâs enough to get him a little more than interested, but itâs not enough to go off of.
The two of you gain a few looks as you make your way through the shared study space of the dormitory, heads turning, eyebrows raising in recognition. No one should be all that surprised; itâs not like Mike and Erwin havenât frequented a lot of these rooms.Â
You lead him down a hallway, and Mike looks at all the little dry-erase intro boards hanging outside of every door. Heâs a little surprised to see that the one by yours isnât blank. Your name is written in bubble letters, surrounded by little hearts, and when you catch him looking at it, youâre quick to tell him, âHitch.â
âAh. Of course.â
He follows you inside, staying by the door to not invade too much of your space, but he doesnât even try to be subtle as he looks around the small room. Pennant for the college hung up over a cork bulletin board thatâs a mess of photos and sticky notes. Cluttered desk with just enough of it cleared to fit a laptop. Tiny succulents on the window sill. Double bed covered in a quilt. And there, in the open closet, Mike catches sight of his shirtâpastel pink and littered with palm trees.Â
After dropping your backpack on your bed, you step over to the hanging clothes and grab it, muttering, âRidiculous,â as you hand it over.
Mike laughs as he slings it over his shoulder. âYou know whatâll make you hate it even more?â You quirk an eyebrow, probably doubting that anything could, but your entire face falls when he informs you, âI have matching shorts to go with it.â
âNo you do not.â
âDefinitely do.â
âThat should be a crime. You should be arrested.â
He chuckles, has a retort on the tip of his tongue, but something catches his eyeâa bookshelf tucked away in the corner by your bed overflowing with novels and knick-knacks. Mike sees a particularly thick paperback, recognizing the black background and small desert picture on the spine.
âBro!â He walks over, plants a hand in the middle of your mattress, and reaches for it. âIs this fucking Dune?â
âUh, yeah?â
âThis is, like, my favorite book, dude.â
âSeriously?â You sound just as disbelieving as you do disinterested.Â
Mike begins flipping through it, scanning over highlighted passages as he nods. âI have the whole series back home, but I only brought this one and Messiah with me to college.â
He straightens up but keeps a knee on the edge of the bed, and you plop down to sit on it, watching him closely as he continues to look over the notes scribbled in the margins.Â
âI had to read it in high school," you tell him. "Then my cousin gave me a lot of the books after I talked with him about it one time. I havenât gotten around to reading them, though.â
âYou really should,â Mike urges. âI mean, I know you probably have a shit ton of reading for classes, but if you ever get the chance, you should at least read the next two.â
âYou some kind of closet nerd, Zacharias?â
âKinda,â he admits, putting the book back on the shelf only to grab a worn copy of Fellowship of the Ring. âI mean, Erwin and a few others are well aware, but I donât really broadcast it.â
âNot good for the cool guy image?âÂ
âNah, people are just more interested in other things,â he mumbles, eyes fixed on the tiny print.
âMike Zacharias,â his gaze flicks to you as you laugh quietly. âLacrosse god and big fucking geek.â
He closes the book and uses it to lightly hit you on the top of the head with it. You half-heartedly smack him right in his abs only to push against the muscle harder and ask, âJesus Christ, what do you have under there?â
âYou know, thatâs the second time youâve asked what I have under my clothes,â he points out, a little too satisfied. âBetter watch out, or Iâm gonna start getting ideas.â
You huff, but your hand is definitely still on his stomach, unmoving but warm through his shirt. Mike told himself he wouldnât do anything weird once he got here, but youâre already on the bed and touching him, and heâd kind of really like to have this particular experience while sober, so he very slowly takes your wrist and moves it away.Â
It makes you look up at him, a question dancing in your eyes as your lips part. Mike makes sure his own stare conveys everything heâs thinking, wishes he could just transplant his thoughts into your brain so that he can put you a little more at ease around him.Â
Youâre onto him, though, tugging your hand from his grip and blinking a few times. He figures youâre about to point to the door and tell him to take his fucking Hawaiian shirt and leave.Â
Instead, you pull on the fabric covering his ribs so that he loses his balance and has to catch himself before crashing into you. It puts his face level with yours, and you take the opportunity to kiss himâhard, desperate, and a little confused judging by the way youâre frowning.Â
Mike grunts, holding himself up with the arm on the side of your hips then uses the other to slide under the thigh closest to him and pull you further onto the bed. Heâs straddling you in no time, up on his knees so that he doesnât crush you.Â
Hearing the sound of shoes hitting the ground, he tugs his shirt off over his head, and then heâs curling over you again. Your mouths grow slick with spit. He slides his tongue past your lips, and you arch into him, fingers tangling in his hair. Mike pushes you back down so that he can strip you down to your bra and panties then takes the time to rid himself of his shoes and shorts.
âOh, fuck,â he hears you breathe, and when he glances up at you, he finds you staring at what he knows is an intimidatingly large bulge under his boxer briefs. âIt makes sense nowâthe soreness.â
Mike chuckles, slots his forearms on either side of your head and mutters, âYeah, sorry about that.â
You lick his lips and he bites yours, bodies clashing together as he grinds himself against your covered pussy. Eventually Mike is able to snake a hand down your body, making sure to brush over your ribs so that you squirm beneath him. Fuck, he already loves the way you squirm. And, when he moves your panties to the side and teases your little hole, already wet just from making out, Mike discovers that he loves the way you moan too.Â
Heâs slow as he pushes a finger in, groaning when you clench around it. Pumping it in and out, he gently works you open and wonders if he was courteous enough to do this the other night. He hopes he was.Â
You spread your legs for him, start bucking into his hand, especially when he hits that special spot inside you.Â
âFuck, fuck, fuââ You grab his face, bringing it close to yours again so that you can muffle curses against his lips.Â
When Mike adds a second finger, your jaw drops, and you start to tremble.Â
âToo much?â He asks.
You shake your head, stutter a breathy, âN-no. Justâahâslow. Go slow.â
He moves to suck on your neck, promising, âI will.â
Mike waits until youâre dripping into his palm and spread about as widely as you can be underneath him. Then, and only then does he shimmy out of his underwear and question, âCondom?â
âBookshelf,â you huff. âIn the jewelry box.â
When he opens it, a little ballerina spins, and Mike has to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. âThatâs twisted.â
âShut up.â
He grabs one of the gold packages and tears it open, then rolls the latex over his cock and discards the wrapper somewhere.Â
Mike only gives you his tip first, sits right inside your entrance so that you can squeeze him and get used to the feeling before he pushes in any more. You barely shift your hips back and forth, like an experiment. Itâs just enough for Mike to see slick coating the end of the condom, and he nearly starts drooling.
He presses in a little more, appreciates the way your eyes roll into the back of your head, then adds one more inch.
âJesus Christ.â Your breaths are coming in short gasps, words slurring together. Heâs not even halfway in, and youâre already fucked out.Â
Your cunt is spasming around him, and Mike tries to get you to relax more by lightly rubbing your clit with the pad of his thumb.Â
You leak around him, pussy slowly but surely opening up a little more so that he can slide in further. He gives a few shallow thrusts that make you whine, then reaches up to grab one of your pillows which only sends him deeper.Â
âGod damââ
Mike lifts you and shoves the pillow under your hips, smiles in a way heâs pretty sure you hate, then jokes, âBetter to fuck you with, my dear.â
âIn...sufferableâŠâ The annoyed tone is lost when you cry out. Mike buries himself as far as he can without hurting you. He isnât quite balls deep, but you feel so fucking good that he doesnât even mind.Â
Starting a steady rhythm that has every upthrust dragging over your g-spot, Mike watches through foggy eyes as your mouth opens and closes, chest rising with stuttering breaths before you exhale and moan. He dips his thumb between your folds to gather a little bit of slick and return it to your clit. The circular motion makes you arch again, and Mike abandons the little bud for just a moment so that he can unclasp your bra and pull it off. The sight of your tits bouncing in time with his thrusts almost does him in, but he holds back, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to gather himself.
Youâre just clamping around him so perfectly, pussy drooling and creaming on his cock, and Mike is not a quickshot, but for youâ
He pulls out all at once, flips you so that youâre on hands and knees, then spreads you open to lick into you from behind.Â
âHolyââÂ
Mikeâs cock is throbbing where it bobs against his stomach, but he can ignore it for the most part, focused on eating you out, sucking at your messy lips then dragging the flat of his tongue over your hole. He moves his face back and forth, wants to leave his mark on you in the form of stubble burn between your legs.Â
âMike, Mike, fuck, please.â
Heâs positive you canât actually hear him when he teases, âPlease what?â right into the crevice of your ass.Â
You growl, push against him, and swallow enough pride to beg, âPlease fuck me.â
Biting his lip, Mike straightens up enough to watch his fingers disappear into your pussy. One, two, then a third that makes your messy entrance stretch for him. He lowers his face again, feather light licks around your sensitive hole, and when he twists his wrist so that he can tap on your spot, you come immediately.Â
A mixture of slick and squirt drips from your cunt and soaks into your quilt. Mike pushes more out as he continues to finger fuck you, humming at the way your arms give out and you fall against the mattress.Â
This is the perfect position for him. He replaces his wet fingers with his cock and ruts into you quickly, chasing after his own impending orgasm. Pretty little whimpers fall from your lips, fuck drunk as you babble, âOh, god, Mike, Mike, fuckâŠâ
Heâs gripping your hips too tightly, pulling you back against him, shoving his cock deeper and deeper until he finally comes with a shudder and a low groan.Â
Mike pants for a few seconds, then leans down to press a few kisses to your spine, but instead of the usual happy sighs he gets from most girls, you just roll your shoulders and mutter, âStop that.â
He does, then pulls out, takes a second to stare at your pussyâworked open from his size and still dripping. It would make a very pretty picture, but Mike wouldnât dare try that with you.Â
You roll onto your back, a huff of air leaving your lungs as you scrub a hand over your face then tilt your head to him. It looks like you have something to say, but you just chew on your bottom lip, eyes moving from Mike to the door.
And, he can take a hint. You donât have to say it.Â
With a self-deprecating snort, he pulls the condom off, tying it then tossing it into the trashcan by your bed.Â
âYeah, okay,â he nods. âLet me justâŠâ Mike tugs his clothes back on, kindly tosses you your top so that you can cover yourself like you obviously want to.Â
He makes sure to grab the Hawaiian shirt that brought him here in the first place, tossing it over his shoulder then striding to the door.Â
Chancing one more glance at you, you force a smile and try to pad his bruised ego. âDonât worry, it was good. You were good. Itâs just not gonna happen again.â
Mike fights a smirk, raises a hand in a wave, then steps out.
Not gonna happen again, he chuckles to himself. Yeah, right.
*
You don't understand how this keeps happening, how you keep ending up in bed with Mike fucking Zacharias.Â
This time you had gone to the disgusting bar right off campus, got one whole drink in your system before the familiar trio walked in. They were all in khakis and pastelsâErwin in blue, Nile in yellow, Mike in pink. Again.Â
You actually slammed your head down on the bartop because despite how basic he looked in his light polo, Mike was still hot.Â
Is still hot.Â
Back at the Pi Kappa Alpha house, you're a mess of limbs on his bed. You take immense pleasure in tugging his shirt off, and once his arms are free again, he's lifting the hem of your little skirt and mouthing over your thong.Â
You're more than tipsy after a couple more drinks but nowhere near as drunk as you were the first night. It hadn't taken much convincing from Erwin for you and Hitch to play pool with them, and when Mike had come up behind you to help you line up your shot, you knew you were a goner.Â
While he's busy between your legs, you take off your shirt and bra. Green eyes flick up as soon as you toss both articles on to the floor, and without any hesitation, Mike reaches up to grope your tits.Â
He's clumsy and distracted as he tongues over the warmth pooling in your underwear, squeezing plump flesh and pinching your nipple so that you whine and push your hips further into his face.Â
Mike groans, just as drunk if not more so. He's messy as he kisses your thighs, nearly rips your thong when he pulls it off of you.Â
His tongue feels good, too fucking good as he laves over your entrance, soothing an ache that isn't quite there anymore but definitely was a few days ago.Â
"Taste so fucking good," he grumbles, slurping and sucking and making you squeeze your thighs around his head.Â
"Okay," you pant. "Okay, okay." You grab him by the hair and lift his head from you, stomach flipping at the sight of the bottom half of his face absolutely covered in slick.Â
God dammit, why is he so sexy?Â
Your mouth waters, and the thought of possibly giving him head this time crosses your mind. You're just inebriated enough to stay relaxed, didn't drink to the point of throwing up, and he has gone down on you the last two times so...Â
Lizard brain taking over, you sit up, tell him to flip over, then start making your way down his body.Â
Mike grabs you before you can turn to face him, fingers digging into your thighs and pulling you down to sit on his face.Â
"FuckingâI'm trying to blow you, for Christ's sake."
He moves his head just enough to tell you, "So? You can do that while I do this."
And, he's not wrong. It just means that you're gonna get distracted.Â
For a while, all you can really do is control your breathing and undulate on top of him, but eventually you fall to your elbows and lick up his shaft from base to tip.Â
Mike really does have a nice cockâa beautiful cockâbigger than you've ever taken in terms of both length and girth, and veiny in the perfect way. Even his balls make your pussy throb, large and round, the right just slightly bigger than the left and now dripping with saliva as you lower your mouth further and further onto his cock.Â
The feeling of his tongue buried in your cunt is making you delirious, eyes rolling, muscles going slack as you gurgle around the tip hitting the back of your throat.Â
Mike groans into you, his legs starting to shake, and you assume in your half aware state that he's trying to not just skull fuck you into oblivion.Â
You know you're making a mess, both on his face and on his cock. The fingertips that have been holding you open shift, one of them slipping into your clenching hole, and your hips begin to move on their own volition, riding what he'll give you while moving your tongue back and forth.Â
You've only taken about half of him, doubt you can take any more. He's hot and heavy in your mouth, and when you pull off to breathe, you can taste pre cum on the back of your tongue.Â
It triggers something in you, makes you raise up and clumsily turn around so that you can work him inside of you.Â
Mike groans a long, "Fuuuck," and immediately starts thrusting upward.Â
You're lucky you're as wet as you are, but the burn that comes with getting so stretched out still makes you hiss. You brace yourself on his broad chest, feeling the dampness of sweat forming a sheen on him, and your own body starts to feel too hot.Â
You had wanted to ride him to feel in control of the situation for once, but you quickly realize it's not gonna happen, Mike gripping your hips and moving you how he sees fit.Â
He's raw this time, a thought that should scare you, but he feels so good even through the discomfort. Every vein and ridge hits all the sweet spots inside of you, the flared head of his cock smooth as it presses just where you need it to.Â
You're squirting againâhe just seems to be able to fuck it out of you. It's not the high you're looking for, but the release in pressure still feels divine.Â
Mike seems to enjoy it too because he looks down at where you're connected, swears at the way you gush on his cock, then starts swiping fingers over your clit so quickly it almost hurts.Â
More fluid leaks from you, and Mike breathes a low, "Come on, baby, come on, 'm gonna fuck you dry tonight."Â
Hearing him talk like thatâhis hand rubbing over your overstimulated clit, his thick cock threatening to split you in twoâcauses heat to travel up your legs and down your arms until it settles in your stomach and floods you.Â
You cry out, stars and tears behind your eyes as Mike keeps going, taking everything he can from you until he's laying in a huge wet spot in his bed.Â
He lifts you just in time to shoot cum upward on your chest, white splattering then dripping down in strands to pool on his stomach.Â
You stare down at him, mouth hanging open and find him looking up at you with the same expression.Â
It's hands down the best sex you've ever had, but you're not about to tell him that. Instead, you dismount him like the fucking horse he is and stand on weak legs, actually have to lean on the bed for support.Â
"Just stay the night." His voice is deep and full of gravel. It's entirely too hot.Â
"Absolutely not." You shake your head, grab your shirt and his boxers then ask, "Where's the nearest bathroom?"Â
"Down the hall on the right, but you don't have to sneak out the window or anything. Just use the front door if you're tryinâ to run away."
You can't help but snort. Stupid. "I'm not trying to escape, dummy. I just need to pee."Â
"Oh. Right."
You slip out of the room, hoping it's late enough for everyone to be asleep, but you have no such luck as the door to the bathroom opens and fucking Erwin steps out.Â
He hums, looking you over for a moment as his lips lift on one side.Â
"Don't say anything," you grit through your teeth.Â
He holds his hands up in surrender, chuckles, acting all innocent. "Wasn't going to."
You squint, not believing him for a second, then move around him to get to the bathroom. Before you can shut the door, you hear him mutter, "Another one bites the dust," and consider running out and strangling him.
*
"Please please please come with me to this game," Hitch begs, her hands clasped together, imploring eyes wide and doe-like.Â
"No. You have plenty of other friends to go with. You don't need me there."
"But, I want you to be there. It's gonna be such a good match. Rival schools and all that."
You roll your eyes. "Hitch, in all the time you've known me, have you ever seen me give a single fuck about sports?"Â
"No, but you'll finally get to see Mike and Erwin and Nile play."
"All the more reason not to go."
"Do you not like them or something? Why wouldn't you like them? Everybody likes them!"Â
She doesn't know, and you don't want her to. She had been too caught up with that Marlowe kid at the party, then was kept busy playing pool with Nile to see you and Mike slip out of the bar together.Â
It's the only secret you've ever wanted to keep from her. You will take it to the grave.Â
"I just⊠I just don't, okay? I get a⊠Sleazy vibe from all of them."
You really don't. Not exactly. You're not a big fan of the 'fuck-every-chick-on-capus' mentality, but most college boys think like that. Only difference is these three can actually achieve it.Â
Hitch crosses her arms over her chest and gives you a look you've seen on your mother's face many times, usually when she has a point to prove.Â
"You know I'm just gonna keep bothering you until you come to one, so why not just get it outta the way?"Â
And, there's that point.Â
"Ugh." You know she's right, and you really can't put up with this all semester. "Fine, but I'm gonna bitch the entire time."
Hitch squeals and claps, bouncing where she stands. "Yes! Wouldn't have it any other way."
You dress in school colors, put your hair up so that it won't be on your neck as the sun beats down, then take Hitch's little hatchback to the field. You try to talk her into sitting toward the back of the crowd that's gathered on the bleachers, but she just pulls you to the front without acknowledging your request.Â
Even with the helmets, you can easily make out who's who, mostly because of their size. Mike and Erwin are doing some kind of pregame ritual where they hit their sticks together, shout something, and chest bump. It's the most alpha thing you've ever fucking seen and makes you question why you ever thought screwing one of them was a good idea.Â
To be fair, you never really did think it was a good idea. It just kind of happened. Three times.Â
But, it needs to stop.Â
You repeat that thought to yourself as you watch Mike sprint across the field and launch the ball into the goal several times. You repeat it as he dances around his opponents with ease, quick footwork until he can throw them off. You repeat it as he stands on the sidelines and takes his helmet off to shake out sweaty hair and squirt water into his mouth.Â
And, none of it really helps. Mike is pretty incredible on the field, especially with Erwin and Nile backing him up. Everyone in the stands is screaming, yelling their names and chanting. It's a little contagious, you have to admit. You get as far as clapping but refuse to actually cheer.Â
At some point, Erwin jogs over to the bleachers and waves his arms for everyone to get louder, and they sure do. Even through his helmet, you can see his sparkling white smile, and your own lips curl up as you shake your head at him. Unbelievable. He has all these people at his beck and call.Â
Erwin has to get back on the field, though, fueled by the crowd like the other nine players. They end up pulling ahead of the other team and finishing the game eleven to seven.Â
Naturally, Erwin announces a party at the Pike house, and naturally, Hitch drags you to it.Â
This one is even bigger than the last. It offends every one of your sensesâtoo loud, alcohol permeating the air, bad drinks, worse dancing, and strangers rubbing against you as you pass them.Â
You give up on your beer before youâre even halfway through with it, just set the can on one of the counters and start milling around. Youâd rather be anywhere else but here. Your head hurts from the game earlier, baking in the sun and not drinking enough water. Shouldâve taken an Advil⊠And some Benadryl. Hitch wouldnât have been able to bring you here if youâd been unconscious.Â
All of the lacrosse team is there, flanked with guys who wonât stop slapping them on their backs and girls who wonât stop batting their eyes and squeezing their biceps. Itâs comical, really, the fairweather trend. Thereâs no way this would be happening if theyâd lost their last three games. Instead, the team would be getting harassed and pestered, not so subtle comments about practicing more and replacing members. Youâve seen it all before.Â
Leaning against a wall, you watch it all unfold. Itâs probably the most entertaining thing at the party other than the group of sorority girls dancing on a table. Things are getting out of hand already, and you would prefer not be here for the aftermath, but just as you're about to leave, Mike breaks away from the group and strides over to you.
âHey, didnât expect to see you.â He takes a sip from his cup, smiling around the rim.
You use your usual excuse: âHitch,â and he nods.Â
âRight. Did you watch the game today?â
Crossing your arms, you mumble a, âYes,â that Mike canât hear but can definitely see.
He beams then asks, âYou gonna tell me I played well? âCause I did.â Heâs all cocksure and giddy, and it makes your body run hot in a few different ways.
âI donât think you need anyone else fawning over you,â you say with a condescending laugh.
âYou mean you donât want me to flex for you?â
âIâm leaving. Right now." When you push past him a little too roughly, it causes him to drop his cup, and your shirt is suddenly plastered to your chest and stomach. The white isnât discolored, which leads you to believe, âFuck, is this just straight vodka?â
âNo, Christ,â he cringes at your wet state, looking genuinely apologetic. âItâs just water. Sorry.â
You scrunch your top up to wring it out, wondering what heâs doing drinking water instead of liquor, but youâre not about to pick on him for staying hydrated.Â
âItâs fine. I was about to leave anyway.â
Heâs quick to stop you with a, âNo, donât. Just⊠change into one of my shirts or something."
Narrowing your eyes, you contemplate how many ways this can go wrong, how much you should not allow this, and even go as far as accusing, "You're just trying to get me in your room again."
"You wanna stay in a wet shirt?" Not really. "Come on."
He jerks his head toward the hallway, and you end up following him, grumbling the whole time because you swear to God if you end up on your back for him again, you're going to be very upset with yourself.Â
Mike beelines it for his dresser as soon as you're in the room, much quieter than the rager outside. He digs around in it, flipping all the way to the bottom then pulls out a heather gray tee.Â
"It'll probably still be a little big, but it's from high school, so you shouldn't drown in it."
He tosses it to you then, to your surprise, turns back to the wall to give you the privacy to change. You eye him the whole time, peeling off your top as well as your bra since it soaked through. His shirt still covers your little shorts, and you assume you look a lot like one of those sorority girls, but it's good enough, has that super soft feeling from being worn too much.Â
"Thanks. You can, uh⊠You can turn around now."
Mike looks over his shoulder, like he's making sure you're decent, then turns around fully.Â
"I was trying to get outta there anyway. Spilling a drink on you was a good excuse."
You open your mouth, choking on a scoff, then ask, "Did you do that on purpose?"Â
"No! It really was an accident. I'm glad it was just water, but I still feel bad."
You're squinting at him, but now you're curious about something else.
"Why'd you wanna get away from the party?"Â
Sighing, Mike shows a tired smile. "Honestly, I'm still worn out from the game. I'm already sore and covered in these god damn bruises. I just wanna relax."
"If you're covered in bruises, I can't imagine how the other team feels. You smacked the shit outta some of 'em."
"So, you were watching."
"I may have glanced up once or twice," you lie. "Anyway, why don't you just hide out in here?"Â
He shrugs his shoulders. "Erwin insisted I show my face, and I didn't want him to give me shit about being a recluse."
You can relate. It's why Hitch drags you everywhere. You wouldn't even leave your dorm for classes if you didn't have to.Â
Still. "Dude. You're definitely not a recluse. You're fucking everywhere. All the time."
"So? I can get tired too."
He's got a point.Â
"Can we just chill in here for a while?" He asks you.Â
"Why do you need me to chill? You basically just said you needed a break from social interaction."
"Yeah, but not all social interaction," he corrects with a small grin. "Please? I've got movies and video games, Zelda and shit."
Again, the contemplation kicks in, all the pros and cons. You know very well what this can (will) lead to, but you also want to escape the party. And, if Hitch whines about you leaving, you can tell her you were there the whole time. Not like it's a lie.Â
"Fine, but I have some stipulations."
"Oh, do you?"Â
"I do."
Mike waves a hand for you to go on. "Let's hear 'em then."
Holding up one finger, you tell him, "You have to let me snoop around your roomâ" he laughs. You lift another finger, "âand we are not, under any circumstances, having sex."
"Deal."Â
You tilt your head, taken aback at how quick he is to agree. "Wait, seriously?"Â
"Seriously. Go ahead. I'll pull up Hulu."
You hum, still suspicious, but start making your rounds, taking in photos from what you assume to be the high school soccer team he played on, then a fishing trip with Erwin, a middle-aged couple with a dog, and some pinned up tickets to sporting events he's attended.Â
He has a bookshelf against a wall, textbooks at eye level, but the top and bottom shelves are filled with sci-fi and fantasy novels that make you smile. His TV is fairly large, big enough to see the picture from his bed which is also sizable and draped with a plush comforter. The last thing that catches your eye is his closet, halfway open and full of jerseys and Polos. A few different pairs of shoes sit at the bottom, but pushed all the way in the corner are a few boxes of fucking Magic the Gathering cards.Â
"Oh, man. You really are a closet nerd. Like, literally."
"Huh?" Mike looks over at where you're kneeling, realizes what you're looking at and actually sounds self-conscious when he admits, "Yeah, uh, I wasn't joking the other day."Â
"I've never playedâtoo technical for meâbut my friends in high school did."
"There are baseball cards back there too if that makes me any cooler."
"It doesn't," you say bluntly before straightening up and reaching to shut the door to his room. Plopping down on the floor next to him (where he was smart enough to sit), you add, "But even I can admit it's kind of endearing."
"Oh yeah?" He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, that stupid lopsided grin on his too-handsome face.Â
"Don't get cocky, Zacharias."Â
"You wouldn't let me if I wanted to."
Both of you agree to a Batman movie, and you make yourself comfortable, kicking your sandals off and leaning against the bed behind you. You're a little too aware of Mike's body beside yours, but you're able to ignore it for the most part, keeping a few inches between your arms and legs. Of course, he still brushes against you when the movie ends and he takes the time to stretch. His shoulders roll, making his shirt strain over his back, and when he holds his arms out, linked at his fingers, you can't help but take a quick look at his bulging biceps.Â
"Fuck, I'm gonna feel like garbage tomorrow," he complains. You can see the bruises littering his arms, some of them thick lines while others are almost perfectly circular from where he was hit with the end of a lacrosse stick.Â
"You have any classes?" You ask.Â
"Just my ten o'clock and three o'clock."
You make a noise of acknowledgement then fall silent. You're not sure how to hold a conversation with him that isn't sarcastic or snippy since you haven't actually done a lot of talking in the first place.Â
"Sucks," is all you can come up with.Â
"It's alright. I've probably dealt with worse."
"Probably?"Â
"Well, nothing really comes to mind, but I'm sure I have."
You should get going. It's late, and you have a nine AM tomorrow. Plus, the longer you sit next to Mike, the more ideas pop up in your head. Dirty ideas. Ideas that will leave you disappointed in yourself.Â
"Well, I'm gonna head back. This has beenâŠ" You're unsure of what word to use, don't want to get his hopes up by saying 'fun'.Â
Mike figures you out and offers, "Tolerable?"Â
"Yeah, we can go with that. I'll get your shirt back to you sometime soon."
Mike chuckles and gets to his feet. "Just whenever you can." He grabs your wet top from the ground and holds it out to you, then reaches for the door as you slip on your sandals.Â
You feel him close behind you, close enough for his chest to push against your back when you straighten up. His arm is pressing into your side, hand curled around the knob and twisting it, but he's unable to open the door as you let your head fall against it.Â
"God dammit."Â
"Hm?" You can tell he's leaning down because his breath falls just over your ear.Â
"I said we weren'tâ"
He cuts you off, "But, you want to."
He's too hot and too smooth, and you canât stop yourself from turning around and breathing, "Yeah, I want to."Â
It's different tonight. Mike takes his time undressing you, kissing and sucking your neck, your collarbone, your nipples that pebble against his tongue. It's unnerving even as you squirm and moan.Â
He eats you out lazily, flattening his tongue against your folds then dipping into your slit so that he can slip into your twitching hole.Â
When he adds a finger, you immediately grind down on it, silently begging him to work you open enough to take his cock, but he doesn't move any faster, apparently content to just drive you insane.Â
You're nearly begging by the time he turns you on your side and moves to lay behind you, hiking your leg up and pushing most of his length inside of you in one faultless motion that makes you choke and sob his name.Â
That stretch is back, delicious as it is painful as he splits you open. His thrusts are the same slow pace, cock dragging against gummy walls as he drapes an arm over you to toy with your swollen clit.Â
It takes you both longer than usual to come, but when you do, your whole body trembles against him, and you have to suck in several deep breaths until you feel like your lungs start actually filling with air.Â
Mike paints your back with warm cum, groaning right in your ear as he rubs against you, his cock sliding easily up and down your skin and making more of a mess.Â
That unnerving feeling blooms in your chest again, crawls up into your throat.Â
Tonight had been too casual, too natural. The way you hung out and watched a movie was already a little strange. Him fucking you from behind, holding you tight against his body, was too tender. And, now, after he leaves to grab a wet towel and uses it to clean your back, you find yourself searching for words again only to come up with passionateâintimate.Â
And, words like that scare you.
[ n e x t ]
#miche zacharias x reader#mike zacharias x reader#aot x reader#snk x reader#aot fanfiction#attack on titan fanfiction#mels prima vista#mels frat house
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Regrets of Yesterday (Steve Rogers x Reader)
WARNINGS: arranged marriage, infidelity? (does it still count if all parties are consenting?), mafia!Steve, side of Bucky x reader, jealous!Steve, eventual NON-CON, Steveâs an ass
DNI IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU
â„ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogersâ}
â„ This will be a short 3 part series ℠part 2
summary: your arranged marriage to the infamous Steve Rogers isnât what you initially thought it would be, but things have worked out better than you could have imagined. However, your arrangement with your husband becomes complicated when feelings, and circumstances, that neither of you anticipated come into play.
~
Your marriage to the infamous Steve Rogers wasnât even what you would call a cold one. Truth be told, it wasnât a marriage at all. Everything was arranged the moment you had caught his parentsâ eyes, and before you knew it, you were engaged to a man you had never met. Of course, you knew who Steve Rogers was.
Everyone did.
To the average person, he was your run of the mill business man whoâd been blessed with generational wealth. To those who really knew, he was a stern leader to the most well-known crime organization in the city, the same one heâd inherited from his father. He was equally brilliant as he was handsome, and that you could confirm for yourself on your wedding day.
It was a wedding with a decent turnout. Both of your parents were there to witness the event of course. As well as his men, but you hadnât expected other crime bosses to be in attendance, and you would be lying if you said it didnât make you nervous. Your hair looked the best it ever had, your makeup highlighted your best features, and your dress clung to you in a way that caused everyoneâs gazes to linger. All in all, it was a beautiful wedding.
If only your husband to be had been present.
Steve was there physically, of course, but the rest of him was so far away that you found yourself feeling alone at the altar. Your hands were intertwined with his as you said your vows, but you couldnât really feel them. Your eyes met his, but it felt like he wasnât even looking at you. His lips brushed against yours so lightly, you had to wonder if you imagined the kiss.
Your parents were positively beaming as the priest pronounced you man and wife, but as you contemplated the weight of Steveâs hand in yours, you wondered just how true that was.
The reception was everything you wanted, and when you were told that you had free reign over all of the wedding details, you had been excited. You thought that Steve was going to be one of those husbands who just wanted to make his wife happy no matter what. It was a rude awakening to realize that it was solely because he didnât care. About the wedding...
About you.
It was during your first dance as a married couple that you fully realized just what this marriage would be.
âI donât want you to get the wrong idea,â Steve had started, making you frown.
His blue eyes gazed into yours, neat blond hair pushed away from his face. His handsome face was unreadable, not a hint of emotion peeking through, and his voice was even as he continued.
âI donât know if they told you why youâre hereâŠâ
âThey did.â
The main reason for this marriage was so that Steve could produce an heir to continue his familyâs legacy. That had been made clear from the beginning, but it didnât help you any with trying to figure out where this conversation was going.
ââŠand you understand thatâs the only reason youâre here, correct?â
You blinked, a bit shocked as you registered his words. You knew that it played a big part in this marriage, but you hadnât known that it was the sole reason for this marriageâŠnor your place here.
âI see,â you whispered, a bit disappointed.
You both turned to pose as a camera flashed, and your conversation continued as he moved you about the dancefloor, a soft breeze ruffling the skirt of your dress.
âIâm not as cruel as they say,â he murmured. âI wonât expect you to just sit in a loveless marriage.â
Your frown deepened as he continued.
âYou are free to find affection elsewhere. As am I,â he said, making your eyes widen. âIâm used to a certain lifestyle, and that wonât stop just because we got married, and it would be unfair to not allow you to do the same.â
Your lips parted, and you blinked because this was not how you expected your wedding day to go at all. Here you were, dancing in a courtyard full of people as they watched the two of you celebrate your marriage. Meanwhile, your husband was telling you that he had no intentions of remaining faithful while you were free to do the same because your marriage was for one purpose and one purpose only.
âYouâŠyou want me toâŠâ
You trailed off, your words dying in your throat as he looked away from you. Your eyes focused on his side profile, jaw moving every time he talked.
âMy father gave me a year to find a wife and start working on producing an heir. He isnât the most pleasant person to be around when he doesnât get what he wants. This will satisfy him for the time being while we continue our lives as they were,â he explained.
You pressed your lips together, shoulders dropping as you accepted this.
ââŠwhen the time comes, weâll do what needs to be done to have a child. Until thenâŠâ
You supposed that you couldnât be upset with Steve. This was an arranged marriage after all. Everyone knew how most arranged marriages went, and you were the one whoâd imagined this to be something it wasnât. Besides, it wasnât his fault that your parents didnât clue you in on the whole story. You suspected that was for a reason though because had you known, you never would have agreed.
At least he was being transparent with you.
His eyes met yours again, and you nodded at him just as the music slowed to a halt. For the first time since you met, Steve smiled at you, and you did the same, albeit reluctantly. He took your hand and gently handed you off to your father, the older man pulling you into a dance as the music started up.
When you were done dancing with him, you enjoyed a dance with Steveâs father, the older Rogers pulling several laughs from you as he recounted stories of years past. Your dances with the other crime bosses were much more nerve-wracking, the eldest Odinson holding you a tad too tight for your liking. You were relieved when the song ended, and another took his place.
Your next dance partner, while never having the pleasure of meeting him until today, was also not unknown to you. James Barnes was just as well known as your new husband, equally as handsome, and much easier to talk to it seemed.
âYou look lovely, Mrs. Rogers,â he told you, and you blinked.
You were taken aback. Sure, your father and even Steveâs father had complimented you on your dress, but Steve hadnât said a word about how you looked. In fact, heâd hardly spared you a glance. While you accepted your marriage for what it would be, you didnât realize that meant it would be a cold one.
âThank you, Mr. Barnes.â
He smiled at you, a genuine expression as his lips pulled back from his teeth.
âSteve and I are close, and youâll be seeing a lot of me so please. Call me Bucky,â he told you.
You returned his smile with a nod.
âOkayâŠBucky.â
You danced with Bucky for 3 more songs, learning that he and Steve had grown up together and were practically like brothers. You enjoyed dancing with him. He didnât hold you as tight as Thor Odinson did, but his touch also wasnât that of a ghostâs like your husbandâs. He was attentive during the conversation, looking at you instead of through you and talking with you instead of at you.
When it came time for you and Steve to cut the cake, you were a tad disappointed to part from him. Even more so when the time came for the two of you to be driven off in the limo. You stared out of the window the entire time while Steve took a business call. You occasionally eyed him, wondering if heâd ever hang up to at least have a conversation with you, but it was in vain.
With a sigh, you looked away, and forced yourself to accept that this marriage wasnât really a marriage at all, and that it would never be. You didnât know this man, and you werenât being put under any obligations to love him. Truthfully, you never even had to interact with him at all. You could just bask in his millions while living a life completely separate from him. You realized that plenty of women would kill to be in your place, and it was then and there in the limo, on the way to a honeymoon where your husband wouldnât even sleep in the same room as you, youâd decided that you would make the best of this.
âDo youâŠhave toâŠleave so soon?â
His thick accent reached your ears as you bent to pick up your dress, smooth voice interrupted by his labored breathing. You slid the satin material over your skin as you pulled it back on, and you felt the bed move beneath you. You smiled when his lips brushed against your bare shoulder, a hum climbing out of his throat as they traveled to your neck.
âPietro,â you chided.
He pretended like he hadnât heard you, lips finding yours in a soft kiss when you turned your head. You grinned into his mouth, hand resting on his shoulder.
âI have to go,â you whispered, and he groaned.
He fell back onto the plush bed with a sigh, blue eyes finding yours. He didnât look happy, but then again, he never did when you had to leave.
âIâve already stayed much longer than I planned to,â you told him, standing to adjust your dress.
Before you had the chance to reach back and do it yourself, Pietro sat up to zip the material for you. His fingers brushed over your skin as he did so, lingering, and you took in a shaky breath. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder and exhaled.
âLet me guess⊠Steve?â
You let out a snort, shaking your head while you held in a chuckle.
âWhen is it ever Steve?â
You and your husband had been together for almost a year, and youâd probably seen the man maybe 10 times. Steve had his life, and you had yours. Not once had the two ever mixed, not even for something as mundane as dinner. You heard Pietro scoff, and you stepped away from him to put on your shoes.
âJames,â he decided, so much disdain dripping from his voice youâd think that James had fucked his mother or something. âOf course, itâs James.â
You glanced at him from over your shoulder.
âDo I detect some jealousy?â
âOf course, you do!â
You turned to face Pietro as he stood, naked as the day he was born.
âHe always gets you. You like him better,â he said with a pout, and you tilted your head.
You did feel a bit guilty because what he said was true, but it couldnât be helped. You and Pietro had only just started seeing each other two months ago. Bucky had made his intentions clear with you barely a month into your marriage.
You had been taken aback at his boldness, especially since youâd only been married to his best friend for 30 days, but then you remembered that Steve had probably resumed the activities of his former life as soon as you had returned from your honeymoon.
He was never home, always out late, and on the rare occasion you did cross paths, he hardly spared you a glance. It had been a bit lonely at first, most of your free time filled with shopping or reading or cooking. That all changed when Steve required your presence at some stuffy event. The limo ride had been silent, and youâd taken it upon yourself to part from him as soon as you entered the building.
Bucky had found you in one of the many empty hallways, admiring some painting while you sipped on a glass of champagne. He had complimented you just like heâd done on your wedding day, and you shyly thanked him, not used to the attention. Having been familiar with the building, he gave you a tour, keeping you company and making you laugh the whole night.
As you made your way to one of the upper floors, you had stumbled, courtesy of the alcohol in your system. Bucky caught you with a laugh, telling you that maybe you needed to slow down before plucking the glass out of your hand. You couldnât remember when nor how heâd gotten so close, but his lips were suddenly on yours.
âŠand you were kissing him back.
You had eventually stumbled away, feeling wrong despite the fact that Steve said it was okay. Despite the fact that your husband had been doing this very thing all along. You left Bucky there in a hurry, easily finding Steve. He had been looking for you too, ready to go. The ride home was just as silent, but for once, your sham of marriage wasnât on your mind. It was the feel of Buckyâs lips on yours.
You busied yourself for days, shopping and going out to eat to keep your mind off of one James Barnes. It came to a screeching halt when a limo that wasnât yours was waiting outside for you when you exited one of your favorite stores. You knew it was Bucky before the window even rolled down, and you had every intention of telling him no when he offered you a ride home.
Your mind said no, and you had even convinced your heart to say no, but when you opened your mouth, that wasnât what escaped. Confused with yourself, you reluctantly slid into the dark vehicle as he opened the door for you. He had offered you something to drink, and you had shaken your head, avoiding his eyes.
After a while, he moved to join you on your side, gently taking your hand. You didnât stop him. His free one rested under your chin, tilting your head up so that your eyes were on him. You remembered thinking that he looked more handsome than usual that day, blue eyes brighter and dark hair styled perfectly. His eyes had searched yours as he leaned in to kiss you.
You didnât stop him.
Your legs shook when you slowly made your way to your front door, a dazed smile on your lips. You had leaned your back against the door, ignorant to the housekeeper as they called your name. As you had made your way up the stairs, Buckyâs scent still clinging to your skin, for once, you were happy to be all alone in this big house.
You had touched yourself that night, no longer a faceless being behind your eyes, but instead James Buchanan Barnes. You woke up that next morning feeling better than you had in weeks, your mood only lifting when a knock sounded on the front door. Bucky was there with a bouquet of flowers, dressed impeccably with his limo waiting behind him. You told him to give you 30 minutes, and 30 minutes later, in a dress that you had bought yourself weeks ago to cheer you up, he was leading you towards the car.
The rest was history.
You pulled yourself from your reverie, frowning a bit at Pietro.
âWell, heâs here. You go back home in, whatâŠ2 days?â you wondered with a shrug. âI only see you for a week before youâre flying back home for another month.â
Pietro ran his eyes over you, lips down turned.
âYou could come with me,â he whispered.
This conversation was not unfamiliar to you, and you rolled your eyes.
âEven if I wanted to Pietro, that would never happen,â you said, holding up your left hand. âIâm married.â
âBarely,â he mumbled.
You laughed at that, putting your earrings back in.
âTrue marriage or not, I donât think Steve would take too kindly to me running off with one of my lovers. His pride wouldnât survive it.â
âScrew his pride, the man is an idiot,â he spat, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer. âWe both know itâs James you worry about. Thereâs no doubt in my mind heâd have me killed for stealing you away.â
You pecked his lips, pulling away before reaching for your coat and your purse.
âYouâre probably right. All the more reason I canât just run off with you,â you told him.
He heaved a heavy sigh as you made your way to the door.
âIâll call you later?â you said, glancing at him.
Pietro rolled his eyes, but a fond smile found its way onto his lips anyway.
âOf course.â
As you made your way out of the suite and into the elevator, you found yourself thinking about your fling with Pietro. He was beautiful and cultured, and he made your head spin. However, he was flighty. You knew that Pietro had a roster of women lined at his feet, and you were simply his favorite. Pietro was not the kind of man you just run off with. Sure, your marriage to Steve wasnât a marriage at all, but it provided security, and youâd be silly to give that up for a womanizer who would lose interest in less than 4 months.
Besides, what Pietro said did have a grain of truth to it. There was no doubt in your mind that Bucky would kill the man for stealing you away. If Pietro, like all the others, was a fling, then Bucky⊠Well, Bucky was probably the love of your life. It was strange to finally admit that to yourself, but you did love him. Sometimes it felt like you were married to him instead of Steve, and sometimes, when it was just the two of you, you wished that were true.
You sighed into Buckyâs mouth as he pressed his hips into yours, warmth filling you as you came around him for the second time that night. Your fingers were tangled into his hair, a shudder passing through you while his fingers pressed into your hips.
âStay the night,â he whispered against your lips.
You chuckled, throwing your head back as he brushed his own against your jaw.
âThat would make it the third night in a row. I shouldnât,â you replied. âGod forbid Steve remembers my existence and actually needs me for something now of all times. It would be just my luck.â
He rolled off of you with a sigh, exasperation coloring his tone.
âJust tell him youâre busy,â he slyly said, tracing his finger down your side.
You slapped his hand away, and he laughed.
âThatâs not part of the deal,â you reminded him.
He scoffed, and you sat up. You and Steve never brought up your separate lives in conversation. While that was hardly a possibility before, seeing as he never talked to you, in a week, you and he will have been married a year and 4 months, and you were seeing more of him than you were used to. Bucky had mentioned something about some shipments he was letting Tony handle, and you guessed that gave Steve more free time. You were surprised he didnât want to fill that time with one of his many mistresses.
âRight. What is it again? Donât askâŠâ
ââŠdonât tell,â you finished. ââŠand never in the house.â
Bucky rolled his eyes, resting his hand behind his head as he gazed at you, dark hair mussed.
âAre you happy?â Bucky suddenly asked you, and you paused, turning to fully face him. âI mean with him. Are you happy with him?â
You frowned, mulling over that question.
âWell,â you breathed. âThereâs not really an answer for that. Iâm not with him.â
Bucky sat up too, now, and you continued.
âHe and I, aside from our names on a piece of paper, arenât together. I amâŠa womb waiting to be used to produce an heir to satisfy his family,â you said. âSo, Iâm not happy or unhappy with him because I am not with him. Truthfully, Iâm with you...and Iâm very happy with you.â
âThen be with me.â
Buckyâs face was clouded in desperation, and you blinked at him, frowning.
âWhat are you sayingâŠ?â
Bucky huffed, running his hand through his hair before taking your hand.
âIâm saying ditch the other guy,â he threw at you, and you barked a disbelieving laugh.
âThe other guy! You mean Steve? Your best friend? That Steve?â
Bucky heaved a sigh as he got out of bed, and you watched as he pulled his pants on.
âLook, I love Steve, but heâs an idiot. I donât care what kind of lifestyle I was used to. If I were marrying you, Iâd turn my back on it all no questions asked just to have you every night,â he said, and your face softened. âIf all he needs is a baby maker, he can easily find another wife.â
âBucky,â you sighed.
âLeave him,â he pleaded. ââŠand be with me.â
âYou know, the last time I saw Pietro, he was demanding the exact same thing from me.â
Buckyâs lip curled at the mention of the other man that you hadnât seen in months, and you laughed.
âHow is Pietro these days, anyway?â
You fixed him with a look.
âYou know that I havenât even talked to Pietro in months. After my last refusal to run off with him, he quickly lost interest.â
Bucky smiled, face brightening as he shrugged.
âI know. I just like to hear you say it.â
You tossed a pillow at him as he laughed, moving to get dressed. He pulled you into his side as soon as you were both clothed, fingers dancing along your waist.
âI like having you all to myself,â he murmured, lips meeting your cheek.
He helped you into your coat before walking you downstairs. It was colder these days, and he tightened his hold on you as he walked you to his car. The drive to your house was quiet, but not uncomfortable, Buckyâs hand in yours as you looked out of the window. It was late at night, but the city was even livelier than it was during the day. When his driver slowly pulled into your driveway, Bucky pressed his lips to yours, reluctant to pull away.
You felt the same, and you didnât want to admit it to yourself that his proposal was tempting. His hand tightly held yours as you stepped out of the limo, making sure you didnât fall. Just before you turned to leave, he brought the back of your hand to his lips, blue eyes drinking you in.
âThink about it,â he murmured, and you threw him a sad smile, promising him that you would.
Your heart was heavy as you pressed your key into the door, pressing your back to it as soon as you shut it. You stood in the foyer, staring up at the ceiling with a sigh. All those months ago, when Pietro had asked you to leave your husband, it had been easy to turn him down. Bucky? Not so much. Feeling like you wanted to cry for the first time in forever, you slowly made your way into the living room.
âYouâre out late.â
A startled shriek left your lips, hip bumping into the table beside you just as light flooded the room in time to watch the vase of flowers shatter against the floor. Fear forgotten, you pressed your hand to your heart, sucking your teeth at the vase Bucky had gotten you last year. He bought you fresh flowers every week to fill it with.
âOh no,â you sighed, kneeling to grab them.
You heard Steve move behind you, footsteps growing louder as he neared. You glanced at him as you stood, shaking the water and glass off of the flowers.
âJesus, Steve. You almost gave me a heart attack,â you complained.
âSorry,â he evenly replied. âWas this new?â
He was referring to the vase, and you tripped over your words.
âUhâŠno. N-not exactly,â you said, making your way to the kitchen.
You sat the flowers on the counter, grabbing the broom and dustpan before making your way back into the living room. You frowned at the mere presence of Steve, wondering what he was even doing home. Perhaps that was a bit unfair of you, but you had grown so used to not having him around. You preferred it. You could feel his eyes on you as you swept up the glass, even still when you returned to wipe up the water.
âWe have a housekeeper for that,â he said, making you frown again.
âIâm aware,â you replied, standing. ââŠbut what sense would it make for me to leave this here all night just so Peter can clean it up in the morning when Iâm perfectly capable of doing it right now?â
Steve nodded, and you made to move towards the kitchen again when he spoke.
âYou were out late.â
You paused to look at him, realizing that was what heâd said when you first came in, scaring the crap out of you. With a frown, you looked at your watch.
âItâs only 1:17,â you told him.
You were normally out much later, but Steve always came home in the early hours of the morning, if he came home at all, so of course he wouldnât know that. He simply nodded at your response, hands on his hips. He was still dressed like heâd only recently gotten home himself, and you again wondered why he was even home, but you decided that you didnât particularly care.
He was still standing there when you exited the kitchen, flowers left in the sink. You wouldnât worry too much about them. It was almost time for Bucky to buy you a new bouquet anyway. You barely spared Steve a glance as you made your way to the stairs, briefly pausing when he wished you a goodnight. You threw him a small frown before wishing him the same, Bucky returning to your thoughts the minute you entered your bedroom.
You were startled again when you entered the kitchen the next morning, finding Steve already there sipping on a cup of coffee. Once again, his presence confused you, but you kept it to yourself. You donât think you had ever woken up to find Steve still in the house, and certainly not in the kitchen. You didnât greet him as you made your way to the fridge, grabbing some lemon to put in your water.
Silence filled the room as you went about cutting a few slices, preparing your drink. It seemed a little tense, but you were determined to ignore it. You were meeting Bucky in an hour and it would take half that just to figure out what to wear. You were pulled from your thoughts by Steveâs voice.
âYou never did say where you were last night.â
You glanced up at him, a slight frown on your face before you released a light chuckle. You heard him set his mug down, and when you looked up again, his eyes were on you. He was casually dressed today, a first for him. He still had on the usual black slacks, but heâd traded the button down for a simple white tee.
âSomething funny?â
His voice was low, a tone he used on his subordinates you were sure, but you merely nodded your head.
âYes. You.â
Now it was Steveâs turn to frown, eyes narrowed just a bit.
âHow so?â
âYouâve never been curious about my whereabouts before,â you told him.
âWell, that was before I knew you werenât coming home,â he said.
You sighed, setting the knife down as realization hit you.
âWe were supposed to attend a gala last night, and I came home the other day to tell you, but you werenât here. You never even came through the door, and that was concerning,â he explained. âIf you hadnât walked through the door last night, I was going to send a search party.â
âI have a phone.â
He raised an eyebrow at you, pulling said phone out of his pocket before placing it on the counter.
âA phone that you left here.â
You grimaced, sheepishly taking it. You could get so caught up with Bucky sometimes that you were positive youâd lose your head if it werenât attached to you. Your eyes met Steveâs, apologetic.
âIâm sorry. Iâll do better about keeping it with me,â you promised.
He heaved a sigh, taking another sip, eyes never leaving yours. You rolled your eyes, realizing what he wanted, before dropping your knife into the sink.
âI was with a friend,â you told him. ââŠbut as you can see, Iâm safe and sound. Thereâs no reason to worry.â
You slipped out of the kitchen before he could respond, determined to hurry up and get dressed. This wasnât the first time that youâd forgotten your phone at home, it was just the first time youâd done so, and Steve happened to need you.
He wasnât in the kitchen when you came back down, dressed and ready to go, but you could hear him upstairs. Practically itching to get out of this house and away from his cold stare, you hurriedly made your way outside. In the car, you took your time to check your phone, grimacing at the 3 missed calls from Steve. However, a smile found its way onto your face at the message from Bucky. Heâd sent it last night after he dropped you off, telling you to think about it.
It was the first thing he brought up as soon as you met him at the restaurant too.
âSteve wonât even miss you. Hell, he doesnât miss you, but I do. I miss you all the time,â he said.
âFunny, you miss me all the time when I feel like Iâm with you all the time,â you commented, picking at your appetizer.
Bucky tilted his head, pretending to think.
âIâd say youâre with me about 90% of the time-.â
â90%, you donât say,â you mocked.
âYeah,â he said, nodding. â90%, and that other 10%, Iâm practically dying.â
You rolled your eyes.
âHow do you manageâŠâ
âIâm serious, Y/N,â he continued, taking your hand. âLeave him. There are a million women who could easily take your place, women who want to be in your place. He gets one of them, you get me, and weâre all happy.â
You smirked at him, attention falling to your food again.
âWhy Mr. Barnes, I do believe youâre trying to wreck my marriage,â you teased.
âHardly. Iâm simply trying to start a new one.â
Your eyes snapped to his, that teasing smile falling from your lips as you registered his words. Your heart skipped a beat, and your lips parted as he eyed you, his tongue darting out to wet his own.
ââŠwhat?â
âDollâŠwhat did you think when I said be with me?â
You shook your head, shrugging.
âIâŠI donât know, but I didnât think you meant marriage. You want to marry me?â
He took your hand in both of his, pressing his lips to the skin, a brown strand kissing his forehead.
âOf course, I do. More than anything. Wouldnât you like that?â
You thought about it, chewing on your lip.
ââŠwaking up to each other every morning, falling asleep to each other every night. Iâd bring you breakfast in bed and weâdâŠwork on our little familyâŠâ
Your gaze met his again, and you found that you loved the sound of that.
âAre youâŠproposing to meâŠ?â
The idea was absurd, especially considering you already had a ring on your finger. Bucky chuckled, shaking his head.
âNot really. I just wanted you to know my full intentions, that Iâm not just fooling around here.â
You stewed over what he said while he continued.
âIâm not going to pressure you anymore, but you know how serious I am now, and I want you to think about it,â he softly told you.
You slowly nodded, still in shock.
âI will,â you quietly replied.
His grin widened, and he sat back in his seat.
âAfter we leave here, we can go pick out a nice bouquet, yeah?â
You suddenly blinked as you remembered last night, a smile on your face.
âYes, please, andâŠa vase too?â you guiltily asked.
He frowned, tilting his head before nodding.
âOf course. What happened to your vase?â
You huffed a sigh.
âI broke it. I bumped into the table, courtesy of Steve,â you complained, shaking your head.
âSteve? What do you mean?â he demanded, voice dropping.
âIt was nothing. He was waiting for me when I got home last night, in the dark like a creep, and he practically gave me a heart attack,â you explained.
Bucky didnât respond for a while, simply humming. He picked at his food, lips pursed as he eyed you.
âWhy was he waiting for you?â
âApparently there was some gala last night? Heâd been planning to tell me I had to be in attendance with him but someoneâŠ,â you threw him a pointed look ââŠprevented me from going home the other night. Add in that I had left my phone at home, I guess Steve convinced himself that I had been kidnapped or something.â
Bucky simply hummed in response, and you both finished your lunch. Your days spent with Bucky always went by fast, and you were always sad to wish him goodbye. His proposal was taking up more and more residence in your mind, especially as you watched him drive off. You stood at your door, staring after his car with your coat wrapped around you, wondering what it would be like to go home to him every night.
With a sigh, you turned and made your way inside. You were greeted by the sight of Steve, voice low as he pressed his phone to his ear. You sent him a small polite smile before making your way to the kitchen to fill up your new vase, fresh flowers in your left hand. You were just cutting them when he joined you, and you turned to curiously look at him.
âI need you to accompany me to an event tomorrow,â he told you to which you nodded, wondering if Bucky was going to be there.
âOkay.â
You didnât hear him leave as you turned back around, dropping the flowers into the water, satisfied. Your suspicions turned out to be correct when you turned around only to find him still standing there.
âI couldâve replaced the vase if Iâd known it was that important,â he said with a small frown.
You shook your head, moving past him.
âItâs fine,â you honestly told him.
His eyes were still on you as you sat it down, adjusting it to a position that you liked. You tightened your coat around you as you passed him, ascending the stairs with a small âgoodnightâ thrown over your shoulder.
You woke up the next morning feeling positively ill. Every inhale had your stomach churning, and you cursed yourself, trying to remember everything you ate the day before. You had planned to at least see Bucky for a little bit before this shindig tonight, but the summersaults going on in your stomach had you canceling on him. The silver lining was that he apparently was going to be in attendance tonight, and that made you feel better.
Again, Steve was home all day, but you didnât see him until it was time to go. You had remained in bed all day, drifting in and out of sleep, fighting off every wave of nausea that came at you. You though that you did a good job of hiding your discomfort, but Steve had asked you if you were alright the minute you came downstairs. You told him that you were fine, a whopper of a lie, but your attendance was mandatory so what else could you do?
Like all of your car rides together, this one was silent, but you could feel Steveâs eyes on you every now and then. You couldnât be bothered to question him on it, too preoccupied with keeping your food down. Your nausea only got worse the minute the two of you stepped into the building. The smell of food was heavy in the air, and there was no doubt that you were starting to look as sick as you felt.
Your eyes fell on a group of familiar faces, one more familiar than the rest. You threw them all strained smiles as you approached, head feeling a bit light. You couldnât even be bothered to care that Steveâs hand was on the small of your back, more important things to worry about other than his unusual behavior.
You had just reached your friends and acquaintances when a server came by with a tray of food. The smell that hit your nose had your stomach clenching, and you barely had enough time to swipe a napkin before your food was coming up.
âOh my God, Y/N,â Nat cried, hurrying towards you with a bowl.
There was some slight commotion as her husband, Bruce, and Sam hurried to flag down some help for the mess. Natâs hand was on your shoulder, helping you towards a seat, and you could feel Steveâs hand still on your lower back.
âY/N?â
He sounded worried, and you only figured out why when your legs crumbled. You hadnât realized that your lashes had begun to flutter as your steps started to slow.
âWoah,â he said, catching you as you fought to straighten your vision.
He sat you down, and you could feel several people fanning you. Steve was wiping your hands clean when Bucky finally neared, brows furrowed in concern, looking as handsome as ever. Too bad you couldnât truly appreciate it.
âIâm okay,â you told him before he could even start. âJust ate the wrong thing, I think.â
Bucky didnât look convinced, and he sat down beside you, pressing his hand to your forehead.
âYou donât feel warm,â he murmured, and you shook your head at him.
âIt was just some bad food,â you whispered, trying to ease his worries.
Again, he didnât look convinced, but he nodded anyway. He stood with a sigh.
âIâm going to go get your coat,â he said, and you thanked him.
You could feel Steveâs eyes on you, but when you looked at him, you couldnât make out his expression. His hand was still on your lower back, and you finally breathed better when he pulled away, standing.
âIâll be back. Iâm going to the valet, make sure the car is ready so we can go.â
Your face fell, feeling like you ruined his night.
âIâm sorry, Steve-.â
âWhat for? Youâre clearly sick. I wish you had said something.â
If you didnât know any better, youâd say he sounded upset that you didnât tell him, but it was more likely he was upset that you had in fact ruined his night. With a soft squeeze to your shoulder, he was gone.
âAre you sure youâre alright?â TâChalla asked you, and you nodded.
His wife, Nakia, came hurrying over with a glass of water, and you gratefully took it. You were even more grateful that you could keep it down, and you sent her a small smile as you handed the empty glass back to her.
âThank you.â
âThink nothing of it,â she said, shaking her head. âYou must be feeling awful. Iâm grateful that I donât get sick often because the only time I have ever vomited is whenâŠwell, when I was pregnant.â
She chuckled, and you froze.
ââŠand I love my children dearly, but I do not want to go through that again.â
You joined her, a nervous laugh escaping you just as Bucky returned with your coat. You jumped, having been surprised to feel the fur draped over you, but you allowed him to help you up. He rubbed your arms through the fabric, voice low.
âAre you sure youâre alright?â
Nakiaâs words had your mind racing, and your lips parted because honestly? You didnât know. You didnât want to scare Bucky over nothing, but you also wanted to voice your sudden fears that you had never even considered before. All too soon, the two of you were meeting Steve at the door, and Steveâs grip was firm as he took you from Buckyâs hold, eyes hard.
âI got it from here, Buck. Thanks.â
His voice was clipped, and you frowned at him, but Bucky simply nodded, bidding you both goodnight before reluctantly making his way back inside. You wanted to tell Steve that he didnât have to be rude to Bucky just because you ruined his evening, but another wave of nausea hit you.
Your head leaned against the window as soon as Steve deposited you into the car. The fresh air was ebbing your nausea a bit, the low rumble of the car helping. You hadnât taken the limo, and you were starting to regret that because you really wanted to lie down, but fatigue still found a way to slowly creep up on you.
If only Steve had allowed it to do so.
âI really wish you had told me you werenât feeling well. We would have stayed home,â he said.
You sighed.
âI was hoping it would go away. Our attendance was mandatory, Steve,â you whispered.
âNot at the expense of your health,â he sneered.
You rolled your eyes, realizing the root of his annoyance.
âI promise you, Iâll be in good enough health to give you your heir. It was just some bad foodâŠâ
Steve heaved a sigh, and you felt his eyes on you.
âThis isnât about a baby. This is about you. Watching you drop to the floor like that wasâŠscary,â he admitted.
âIâm fine,â you said, feeling like a broken record.
âWell, you donât look fine. You look sickly. Are you taking care of yourself like you should?â
You scoffed, wondering where this was coming from. The man who barely talked to you in almost 2 years was suddenly acting like your father, and you didnât like it.
âOf course, I am.â
He exhaled.
âI just know that the house can beâŠlonely. It can get to you if youâre not careful.â
You rested your head on your hand, breathing through your mouth.
âIâm far from lonely, Steve, so really. Thereâs no need to worryâŠâ
You could feel his eyes on you again, a soft âohâ reaching your ears.
âIâm glad to hear it. Maybe you should go and see a doctor,â he proposed, quickly changing the subject.
You swallowed another sigh, not wanting to talk about this another minute.
âI told you, it was just some bad food.â
That was what you told yourself, but Nakiaâs words almost made you want to hurl again. It only recently occurred to you that you hadnât gotten your period in a while, but you didnât think too much of it because you had never been regular. Still, you and Bucky werenât always safe, but that was what birth control was for. What were the odds of your birth control failing you during one of the few times you didnât use a condom?
However, the next day, as you stood in the bathroom, looking down at the positive pregnancy test in horror, you realized that the odds were great.
 ~
tags:Â @mcudarklibraryâ @sherrybaby14â @harryspetâ @xoxabs88xoxâ @darkficreposterâ @opheliadawnwalker3â @honeychicanawritesâ @honeychicanaâ @nickyl316hâ @captainchrisstanâ @sebabestianstan101â @readermiaâ @villanelleviââ @lokislastloveââ @notyourtypicalroseââ @coconutqueen21ââ @hurricanerinââ @buckybarnesplumwhoreââ @quaksonheheââ @nerdygirl8203ââ @patzammitââ @mandiiblancheââ @cocoamoonmalfoyââ
#dark!steve rogers#dark!steve x reader#Steve Rogers#steve rogers x reader#bucky barnes x reader#Bucky Barnes#Dark Fic#marvel fanfiction#mafia steve rogers#mafia!steve rogers#mafia au
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Take Care of Me
Pairing = Santiago x reader
Words = 5.5k
Summary = A discussion about sex toys turns into something more ⊠concrete
Warnings = Swearing, talk/description of mild anxiety. SMUT (18+ only), use of handcuffs in a sexy way, oral, piv sex
A/N = Prompt no.8 requested by @itspdameronthingsâ as part of my 300 follower celebration, thanks so much, hope you like it! Prompt was âDespite what you think, I am completely capable of taking care of myselfâ w/santi and bolded in text. Also 3 things; 1 = Tom doesnât exist in this AU, 2 = this is basically pure smut im so sorry, and 3 = I did do head hopping in this, which I know youâre not like supposed to do but also fuck the rules yâknow?
Posted to AO3
Masterlist
***
Itâs always easy to be loose after one of Bennyâs fights.
Itâs a heady mix of adrenaline, beer and testosterone, swirling together into a mix that makes you forget your normal boundaries. Youâre normally quite brazen about your sex life anyway, but there is a line. You respect your partners, and thereâs no need for your teammates to know too much. Â
Youâre all packed into a half-moon booth, Benny straddling a chair that he pulled up to the table after he spent too long chatting up the bartender.
Itâs a small comment from Benny (because of course itâs Benny), saying that you havenât got laid in a while, and youâre honestly surprised he noticed. But then, thatâs the only predictable thing about Benny, that he is unpredictable.
Your surprise means you take a little too long actually thinking about it, which confirms Bennyâs statement. You lean back a little in your seat, desperately ignoring Santi, whoâs sat to your left. It also means you bite back a little harder in defence.
âWell maybe if you guys didnât look like youâre about to murder anyone who even dares ask for my number maybe Iâd have better luck.â Thatâs a lie, but thereâs no way youâre going to tell them the truth. No way youâre going to tell Santi-
Your thoughts are interrupted by Will, sat to your right. âSo youâre asking for our help?â
You scoff, hitting him up the head. âNo, thank you.â Will knows why. Because of course he does. One of your oldest friends, heâd been the one who convinced you to join the team in the first place. âDespite what you think, I am completely capable of taking care of myself.â
You send a wink down to the table to Benny, whoâs the first to catch on, hollering, and you try not to react to Santi leaning forward, suddenly interested, as though youâre not already hyper-aware of every body movement of his.
You continue, deciding youâre quite enjoying the effect youâve had. âWhat do I need some stranger for when I can give myself a better orgasm than he could ever dream of?â You take a sip of your drink to hide your grin, as both Benny and Will holler, gaining a few glares from the pubâs other patrons.
That sip means youâre unprepared for Santi to lean in closer to you, his lips so close to your ear that you can feel his breath. âMaybe âstrangerâ is where youâre going wrong.â
You swallow, unprepared for the sudden flare of attraction shooting through you and turning your head, just as he says, âI could take care of you.â
You catch a glimpse of Santiâs fuck me eyes when Benny (the dickhead) interrupts. Crossing his arms on the sticky table in front of him, he asks, âDoes that mean you have toys?â
Frankieâs hat somehow tips lower on his head, if thatâs possible.
Will twitches towards his brother, like he wants to strangle Benny for being so uncouth, but you put your hand on his upper arm. âOf course.â The best course of action is to just act like this is normal, so add a bit of air to your voice. This was normal. âWho doesnât?â
Thereâs a blush rising on Bennyâs cheeks and you canât help but stoke it, grinning at him, and attempting your best bedroom eyes. Heâs still not too ashamed to ask though. âWhat kinds?â
Will decides heâs had enough, glancing at Santi behind you with a frown and hitting Benny over the head in an imitation of the way youâd hit him. You laugh, unexpectedly pleased at the reaction youâve gotten. âWouldnât you like to know.â
Benny nods, eager, even as Will stands, grabbing a hold of him, and steering him towards the bar. âYes! Yes I would!â He manages to throw back at you and you laugh again, twisting your body to face Santi and Frankie, bringing your left leg onto the bench.
***
Meanwhile Santiago is in hell. Heâs been in multiple hellish situations before, most similar to this one, in that it was always the 5 of you, bullets flying around your heads, rifles in your arms, weighed down by heat and sweat and tac vests.
And yet somehow, he thinks this might be the worst. Your foot next to his thigh, your knee bent, pulling your jeans up your leg and exposing your ankle to him. Watching you flirt with Benny, talking about sex, and toys, and masturbation. When that's all he wants to do with you. He just has to get the courage to tell you.
With you, there was a before in Santiâs life, and an after.
Before he knew you; and after he knew you.
Before he loved you; and after he loved you.
Except Santiâs not quite sure when he fell in love with you.
It started when Will introduced you as the newest member of the team, one of his childhood friends. He didnât mean for it to happen, he treated you like he treated anyone else, quickly discovering that you werenât like anyone else.
He welcomed you into his life with open arms, starting off innocently - he wanted to spend time with you. You were Willâs friend, which meant that there must be something good about you. You made him laugh, made him feel safe (even when he wasnât). Heâd wanted to do the same for you and thought he did a pretty good job.
He became your friend, until one day the two of you were watching a film. He canât remember what it was, just that you were at his house, drinking and laughing and talking, huddled in one of his blankets, and looking like you belonged there, forever.
Falling in love with you was so easy, Santi didnât even realise he was doing it.
Santiâs still impressed with himself that he didnât just blurt out the words then and there. I love you.
How long had he been in love with you for? He couldnât pinpoint down a specific moment. He remembered the night when youâd become friends - the last two around the bonfire, toasting marshmallows, making that awkward small-talk that occurs between acquaintances.
Youâd made him laugh, playing chubby-bunny and teasing him until heâd had a go. Youâd talked and talked, and Santi canât even remember what about. Nothing, probably. The basics. Boring stuff, but filled with details that heâd used to keep the conversation going the next day.
He knows when he became your friend. Recognised when you trusted him more than the others, with the exception of maybe Will.
But he didnât know when he fell in love with you. Just the day that the love became so overwhelming in his chest that he realised it.
The real nail in his metaphorical coffin was the night afterwards. The 5 of you had gone to a bar, and a girl had started talking to him as he was buying drinks. She was pretty, but she wasnât you. And like a flashbulb, all of Santiâs previous partners flew through his mind and he realised that nothing had ever come out of them because they werenât you.
They didnât know how he liked his coffee, or why he had joined the military. They didnât know the story behind his callsign, or what his favourite song was.
You did. What you werenât there for, you asked about. You remembered. You made him feel important, like he mattered. In ways that he didnât even really know existed.
You were the one that started him on decaf without telling him. That had been a conversation and a half. Before morning briefings, youâd started bringing him coffees. He hadnât noticed much of a taste difference, and shamefully, had come to expect them.
Until, a month later, you werenât there. A small trip home to visit your family, everyone knew youâd be back in a couple of days. Regardless, Santi had ordered what heâd thought was his usual coffee.
And found his anxiety rearing up again. It was subtle, making him more jumpy, less able to sleep, but it was there. He wasnât sure what the cause was, definitely hadnât linked it to the coffee, instead assuming that maybe he just missed you. Maybe because his anxiety hadnât disappeared all the way, even with decaf. Maybe it was because it was your presence that helped him too.
He hadnât even really noticed when the caffeine was gone, hadnât noticed the absence of something wrong, only seeing the contrast when it returned. Maybe because it was gradual, the weaning off the caffeinated coffee, whereas the return, with his request of additional shot, had been too sharp for him.
You hadnât noticed at first, assuming that Santiâs bear hug when heâd first seen you had just been because he missed you. But after lunch you pulled him to one side.
âAre you alright?â Your eyes are slightly wider with worry, and youâre chewing slightly on your bottom lip.
He hates that heâs the one to do that to you, and he tries to brush it off. âIâm fine.â That was his first mistake. His second was trying to push past you.
âSantiago!â Heâs pulled up short, and thereâs that tension, pulling at his shoulders, his eyebrows. âTell me whatâs wrong.â Your tone of voice hasnât changed, but this time itâs a command.
Exhausted, hating himself, Santi drags his hands across his face. âNothing. Itâs nothing. I donât...I donât know.â He takes a breath, and it shudders through him. âI donât know.â He sounds defeated, and he hopes you canât hear it. âI just...I feelâŠâ How does he feel? âJittery.â Is what he finally settles on, but the word still feels wrong somehow.
You frown, looking him up and down like youâve never seen him before. In fact, youâre silent for so long, Santi starts to be worried that youâre going to tell him to stop being so fucking ridiculous.
You donât, but you ask questions.
Has he been sleeping? âNot really.â
Does he have something big coming up? âJust the usual.â
Has his daily routine changed at all? âNo, I donât think so. I get myself a coffee in the morning and the-â
You interrupt him with a hand on his arm. âIâm so sorry.â And now itâs wrong, because now youâre looking at him like itâs your fault, when it definitely isnât. âSanti Iâm sorry. Itâs your coffee.â
Santi frowns. His coffee? And you sound so apologetic, and he doesnât understand why. âI switched you to decaf.â You canât meet his eyes any more, gaze skittering to his shoulder with nerves. And youâre not shutting up. âIâm sorry, I should have told you, or asked if I could, I just... I knew you were getting nightmares, and decaf helped me so I thought it might help y-â
Santi cuts you off with a hug.
And now, the three of you sat in the booth, he hates himself for agreeing with Benny. He would like to know. He has a sneaking suspicion, odd little comments youâve made throughout the years that when pieced together, paint a picture. A very vivid picture that he sometimes uses to torture himself, late at night in bed, imagining what youâd look like with your hands between your legs and wrapping a hand around his-
Santi shakes his head. Now is not the time. Thereâs never really a good time to fantasise about one of your best friends, but in public when theyâre sitting next to you, is definitely one of the worst.
And why did he have to offer to take care of you? Did he think he was in some kind of cheesy porno? What if you hated him-
In the end, itâs you who breaks him out of his thoughts. âDonât tell me youâre embarrassed Pope.â You push out with your foot, lightly kicking his thigh, unable to read his stony face.
Throughout all of this, Frankie has kept quiet, and now the conversation seems like itâll be returning to safer ground, he rubs a hand over his face, lifting his hat slightly. âNo.â Santi protests, although he says it too fast for it to be sincere. âIâm not embarrassed.â
âGood,â you reply, and Santi can see the moment a thought pops into your head that you canât resist, he can see it in the way your eyes light up with mischief. âOut of all the boys, I figured youâd be the most likely to use toys.â
Frankie quickly slides out from his seat, muttering something about going to the toilet, his cheeks aflame, as Santi chokes a little on his beer. âOr maybe Will,â you muse, and Santi coughs again. âShit, are you alright?â You ask, rocking forward to lean on your knee so you can rub Santiâs back for a second.
He concentrates on getting himself back under control, on not focusing how warm your hand is against his back. He takes deep breaths in an attempt to calm his heart down, praying that the room is dark enough that you wonât see him blush. Â
Santi nods, his eyes watering a little, and you laugh, but itâs not unkind, not even when one of your thumbs wipes at his lower lash line, brushing away his tears with the pad. Itâs so unexpectedly soft, another sharp contrast to this sticky, seedy bar theyâre all in, where the booth seats are cracked and the most complicated drink they make is a rum and coke.
âGood,â you say, voice quiet, scooting back on the bench, your foot closer to his thigh this time, and Santi hates himself for wanting to follow you.
Instead, he pretends everyone else is still here, even as he watches Will whisper something into Bennyâs ear as they stand, drinking next to the bar, with no clear intention of returning. Suddenly Benny punches Willâs upper arm, and Santiâs eyebrows twitch slightly in confusion. Benny looks ecstatic, and for what?
âIâve used handcuffs,â he says casually, half of his mind taken up with Benny and Will acting like lunatics at the bar behind you. Heâs wrenched back to you when you raise an eyebrow, and heâs reminded what it feels like to be the centre of your world.
Fuck, youâre sexy though.
***
Your heart beat speeds up, suddenly sounding loud in your chest. Your mind is screaming Danger! at you - but how can it be? This is Santiago. You would trust him with your life. You have.
I could take care of you, flashes through your mind again. Maybe-
âYeah?â You ask, trying to act calm when thereâs a steady thrumming under your skin. âAnd are you the tied up person, or do you do the tying?â
Santi scoffs, like he thinks the answer is obvious. Maybe it is.
âI do the tying.â
You smirk, dragging an exaggerated eye up and down his body. âSure about that?â
He looks relaxed, like he can take up more space now Frankie has gone. One of his hands is on your calf, gently trailing up and down, slowly setting you on fire, and you donât even think he realises heâs doing it. Thereâs something in his eyes that you donât recognise, darker, although it seems familiar. Thatâs been happening more and more lately, especially when itâs just the two of you. You like it.
âYou want to test me babygirl?â
You feel breathless. âMaybe Iâd like to try.â
Youâve never spoken with Santi like this before. You flirt with him more than the other boys, but this is new. This feels...real, somehow. More dangerous. And heâs closer now, shifting, so your foot is over his lap, his hand wrapped around your ankle, on your bare skin and youâve forgotten how to breathe. You watch his hand move on your leg and you feel like you could evaporate. Â
âThatâs not what good girls do.â Fuck, his voice.
âGood girls donât do a lot of things I do.â
And youâre not sure what gives you the sudden confidence, but you lean forwards, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth. Itâs a horrible angle, your legs in the way, but you donât care.
And then youâre retreating, opening your eyes again, suddenly unsure of what youâve just done. Your mouth feels tingly, where you can still feel Santi against you. His grip has tightened on your leg, no longer moving.
And then his hand is tugging at you a little, and thereâs a smile threatening to take over his face.
Come here.
You scoot up, so your left leg is fully over him, your right leg tangling with his under the table and you can smell him now, beer and - as weird as it sounds - like a man. Itâs familiar. Nice. Breathless, you shoot him a little grin, suddenly unsure.
And then heâs kissing you again and itâs everything you ever dreamed of. His lips are soft, but firm, moving against your mouth, contrasting with the slight stubble growing on his face. His free hand moves to your waist and you let out a small sound.
You break apart after a second, both of you breathless. Youâve slung your arms around his neck, fingers idly playing with his chain, and youâre the first to speak.
âSo do you use those handcuffs on anyone?â
Santi kisses you again, short and sweet, before he answers, his lips mumbling against yours. âHmm, just on girls I really like.â
You kiss again, neither of you really wanting to stop. âCan I use them on you?â Santi asks, moving to kiss along your jaw, nipping at your earlobe. You feel surrounded by him, heâs all you care about, all you can feel.
Your eyes snap open, desire pooling in your belly. Is this really happening? âYes.â
âGood.â Santiâs voice is still low in your ear, before he moves down your neck, soft lips a stark contrast to his stubble catching on your skin. âHow do you feel about a date, too?â
âYeah?â You lean back slightly so you can see his face. Heâs beautiful in this light, face half hidden in the shadows, eyes dark.
His lips are brushing yours again.
âYeah. Iâll pick you up, take you somewhere nice, do it properly.â
âGood,â you mumble against him, âthat sounds really good.â Your fingers are still playing with his chain, lightly brushing against the scar on his neck. âShall we go?â
Before you know it, the two of you are sitting in a cab, having said a quick goodbye to the others, Will asking if it was safe for them to sit back in the booth. Youâd responded with the finger, not bothering with a proper reply.
Santi leans over to you, whispering into your ear. âCan I really tie you up?â
You clench your thighs together, closing your eyes in an effort not to physically respond. The pause is enough for Santi to hesitate, hand shyly holding yours. âItâs ok, if you donât want to, thatâs fine, it was just a-â
You stop him with a kiss, moving your hand so you can squeeze him in reassurance. When you answer, itâs a mumble against his mouth so the driver doesnât hear. âBreak out the handcuffs, and weâll see if youâre as tough as you act, big boy.â
Santi groans when you lean away from him.
Getting inside Santiâs flat is a feat in itself, and youâre honestly a little proud of the restraint both of you showed by not fucking in the stairwell, stopping every couple of meters to kiss each other senseless, hips clumsily knocking together as you rile each other up.
Youâve been inside his flat before, so when Santi kicks the door closed, walking you backwards into his bedroom, kissing you all the while, you donât protest. Itâs so nice to finally kiss Santi like youâve wanted to for a while now, so nice to feel his hands on your waist, pushing you backwards while his hips press into yours, steady now, purposeful.
His fingers are playing with the waist of your trousers, and you help him, shimmying your jeans off, pushing them down your thighs and letting them fall to the floor. Then he surprises you, dropping to his knees in front of you, pulling your knickers down your legs.
Looking down, you feel dizzy from the rush of power this brings you. Santi looks like heâs about to worship you, his face close to your pussy. His hands are on your waist and he pushes at you, encouraging you to step back.
When you donât he tips his head back, exposing his neck to you. âStep back.â His voice is dangerous and you can feel more wetness gathering between your legs. You grin down at him, still not moving.
In response Santi nips at your thigh, grinning when you gasp, hands flying to his hair. He pushes at you again, and this time you let him, stepping back until you hit his bed, sitting down.
Santi presses his hand against your stomach, and you allow yourself to be pushed back, falling back onto your elbows so you can watch him. He presses his nose to your mound and you squirm, impatient, as Santi spreads your knees so he can fit between your legs.
You watch him press his nose to your pussy, burying his nose in you, feeling yourself grow wetter. âYou taste so good,â he groans, âSweetest pussy Iâve tasted.â As he begins to explore you with his tongue, your hips lift off the bed with a groan and it takes you a second to recognise your own voice, broken with need. Santiâs arm reaches out, pressing you down as he explores your folds. Stubble is scratching your thighs, a pleasantly rough feeling compared to the soft wetness, the pliability of Santiâs tongue. Your clit is the first thing he concentrates on, his tongue practically lapping at you, and it all feels so good.
One hand is desperately fisting the sheets to the side of you as you try to hold on to reality, the other knotted in Santiâs short curls, nails scraping ever so slightly along his scalp even as he lifts you higher and higher. Broken pleas of his name fall from your lips when he inserts two fingers into you, gently pumping in and out, with a strangely satisfying squelch under your cries.
Your orgasm creeps up on you, slow and unsuspecting. One second your chest is heaving, breaths short and shallow, the next youâve tensed up as you fall apart under Santi.
He keeps kissing you, gently pressing his lips over your thighs, hips, stomach as you stare at his ceiling, willing rational thought to return to you. Heâs murmuring praises into your skin, telling you how good you are for him, what a good job youâve done, how pretty you look when you come, how he wants to make you do it again, and all the while you float somewhere above your body, hardly daring to believe this is real. Santi keeps kissing you, any skin he can get his mouth on, desperate to keep tasting you. Gradually he moves up your body, even as you lie there, panting, letting him push your top up, bunching under your arms and around your neck.
Your hands fly to his hair when he bites the soft skin of your breast peeking out from your bra, and you arch your back towards him slightly, letting out a small whine. You can feel his smirk against you, so you wrap your legs around his waist, canting your hips up, grinding against where you can feel him, hard and aching in his jeans.
Now itâs your turn to smirk, slow and lazy when Santi lets out a low growl in response. He tips his head up so he can look at you, his eyes soft as he smiles at you. âYouâre going to be the death of me.â
And then his body weight is gone and heâs standing next to the bed, taking his top off and itâs not the first time youâve seen him shirtless, of course it isnât, but itâs the first time youâve seen him and been allowed to look, and Santiâs all shadows and soft muscle, pale scars highlighted on his skin.
You sit up, and it takes you a second to fight your way out of your top, quickly sliding the straps of your bra off, and dropping your clothes to the side of the bed as you watch Santi cross his room, and fish out a pair of handcuffs from a box with a couple of other objects inside, as well as what youâre pretty sure looks like a strap-on. And maybe itâs because his ass is currently in your eye-line, maybe itâs the surprise, but the image of you wearing it, teasing Santi with your dick while he waits on all fours on his bed, begging for you to touch him, suddenly pops into your head, and you have to work to hold back a moan at the mental image. Oh my god.
When Santi turns back to you, heâs opened the cuffs. âAre you familiar with the traffic light system?â
You suddenly feel nervous, your mouth dry, and you donât know why, this is Santi. Heâs made it clear that you donât have to do this, and anyway you want to. âGreen is good, orange is slow down, red is stop,â you recite easily, and Santi nods in satisfaction.
âGood girl,â he says and his words hit deep in your stomach, unfurling something you hadnât known existed. âYou say something and Iâll untie you.â
You raise an eyebrow, leaning back on your hands, eyeing up the way Santiâs jeans are still on, now hanging low on his hips, exposing a small trail of hair down from his bellybutton. âWhat if I donât want you to untie me?â You ask.
You can see how his eyes darken, but he doesnât move. âTell me you understand,â he says, voice stern and you shiver.
âI understand,â you parrot. Santi nods, pleased at you doing as he says, and steps out of his jeans, pulling his boxers off at the same time, releasing his cock. Heâs hard, curving up towards his stomach and leaking pre-cum.
Almost on instinct, you lean forwards to lick it off, and Santi lets out a groan of satisfaction at the sensation of your mouth just wrapping around his head, your hands on his thighs. Before you can take him any further, heâs stepping back, shaking his head.
âLie back,â he instructs, and you obey. Santi kneels next to you, tugging your wrists up, above your head, looping the handcuffs through his headboard and clicking them on around you. You give them an experimental tug, biting back a moan when they hold fast. âColour?â Santi asks, and you grin up at him.
âGreen.â Your voice already sounds broken. âSanti, please.â
Santi just kneels back, looking at you with those hungry eyes. âFuck, youâre gorgeous,â he breathes out, hands running up and down your body, ignoring how you squirm as best you can under him.
âOh yeah?â You ask. âWhy donât you come down here then, instead of just watching me?â Santiâs hands reach your breasts, squeezing and gently massaging and you arch your back towards him.
âYouâre unhappy with my hands?â Santi returns, and stops touching you. You canât help it, letting out a whine and straining to move your arms towards him, before remembering you canât, your attempted movement jangling the chain a little.
âNo, Santi,â youâre desperate for him to touch you again, especially now you canât touch him,âSanti please, touch me again, touch me more.â Begging has never come so easily to you. And then Santiâs moving between your legs, gripping your hips and thrusting up, but not into you, just along your folds. You moan, shifting as best as you can while Santi coats himself with your slick, the head of his cock just pushing your clit, teasing you and riling you up further.
You suddenly really want to touch him, to rake your hands through his hair, to scratch your nails down his back, to be able to suck a purple hickey into his skin. You let your head fall back to the bed, pushing your hips towards him, desperate for more, desperate for him.
Itâs only when you open your mouth in a desperate plea, a whine of his name, âSanti, Santi please,â that he begins to push into you.
Your mouth falls open in silent pleasure, just as Santi begins to talk. âFuck, baby.â The stretch of him is delicious. âI wanted this for so long.â Now fully seated in you, he rests on his forearms, kissing you softly, first on the forehead, then on your lips. âColour?â he asks softly.
You nearly cry from how sweet it is, how sweet he is, before responding, a mumble against his lips. âGreen.â You feel full, like this is how youâre supposed to feel all the time, this is your base state, and youâre going to spend the rest of your life trying to achieve this specific feeling.
âGood girl,â Santi murmurs and you keen at the praise, feeling insatiable, wanting more, clenching around him. He grins, registering your response. âYou liked that? You like being told what a good job youâre doing, how good you feel around me..â he breaks off with a gasp, and your eyes close as Santi begins to move in time with his words, long, slow thrusts as he begins to put you together again, building you up, further and further, his thrusts speeding up gradually, the sound of his dick sliding into your wetness, and the slap of skin-on-skin loud in his room, mixing with your moans.
You lift your legs up, wrapping them around his waist, hooking one of your feet around Santiâs butt. They donât stay there for long, one of Santiâs arms pushing one leg up your body, hand under your knee as he splits you open. The new angle hits something deeper in you, and you gasp, unable to move and at the mercy of Santiago.
Your orgasm takes you by surprise, coming out of nowhere, your lower body suddenly clenching around Santi, arms straining against the handcuffs, as you try in vain to touch him. You tumble through it, muscles spasming as you fall under him. He keeps moving into you as you shudder below him, pulling you through with murmured praise and encouragement as another broken cry leaves your throat.
His thrusts start to get sloppier as he goes faster, losing his rhythm slightly and you can tell heâs near his end. As best you can, you start moving your own hips, grinding up to meet him, words of encouragement slipping past your lips. âSanti, you feel so good, are you gonna fill me up?â You coo, pouting a little, tugging your wrists a little for emphasis. âPlease Santi, I want to feel you, come in me, please-â
You stop when Santi snaps his hips once more, with a groan of finality and you can feel his cum inside of you as he holds himself there, his cock pulsing within you. He presses a couple more gentle kisses to your neck before sliding out, and you hiss slightly at the pull on your sensitive folds of your pussy.
He leaves for a second, returning with a key and gently releasing your wrists. âGood girl,â he murmurs, massaging your skin. âYou did so good for me.â
He helps you sit up, kissing your cheek before leaving again. This time when he returns, he has a wet rag, and a glass of water, which you take a sip from, not having realised how thirsty you were. He gently dabs the rag on the inside of your thighs first, and the two of you watch in slightly morbid fascination as Santiâs cum leaks out of you onto the rag.
âThatâs kinda hot,â you comment idly, wondering if Santi fucked all sense of you.
He only laughs, wiping the mess away and cuddling up next to you. âDo you want me to do it again?â he asks as you lean into his arms, his hands wrapping around your wrists to rub circles into your skin.
âYes,â you answer, probably too quickly but beyond caring.
âGood.â
Thereâs a pause, and you can tell Santi wants to ask you something, so you twist in his arms, kissing along his shoulder. The act feels small, and innocent somehow, despite your states of undress, as you try to reassure him.
âYou were right,â you murmur near his ear, âStranger was where I was going wrong.â
It takes him a second to piece your reference together, but then he grins, and itâs like he hung the sun in the sky. âYeah? I took care of you?â
You kiss him again, this time on the lips, biting back your own identical grin. âYeah.â
***
Thanks for reading! Reblogs and comments mean the world to me đ„°đ„°đ„°
Tags: @fantasticcopeaglepastaâ
#Santiago x reader#Santiago Garcia x reader#Santiago pope x reader#Santiago pope Garcia x reader#pope x reader#Santiago Garcia#Santiago pope#Santiago pope Garcia#triple frontier#fanfic
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Dog Days Pt. 2
Pairings: Mirio Togata x Male!Reader
Word Count: 1,893
Warnings: Second installment! Slightly angsty I guess, I could not remember for the life of me where I was going with this considering it's been 2 months but you know, is what it is. It does have a very small bit of potential sexual harassment, so that's a warning there, but nothing actually happens!
-
Midoriya felt horrible.Â
Mirio was still in the middle of his fight, fighting pretty playfully to tire out Tenya, but the green-haired male was hoping for him to finish faster.Â
He'd been talking to himself, normal, and it had been about (M/N). Said male had gotten curious and came over to question him and Midoriya had freaked out.Â
Really he hadn't meant to! He'd been so absorbed into his own world that he hadn't noticed that (M/N) had gotten so close until he'd tugged at his uniform!
Midoriya was still on the floor, laying down this time as he looked at the ceiling as if it was the thing causing all his problems. He had wanted to talk to (M/N), to understand his quirk a bit better, and get to know the tall male. (M/N) was dating Mirio, and Midoriya loved Mirio like a brother so he wanted to know his significant other. Then he'd gone and fucked up.Â
Tilting his head a bit Midoriya could see that (M/N) was sitting in the corner of the room, relaxed against the wall with one knee propped up. He looked quite calm actually, but he was glaring harshly at the floor.
Midoriya had struggled with himself enough to recognize that (M/N) was beating himself up mentally, that he was replaying the encounter over and over again to see what he'd done wrong and could have done better, but there was nothing.
(M/N) had done nothing wrong, Midoriya was just jumpy and had reacted badly.Â
Midoriya felt horrible and knew he should approach the other male and apologize, but he couldn't find the strength to drag himself up. What if (M/N) reacted badly to Midoriya approaching him? What if he didn't accept the apology and was pissed? Was he pissed?
Midoriya was working himself up, mumbling again. But before his own mumbling could get too loud he noticed someone else was mumbling. Not very many people had a habit like that in the class. Confused he looked over (M/N) to see if it was him, but he was just sitting against the wall with his chin against his chest, mouth and nose buried in his jacket collar.
Midoriya looked around a bit more, going from person to person only to find nothing. Confused he sat up, trying to get a better angle of everything, and this time he found purple in the form of Mineta. He was partially in the shadows, this stupid grin resting on his face, a stupid grin that Midoriya, unfortunately, knew very well.
The girls could all take care of themselves, Mineta was more or less just annoying, and the guys had all given up trying to reprimand him. Well, Tenya still tried but that was just part of his personality.
Mineta was currently eyeing up Jirou, who was still quite out of it due to (M/N)'s venom. It was of no surprise really that Mineta would go after her. (M/N) had explained to all of them beforehand that his venom in the small dose he used would make them sleepy and pliant, having a fuzzy memory of everything after it had worn off. So it was no surprise that Mineta was going after the one girl that wouldn't remember it very well.Â
Midoriya moved to stand up, but out of the corner of his eyes he saw that (M/N) was slowly getting up. The tall male was leaning against the wall still, but he had his feet under him so he was crouched down, his eyes still closed. As Midoriya looked at him in curiosity he watched as those red eyes moved about, tracking something.
Belatedly he realized the taller male was tracking Mineta who had his back turned to (M/N). His face was against the wall, he looked relaxed, but Midoriya knew the signs of tensing muscles.Â
He was moving slowly to stand up, close to the wall in a way you could only ever expect of a spider.Â
Once he stood up completely (M/N) was terrifying. He was taller than everyone else in the class, and while only being dressed in jeans and a hoodie he looked almost like a villain. Is that why he'd freaked out earlier?
(M/N)'s hands were trailing on the wall as he walked forward, silent as a free hand stuffed into his hoodie pocket pulled out the gun he used for his venom.Â
(M/M) was an all-over fighter, he could do short-range or long-range, but with long-range he couldn't use his venom which could incapacitate someone with one hit. With that in mind, the support class had made him a little gun he could load with his venom to use so he could inject it in a better way.
Midoriya looked around, looking to see if anyone else had noticed but everyone was watching Mirio and Tenya fight. He watched as (M/N) pulled the little vile that held the venom out, holding it against elongated canine teeth the collect the venom much like people do with snakes.Â
It only took a second or two for the vile to fill up, for (M/N) to be standing right behind Mineta.
He crouched down, still towering over the purple male, but Mineta finally seemed to realize something was wrong. Midoriya watched as he shakily looked up, meeting a mass of red and (E/C) eyes looking down at him.
Mineta tried to scream, (M/N) clamping a hand over his mouth with a light shushing sound.
Midoriya looked around again, but everyone was ignoring what was happening. He seemed to be the only one who had noticed, the only one close enough to hear the two of them.
Two of (M/N)'s hands come out into Mineta's sight, one holding the gun, the other holding the vile.Â
"You know what's in this?" he whispered, shaking the little vile of (F/C) venom. Mineta nodded erratically, trying to squirm out of (M/N)'s grip but was unable to move.Â
"Then you know what would happen if I injected more than I should, right?" Mineta nodded again, tears almost coming to his eyes.
Midoriya went back to earlier this afternoon again, to when (M/N) had been explaining his abilities. His venom was always a set amount, half an ML mixed with some solution to be injected via needle darts from his gun. It caused exhaustion basically, zapping anyone hit of their energy.
He'd told them that he would only use more if absolutely necessary, mostly due to Bakugo saying he was more resilient than the rest of them, but had proceeded to tell them what would happen if he used more.
It was still safe between 1 and 3 ML, depending on the persons size and their health records, but once you got past that it got dangerous. He had a Neurotoxic Venom, the kind that was used to paralyze prey in actual spiders.Â
He had explained that the general dose, besides the memory haze, would cause muscle spasms, cramps, twitching, sweating, drooling, and gooseflesh. As the dose got larger it would start to cause painful abdominal cramps, strange sensations, unstable blood pressure, and severe pain in the limbs.
Then, with a blush that rivaled Mina's hair, he had said in rare cases it could cause damage to Autonomic effects, such as temperature control, digestion, bladder control, and unfortunately sexual function. Basically, if he gave a bigger dose than safe he could cause any of the males to get a painful erection. He'd sighed after that, filling a little vile with his venom to show them all the color of it so they'd recognize it.Â
Coming back to himself Midoriya's eyes focused again, looking to (M/N) and Mineta who had been talking softly. Or (M/N) had been talking with Mineta nodding along the best he could.Â
(M/N) pulled back after a second or two of silence, putting the gun back in his pocket but keeping a firm hand over Mineta's mouth.
"Now I suggest you find a new hobby or you'll end up confused and dazed, not having any memory of the next 12 hours," (M/N) smiled lightly, head tilting a bit to the side, "You understand, right?"
Mineta nodded aggressively again, (M/N) smile getting larger before patting him on the back, standing up, and moving away from him. Midoriya watched Mineta for a second or two more before looking back to (M/N), flinching when he locked eyes with him.
(M/N) was just standing there, partially in the shadows staring at him. It was horrifying.
"(M/N)!" a voice called out, Mirio coming into the room with a shining smile.
Immediately all of the murderous intent left (M/N)'s system, a soft smile so different from the one a few minutes ago coming to his face. He looked exhausted, he had before but now even more so.Â
Mirio came over, talking excitedly and waving his hands around, gently elbowing the taller male in the ribs as he laughed at something. (M/N) didn't say anything, just smiled and nodded, ruffling blond hair when he had to leave for his next fight.
Mirio's smile fell once (M/N) was out on the field, turning to look at Midoriya instead of his boyfriend through the glass.
"What happened?" he asked, face void of the happiness it had shown with seconds before. Now he just looked concerned, confused and concerned.
"I don't really know," Midoriya started, rubbing at the back of his neck as he looked at the ground. "I'd gotten lost in thought so he'd startled me when he tugged on my shirt and then he scared Mineta when he was creeping on Jirou.
Mirio sighed, looking back to the glass that protected them from the fight happening below. (M/N) was fighting Mina, the pink girl easy to spot against the mass of rubble around them. She was laughing, struggling to breath as she slapped her thighs. Mirio smiled lightly at that, (M/N) had said some dumb joke in order to distract her. Partial for the fight and partial for himself.
"Yeah that's (M/N)," he chuckled softly, watching as the young girl fell over, laughing so much she was crying with (M/N) frantically crouched over her, clearing panicking as if he'd done something wrong. "He's always nice to everyone, easily excitable but he's also pretty awkward."
Mirio then let out a slightly forced laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. "He's also always been someone who acts, so if Mineta was being a creap then I can't really blame (M/N)."Â
Midoriya nodded, watching as Mina struggled to get up, (M/N) helping her the best he could with their height difference.
Maybe he'd just caught (M/N) on a bad day? Hopefully, they could be friends, or at least get along.
#my hero academia mirio#Mirio Togata#mirio togata x male reader#mirio x male reader#bnha#bnha imagines#bnha mirio#angst
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New Girl on the Block (1)
(Hey guys! I finally got around to posting the first chapter of this! I hope you guys enjoy it, and please tell me if youâd liked to be tagged or want to read more! thereâs also a mini-series of Journal Entries connected to this fic.)
Ch.2
Chapter 1: Happy Accidents
Rosemary Highschool, a private school for the truly gifted and the rich. Anyone who attended this facility was either poised and reserved, or uptight, or all of the above. Therefore, when a stuttering, stumbling raven-haired girl came tripping through their doors, it was only natural that the students became curious.
Felix couldnât care less, if he was being honest. The girl was just another student, and he had better things to do than waste his time meddling in the personal life of a complete stranger.Â
His friends, however, did not share his sentiment.Â
âDid you hear?â Allegra asked as they walked to their lockers, her sky blue eyes wide with delight. She leaned forward slightly to catch a better view of their expressions, causing her golden braid to fall gracefully over her left shoulder.Â
âAbout the new student? Who didnât?â Claude replied, wearing his usual grin.Â
âHow do you think she got in?â Allan wondered aloud, fixing the green cap on his head in thought.
Felix rolled his eyes. His friends had always loved picking up on the latest gossip. He never understood why. Take this new student, for example. She hasnât even finished enrolling in the school yet, but everyoneâs already chattering relentlessly about her. Why? Because she was rumored to be clumsy? That was hardly an achievement, let alone something to be talked about by the entire school. So what was all the fuss about?
Allegra gasped, a smile lighting up her soft features. âOh! We should show her around! This school is huge, so sheâll definitely need a guide. Plus, we can get the first scoop on her.â
âAbsolutely not.â Felix finally cut in, giving her a sharp look. He refused to galivant around the school with a complete stranger while his classmates tried to pry into the poor girlâs personal life.Â
âWe didnât say you had to go.â Claude pointed out.
âBut you should at least say hi.â Allegra hastily added, a motherly tone coming to her voice.
Felix scoffed. Right. He would say âhiâ, then they would âconvinceâ him to stay- i.e. drag him by the collar -and he would end up going around the school with them anyway. Heâd gotten used to their tricks by now.
Allan frowned in disapproval. âCome on, Fe. Itâs the polite thing to do. We are her new classmates, after all.â
âYeah, Fe, donât be a jerk.â
âWhen am I ever not a jerk.â Felix retorted.
Claude smirked. âHeâs got a point.â
âFelix.â Allegra pressed, fixing him with a stern glare and putting her hands on her hips.
Felix groaned, irritation prickling up to the forefront of his mind. What did it matter if he saw the new student? He wouldnât be talking with her often, and they would probably meet later on during classes anyway. Why did they have to be so pushy?
He reached up to rub his temples and closed his eyes. If he couldnât see them, it helped him imagine that they werenât annoying him to the point of insanity.Â
âAlright, fine, but if any of you-â
Felix barely registered the hit. He heard his friends gasp, and the sound of his books and pencils scattering across the floor, and he felt the dull pain of someone smacking into him before he unexpectedly hit the ground.
Then his ears tuned into a light, yet panicked voice.
âIâm so sorry! I canât believe I just did that- are you hurt? Do I need to call the nurse?â
Someone was talking to him. Well, they were more of rambling, really.Â
âPardon?â He said, interrupting the personâs ramble as he rubbed his back. He glanced up to see a young girl kneeling on the ground in front of him. She was scrambling around on the floor- gathering up his books, he realized -and appeared to be even more disoriented than he was.
His question spooked her, apparently, because she jumped, and her eyes darted upwards. They were an overwhelming blue, bright and sparkling despite being filled with anxiety at the moment.Â
âI-Iâm sorry!â She repeated, briefly setting the books down so she could nervously pull on the tips of her raven-colored pigtails.
Felixâs eyes widened.Â
Raven.
Claude stifled a laugh behind him.Â
âItâs not a problem.â Felix sighed, swiftly taking his books back from her and moving to retrieve the others. This was exactly what he had wanted to avoid.Â
The ravenette furrowed her eyebrows, now bringing her hands down to play with the zipper of her black, half-sleeved jacket. âA-are you sure?â
He gave a short nod, scooping the rest of his books into his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.Â
âI wasnât looking where I was going, and I ran into you. If anything, I should be the one saying sorry.â His tone was composed, calm, if only for the sake of dignity. Claude and Allegra were never going to let him live this down.
He picked up her small handbag, holding it out to her. âSo, I apologize. Iâll be more careful next time, and I am willing to replace anything of yours that is broken.âÂ
A wash of color came to her cheeks.
âOh, That- that wonât be necessary, thank you.â She insured, taking the purse and clutching it to her chest.
Felix didnât reply, instead using the brief pause to look her over. With her light pink capris and child-like pigtails, she didnât exactly give off the impression of being rich or poised. Perhaps a relative bought her tuition? Thatâs happened before.Â
âAw, look! Felix made a friend!â Claudeâs snide remark broke Felix from his thoughts, and he shot the brunette a glare. That clown can never keep his mouth shut.
Allegra pushed past the two and extended a hand to the girl just as they got to their feet. âHi! Iâm Allegra. Whatâs your name?â
The girl smiled- which Felix found surprisingly pleasant -and took her hand. âMarinette. Itâs nice to meet you.â
âLike the doll?â Allan asked curiously, stepping forward as well.
âSort of, yes.âÂ
âThatâs pretty cool. Iâm Allan, by the way.â He introduced himself, also shaking her hand. He then pointed behind him, towards Claude and Felix. âThe one in the blue striped shirt is Claude, and the stiff board you just ran into is Felix.â
Felix hunched his shoulders slightly, a scowl tugging at the corner of his lips, but Marinette only laughed. It oddly reminded him of the sound of tinkling bells.Â
âYouâre new here, right?â Allegra asked before Felix could snark off to Allan. âMind if we show you around?â
A sigh of relief tumbled from Marinetteâs lips. âPlease do. This place is like a maze!â
Claude chuckled and nodded in agreement. âYeah, itâll make your head spin. We-â
â-Can start with the cafeteria.â Felix interrupted. The sooner they could start the tour, the sooner he could go home. âThen weâll work our way around the classrooms.â
He spun on his heel, ignoring his friendsâ smug smiles, and marched off. It wouldnât take long for them to follow.
Allan was the first to catch up, throwing Felix a sly smirk as he whispered, âI thought you said you werenât going to show her around.â
Felix shrugged. If he was going to suffer through the embarrassment of running into somebody, he might as well get something out of it. He would take her on a quick tour, and perhaps his friends wouldnât feel the need to meddle in his social life for at least another month.
âWeâre her new classmates, right?â He said. âWe should exercise basic politeness and guide her through the school.â
Allan hummed. âSounds like good advice. I wonder who couldâve told you that.â
âThe name escapes me.â Felix replied, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He stole a glance over his shoulder to the rest of the group. Marinette was talking cheerfully with Allegra now, her previous show of anxiety all but gone. She even looked a bit confident with the tripping matter settled. Isnât that strange?
â...What else do you know about her?â
~~~~~~
When Maman suggested that Marinette start attending Rosemary Highschool, reluctance couldnât begin to express how sheâd felt. Sheâd heard the rumors, how the kids were spoiled, snobby brats, how the classes were just a room full of fancy trinkets to keep the kids satisfied for a while. Marinette honestly didnât want any part of it, but at that point, any school was better than her old school. She simply couldnât stand Lilaâs schemes anymore, nor Adrienâs relentless pursuit of having them get along. As bad as Chloeâs bullying was, Marinette almost wished that she could go back to that time. At least then sheâd still have friends. (Well, calling her old classmates âfriendsâ would be over exaggerating now. At least then she wouldnât have to deal with getting bullied from everyone at school.)
Either way, Marinette chose Rosemary over Dupont in a heartbeat, despite her uneasiness, and found that it actually wasnât all bad. The endless halls were a bit confusing, but the classes were more advanced than others had let on, and though a select few of the students could be considered snobbish, everyone else seemed quite nice. A small group even offered to show her around. (After she ran into their friend, that is. Only Marinette could make such an embarrassing introduction.)
âI think that covers everything.â The girl of the group, Allegra, said. âBut in case youâre still confused, I have a map for you.â
âA map?â Marinette echoed. She didnât think they presented those at the school, though they probably should.
Allegra nodded and pulled a folded piece of paper from her school bag. âClaude gets lost all the time. So I started making maps for him. I have multiple maps because- typical Claude -he loses the maps too.â
âHow was I supposed to know that it got mixed in with my history homework?â Claude, obviously the jokester amongst them, defended with a flail of his arms.
âIf you ever need help,â Allegra continued, ignoring Claudeâs comment as she scribbled something on the map, âfeel free to text me.âÂ
âThank you so much.â Marinette smiled, peeking at the phone number that was now on the corner of the page.
âItâs the least we can do.â Allan, probably the most relaxed of the group, replied.Â
âItâs not as complicated as it looks. Iâm sure youâll get the hang of it within a week.â Ah, yes. Then there was Felix, the poor boy sheâd run into earlier. Heâd been extremely mature about the matter, even insisting that it was his fault and that heâd pay for any of her damaged belongings. Naturally, she refused the offer, but it was a thoughtful gesture nonetheless.Â
âIf not, you know where to find us.â Claude added, before scooping her hand into his and pressing a quick kiss to her knuckles. âBut I certainly wouldnât be opposed to you finding me for non-school related purposes as well.âÂ
Allegra rolled her eyes with a sigh, and Allan pinched the bridge of his nose. Felix just scoffed, especially when Claude winked at the end.Â
Jokester and flirt of the group. Marinette thought with a smirk. In one quick motion, she slipped her hand out of Claudeâs grasp and pushed him away by the tip of his nose.Â
âIâll keep that in mind.â She said, flashing him a wry smile.
Claude stumbled back a step, clearly shocked by her reaction. Allan straight up laughed next to him, and Marinette, to her delight, caught a glimpse of Felix smirking.
âOh, I like you.â Allegra snickered, slinging her arm over Marinetteâs shoulders.
âSo do I.â Claude grinned.Â
Allan, once his laughs died down, stepped forward. âDo you mind if I give you my number too? I canât imagine not hanging out with you now.â
Marinette blushed from the compliment, but nodded and handed him the paper. Claude eagerly jumped at the opportunity and wrote down his number too. Then the boys turned to Felix.
âWhat about you, Fe? Are you giving her your number now or are you gonna beg for it later?â Claude asked, his grin turning devilish.
Felix shot him a glare- which he apparently did quite often. âI donât beg.â
Allegra- ever the patient friend -let out a huff and shoved the paper into his hands. âFor Peteâs sake, Felix, just write your number on the dang paper.â
âO-Only if you want to.â Marinette interjected. She didnât want to cause a fight amongst them on her first day.
Felixâs glare faded slightly at her input, and he sighed.Â
âItâs fine. You would probably need it eventually, anyway.â He relented, plucking a pen out of his left vest pocket and jotting down his number on the paper too. Marinette smiled despite herself as she took the paper back. It was only her first day, but sheâs already made four, lovely friends. She liked to think of that as a good sign.
âHave you gotten your class schedule, yet?â Allegra queried now that the phone number matter was settled.
Marinette shook her head. âI was actually trying to find it when I bumped into you guys.â
Claude snorted. ââBumped intoâ. Good one.â
Marinette giggled along with Allegra and Allan. She hadnât meant it that way, but the irony was a bit humorous.Â
âLet us walk you to the office.â Allan requested. âThe school tends to overcomplicate things, class schedules included.â
âAre you sure? I donât want to hold you guys up.â
Allegra waved her hand dismissively. âClasses are over for the day, and our drivers are paid to wait for us.â
Marinette furrowed her brows slightly. âYour drivers?"
âYou know, the people who drive us to and from school and anywhere else we want to go.â Claude helpfully supplied.
So, like Gorilla. Marinette thought. It made sense. This was a school of kids who had fortunes of the same extent, if not greater than, the Agresteâs fortunes. If Adrien had a driver, then the students here would certainly have one too.
âYou donât have a driver, do you?â Allegra guessed.
Marinette glanced up at the blonde, a strange mix of surprised and embarrassed. Was it that obvious? Would it be weird in this school if she didnât have a driver?
âPlease donât take that the wrong way.â Allegra rushed to add, noticing Marinetteâs sheepish expression. âIâm just curious. We donât get many students here who arenât drowning in their own money.â
âThat makes sense.â Marinette replied. The tuition for this school had been unbelievably high. âBut no, I donât have a driver. My family was granted an early scholarship for me to come here.â
Surprise flashed across the groupâs faces, including Felixâs.Â
âWell, isnât that interesting.â Claude muttered.Â
Marinette shrank back slightly. âI-Iâm sorry-â
âNo, donât apologize.â Allan cut her off. âWeâre just impressed.â
âGetting a scholarship here isnât easy.â Allegra explained.Â
âI-Itâs only in the fashion section.â Marinette admitted, fiddling with the ends of her bookbag.
Claude gasped, a sparkle coming to his chestnut eyes. "You're a fashion designer?!"
âUh oh.â Allan smirked.
Allegra shot her an apologetic look. âIâd say that thereâs an escape to this, but I donât want to lie straight to your face on our first day of knowing each other.â
Marinette held back a smile. Did that mean she would lie to her face when they knew each other better?
âHow many outfits have you designed? Can you sow outfits too? Iâve had a few ideas, but none of the other art students listen to me-â Comments and questions started spilling out of Claude left and right. Things about smeared pencil drawings, pricked fingers, and his strange obsession with ruffled, prince-like sleeves seemed to explode out of his mouth all at once. Marinette knew her rambles could fall on the fast side, but this was a whole other level.Â
âIâd have to look through my notebook, but I think the ruffles are doable.â Marinette managed to say when Claude paused to take a breath.
âReally?!â He exclaimed, going so far as to clasp his hands together with a grin.
She nodded, smiling herself. âIâm not sure how princely sleeves would fair on modern sleeves, though. Theyâd look much nicer on a full prince costume.â
Claudeâs eyes bulged out of his head. âYou would design a full suit for me?â
âI canât promise that the fabric will be of good quality when I sow it, but yeah.âÂ
Claude threw his fists in the air in celebration, and Allegra took the opportunity to lightly pull Marinette aside.
âYou know you donât have to do this, right?â She whispered. âClaudeâs not going to be too disappointed if you decide to change your mind.â
Marinetteâs smile softened. âThanks, but I really donât mind. I needed a new project to work on, anyway.âÂ
Allegra studied her for a moment, then smiled as well. âWell, if youâre sure. Heâs going to send you cars full of fabric though.â
She laughed. âGuess Iâll tell Maman to start clearing out the guest room.â
~~~~~~
Felix stared at his book, rubbing the corner of the page between his thumb and index finger. His phone buzzed relentlessly beside him on the arm of his recliner, no doubt the group chat that he'd been roped into. It was chaotic enough when it was just Allegra, Allan, and Claude, but now that they've added Marinette to the group, Felix wondered if his phone would ever be silent again.
He supposed he should have known better than to assume they would show Marinette around the school and be done with her. Allegra, Allan, and Claude were always overly friendly. However, he also couldnât say that he minded having her around either. At least, not for the time being. She was considerate enough not to push his buttons and lively enough to keep the others occupied. No more on-the-spot activities from Allegra and Claude to cure their boredom.
"They're chatty today." Bridgette, his mother, commented from the loveseat couch to his right.
Felix hummed in agreement. "A new student arrived at the school today."
"Is that what they're talking about?"
He shook his head. "It's who they're talking to. The leeches have already adopted her."
Bridgette chuckled. âYou mean Allegra, Allan, and Claude?âÂ
âWho else insists on sticking to me like glue?âÂ
She tilted her head in a âTrueâ gesture. âWhoâs the new student?â
âHer nameâs Marinette.â Felix answered, flipping the page of his book.
âOh, thatâs a unique name.â Bridgette replied thoughtfully.
Felix hummed in agreement. âShe said it was supposed to be similar to the doll âMarionetteâ.âÂ
âYou talked to her?â Bridgette asked, surprise lacing her tone.
Felix resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He knew she didnât mean to sound patronizing, but sometimes her questions irked him. For example, why wouldnât he talk to the new student if Allegra and the others were? Even if he didnât particularly enjoy human interaction, there was still such a thing as common courtesy.
..Which he supposed he didnât usually have either.
Okay, maybe her question was more reasonable than he originally thought.
âYes, I actually ran into her while we were walking down the hall.â He finally said.
Bridgette tried- and failed -to hide her laugh. âYou ran into someone? Thatâs not like you, Felix.â
Felix sighed, slipping a bookmark into his book so he could close it. âIâm aware. I was trying to ignore Allegraâs prodding when it happened.â
âI see. What did Marinette say?â
âShe actually started apologizing.â Felix admitted. âEven though it was my fault, she picked up my books before tending to her own things and asked if I was alright.â
Bridgette smiled. âShe sounds delightful.â
He nodded without thinking. âAllegra even invited her to our routine luncheon tomorrow.â
Felix missed the twinkle in his motherâs eyes as she said, âWow, to your personal lunch? They must really enjoy her company. Youâll have to invite her over here sometime.â
âIâm sure Allegra will arrange it eventually.â Felix replied dismissively.
âThen I shall have to thank her when she does.â Bridgette remarked, standing up from the couch. Her fingers ruffled through his hair as she passed him. âIâm glad you had a good day at school, sweetheart.â
Felix almost objected, since he hadnât necessarily claimed to have had a good day at school, but decided against it. There was no point in arguing, especially when his day had, in fact, been satisfactory. Heâd met someone new, someone that intrigued him. (A rarity, indeed, but it was true.) In the short time they talked, Marinette had shown herself to be both kind and anxious, but also witty and confident. It was an interesting mixture that stuck out to him. What type of life must one live to create such a paradox of a personality?
Unfortunately, Allan and the others knew about as little as he did when it came to her. She was a new student that had a passion for fashion and a bright smile. That was all. This was why heâd elected to remain silent instead of sharply opposing Allegraâs inviting Marinette to their lunch. (The sly smiles that were thrown his way by Claude and Allan afterwards were above irritating, though.)
Nevertheless, Felix felt she was worth the teasing for now, because Marinette, in short, was a puzzle.
And Felix loved his puzzles.
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Katara's Grief
(This is my first attempt at a meta post and I know that this has probably been already done but I just needed to get it off my chest and go on a little rant and it kinda got long so bear with me.)
A lot of the hate on Katara stems from the fact that she keeps on mentioning her mother's death at every chance she gets and invalidates other people's pain to assert that her suffering is the worst of the lot.
And even though everybody is entitled to their own opinions, I'm gonna point out why I think the aforesaid claims are not exactly correct.
First we'll take a look at; Katara's Backstory:
We know that Kya is killed in a fire nation raid and that Katara had been the last person to see her alive before she leaves the tent on her mother's insistence. Only to come back a few moments later and find her dead body. This, in itself is a traumatising event.
So yes, her mother died. Other people in the story go through far worse. You're not wrong when you say that.
But what is more important in Katara's story is the aftermath of her mother's death.
As Sokka says while talking to Toph in "The Runaway" in B3 Ep7:
Sokka: When our mom died, that was the hardest time in my life. Our family was a mess, but Katara? She had so much strength. She stepped up and took on so much responsibility. She helped fill the void that was left by our mom.
As an eight year old, she had to force herself to grow up to step into her mother's shoes and raise herself and her elder brother and simultaneously look after the entire village after her father left to fight in the war. She had to do all of it by herself.
In face of all her responsibilities, she never really had the chance to simply be a grieving child lamenting the loss of her mother. She habituated herself to caring more about others than herself (We see this trait in the entire series as she acts as the stand-in mom friend for the entire Gaang with an exception of Suki and Zuko). She ended up bottling her feelings of grief, resentment, guilt and rage deep within herself.
She had to give up an extensive part of her childhood where most children focus on figuring themselves out, to become a mature and responsible person who was working as the immovable pillar holding up the family and even the whole village not much later.
She put up a strong front to help others and pretended to be fine even though she was hurting inside the whole time.
She could never find any closure from the situation. She never got over it.
Moving on to the criticisms:
1. Katara keeps on mentioning her mother like a broken record:
Here are the number of times Katara mentions her mother's death (not sure if that's all of it, lmk if there are any others):
1. In her first scene with Sokka
Katara: Ever since mom died, I've been doing all the work around camp while you've been off playing soldier!
2. A short while after she meets Aang
Katara: Well, I just want you to be prepared for what you might see. The Fire Nation is ruthless. They killed my mother, and they could have done the same to your people.
3. A short while after she meets Haru
Katara: I lost my mother in a Fire Nation raid. This necklace is all I have left of her.
4. A short while after she meets Jet
Katara: Sokka and I lost our mother to the Fire Nation.
5. In the swamp after she sees a vision of her mother
Katara: I thought I saw Mom.
6. In the Crystal Catacombs with Zuko
Katara: I don't? How dare you! You have no idea what this war has put me through! Me personally! The Fire Nation took my mother away from me.
7. A short while after she meets Hama
Katara: We completely understand. We lost our mother in a raid.
8. Repeated mentions in The Southern Raiders episode
(Most of the episode basically)
The first mention with Sokka is in the middle of a siblings' spat where she tells off Sokka for trying to act as if he were superior when it was obvious that in the face of the gaping hole that was left by Kya's sudden death, Katara had shouldered much more responsibility.
When she tells it to Aang, she uses it as a proof that the Fire Nation is capable of immense cruelty and destruction.
The Gaang travel all around the world and meet different people affected by the war in different ways. So when Haru, Jet and Hama narrate their own stories, Katara sympathises with them and talks about Kya's death in lieu of "I understand, the Fire Nation hurt me too."
After they got separated, Aang, Sokka and Katara each had their visions and after they get back together, they all mention their visions and so does Katara.
When left alone in catacombs with Zuko, whom she considered as the face of the Fire Nationâ the same Fire Nation that had her mother killed and forced her father to leave to fight in the war, she has a meltdown where she rightfully accuses him of all the bad things he's done and then breaks down while talking about how the war has cost her i.e., by causing her mother's death.
The Southern Raiders is the episode where Katara hunts down the man responsible for her mother's death. If you think mentioning Kya repeatedly in this episode is uncalled for, then I don't know what to tell you.
In all the incidents mentioned above, Katara mentioning her mother's death is a very natural occurrence is the respective conversations. She mostly talks about Kya's death to either extend her sympathy or to use it as an example of the ruthlessness of the Fire Nation.
Another fact to be noted is that 70% of the Gaang's storyline is followed via Katara from a narrative point of view. Plus, being the mom-friend, she acts as the spokesperson. Considering that Kya's death is a major event that played a huge role in shaping Katara's life and is also the source of her severe, unresolved trauma, which acts as the driving force of her story, it is only natural that she brings up this topic whenever she is engaging in a deeper conversation.
It is us as the viewers who have seen her from the start and already know about her mother's death and we see her talking to multiple people about it. Which is why it might come across as repetitive to some people.
While, Kya's death is not necessary information that everyone needs to know, Katara talking about it never comes across as a forced or unnatural.
2. Katara invalidates others' pain because she thinks she has suffered the most:
First of all, if anything, Katara is the most empathetic person of them all. As the mom-friend of the group, not only is she their constant moral support, she also helps them untangle and sort out their own feelings. She is also able to tap into issues that aren't said out loud.
Instances of Katara helping and supporting Aang, emotionally are uncountable.
She is the first one to notice Sokka's sour mood in B3 Ep4 "Sokka's Master". And even though his insecurities seem baseless, she validates him (by saying "I'm sorry you're feeling so down" instead of something like "That's a dumb thing to say") and knows exactly what to do to cheer him up.
In B3 Ep7 "The Runaway" she has the insight to understand that Toph's unruly behaviour is caused by the mixed feelings she has about her parents even though Toph's herself never talked about it.
She even reaches out to Zuko in B2 Ep19 "Crossroads of Destiny" even though she used to think of him as the face of the enemy.
But then there's The Southern Raiders.
Ah yes, that episode where Katara is extremely OOC and a total b*tch.
Agreed that she said some things that she definitely shouldn't have said. But like, she's just 14?? And has been hurting on the inside since she was 8?? And pretended to be fine just for the sake of other people?? Like, there's a limit to how much she can have her shit under control?? And she did a real good job of Sokka's upbringing and taking care of the village and taking care of Gaang on her own?? Some people out there are really willing to forget everything she has ever done just because she was mean for 5 minutes?? A traumatised 14 yo shouldn't be villianised and called toxic because she got mad and lashed out at people that one time??
But here's my take on the scene anyway:
When Aang gets to know that she's going to go face her mother's killer:
Aang: Um ... and what exactly do you think this will accomplish?
Katara: I knew you wouldn't understand.Â
Aang is a non-confrontational person who prefers running away from difficult situations as opposed to Katara who firmly stands her ground and is never afraid of confrontations. Katara had approached Aang only hoping that he would understand. But going by his dismissal, he obviously doesn't understand the burning need that she has to confront the man who had single-handedly destroyed her childhood. (Most people infer that what Katara means is that she thinks that Aang doesn't understand the pain of losing people. And so does Aang, I guess)
But things start getting even more tricky when:
Aang: Katara, you sound like Jet.
In all honesty, this is probably the most insensitive thing that she could've heard from anyone right then, let alone one of her closest friends. Hearing herself being compared to a homicidal maniac just because she wants to avenge her mother's killer. (No, I'm not justifying murder but there's a clear difference between homicide and avenging someone's death. And Aang may not be my favourite character but I do love him but this wasn't really a good thing to say either. And he wasn't even mentally distressed in the very least to be completely lacking tact or a filter.)
And then the situation escalates:
Sokka: Katara, she was my mother, too, but I think Aang might be right.
Katara: Then you didn't love her the way I did!
After 6 long years of Katara bottling in her dark feelings and letting them fester inside herself, she is finally letting them out and the first things she faces in a span of few minutes are outright rejection, invalidation of her feelings, comparison to a homicidal maniac and nothing akin to the unconditional support that she has provided to everybody. Her own brother tells her that he is siding with the boy who just compared her to a homicidal maniac.
Yes, accusing your own brother of not loving your mother enough is a very cruel thing to do. But both Sokka and Katara know that she doesn't entirely mean it.
But also, there is one very important factor in here:
In B3 Ep7 "The Runaway", Sokka says to Toph:
Sokka: I'm gonna tell you something crazy. I never told anyone this before, but honestly? I'm not sure I can remember what my mother looked like. It really seems like my whole life, Katara's been the one looking out for me. She's always been the one that's there. And now, when I try to remember my mom, Katara's is the only face I can picture.Â
Katara overhears this conversation just as Sokka had meant her to.
This dialogue lets us know that Sokka's coping mechanism has made him suppress all memories of Kya and replace them with memories of Katara in order to attain a semblance of normalcy.
Both Katara and Sokka had very different ways of coping with Kya's death. Katara pressed down her feelings and tried her best to pretend to ignore them while Sokka partially succeeded in forgetting her.
When Katara first hears these words she is shown to be crying. But if she were to remember these very words while she was justifying herself infront of her own brother and a close friend for wanting to avenge her mother, it would've had a negative impact on her.
In her rage, she would've thought: "Of course he doesn't want to avenge mom. Because he doesn't think it's worth it and that's because he doesn't even remember enough of her to be mad about her death."
And for someone who has spent each day of the last 6 years trying to fill in the shoes of her mother and experiencing her absence everyday, the idea of forgetting her mother is a ridiculous concept to her.
Her thoughts would have quickly derailed to: "He didn't love her enough to remember her."
In light of these thoughts, saying "Then you didn't love her the way I did" doesn't feel out of the blue.
No, I am definitely not justifying what she said, I'm just laying out a possible explanation to why she said what she said.
Yes, she should've apologized to Sokka for this and I think that they definitely should've had a long conversation about their mother's death and how it affected them. Between Katara supressing her feelings and Sokka supressing his memories, i don't think they ever had this conversation.
But sadly we are given neither of these scenes.
Tl;dr: Everytime Katara mentions her mother, it's with good reason and I don't think it's fair to call a character toxic when they lack a mind to mouth filter for 5 minutes and say some mean things. And considering all that Katara has done for everybody, it isn't fair at all.
Peace out!
#antis really be out there ignoring everything she does to hate on her because of two lines she said#nvm katara is one strong badass girl stan her for good grades and clear skin#katara#atla#atla meta#meta analysis#avatar the last airbender#water tribe#kya#sokka#hakoda#gaang#atla gaang#avatar gaang#zuko#aang#toph#ira's posts
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Confession | Dom!Dabi x Reader [Part 2]
Pairing: Dom!Dabi x Fem!Reader (Minors do not interact!)
Warnings: 18+, NSFW, smut, slapping, quirk play, small amounts of sadism, dubcon, angst, PANIC ATTACK
Notes: Your quirk is telepathy. Anything written in âbold and italicâ is the characterâs thoughts.
Summary: Following one of your shifts at the bar, you end up facing a little trouble. Who knew Dabi was the sentimental type.
Part 1
01:30 PMÂ Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 04th AugustÂ
The lights were bright as they illuminated the coffee shop, the smell of freshly ground coffee invaded your nostrils. A figure moved forward, their pale skin glistening under the light. âBlack coffee, please.â You tried to focus on your current order, but itâs very hard when everything else is a lot more interesting, I guess itâs good that it doesnât require too much brain capacity. As you stand at the counter, wondering if there was more to life than you had experienced, you realised the slave you were in the cog of society. Â
Only 3 more hours until you can go home, then you can kick your feet up and watch some Netflix, you thought to yourself. A buzz causes your head to shoot over to the other side of the counter. The screen lit up on your phone, causing your jaw to clench. It had been a few months since that night. You couldnât face him now. Maybe a week, but 3 months... Â
âNo, you canât phone him now! I mean heâs still trying so maybe he wouldnât be mad... who am I kidding, Iâd murder me if I had been ignored for this long. Youâre so stupid!â you scorned yourself.Â
Zoned out on your phone, you were jolted back into reality by your boss âI donât pay you to stand there on your phone!â Your eyes rolled as you put your phone back under the counter.Â
âSorry sir! Wonât happen again!â From his expression you made sure to tread carefully the rest of your shift. Â
  04:45 PM                     04th AugustÂ
Leaving the staff room, you threw your bag over your shoulder, your hand slipped into your coat pocket and checked your phone - 04:45PM. You put your phone back into your pocket and headed out the cafe.Â
Sunlight reflected off the white building surrounding you. The summer afternoon heat hitting you in the face. The sea of humanity that you were met with forced you to bottle the claustrophobia you felt building inside you. The scent of over-applied perfumes mixed with body odour spun around you until a stranger brought the unwelcomed smell you were ever so familiar with: putrid sweat, mixed with stale beer and burnt tobacco plagued your senses. Everything in front of you seemed to carrying on moving as your feet became heavy. You felt the panic grow within you as your heart pounded against your chest. Your hands shook. Your whole body tingled as you tried to hide the sweat dripping from your forehead.Â
âAre you alright, miss?âÂ
In seconds you were huddled on the floor, the crowd of people you had now acclaimed only added insult to injury. You prayed as you attempted to to slow your breathing, but you only seemed to be able to gasp in this moment. The world around you was spinning as you covered your ears, trying to make everything slow down. You felt sick.Â
âIs she ok?âÂ
âDo we need to call someone?âÂ
âI think sheâs having a panic attack!âÂ
Your vision is blurred as someone was now in front of you. Their words attempted to reach you but only bounced off the racket already forcing its way into your head. Your fingers were white-knuckled as they clung onto your hair. Please stop. Â
âHey! Can you hear me? Hey, just breathe... here follow me. In.... and out.... in.... and out....â It took you a few minutes to adjust and see a gentleman crouched in front of you. He repeats himself, as he guided you through his instructions. Â
âI canât... breathe.â your breaths fell short, your hand now clutching at your chest. Â
âEVERYONE BACK OFF. KEEP ON MOVING SHEâLL BE FINE!â the man watched as you rocked back and forth, on the pavement. The crowd dispersing back into their normal routines.Â
Your chest loosens, not fully but enough to allow you to regain more control of your breathing. You tried to regain your composure. As you pushed yourself from the floor your legs begged you to return to your former position. Your eyes were bloodshot as you realised your face was wet from crying. The embarrassment you felt was immense, as you kept your head bowed. Your eyes not leaving your feet.Â
âT-thank you, sir. Iâll be fine now. Thank you again.âÂ
âYou donât have to thank me. Are you sure you will be ok?âÂ
 âYes, I donât live far. Iâll be ok.âÂ
âWell stay safe.â You heard him yell behind you as you scurried as fast as you could back to your apartment. Â
 6:55 PM                        04th AugustÂ
You laid on the bed and listened to the sound of rain drumming on your balcony, the warmth of your blanket surrounded you. You felt safe. The view from your bed side was dim, but even in the low light the the way the streets lights flickered in between each rain drop brought a light smile to your face. Heavy pours washing away the sins of the city, as you lay hidden in your room. With your head laid against your pillow, a wave of relaxation flows through you, but to your dismay the sound of the door broke you out of your reverie. You check the alarm clock by your bed and notice itâs pretty late for someone to be visiting out of the blue. A gentle breeze brushed over your bare legs as you crawled off your warm bed, a knee-length, laced nighty being your only form of barrier against the chill. You trudged to your front door, your body stumbling through your flat. Without even looking through the peephole you open the door, only for your heart to hitch in your chest, your eyes widening as every part of you seems to go on pause.Â
âYou going to let me in?â Turquoise eyes met yours.Â
A cold sweat brushed over you as you step to the side, Dabi making his way into your apartment. He seemed to be taking every inch of the place in, his attention finally landing on your living room windows. A few dark clouds lingered in the evening sky as a few scraggly trees waved in the breeze. You sat down at your dining table, puzzled by your former friends' actions. You crossed your legs and tapped your fingers on the table, to stop the silence that covered the room.Â
âThe weather took a turn today, huh?â he attempted to keep things light but it was all in vain.Â
âWhat are you doing here Dabi?â You spat.Â
âThere wasnât any way of getting a hold of you, so I thought you couldnât ignore me if I turned up in person.âÂ
âOkay... well what do you want?âÂ
âI just wanted to check you were ok? The last time I saw you, you were bruised and now all of a sudden youâve just kept ignoring me...â You remained quiet, as you waited for him to finish his sentence, but instead a heavy silence settled in the room, both your eyes shifted on different objects to avoid catching the others glance. You couldnât take it anymore, focusing your mind you chose to invade his thoughts.Â
âFuck youâre making this awkward. What is wrong with you. Just say it you sack of shit! Youâve fucking gone over it enough times.... just say it!âÂ
âJust say what?â Â
âGet out of my fucking head!âÂ
âGet out my house then!âÂ
âWhy do you keep pushing me away?âÂ
âBecause I donât want you here!â After processing what you had just said to him, your hand instinctively covers mouth. Your eyes pleaded for forgiveness.Â
âFuck, I didnât mean it like that. I just have a lot going on right now. I just canât keep reliving that night... just walking home from work today, I had a fucking panic attack on the street because I could smell HIM. I- I heard them die... The smell of their burning bodies haunts me, Dabi. Itâs just too much.â  Â
âDo you blame me?âÂ
âWhat? No, if anything I blame myself. You were right, if I had just met with you after my shift, that night would of never of happened...â irritation bubbled inside you. You left your seat and joined Dabi in the conjoining living room.Â
âSo, you regret what happened with us?âÂ
âI didnât say that...âÂ
He took a step closer to you. He had never been one to follow the romance novels, movies or anything of that sort, it made him shudder at the prospect. This, on the other hand, almost felt natural for him. He couldnât understand why he couldnât keep away from you. Why you were all he had thought about day and night since the last time you were together.Â
He moved closer.Â
âYou want to know why Iâm here Y/N?â You expected his voice to be bitter, but it was quite the opposite. The words softly-spoken, almost heartfelt. âbecause I donât know how I could have been so stupid, because I donât know how I ever let you go that night. The thought of another man touching you in that way.â He let out a low laugh. âI could have burned the lot of them.âÂ
You couldnât speak. There was so much you wanted to say to him, but you couldnât find the words.Â
âYou are all I can think about,â he continued, âthe way you laugh at my ridiculous jokes, and how you stand up to me and not caring about the repercussions, you make me feel alive.âÂ
âDabi... donât...â you whimpered; his eyes bored into yours. âI donât... I donât think it would be a good idea...â. The words you spoke cut him deep, everything fell on this moment, he couldnât let you go again.Â
He took another step towards you.Â
âIs that what you want?â He was so close he could feel your breath on his cheek. He didnât know how he never realised it before now. He didnât want to live without you, you were the only thing left in this world that he deemed worth living for. It was always you.Â
âPlease donât make this any harder.â Your eyes seemed saddened; your voice soft as it was filled with defeat. His body moved away; all the nervousness you were feeling suddenly ran away as the space grew between you both. Â
âYouâre right,â in this moment he had never been so glad that he couldnât cry, his fists clenched, âthis was a mistake.â Â
âNo! Dabi wait-âÂ
âNo, itâs fine Y/N. Youâve made your feelings perfectly clear.â his stare was venomous, you had never seen him turn on you like this before, your words caught in your throat. He threw the door open, the hinges almost tearing off the wall as he stormed out. You shuddered as the door slammed shut, the walls of your apartment shaking as the force could be heard through your apartment complex.
Did I make the right choice, you thought? For years you knew there was a mutual attraction, and after that night your suspicions were confirmed, but you never thought it could be anything more. Your knees felt weak as they began to buckle underneath you. Had you really been that oblivious? After thinking back on your time together your stomach drops as you begin to realise that if you werenât so caught up in your own mess this whole time, you would have realised how miserable you had been without him. Plagued with the thought of his reaction when something funny would come up only for your mood to suddenly sink when you remembered he wasnât there. The feeling of his arms wrapped around you, caressing your sides were the only thing that soothed you as you tried to get to sleep. Each time your mind wandered; you would think back to when you were so close you could feel your heart attempting to escape. Then it dawned on you.Â
Your lungs burnt as you ran down the stairs of your apartment building, cursing the bastard that didnât wait for you at the elevator. Your footsteps echoed through the stairwell as each level number became a blurred glimpse in your peripheral. At the bottom you raced to the end of the hall, your body forcing the door open as you stumbled into the street. Â
âDABI!â Your voice shattered the serenity of the night.Â
His body froze. The pain behind your voice was something he could share. âDonât go...â You were now stood a meter away from him, even with his back to you, you couldnât look at him. The weight of your body shifted between your bare feet. When he turned to face you, his expression was harsh.Â
âDonât mess me around Y/N!âÂ
âIâm not messing you around! You come over and basically confess all these things to me and just expect me to have an answer?â A fierce scowl was reserved on your face as you glanced away, trying to contain your emotions. âFor 3 months Iâve been trying to process what happened to me, to try and get my fucking head sorted.â Your eyes returned to his, now filled with tears. âI donât know where I am in my life at all, but after tonight... after watching you leave... I realised that you are the one thing in my life that is clear and it has been hell not talking to you. I just want you to know that, Iâm sorry.â Â
You had never experienced a moment in your life when time stopped before. A split-second where you felt like you were in a world of your own. For Dabi, he knew everything had changed. All he could focus on was the way your hair draped over your cheekbones, a slow drop of rain trailed down your nose, leading his focus to your plumped lips. He moved closer.Â
Your hand brushed across his, your fingers intertwined with one another. He took another step closer. Your head began to spin thinking of all the possibilities, but not realising you are fighting a losing battle as you try to shake off your thoughts.Â
You took a step towards him. As you gazed into his eyes you werenât sure who made the first move, but your lips were now locked together. All your senses were heightened, but only for him, the way his lips felt against yours and the way his hand caressed the back of your neck, pulling you closer into his touch was intoxicating.Â
âIâm sorry...â you were hesitant with your words, âI just didnât want to hurt you.â Dabi paused, as your heart sank awaiting his reply. Eyebrows furrowed; a smirk draw across his face. âIâm willing to take the risk.â His embrace soothed you as you continued where you left off, making your way back to your apartment.Â
You fumbled with your door, Dabiâs head nuzzled into the side of neck as his arms wrapped around your waist from behind.Â
âHurry up and open the door...â He pleaded.Â
âAre you always this eager?â Â
âOnly for you.â You felt his lips pull into a smirk. You continued to try and unlock the door, but each kiss made you weak at the knees. Growing impatient, Dabi snatched your keys from your hand, swiftly unlocking the door before he kicked it open, cursing under his breath as he threw you in. Closing the door behind him, it took him all but a second to reconnect with your lips, his hand clasped around your throat. âIâm never going to let you go...â His voice sent shivers down your spine. You leaned into his lips; your arms wrapped around his neck as your fingers trailed through his hair. You felt the heat of his fingertips as small burn marks appeared on your lower back. Dabi tugged at the bottom of your night dress before pushing it upwards, revealing your naked body. Your cheeks blushed as you felt embarrassed before you covered your chest. Â
âDonât, youâre beautiful.â Although his words were sweet, his tone was that of someone in control. His hands roamed your body, he made you feel a way no one ever has. Teeth marks lay on your skin as he loved the way you sounded when you screamed, not knowing if it from pleasure or pain. It gave you strange pleasure knowing he was enjoying it as much as you. Bare skin stood in front of him as you felt him move towards your core and a hand slipped in between your legs. You let out a giggle as your pants are slid down your thighs and fell to the floor. Dabi hooked your right leg over his arm giving himself a better angle as two fingers lightly played with your folds, their tips breached your opening.Â
âGlad to know someoneâs excited.â His smile became mischievous. Both your hands around his neck to balance yourself.Â
âI could say the same!â Your left leg stood in between his as you felt that his member had certainly matched your excitement. His lips found yours again as your tongues moved with one another, the ecstasy almost too much for you to contain. The build-up going from sweet to desperate, you both parted your bodies, his shirt being removed in the process. He pinned you against the wall. Teeth bit down on your bottom lip as you gave into the lust. His thumb brushed over your clit.  Â
âOh, god!â You exclaimed.Â
âI prefer, Dabi. But I guess Iâll accept the name change in this moment.âÂ
âIf I wasnât in such an awkward position right now, Iâd beat the shit out of y-â You were cut short as he added another digit inside you. Your knees began to buckle as his grip tightened around your waist, your faces inches apart. Â
âIâd like to see you try...â His tone was daring but his eyes said otherwise. As though he was establishing dominance, he dropped your leg, his free hand taking your wrist before leading you to your bedroom. Â
âGet on the bed.âÂ
You folded your arms. Scowling with a pout, you kept your feet firmly by the bedroom door, Dabi now situated next to your bedside. Â
âSeriously?â He questioned. You remained silent; your previous action unchanged.Â
âAww. Is someone annoyed?â You taunt as though you are talking to a child. He burst out laughing, his voice becoming menacing. âIf you want to act like a brat,â he sauntered towards you, forcefully pushing you to your knees, âthen Iâll treat you like one!âÂ
The sound of his zip sent a pulsation of sensual gratification through your body. You stare at him in anticipation. His abdominals caught your attention as your lips trailed wet kisses down to the brim of his boxers. Dabi shuddered under your touch, his thighs clenching. You reached for his waistband and pull down his underwear, his member sprung free. Your lips wrapped around him; a gentle suck caused his hips to move forward. He locked onto your gaze, your tongue flicking over his tip, raising your eyebrows with satisfaction. He wanted more. Spit dribble down his shaft as your hand assisted with slow motions. Low grunts now interrupted the silence. Dabiâs hand snaked through your hair as he helped your head bob up and down, his hand becoming more forceful with each stroke. A gag erupted as you took him all into your mouth, tears streaming down your face. Dabi looked down at you, your red and messy face making him hornier.Â
âNow get on the bed and donât make me ask again!â He demanded.Â
You climbed onto it, positioning yourself in the middle but you were startled when you were flipped onto your back, Dabi forcibly pulling your legs apart and dragging you to the edge of the bed. Heat rose at your core as you watch him drag his tongue up your thigh and towards your pussy. You grinded against his face as his tongue worked in many different ways, devouring you. A knot began to build in your stomach.Â
âIâm gunna cum!â A euphoric blur washed over you as you began to tremble. Dabi slipped a couple of fingers into you as you writhed in front of him.Â
âGood girl.â He praised, crawling onto the bed. âNow we donât want to get this dirty, do we?â He said as he removed your night gown, throwing it in the corner of the room. He positioned himself on top of you and teased your entrance. âAre you sure?â He asked.
You nodded. He slowly began to thrust inside of you. You tried to relax under his movement as you felt yourself clench around him; his hand soothed you as it caressed your sides. His body trapped you against the bed and his lips moved down your jawline. Sucking your skin, he left small bruises in their place. You threw your head back, letting out deep breaths each time he thrusted. He fell to his elbows as he let out a low growl.Â
âI... I love you...â The silence that surrounded you was almost deafening, hadnât it been for the slamming of naked skin and the irritating squeak of your bed. The realisation of what he said out loud made his face heat up as the tip of his nose sported a deep blush. Â
âOh god, oh god, oh god. She thinks Iâm weird. Why would you say that?âÂ
A wave of confidence hit you as you pushed him to your left. You clambered to your knees, swinging a leg over him, guiding him back inside you, you straddled his cock.Â
âI love you too.âÂ
Dabi grinded against you. Your words were breathless as you bounced on top of him, his hand playing with your clit as the other left a stinging sensation on your behind.Â
âFuck, Y/N. Thatâs it, show me how much you want my cock.â He thrusted harder as he could feel himself coming to the end. Your legs began to burn, slowing the pace. Before you could do anything, you were back on your back, Dabi on top once again. His hand pressed deeply around you throat as he thrusted harder into you. You tried to cry out in pleasure but they only came out as breathless gasps, your face turning a deep shade of red. He continued pounding you for a few more seconds before releasing his grasp, your lungs aching from the lack of air. Dabiâs mind began to spin as started to cum. His moans muffled as you pulled him into you, your tongues yet again fighting for dominance. His body became limp as half on top of you, his face resting upon your chest and his arm draped across your stomach. You both laid there for a while, your breaths shallow from the well need exercise you just partook in. Â
âDid you mean it?â Dabiâs face looked up at you, his voice softer than usual.Â
âMean what?â You asked.Â
âThat you love me?âÂ
A small laugh escaped you, your arm drawing circles on his back. âI think in a strange way... I always have.â He tightened his arm around you, pulling you into him, your back now pressed against his chest. A light kiss graced your shoulder before he responded. âIâm glad to hear that.â Shortly after, you both fell asleep in each other arms.Â
#dabi smut#dabi x y/n#dabi x you#reader x dabi#bhna dabi#bnha x reader#bnha smut#bnha fanfiction#mha smut#mha x reader#mha x y/n#mha angst#mha dabi#dabi angst#dabi fanfic
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My Neighbor: Hawks - (Takami Keigo / Hawks x Reader
Funny Idea: Your neighbor is hawks.Â
Winged hero: Hawks. One of the fastest and youngest heroes pro heroes. Number 2 in hero ranks and number 1 in most eligible bachelors in all of Japan.Â
And drum roll, please! *Drummy sounds* Tada! He is your neighbor! Shocking, I know, right? The title totally doesn't give it away! Nope, not at all!
Anyways, you might be wondering, 'Nite! How did that happen?'
Well.. ya see... that funny storyâŠ
Also, sorry for any typo :)Â
Enjoy!
Notes: reader is 20+. No warning. Mild rating.
****
"Please be fixed. Please be fixed. "You quietly prayed as you hesitantly reached for the handle that leads to the lobby of your apartment building.Â
The leasing office sent out a mass email earlier, letting all the tenants know that the central air was 'currently out of order' and they are 'working quickly to resolve the issue.' At least they were 'extremely sorry for any inconvenience this may cause and appreciate the patience of all tenants.'Â
They also explained how per the lease agreements, no discounts would be provided for maintenance issues and that the full rent would still be due.Â
I really need to moveâŠ
It just had to go out right smack dab in the middle of summer. And on one of the hottest days on record, no less!
You took a deep breath and pushed open the door into what could only be described as a magma cavern. Nope, you weren't on a tropical island; this was just the lobby. Damn, if it was this hot here, you can't imagine what your apartment must feel like.
You trudged your way through the muggy lobby grabbing your mail on your way over to the stairwell. By the time you made up to the very top floor, you were out of breath and drenched in sweat. Honestly, it looked like you just took a dip in a pool. Your clothes clung to every part of your sticky, overheating body. Hell, you were just happy you didn't have a heat stroke by the time you reached your front door. Â
You prayed your apartment would be cooler.
It wasn't!
It was giving the stairwell a run for its money.Â
Oh, hell no... NOPE! Not dealing with this.
You marched through the doorway, making sure to lock the door behind you, not like it would make much of a difference. You didn't see or hear anyone on the trip up or in the hallways. No doubt the other residences did the smart thing and retreated for someplace much cooler. You tossed the stack of mail on your end table without checking it. You'd deal with it later. More than likely, the postal carrier had mixed them up again with the tenant next door.... again...
Later problem for later me! Cool now!
You barely made it to your living room before you started peeling your sweat-soaked clothes off. Thankfully you lived alone, so you didn't have to worry about shocking anyone as you made your way to your bedroom. Tossed your clothes in the hamper before slipping into the thinnest shorts and tank top you could find. You would have said to hell with clothes in general at this point, but if you were going to cool this place off, you need to get some airflow in this place asap. That means windows and doors need to be open.Â
And for the next hour, that's what you did. Every window you had was open as far as they would go, along with the sliding glass door that led to your balcony. The breeze that flowed through your home was still hot and muggy, but it was then nothing. You also gather any and every fan you had, even the pitiful little desk fan that sounded like it was on its last leg. If it ocellated or moved air in any way, shape, or form, that bitch was on high!
It took a little bit, but it felt like you could breathe as the temperature started to drop. Of course, by then, you were on the verge of dehydration and also contemplated, more than once, curling up in your fridge until that accursed flaming ball of gas in the sky went down. Â
But you had food in there, and you can't waste food. Damn it.
Speaking of food...
You enjoyed a large bowl of ice cream and about three glasses of water. You reveled in the coolness of the sweet treat in your stomach, which gave you motivation for your next venture.
 A nice cool shower.Â
You let the cool water flow over your whole body for what seemed like forever. Letting it wash away the stress, heat, and sweat of the day right down the drain. By the time you were done, your fingers were pruney, and the sun had descended entirely.
Damn, you were tired.
You lazily dried yourself and considered just going to bed as you were. You were on the 15th floor of your apartment building, so it wasn't like you had to worry about anyone peeking in your window. But you still didn't feel comfortable sleeping naked with your windows opened, and you really didn't want to close them.Â
After a short debate, you settled on a thin tank, and underwear was a good compromise.Â
Your body felt sluggish as you made your track to your bedroom. It was still relatively early, but between your job and the heat, you were completely and utterly wiped.Â
Bed... Sleep...Â
You showed your bed no mercy as you tore the covers off the nicely made bed and tossed them across the room. Then with no grace whatsoever, you let yourself collapse into the cool embrace of your mattress. Between the comfort of your bed and the white-nose of the fans, it didn't take long for drifted off to sleep.Â
***Later that night
The summer night air was hot and humid as the Wing hero: Hawks, flew high above the city. Even at the higher altitude, the air was so thick, it felt like he was swimming in a dense swamp rather than soaring through the sky. His whole body felt sore and heavy, so much so that he was actually an effort to keep himself afloat.Â
Damn, that villain really did a number on me. One more hit, and my goose would have been cooked.
The shift today had been long and hard, thanks to a tough group of villains that left him banged up and exhausted. He ended up having to get patched up at a hospital. The doc that ended up putting him back together tried to get him to stay, but he managed to talk him into agreeing on releasing him. Though, he would have flown the coupe either way. He couldn't stand hospitals or clinics. Not that there was anything wrong with those places. They just reminded him too much of the commission. Orderly. Sterile. Functional.Â
Which is nice for a hospital, not for life. He has almost 20 years of experience with it to make him an expert on that subject.Â
Shit got old quickâŠ.
Though honestly, it wasn't like his place was much better. It was a simple bed, one bath apartment. Top floor, of course, with a balcony that looked over the inconspicuous neighborhood it was built in. Now being the number two hero, you'd think he makes enough to live somewhere a bit more⊠well, expensive. But while he did live the high life, it was nice to have a place he could go and just be Keigo, not Hawks.
And speaking of, he could see his balcony coming into view.Â
He swooped down over the rallying, stumbling a bit in the landing. It was pitch black, and his eyes felt as heavy as his body. Thankfully, though, he didn't fallout then there. Camping wasn't his thing, and while the balcony was rather spacious, his bed sounded much more comfortable.Â
Ahh, home sweet home.Â
That's weird. Did I forget to lock the door again?
He shrugged, not giving it much thought. He'd been in a hurry this morning, getting called in for an emergency issue downtown. And it wasn't like the first time he'd forgotten to lock the door behind him. Plus, he lived on the top floor; it's not like he had to worry about people just walking in off the streets.Â
Lot easier targets than his humble abode.Â
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Damn, it was hot. He must have forgotten to turn the AC on this morning. The apartment was hot and muggy, but he honestly couldn't have cared less. An oven sounded like a good place to take a nap at this point. His body started moving on its own towards the bedroom, stripping out of his hero costume along the way.
Bed. Sleep. Bed. Sleep. Bed. Sleep.
His mind chanted over and over, clothes would be tomorrow's problem. He didn't even bother turning on any lights as he maneuvered through the living room and down the hallway. He'd lived there for over a year, so he knew the layout like the back of his hand.
By the time he made it to his bed, he was down to only his boxers. He was about to pull those down, too, but the moment his legs came in contact with the mattress, it was like whatever energy was left was drained out of him.
He sighed and let his body fall forward across the bed that would give him the sweet relief he so desperately needed.Â
Thump!
Huh? Why did his mattress feel all lumpy?
A loud shriek jolted him back to life long enough to realize that he was not alone. That the lumps in his bed weren't his covers, but a body.Â
There was a person in bed.
He shifted his weight, forcing himself up as the body under him started to trash and yell.
"Huh? What are you doing in my-" He managed to murmur out before a sharp pain to the side of his head finally did him in, and his mind gave in to the darkness of unconsciousness.Â
********
Your dreams were a God sent.
You were in a winter wonderland. Cool snowflakes danced all around. A cool breeze would blow every now again. It was like you could hear the clinking sound of ice hitting the window. Oh, what was that? The sound of heavy snow falling from the tree limbs? How wonderful!
So wonderful. So peaceful. So cool. Â
But everything changed when you were jolted awake by something pinning you to your bed. Whatever it was, was large, heavy, and sweaty.Â
You shrieked as you realized it was a person! There was a person on top of you! You trashed about trying to push the weight off of you, but you couldn't seem to get them off you. You screamed louder and struggled harder until their weight shifted.
"Huh?" The voice above you was drowsy sounding definitely that of an adult male. Your panic doubled as he shifted again, giving you a little more wiggle room. You still couldn't get free, but you took the opportunity to reach for something, anything to defend yourself with. Like hell, you were going down without a fight! Finally, you managed to wrap your fingers around something large on your bedside table. "What are you doing in my-?" You didn't let your attacker finish as you bashed the lamp into the side of his head.
He let out a loud 'off' as he rolled off the bed, giving you enough time to scrabble to the opposite side of the bedroom, hitting the lights.Â
Were those....wings?Â
Peaking over the side of the bed was, in fact, crimson feathers.
Who or what the fuck is that?
*******
Hawk's head pounded as he slowly stirred.
Shit, did he get drunk last night?
Slowly he opened his eyes, wincing from the light flooding the room along the memories of the night before. That's weird; he didn't remember turning on any lights.
Was it morning already?
He went to stretch his sore, aching body but quickly realized he couldn't.
He glanced down at himself and saw that yeap he was in his boxers and tied- wait.... were those power cord and... belts?
He blinked. What the hell? His upper body was bound in what looked to be a mix of various power cords and belts. Did someone break into his place and attack him?Â
Who in their right mind would break into his house? He was a hero! One of the top in the country!Â
He sighed as he tested the 'ropes.' Well, if this was a robbery, it was poorly planned, to put it mildly. The assailant left his wings completely free, and the binding was so poorly tied that he could slip right, with little effort.Â
A squeak of a floorboard caused his head to jerk up and glare at his attacker. A person carefully stepped into his view. And well, of all the things he'd been prepared for... you weren't it. And certainly not you, in nothing but your underwear, a tank top, and wielding a lamp like it was a baseball bat.Â
Well... this is... unexpected.
He could only stare at you in confusion that years of training couldn't even stop. Huh? You didn't look like a villain, much less a burglar. Honestly, you didn't look like a fighter at all.Â
If you weren't a villain, then...
He mentally groaned.Â
Great. You were a fan... and a crazy one at that.Â
Over his career, he's had a few run-ins with crazy or obsessed fans of his. He couldn't count the number of times he's had to change his phone number or move his safe house. Even with the commission on his side, his info still got out!Â
Maybe they should start hiring them instead...Â
Well... at least you were easy on the eyes. He thought as he gave you a once over. Your hair was a mess, and was that a bit of drool on your chin?Â
Yeap, just another crazy yet fairly active fan.
"Hey there." He greeted you with a warm smile, causing you to jump. He needed to play this out some. Escaping wouldn't be a problem, and he already had a few feathers at the ready in case you tried something. But he was hoping it wouldn't come to that. As irritated as he was at you, he didn't want to hurt you. You weren't a villain, just... confused. "It's not every day, I wake up to beauty like you. How about you untie me so I can introduce myself properly."
He gave you a charming smile as he watched your face go from nervous to confused and then to anger.
"L-Like, hell, I'm telling you my name after what you did!" You took a step forward and raise your weapon up slightly higher, ready to strike. "And don't flirt with me, you creep!"Â
Hmm, that usually works.
"My bad. I didn't mean to offend you. If you untie me, I'm sure I can figure out a few ways to make up for it." He winked, keeping his smile friendly and inviting. He needed to figure a way out of this that didnât involve him hurting you or land him on every news station in the country.Â
*****
"You're seriously fucked up in the head, you know that! I am not untying you!" You yelled as a blush slowly crept over your cheeks. You were shocked at the stones this guy had! He broke into your home and attacked you while you were asleep. And now he was flirting with you?! Like this, a date or something!Â
Something in his eyes flashes for a split second, and you saw one of his wings twitch.Â
Why did he keep looking at you like that?
"D-Don't try anything! The police are on their way!" At least you hoped they were. You hadn't been able to call them, cause stupid you forgot to put your phone to charge when you got home. It was completely dead. You could only hope one of your neighbors who stayed had neared the commotion and called for help.Â
"Police?" His golden bird-like eyes went wide for a moment. Did he really think you wouldn't call for help?
"Yes, the police! You broke into my home and attacked me in my sleep! What did you just expect me to call for a parade?!"
"WaitâŠ" You could see the gears turning in his head as he glanced around your room. His eyes suddenly went wide.
"So⊠you're not one of my fans?"
"Fan? WHY THE HELL WOULD I BE A FAN OF A PSYCHO LIKE YOU!?!"
"Wait! This is just a misunderstanding!"
"How the hell is breaking into someone's home, attacking them in their bed in the middle of the night a 'misunderstanding'?"
"Look, all I remember is flying home. Walking through myâŠ" The man trailed off. "Wait, what address is this?"
"Like I'd give my address to a villain?" You scoffed and rolled your eyes.
"I'm already here like it's really going to make a difference?" He growled before giving you a glare. You watched as his wings poofed up a bit. "Also, watch the insults. I'm a hero, not a villain."
"Likely story." You deadpanned. "You could at least come up with something more believable than that..."
"W-wait... You don't recognize me?" You gave him a once over. "Take a really good look at me." His wings stretched out a bit. "Anything thing ring a bell?" You just stared at him blankly. Granted, he was good looking, and if he wasn't a criminal, he could easily be on the cover of a magazine. "Seriously?"
"Pretty convenient of you to pick the home of someone who doesn't follow heroes, huh?"
"More like, inconvenient. If you did, you'd recognize me in a heartbeat." He sighed. "Look, just check my pants pocket. You'll find my credentials."Â
"How do I know this isn't just a trick? Or maybe they're fake."Â
"It's not a trick! Look, if you're that worried, just get your phone and google me. I'm the wing hero: Hawks." Huh? Why would he suggest that? He wouldn't know about your phone... so why would he tell you to get it? You could call for help. That should be the last thing he wants. You pondered for a moment.Â
****
"Fine, I'll check. But this better not be a trick," You paused. "cause if it is, I got another lamp with your name on it!" He watched as you gradually made your way towards his discarded clothes. While you searched for his wallet, he glanced over to the shattered remains of what he assumed was your first weapon.Â
Well, that explains the small blood trail on the side of his head and his headache.Â
Finally, after what felt like forever, you found it. You made your way back to him as he watches you juggle, keeping your on him, holding the lamp, and reading his ID.Â
"Hero license, Hero: Hawks, Name: Takami Keigo." You mumbled as your eyes darted between the ID's picture and himself. He could still see the doubt in your eyes. Damn, if this didn't work, he was going to have to free himself. Hopefully, he'd be quick enough to do that and subdue you without hurting you much. "Wait⊠Takami⊠Keigo.." Your eyes went wide, and he had to admit, his name sounded a little too good coming from you. "Wait! That's the name on the mail that keeps getting put in my box!" A look of realization and shock washes over you. "You're my neighbor!"
"Ah, so you're the one that's been slipping my mail under my door!" He couldn't help but smile and sigh internally. Finally, somethings going right! " Nice to finally meet you! Sorry I haven't had a chance to introduce myself before now. Work keeps me pretty busy."
"You're a hero⊠and you're my neighborâŠ." Your eyes were wide as you stared at him.Â
"Looks that way."
"THEN WHY THE FUCK DID YOU BREAK INTO MY HOME!"
"It was an accident! I swear! I was exhausted and just flew to the wrong balcony. Honest. The glass door was open, and I didn't even realize I was in the wrong place." He tried to reason with you.
"Didn't you think it was a little strange that the furniture wasn't yours, or how about the fact that I was IN the bed?"
"Like I said, I was exhausted." He just shrugged before mumbling. "And well, let's just say you wouldn't be the first time a fan found where I lived and tried to surprise me in bed."
".... so you thought I was some psycho who broke into your home just to try and sleep with youâŠ" You glared at him, clearly annoyed. "You realize I'm still holding a weapon right now, and remember..." You gestured with the lamp. "I gotta pretty mean swing..."
"Easy there, Chickadee. I'm joking. And I wouldn't call you psycho just... A little touched in the head." That earned him a glare that made him chuckle. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding."
"You like pissing people off, don't you?"
"I've been known to ruffle some feathers from time to time."Â
"Look," You sighed as you tried to process everything that just happened. "This is just... too much..." You sat the lamp down finally. "Damn, I'm sorry."
"No worries. This one on me." He made a move to stand.Â
"Oh, here, let me..."
"All good, I got it." He stood up, letting the restraints fall off of him like they weren't even there, let alone tied.Â
"H-how did y-you?"Â
"Oh, yeah. Word of advice, ya might wanna work on knots." He chuckled as he stretched.
"Y-You could have gotten free at any time⊠why didn't you?"
"Like I said, I'm a hero." He walked forward while you moved to the side, eyes still wide-eyed." If I'd freed myself before you realized who I was, you would have freaked out. Honestly, the last thing I want is for you to get hurt or you to go screaming down the hallway in your underwear." He informed you as your face turned beet red, and you then tried to pull your shirt down. He laughed at the poor attempt to hide. "Well then, gotta say this would make a hell of a story, but I'd really appreciate it if we kept this between us." He could help but tease you more. You looked so damn cute when you're flustered. "Not to brag or anything, but I'm a pretty well-known hero and have a reputation to uphold." He sent out a few of his feathers to help gather his gear while he talked to you. You were so entranced watching his feathers work that he had to repeat himself again.
"I-I-I⊠Yes!" Your eye finally snapped back into focus on him. "Of course! Just between us!"
"Great! Glad that's settled." He took a step towards you and held out his hand. You finally got the message and handed his wallet back to him. "My superiors and PR would have my tail feathers if this got out." He ginned. "Well, would you look at the time!" He grinned while making his way to the sliding glass door and out to the balcony, his floating clothes trailing behind him. "Best be on my way. I have an early shift in the morning. Sweet dream angle." And with that, he stepped out to the balcony and fluttered over to his.
Damn, what a night!
*****
Extra:
The next morning.
You woke up late, groggy and sweaty. The AC was still out, and your apartment was slowly heating up.Â
With a heavy sigh, you forced yourself out of bed, put on shorts, and headed to the kitchen.
Last night was a hell of a night.Â
Your neighbor is a hero...Â
What are the odds of that?
You reached up into your cabinet and pulled down your favorite cereal.
Whatever, he can't be that good if he made that big of a mistake, right?
You quickly made your breakfast and headed for your balcony. There was a slight breeze blowing that morning, making it almost bearable outside.
Almost...
Huh? What's that?
There was a large brown bag sitting on your patio table.
That wasn't there before...
You sat your bowl down and picked it up. Whatever it was, it was a decent size and heavy. You opened the bag, and the first thing you found was a note.
'Sorry again about last night. Here's a little gift for you to make up for it.Â
Bet you could do some real damage with this one. Batter up, chickadee!
Your neighbor,
-Hawks'
You reached further into the bag and pulled out... a lamp?
It was made out of wood and metal, making the damn thing large and pretty heavy. It was well made and couldn't have been cheap! You pulled it further out of the back, and when you saw the shape of the body, you couldn't help it: you busted out laughing. The damn thing was in the shape of a roaster!
Your neighbor... is a hero... and a strange one at that...
********
Thanks for the read! If you want see the other stuff Iâve done, click the link bellow!
MasterList
#Hawks x reader#BNHA X Reader#MHA X Reader#takami keigo x reader#Takami Keigo#BNHA Hawks#bnha imagines#BNHA Headcanons#takami x reader#keigo x reader#mha imagines#mha headcanons#hawks headcanons#hawks imagine#Hawks x you#Takami x you#Keigo x you#Takami Keigo x you#hawks x y/n#keigo x y/n#Takami x y/n#bnha x you#mha x you#BNHA#mha#bnha keigo#MHA keigo
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when he calls me pretty, i feel like somebody] [ changbin au
a/n: okay this is a short changbin drabble but honestly.... LONG OVERDUE!!!!/!/!/â©/2: and if u canât tell by the title yet, it is loosely inspired by cloud 9 by beach bunny (sosososo cute btw) yes am so sorry... it is self indulgent n honestly wnted to keep this in the drafts but i think it could serve as a comfort fic for some and i hope it does c:
f2l trope kinda??? fluff mixed w angst ahakz!âsnajs changbin x femreader
tw: body dysmorphia, mentions of self-harm
word count: 1.4k
you think that youâre not worthy of any love simply because you do not fit into the societyâs beauty standards or youâre just not âconventionally beautifulâ or whatever it is they say nowadays. but seo changbin thinks otherwise; he thinks youâre the prettiest little thing heâs ever laid eyes on since day one.
Curiousity got the best of Seo Changbin. But when he peeks through the gap of the door left ajar, he doesnât expect to see her standing before the mirror in the most vulnerable position yet.
All that left her body were muffled sobs, she was crying through the bunched up fabric that she gathered in her mouth. It revealed her abdomen, bare for everyone to see. One hand was clamped over her mouth and the other clawed at her soft tummy, and it went on for a while.
Her legs visibly trembled underneath her as she grabbed the side of her belly, squeezing the fat that gathered there. Her knuckles turned white the tighter she squeezed, but it didnât seem like she was crying from the physical pain she was inflicting upon herself (rather a type of intangible pain) and he can clearly see the red lines that ran across the surface of her skin.
Even from afar, Changbin could see the trickling of blood that rose above the broken skin, albeit small but smeared all over the smooth expanse of her tummy. All he could think was, why? Why would she ever do such a thing?
âWhy are you crying?â his throat was swollen when he finally managed to speak up, hand clenching on the doorknob for dear life because god forbid he found out whoever made her feel this way; he barely has the control to pull himself together, let alone throw a punch or two.
Sheâs startled, rightfully so, his abrupt entrance causing the back of her knees to hit the edge of the bed when she stumbles. âChangbin... why are you here?â her voice is calm, nothing of what she is actually. When she turns to look at him in the face, he swears that he heard his heart shatter within his body.
Because he isnât prepared for the sight. Heâs never seen her so raw and vulnerable, face pink and puffy, eyes bloodshot red and the crimson red underneath her fingernails. She pulls her shirt further down, fists clenched at her sides as she stubbornly drags the fabric past her thighs.
It takes a lot, for him to be able to close the distance between the both of them and seat her onto the bed. âWhy are you crying?â Changbin reiterates, settling between her legs as he rests on his knees. She doesnât answer immediately, only shielding herself by placing her hands over her face.
She shakes her head and hopes he would simply just drop it. âI canât tell you.â sheâs struggling to even say anything, voice all scratchy from all the wailing beforehand.
He prys her hands away from her face, his tremulous hands then tucking strays of her hair behind her ears. Beads of sweat rolled down her swollen cheeks, though it wasnât the most appropriate for this situation, he wonders how she can still look so pretty like this. âYou donât have to. But I need you to know that Iâm worried,â he reassures her, voice dropping an octave low to ease her further.
She leans into his hand, cheek resting against his palm and he feels his heart practically rip through his chest. He thinks for a moment, he would like this moment to last. Where she trusts him enough to lift the veil she conceals herself under, by herself, without needing anyone to forcefully peel it away.
âDid you see his new girl?â her voice is practically quiet, so small that if it was anyone else, they would probably not be able to catch anything. But this was Seo Changbin, he cared for her and was most attentive to her. Traits that a lot of people around her severely lacked unfortunately. It is okay though, she thinks, because he is more than enough.
He tilts his head to the side in confusion, brows furrowed together as he tries to comprehend what her ex-boyfriendâs new partner would have to do with her bawling her eyes out. Unconsciously, his hands dropped to his lap, clenched into fists. âWhat about her?â
She only lets out a weak-hearted laugh, a painful smile that he refuses to witness ever again because this was just way too much for him to bear. âSheâs beautiful.â she inhales sharply, her voice trembling and the tough front she displayed for him crumbles down almost immediately.
He holds back a scoff, hand reaching her knee to rub small circles around it. âSheâs so, beautiful. So, so pretty...â sheâs out of breath yet again, ââslim and slender..â even with her wavering eyes, he still manages to lock eyes with her. âShe fits so nicely in his arms, all nice and snug. His t-shirt, it looks big on her but on meââ her breath hitches, ââgod, I probably looked so fucking ugly.â
âAnd?â he prompts.
âAnd, sheâs so... not me.â she finishes, catching her bottom lip in between her teeth.
Heâs never felt this much anger seething from within him. He has no idea who to be mad at, was it her stupid ex, the new girl or her? His heart physically thrums against his ribs, pounding painfully against his chest and he doesnât even realize heâs gripping onto her knee so harshly until she winces in pain.
âSay something.â she says as she peels his fingers away from her knee. The corners of his lips tug upwards as he looks up at her, throbbing eyes observing every small detail of hersâthe creases of her lips, his shirt that she was wearing that looked exceptionally good on her, her luscious thighs which he unknowingly splayed his digits on to rub soothing circles yet again.
âYouâre insane, you know that?â he sighs, an incredulous laugh leaving past his lips. One of her eyebrows cocks up as he says this, unsure of what exactly he was trying to say. âMe?â she points at herself.
âYes you.â he nods his head.
Silence settles between the both of them before he speaks up again. âYou are so beautiful, and itâs insane to me that you canât even see that.â a sliver of his teeth shows through his wide smile, and her heart wrenches at how adorable he looks, wide eyes peering up so innocently at her.
Changbinâs eyes looked like it was filled with stars were dancing within a galaxy of its own. But really all he was looking at was her, she held the universe within herself and he admired that. He looked at her like she was his world.
âStop lying, itâs not funny.â she says sternly, arms crossing above her chest. He breaks into a small laugh, reaching for her hands and slipping his fingers in between hers. âIâm not lying, you idiot.â
She feels like all of the air within her lungs had been knocked out of her the moment he brings her into his chest, his calloused hand carding through her hair as he rests the underside of his chin above her head. Sure they have hugged several times before but something about this felt much more, intimate. Maybe it was the way he was running his fingers through the knotty bits of her hair so easily, or the way he sways their bodies to an unknown rhythm or theâ
âI love you.â Changbin whispers, his voice so soft coupled with the sweet syllables, almost like a mimicry of melted chocolate and warm milk. It oozed of pure bliss. âI love every part of you, the top of your head to the tip of your toes. God, I love them all. And if I could let you see through my eyes for even a second, I would, causeâ then maybe youâd be able to understand why the hell I love you the way I do.â
She feels like crying. This time it isnât the green envy or the seething anger from before, this time itâs different... This time itâs pure jovial tears. Her glossy eyes meets with his crescent moon shaped eyes, his smile stretching from ear to ear once they pull away. âDo you mean that?â
âWhen have I ever lied to you?â he rests his forehead against hers, his palms holding both her cheeks. âYouâre really, really gorgoeus. Inside out.â he breathes, shying away from her for a moment as if he did not profess his love for her seconds ago. Heâs a little flustered, cheeks reddening from the realization sinking in (clearly he was not used to being so endearing) and she laughs at this.
âReally? Youâre shy now?â she giggles, and she feels as though all the weight had been lifted off her shoulders and she feels so free in his arms like this.
âShut up.â he brings her head into his chest once again, muffling her next words.
Changbin has never failed her not once, and she doesnât think he will ever do so.
#skz#skz fic#skz x reader#stray kids#stray kids au#stray kids fic#skz angst#stray kids fanfic#skz fluff#stray kids fluff#seo changbin#changbin fic#changbin fluff#changbin angst#changbin au#kpop fluff#kpop angst#kpop fic#changbin imagine#skz imagine
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Alone, Together | Din Djarin
Ship: Din Djarin x Reader Summary: Sometimes itâs the strongest people who just need someone to be strong for them. Word Count: 2.2k+ Warnings: Spoilers for the season 2 finale!! Angst. Authorâs Note: This was meant to be hurt/comfort... I failed miserably... enjoy your angst and heartache! I also have not proof read this in the slightest... I am lazy and sorry
The silence echoed through the command centre, holding a weight upon your chest that felt akin to drowning. It seemed as though time itself was standing still as you stood there, engulfed in what had just happened, in the anguish that was threatening to creep in.
Of course, you had half expected something like this from the very beginning, it was the plan, after all. Grogu was with his kind now, with a jedi who could train and protect him so much better than you and Din ever could. Youâd spent so long trying to convince yourself not to get attached, to enjoy the moments you shared with the curious child with a safe protective layer between you, but that was never really going to work, now, was it?
From the moment you had joined the Mandalorian on the Razor Crest, the duo had captured your heart, no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself otherwise.
It had taken a surprisingly short amount of time to truly feel apart of the odd little crew. With such a stoic being as Din leading the charge, and a fifty year old child enamoured by his every shiny movement, you had thought it would simply be a job, just another in a long line of careers you had dabbled in throughout the galaxy. But it was so much more.
Looking after Grogu had been so much more than a job, it had been a delight, even in when he was determined to throw a tantrum when you all desperately needed sleep. It wasnât long before the child became something akin to a friend, albeit a small, incoherent, gnawing on anything that shouldnât go anywhere near a mouth, friend, but a friend nonetheless.
And somewhere along the line, the Mandalorian followed.
It was in the soft utterances that were barely heard, the gentle actions that werenât necessary, but were always welcomed with a beaming smile. He wasnât one for words, but he would show how he cared day by day.
A fruit you enjoyed on a random planet just so happened to be amongst the groceries after you exclaimed your joy upon tasting it. A new pillow was sitting on your bed a few days after he noticed you rubbing your stiff neck in the mornings. And when he found you nervous to be left alone on the Crest on a particularly dangerous planet? Well, suddenly there was time to take a day off to make sure you were comfortable with not only the weapons to defend yourself, but the controls of the Crest should you need to get yourself and the child out of there.
Yes, somewhere along the line, you had forged something of a friendship with the very same man who had unintentionally frightened you silent upon your first meeting. And if at some point your feelings for him had started to slip to something less platonic, well, that was neither here nor there.
Especially now, as you stood by his side in that same pained silence that still echoed through the Imperial ship.
Now, he needed a friend.
His helmet had been removed for the child, he had destroyed his creed, and, as tempting as it might have been, you had kept your gaze firmly on the ground the entire time, determined to respect his beliefs right down to the end.
The pain and anguish you felt at the sight of those gigantic sad eyes as Grogu had left was incomparable, but, even in your pain, you knew it was nothing compared to the hurt the Mandalorian at your side must be feeling.
There were too many in the room, battle hardened warriors each one of them, and you knew words of comfort or sympathy would do little at such a time, so you did the only thing you could think of.
With your gaze still firmly fixated on the floor, you pushed the pain aside, something to be addressed later, when you were alone, when you didnât have to be the rock for the same man who had unknowingly been the same for you time after time in his own resilient manner.
Your hand barely moved, slow and subtle as you reached across the small distance to him. Unhurried, gentle, as if trying not to scare a wild animal, your fingers found his, curling into his hold in a silent show of camaraderie that had the heartbroken man turning his head towards you.
With your gaze still focused on the floor at your feet, you didnât see the way those deep brown eyes took you in, savouring the sight, awed by the way you remained diligently refusing to glance his way. You didnât see the years of pain and heartbreak that swam in that tear stung gaze, didnât see the anguish that flittered there, fighting against an unwavering affection for you that seemed to have made its home there long ago.
But you did feel the way his hand clasped around yours, large and warm, even through the leather of his gloves. It practically engulfed your own hand, and yet, the desperate hold almost made it seem small, uncertain, as if this one action, your hand in his, was the only thing keeping him together as his world fell apart once more.
Time that had moved so slowly seemed to suddenly fly into overdrive. Boba was back to pick up Fennec, Bo was, begrudgingly, focusing on what could be salvaged from the Imperial ship, Cara was setting off with Gideon, and, while you certainly seemed to be taking in whatever was thrown your way, it still felt a world away.
A decision had to be made, and before you knew it you were walking behind Cara and her new prisoner, still hand in hand with the Mandalorian who hadnât dared let go of your hand since the moment you had offered it.
Somewhere along the way you had made it clear that you would remain with the Mandalorian, no matter what was to come, although you werenât entirely certain the words had ever actually been spoken aloud. But any alternative was practically laughable. How could you possibly leave him now? How could you ever?
And then you were on the ship, when had that happened? And Gideon had been silenced once more with a hasty gag that was a desperate plea for what little sanity your little trio had left to not run astray (and possibly to keep Cara from killing him before she could make it to the New Republic). And then? Well, then was now wasnât it? Alone in the cramped personal quarters of the shuttle, truly alone for the first time in weeks.
There was a time when being alone felt rejuvenating, refreshing even. The quiet solitude a haven from the chaos of so many busy planets, of so many people. When had that changed?
With a sad smile, you almost scoffed at the question the moment it flittered into your mind. You knew damn well when.
Silence had never lasted all that long on the Crest, no matter how tired you and Din might have been, the little green eared monster was determined to run amok, causing a clamouring of sounds in his wake. It was so easy to find it irritating when you were woken from only two hours of blissful sleep after days of being forced awake. It was easy to sigh and grapple with the playful child and remind him that this was sleep time, not play time, and if he wasnât going to get some rest he had to at least let you get some.
But now, in the eerie silence of the Imperial shuttle you had commandeered in an effort to save the frog eating little bugger, you longed for those sounds. The chaos and cacophony of Grogu was a part of what had become your home, and now, yet another part of it was gone forever.
You couldnât say when the tears had begun, or when they had slipped from silent streams to harsh sobs that wrecked their way through your body. But, curled up on the militantly neat bunk bed you had claimed as your own, you couldnât have cared less.
Finally, you were alone, after hours of planning and debating, hours of being the solid rock for the man you had come to care so deeply for. Now was your chance to grieve everything you had lost, in the solitude of the clinically white cube someone had deigned appropriate to be a bedroom.
Visions of green ears and large eyes swam through your mind, memories entangled with daydreams as you thought about what had been, and what was to come for the small child you had grown to love.
But he was gone now, along with the Razor Crest that had become your home, although, thankfully, in a much less dramatic fashion.
Would that just be the way for all the things you loved? Would the same soon follow for Din?
A sound, far harsher than a sob, rattled its way from your chest at the thought. Surely he would be the next to leave, returning to his old life or helping rebuild Mandalore⊠either way, he no longer had a need for you now, did he? What use would he have for a glorified babysitter with no baby?
The sound of your tears would have been harrowing, were it not for the safety of those Imperial walls that surrounded you. Sobs and groans slipped from one to another as your tears soaked the stark white pillow beneath you. Curled up into the smallest ball you could manage, you let go.
That pain youâd pushed away earlier? Well, it was back, tenfold.
This was why you had never meant to get attached, this, right here, the aching hole that wanted to consume you, yet seemed to echo out from your very chest. It was a pain like no other, grief mixed with fear, sorrow mixed with a loneliness you could never put into words. A profound war of emotions that had your body shaken, and your mind so lost in its anguish, that you didnât even hear the way the doors slid open, or the heartbroken sigh that followed.
Din was used to being alone. Even with you and Grogu aboard the Razor Crest with him, he would often find himself focused on a job while you distracted the little womp rat in the hull. It was just a part of life, until it wasnât. Until he found himself working down there alongside you, until he found himself seeking out the joyful sounds of you playing with the child who was somehow older than either of you.
But even still, he was used to your absence, no matter how desperately he wished he werenât.
So, as much as he desperately wanted to follow you when you claimed to need some rest, no matter how much he wanted to cling to your hand, to the intense amount of comfort such a small gesture had given him, he had let you go.
But that was nearly an hour ago now, and he couldnât bare it any longer, and a small part of him hoped beyond all things that maybe, just maybe, you couldnât either.
As the door slid open, and the broken sound of your tears perforated the air, a small sliver of what was left of his heart broke.
You had been so strong, had remained diligent and determined, had been the support he could never ask for, but desperately needed in his dark hour, and here you were, breaking apart alone.
It wasnât until the harsh mattress beneath you shifted that you even realised you were no longer alone. Turning quickly, panicked and wide eyed, you gazed through blurry eyes at the foreign site before you.
Din still had all his armour in place, his helmet having returned to his head long ago, but his very being looked so different. It was in the way he stooped forwards, his elbows balanced on his knees as if the weight of the world was quite literally weighing him down. It was in the way his head hung low, but still faced you determinedly, as though he couldnât decide what was worse, watching your broken wails, or turning away from them.
A harsh intake of breath. A desperate rub of your sleeve against your eyes in some plea that it might somehow make you look somewhat put together. You couldnât meet his gaze, even behind the wall of his visor, but you would do what you had to in order to try and appear composed.
But he was shaking his head, slowly, reassuringly. You couldnât be certain he was even aware of his actions as his hand found your leg, squeezing gently.
âDonât,â his voice sounded harsher than usual, as if it had been filtered through sandpaper on its way through his helmet, and the rough sound had him pausing once more, as if startled to hear his own voice.
But he persisted nonetheless, pushing past the way his throat felt dry, past the ache each word brought forward.
âItâs ok to cry,â his voice was quieter now, an attempt at softness even through the pain he felt. âYou donât need to hold it in, not for me, not for anyone.â
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âYou know theyâre gonna get married and have a bunch of unholy babies.â
*deep breath* Here we go. I can do this.
Itâs been a long time (like over a month) since Iâve put anything out, but... Iâm trying. Got struck with a small bolt of inspiration and Iâm gonna try to start creating again. As of now I am gonna say that requests are still closed, but Iâm feeling a bit better and I think this fic looks okay, so donât hesitate to comment with your thoughts!
Tw: implied internalized homophobia, rejection, mentioned child neglect.
...
Flynn knows that Carrie likes girls.
Sheâs always known. Itâs obvious. Itâs been obvious. Since even before the first time Ray showed the girls (Triple Threat. Triple Threat was going to be their band name after they were introduced to Carrie in 2nd grade, key words going to beâ) Star Wars and while Julie was saying how cool Princess Leia shooting a gun was, all Carrie could talk about was how pretty she was.
Carrieâs favorite flowers are violets. Her favorite Disney fairy is Vidia. Her favorite Avenger is Thor. Itâs obvious. It always has been.
Flynn has known Carrie likes girls... well, the entire time theyâve known Carrie. Carrie likes girls. Itâs just the way things are. Julie has a seemingly permanent crush on Nick but occasionally gets another one on someone else (she has excellent, though unrealistic, taste) Ray and Rose donât question it when Flynn shows up at their house unexpectedly, and Carrie likes girls.
And Flynn likes Carrie, not that she feels like telling her that.
Carrie, who shines like a neon pink supernova when she sings, who attacks every move when she dances, who is ambitious and ruthless and... so insecure.
She needs constant validation. She needs reassurance that people can care about her for more than just her dadâs wealth and fame. She needs to know she isnât going to be left behind again.
She seems to like being needed, when Flynnâs mom and dad finally get divorced, perfectly happy to wake up at odd hours to marathon the entire Pirates of the Caribbean franchise because itâs not like Flynnâs dad will notice if they leave the house in the middle of the night and take an Uber to a mansion above the beach because she needs to feel seen right now.
And itâs not that they blame her for any of it. She doesnât. Itâs just... weird, knowing that Carrie needs those nights, needs to feel needed, as much as Flynn needs to feel noticed.
It would be simpler to go to Julieâs house, but Carrie knows how it feels to have the ground under your feet shaken and your family break apart. Julie canât possibly understand that yet, so Flynn goes to Carrie.
And Carrie takes to popping in The Curse of the Black Pearl before she can even ask her to. She learns to braid natural hair and will sit for hours doing Flynnâs. Sheâll talk absentmindedly about the latest shenanigans her dance class has been up to until they feel up to talking about whateverâs bothering them.
They talk about Flynnâs mixed feelings about her momâs new girlfriend and their buttload of homework and her dad paying more attention to his car than to them and somewhere in there, Flynn realizes that isnât just a crush. Sheâs had those before. Thisâwhat theyâre feeling nowâis love. Or... it has to be.
It has to be love because what else could possibly be this strong?
She really shouldnât have forgotten that as their dad likes to joke about, love is bullshit.
And Flynn really shouldnât have taken Julieâs advice about making a move on the girl they have a crush on (she didnât even tell Julie who it was, what were they thinking?).
Because Flynn pours her heart out, says theyâve been in love with her since they were 7 (and theyâre 13 now so literally almost half her life), and Carrie just stares at her for a full 10 seconds, then runsânoâsprints away.
Less than 48 hours later itâs all over her Instagram that she and Nick are going out on a date, and Flynn wants to scream.
They both keep it together for Julie, pretend theyâre still friends, because Rose just got diagnosed with cancer and Julie needs them to be normal, so they are.
But the first and last time Flynn tries going over to Carrieâs house again after the fiasco of telling her how they feel, itâs a big argument that narrowly avoids waking Trevor that ends in an unholy, heartbroken mess of you donât even like him, you donât even like boys so why and I donât know what youâre talking about and yeah, right, call me when youâre ready to stop pretending to be something youâre not.
Then Flynn leaves, goes to the Molinasâ (Ray makes her hot chocolate, heâs such a good dad), and pretends it doesnât hurt until it doesnât anymore. Until sheâs angry instead of heartbroken and theyâre not just angry for herself. Theyâre angry that things are weird enough now that Julie can tell somethingâs up. Angry that Nickâs inevitably going to get his heart stepped on (because he is a sweetheart, if an oblivious one). Angry that Carrieâs gone and formed her own band without what is now going to be just Double Trouble and her performances are good.
Angry that Carrie thinks liking girls would... what? Make people love her less? Make her dad love her less? Hurt her career bad enough to end it?
And sheâs definitely angry that Carrieâs pushing Julie so hard back towards music, after Rose dies.
She means well, thinking what she did to cope with her mom abandoning her will work for Julie, but sheâs being short-sighted about it.
Roseâs death is hitting all of them hard in different ways (Rose was almost as good as another mom to Flynn), only Carrie canât seem to see that. She canât seem to see that when Julieâs hurting, she shuts down completely. Stops creating music because itâs what she needs to do to cope.
And Carrie... does not react well when Flynn tries to tell her that. That conversation ends in a big, explosive fight in the Molinasâ garage with Julie caught in the middle that doesnât stop until Ray comes out and makes them stop by telling Carrie heâs driving her home.
Flynn shoves every last bit of feelings they might have had for Carrie down and puts all her energy into making sure Julie will be okay.
They donât miss the feeling of Carrieâs hands in her hair, hearing her voice sarcastically remarking on how Jack Sparrow is lucky to be alive, and talking about feelings with someone who clearly needs that talk as badly as they do.
Itâs almost the same, once Julie feels okay enough to handle listening to other peopleâs problems, but...
âI know you love her, Flynn,â Julie tells them one day, months after the big fight.
To which Flynn can only respond, âThatâs not true.â
Because itâs not. Not after everything Carrie said. Because if thereâs still some feelings left over for that beautiful neon pink supernova demon... no there isnât. She turned them into anger, making snappy comments about how Carrieâs a traitor, a demon, whatever.
About how sheâs gonna end up with Nick and live unhappily ever after.
That not happening would require either Nick to get his sweet himbo head out of the clouds (probably not going to happen), or Carrie to get past the denial phase of accepting her sexuality.
Ha. Fucking likely that is.
Because Carrie likes girls. Flynnâs always known she does.
But sheâs also insecure and aggressive and obsessed with breaking out of her dadâs shadow, and any possible threat to that dream canât stand.
Even if accepting herself might actually make both of them her happy. Fill in some of the holes in both of their lives her self-esteem.
Carrieâs too damn stubborn to even consider it, and Flynn doesnât miss her. They donât. Sheâs not stupid enough to hold on to something that will never happen and they have moved on. Can even joke about it now.
âYou know theyâre gonna get married and have a bunch of unholy babies.â
...
Part 2 here cause Iâm physically incapable of not writing at least the possibility for a happy ending!
#julie and the phantoms#jatp#julie and the himbos#netflixwewantjatp2#flarrie#flynn jatp#carrie wilson#julie molina#nick danforth evans#ray molina#demigirl!flynn#angst#flarrie angst#violetâs writing
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Tear You Apart
Chapter 2/4
AO3 Link:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/32168824/chapters/79765408#workskinÂ
Pairing:
Laszlo x Reader
Summary:
Mere months after the conclusion of the Beecham case, Dr.Kreizler and his associates are asked once again to solve a new series of murders that plague the streets of New York. They are joined by the alienist's new assistant, who's presence soon unravels startling revelations. Not only within the case, but also within the mind of one of their own.
(This story is set between the events of Season 1 and Season 2)
Warnings:
Murder Mystery, Graphic Description of Corpses, slight dark!Laszlo (kinda. Think Will âThis is my designâ Graham), Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut (MINORS DNI), Minor Violence, Friends to Lovers,Assistant, Boss/Employee Relationship,Tension, Sexual Tension, Mutual Pining.
(More Future Warnings TBD)
Notes:
Chapter 2: Love & Hate
It had been a full day since your strange interaction with Dr. Kreizler.
After waiting to for him to gather everyone involved with the investigation, you were troubled when no call came. Part of you worried that it was due to your disturbing experience, but you fought back your anxieties with logic. Even if something had happened between the two of you, Laszlo would never let it interfere with the case. Still, that did not stop you from worrying about the alienist. Your mind constantly returning to that moment.
His tired appearance, caused by countless hours of work and stress, which were aided by sleepless nights theorizing the motives and background of the murderer that haunted New York. The vacant trace-like state that overtook him, as though his actions were being controlled by something else. Someone else. The warm feeling of his palm against your skin, a feeling that would have been calming and welcome, had it not been placed around your throat. Yet, the firm but gentle hold had thrilled you- excited you. But it also frightened you. And even now, you debated your mixed, complex emotions. There was fear, yes, but excitement too. Or was there both? Or were they the same? What was the difference between the two?
You had felt like this before, in fleeting moments and never quite as strong. You had felt it with small admirers from your past, though nothing ever came from these interactions. You had felt it when you first began your work at the Kreizler Institute, upon seeing the care taken to provide the city's troubled youth with a sanctuary, free from the pressures of society. And recently, in small moments with Dr. Kreizler, himself, after working by his side tirelessly. On your trips to the Opera, when you both would be given a chance to simply talk- not about work or the mentally ill- just genuine conversations, discussing your hobbies, interests, and hopes for the future. One particular moment had stuck out to you, thinking back. It had been late, and you had joined Kreizler back at his home after a long day of work. You shared a drink together, when he finally asked you what you hoped to gain from learning from him.
Usually when men asked about what you wanted to do as a working woman, they were against the notion that you wished to become an alienist, believing that a woman could never become a doctor despite the fact that there were a rare few that already were. Indeed, even with the likes of Marcus, Lucius, and John Moore there was apprehension. With Dr. Kreizler, however, he never tried to persuade you otherwise and spoke only with respect and encouragement in regards to your dream. Ever since that moment, you had harbored affection for the alienist, though you would never act on it. If not for the sake of your own feelings, then for Laszlo's reputation.
"Ms. (L/n)?"
Your mind found its way back to the present, returning you to your surroundings. You stood in the small apartment that had become your home, a space you had rented out from a Mr. Louis Arnett. He was an older man who had been left a widower, and remained unmarried to this day. While he was a bit older than yourself, perhaps eleven years your senior, it wasn't impossible to imagine the possibility of him remarrying. It often made you wonder if his lack of interest in remarriage was due to his age or grief. Due to the sudden passing of his late wife, he had moved to a new house in the city, but offered for you to live in his previous residence, as long as you kept paying your bill on time. Since the Kreizler Institute was more generous in terms of wages, that had never been an issue for you. Still, sometimes the older landlord would come by to check on the space, often taking time to sit and chat with you despite your insistence that it wasn't necessary.
"I must apologize, Mr. Arnett." You sighed, giving a small smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "I'm afraid my mind is elsewhere as of late."
The older gentleman sat at a small table in the center of the room, drinking from a cup. He wore his typical suit, all black- save for one pin attached to his tie. A lily was depicted on the small item, as a tribute to his late wife. You eyed the item warily now, only being reminded of the bloodied bouquets.
He gave an understanding look. "As I can imagine. Nasty business. I must say, I'm rather concerned about that alienist you say you work for....Kreshner, was it? Letting a lady such as yourself work well into the night, with all these horrible attacks going on."
"Kreizler. Doctor Kriezler." You corrected. Another burning heat flashed through you, upon Arnett's mentioning of your employer, wrapping around the collar of your dress jacket. "As for myself, I am capable of finding my way home safely."
"Of that, I am certain. I do hope the man doesn't keep you there too late." Arnett relented, chuckling slightly at your reaction.
You turned to the landlord, scoffing.
"I assure you, if Dr. Kreizler had it his way, I'd be back well before the sun had begun to set. If anything, it's at my insistence that I spent so much time at the Institute."
"Is that so?"
You were used to speaking casually with the older gentleman, during such visits, but your comment seemed to intrigue the man. Perhaps you should be a bit more careful with your words. You stiffened slightly, rushing to correct your mistake.
"With the attack of those four women, I believe we should be using what time we have to catch the person responsible. My beauty sleep can wait, for now."
The man nodded, thinking for a moment, before standing to come closer to my side. Holding a hand out, he gave a quick goodbye. "Very well, Ms. (L/n). I suppose I shouldn't keep you. Though, I do wish you would take care of yourself."
"I thank you for your concern, Mr. Arnett." You nodded. "I should be heading to the Institute soon, anyways. Perhaps I can walk you down?"
"You are too kind, my dear."
You brushed off the endearment, convincing yourself it was merely a phrase he used often, and went to join the man in his exit. Once outside, the sounds and smells of the street hit you, reminding you that even with a killer on the loose, nothing could stop the momentum of New York. You escorted Mr. Arnett on the sidewalk, waiting as he attempted to hail a cab. After a few long minutes of idle conversation, a small carriage approached, stopping before the two of you. You gave a quick goodbye to the landlord, beginning to rush him away, as you grew more concerned with the time. Finally, once the cab was out of sight, you let out a heavy sigh.
It wasn't that the man's company was unpleasant. In fact, you were grateful to find a landlord in the city who was so welcoming and reasonable with rent prices, there was just something about Mr. Arnett that seemed odd. It was as though he sought to interject himself into a person's life, whether or not it was welcomed. Though you were now used to the man's occasional visits, it had been a bit unsettling at first. From what you'd heard before moving here, most people in the city didn't bat an eye when it came to the lives of strangers. Then again, he was a widower, offering up what used to be his home to anyone who would be willing to pay. Maybe having a woman in the house reminded him of happier times?
Now on your own, your mind was drawn back to Dr. Kreizler and the investigation that had taken over your current daily life. You had been a bit untruthful in your conversation with Mr. Arnett earlier, in saying that you needed to return to the Kriezler Institute for the day. In fact, you had been given the day off in advance by the alienist, for what he called a "well deserved break". Nevermind the fact that he had ignored you when you suggested he do the same. Looking back on it now, you wished he had taken your advice. These murders were clearly effecting him, if yesterday was any indication.
The walk to the Institute had been short, given that you only lived a few city blocks away. Even from the sidewalk outside, you could hear the cheers and laughter of the children inside, followed quickly by the voice of one of the matrons. You smiled lightly, knowing that at least the patients of the Institute seemed happy, despite the dark times the city was currently facing. It reminded you why your efforts in the investigation were so important. You faced the ugliest parts of life, so that they wouldn't have to.
When you entered the front doors of the Institute, you were relieved to see that no one appeared to be in the halls. While you usually enjoyed the company of the children, you didn't want to be pulled away from your current goal of finding Dr. Kreizler. You made your way towards the alienist's study, knowing you might find him there. After the fourth victim had been found, there was no doubt in your mind that he had once again stayed up all night, trying to go over every detail of the murder.
You found the door to the doctor's study left ajar, a sight that unsettled you. You crept inside, calling out softly for the doctor, before stepping in fully. After receiving no response, you glanced around. The walls of bookshelves towered over you, but you noticed spaces were there were empty slots where certain books were meant to be, no doubt to help create the ever-growing mountain on the main center table. Papers and pages were scattered about, messily, along with notes and photos from the murder victims. A chalk board had been placed inside the study, and had stayed there ever since the new case began. Countless questions were written, some organized to certain corners, while others were placed haphazardly.
Sleep fascination? Somnophilia?
Meaning of Flowers? Personal or Symbolic?
Physical Strength- perhaps a labor worker or military background?
Love and Hate?
Your eyes landed on the last question, drawing you back to your last discussion with Sara. Only now it seemed the question wasn't love or hate, rather love and hate. Much like your fear and excitement, it seemed Dr. Kreizler was starting to blur the two. In your distraction, you had failed to notice the door to the side laboratory open, where Laszlo emerged from, followed closely by a young girl.
"Ms. (L/n)?"
The gentle questioning tone in words were countered only by the rough, scratchiness in his voice. Turning quickly, you gave the doctor a startled stare. The circles under his eyes were darker, confirming your suspicions, but you were pleased to see that he had taken the time to clean up his appearance overnight.
"I'm sorry, Dr. Kreizler, I had called for you but you never answered." You explained.
"It's quite alright, I was just talking with Loretta." He gave a small smile to the girl, who clung to his good hand. When his eyes came back to you, a small jolt went through you. "I hope you weren't waiting too long."
"Never."
The man quickly told the young girl to go join the other children outside, earning a silent nod and goodbye from her. As she rushed out, her hair bounced behind her, as she eagerly went to find her friends. You couldn't help but grin. Loretta was one of the more troubled youths. After an incident with a wild dog as a small child, she had been left with an intense fear of all animals. That fear later formed into troubling habits of torturing and hurting any creature she came across. Even going as far as to set fire to a neighboring cat's tail. You never would expect such a sweet smile to hide such violent tendencies.
"How did she react to the monkey?" You asked, curiously, looking back at Laszlo.
"She's improved, but is still afraid of them unless someone shows that they're friendly. It may be a while until she can deal with animals on her own." He nodded, mostly to himself, as if making a mental note. He stayed in his spot, by the door, as he continued. "I wasn't expecting you, I'm afraid. I believe I told you that you could have the day off."
"You did."
"And yet, you are here."
Still, he remained in place, as if he wanted to be near an exit at all times. You paused for a moment, stepping back towards the chalk board.
"I wanted to discuss something with you, but if you are otherwise occupied, I can wait." You said.
He stepped closer now, but still a good distance away. For some reason, that fact irked you. "Then you caught me at just the right moment. Tell me, what's troubling you?"
Ah, avoidance.
You didn't miss the fake curiosity in his tone, as he vaguely asked you what was on your mind. It was a test, and you both knew it. Would you mention his strange behavior? Did you dare? Did you want to? Did he want you to, or was this simply an attempt to forget the action, altogether?
You bit the inside of your cheek, biting back a frown. Two could play these games. "I wanted to share a thought I had about the case."
Instantly, Kreizler approached the table, overlooking the piles of read and unread books, in order to watch your expression, gauge your behavior. His expression became serious. "Go on?"
"I was thinking about why the killer used chloroform on his victims, despite failing to render them unconscious." You answered, your eyes meeting his. "I thought about the possibility that perhaps putting them to sleep wasn't his goal, nor was it to be used as a painkiller. As you pointed out, if reducing pain was it's purpose then he wouldn't resort to strangling the women. So then what if his goal was merely to disorient them, to make them unable to fight back? Perhaps the combination of panic and the effects of the drug caused them to go into shock? If that were his goal, then that would explain why he continues to use it."
The alienist pondered this for a moment. "Heâs created an obsession with his true target, creating a delusion and using his victims as substitutes for her. If this is true, then perhaps the use of chloroform was simply a desperate attempt to keep them from fighting, from breaking the illusion he's created in his mind."
"That would also explain why he would then turn to using violence against them when they struggled." You nodded. "I suspect our latest victim fought a bit harder than the others, due to the stronger markings on her."
"It also supports the killerâs effort to cover up the wounds of the struggle. It would suggest that the victims didnât want it to happen, when his delusion depends on their submission to him." Laszlo added, looking over the photographs. "He's become obsessed his target, taking pleasure from the idea that they will accept him, and escalating to violence when he's denied that pleasure."
He moved with a strong purpose, over to the chalk board, writing down a new series of thoughts and questions. There was a serious focus in his gaze, contradicted by a light glint in his brown eyes. You focused on his hand, as he quickly scratched the white chalk against the board's surface, following its path until he was done. The doctor stepped back, his chest heaving up and down slightly. A slight, satisfied smirk on his face.
"How did you come to this conclusion?" He asked, curiously, sighing.
A burning blush had reached your face, and your heart raced at the fact that your theory had brought some level of joy to the man. Blinking, you looked away, slightly embarrassed by your reaction. "I had an idea back at the morgue, before you..."
...before you grabbed my throat. You had trailed off, not wishing to speak the words aloud. Still, It seemed your message got through to Laszlo.
Now his eyes turned away, looking to the ground, as a rosy color reached the apples of his cheeks. There was a mixture of emotions in his expression, ones you could see he was fighting to hold back. Shame, embarrassment, regret, and something more. He no longer stood far away from you, as he had been just a moment before, yet you could tell he wanted nothing more than to be closer to the exit of the room.
âI must apologize, it was improper on my part and disrespectful to your boundaries." A hand went through his hair, a nervous reaction. "I fear Iâm not sure what came over me.â
He didn't seem capable of looking at you, and you found yourself desperate to see his eyes. Taking a small step towards him, his head slowly turned to you. You gave him a reassuring smile.
"This case has been disturbing for all of us, Doctor, I won't blame you for being effected by it. Trying to understand the thoughts of the person responsible for these acts has proven to me that there is darkness in all of us... and that it's hard not to be consumed by it." You said, hoping to sound understanding.
You now stood only a couple feet away. His eyes met yours, as his expression gave way to something softer. "Iâm not sure how I could make it up to you, after frightening you in such a way. If I still...â
Now you understood. There was the slightest tremor in his voice, but it was there. He was afraid. Afraid of his actions, afraid of how you'd react, afraid that you were scared of him now.
"I don't fear you, Laszlo." You admitted, softly. "I fear for you. If you truly wish to make it up to me, then allow yourself a break, if only for a day."
"I.." He shook his head, stubbornly, and glanced back to the photographs. "I can't-"
"-you will do no good if you work yourself to death before we even find a suspect." You countered, standing your ground. "Perhaps time away would clear your head. Please, Laszlo."
You bit you lip, as you prayed your heart would stop racing. You knew that Kreizler could be stubborn, often not listening to reason once he'd made up his mind. He paused, debating whether or not to listen to your advice. The ghost of a smile flickered over his face, before disappearing just as quickly as it came.
"How long has it been since we last went to the opera?"
You stared, unable to process his question for moment, as you focused solely on the word: âWeâ. After your initial shock, you cleared you throat. "I..I believe a month, perhaps?"
In truth, you weren't sure. After your investigation began, days and nights began to blur. You knew it had been more than a couple of weeks, at the least. Kreizler chuckled, softly.
"Well, then we must remedy that, shouldn't we?"
You weren't sure why you were so nervous. Going to the opera with Laszlo wasn't a first for you, so why did it feel so different this time?
You stared at yourself in the mirror, after changing into yet another dress for the outing. Perhaps it was because you felt surprised that Laszlo had asked you to join him, after the events of the day before. Or maybe it was because you couldn't get his actions out of your head, constantly thinking back to the feeling of his hand on you. You had been understanding that his action wasn't completely his own in that moment, but had that changed anything between you? Had he thought back to that moment, as you had?
Surely not, since you were about to accompany the alienist for the night. Then again, when you had insisted that he took a break, you didn't think he'd want to spend it with you, and yet here you were: stressing over what you should wear to the engagement. You wondered if you were just making a big deal out of nothing. He had said he wanted to make it up to you, and perhaps this was a compromise he'd found acceptable, allowing you both to have a night without worry or stress.
"Foolish." You sighed at your reflection, and the obvious blush that overtook your features, making it clear that it was not simply makeup that gave your cheeks a darkened color. "Absolutely foolish."
It wasn't often that you wore your formal attire, nor did you have an entire day to prepare for the night ahead. The payoff was that you looked far better than usual, a small comfort for your nerves. Was this too much? The question was now an echo in the seemingly endless cave that made up your mind. You shook your head, turning away from the mirror, once again cursing yourself for thinking in such a manner. Regardless, it was far too late now to worry about these little details, as the clock in your home rang out, signalling the time. You'd have to leave soon in order to make it to the theater at a reasonable time.
Every so often, as you began to gather you things for the night, your mind returned back to the investigation. You'd scold yourself. Tonight was a break, you didn't need to think about the horrors you'd seen. Laszlo needed this. Lord knows you needed this. Despite your nervousness, tonight was just a fun outing with a dear friend. And you intended to enjoy it, while you still had the chance.
A knock at your door startled you, as you prepared to leave for the evening. A shadow danced under the crack at the bottom of your door, signalling that there was indeed someone there, and not just your ears plating tricks on you. Cautiously, you reached for the knob. Was someone meant to visit today? No, you wouldn't have forgotten if Sara or the Isaacson twins were meant to come by.
When you opened the door, a man stood there, smiling down at you.
"Oh, hello Cyrus!" You greeted, sighing in relief.
The tall man gave you a nod, a smile playing out over his features. "Ms. (L/n)."
"Why..I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting you, has.. Has something happened?"
Your heart and mind raced together. Had Laszlo changed his mind? No, he wouldn't be so rude as to cancel your plans last minute. Unless there was something important. Had another body been found?
Cyrus chuckled, shaking his head. "No, nothing of the sort. Dr. Kreizler just asked if Stevie and I could take you to the opera."
"Oh." It's all you could say, as you fought back another flush from your face.
"You look lovely tonight, Ms. (L/n)." Cyrus said, comfortingly, before turning his head back to the street.Â
There, Laszlo's young ward, Stevie, sat at the driver's seat of the carriage, clearly itching to leave, so that he might race through the streets. You smiled, unable to hold back your joy.
"Thank you, Cyrus."
You had already gathered your belongings for the evening, not that there was really much you could bring, only a small bag attached to your wrist. You stepped out of your home, pausing only to lock the door behind you. You hurried down the front steps to the sidewalk, where you were promptly let into the empty carriage. Once inside and settled, you beamed, unable to contain yourself. You reasoned that your unexpected escort was probably due to concerns for your safety at this time of night, and nothing more. Still, a certain lightness in your chest emerged, bubbling up inside you, causing you to beam as you looked out the side window.Â
You heard Stevie cheer out, and suddenly the vehicle pulled forwards. After a moment, you felt the wheel hit a large bump. You laughed after a second of surprise. Maybe your ride wouldn't be as calm as Doctor Kreizler had expected, but you couldn't find it within you to care.
When you finally made it to the theater, you had arrived a bit earlier than you expected. Not that you should be surprised, given how Stevie raced you through the city. On the carriage had stopped, Cyrus opened the door and bid you farewell. You watched the boy-driven carriage disappear into the night, before turning to face the opera house. The building was a towering structure, with large marble beams that made up the entrance. The warm, yellow light from the inside called to you, ushering you to join the fun. Given that Cyrus hadn't told you when Laszlo would arrive, you assumed he was waiting there for you. Picking up the skirt of your dress, you began your climb up the stairs, a slight urgency in your step.
You had found him a few minutes later, standing by the large stair case that lead to the upper level seats of the theater. Before he had seen you, you took a moment to admire his form. You had seen him in his formal suit before, a simple black suit with a white bow tie, but you always had to stop and admire the expensive outfit. He also had his cane with him, the one with the bird handle that you had once said you liked before. The one detail you thought was odd was the fact that he held the item with his right hand, as opposed to his left. Due to the weakness in the arm, he usually kept it close to his side in order to keep from hurting himself. It was only until he pulled a pocket watch from his vest with his dominant arm that you understood the change.
You walked towards him, until your approaching figure finally drew his attention. With a shy smile, she greeted the man. "I hope I'm not too late."
He shook his head, giving you a warm look. "Right on time."
He seemed rested now, compared to earlier, no longer wearing the dark circles that had plagued him for the last couple of days. You felt happy, knowing that he must have taken a break from the day as well.
"I apologize for sending Cyrus and Stevie to you without warning, I thought it'd be best if you didn't travel alone." He explained, before quickly looking over you. "You look beautiful tonight, (Y/n)."
"Thank you, Laszlo." You replied, blushing, while clasping your hands together nervously. "Though, you didn't have to go through all the trouble."
"It was no trouble at all. Stevie, in particular, seemed more than willing."
When the crowd of people began to move into the auditorium, you joined Laszlo as he led you up the stairs, towards the direction of the private box seats. You were a bit surprised to see this, given that he had gotten the tickets on such short notice. As you entered the box, you each took a seat next to each other, with you seated in your usual spot on his left. The opera you were watching was Aida, a story about an Ethiopian princess of the same name who was held captive in Egypt, and fell in love with an Egyptian general, Radames, and he with her, despite being promised to the Egyptian princess. As the show began, Laszlo quickly explained to you that the opera had been made by Antonio Ghislanzoni and Giuseppe Verdi, and had premiered December 24th, 1871. You chuckled, mostly to yourself, as you knew he'd be listing off little facts like this throughout the night.
As the show went on, you slowly realized a running theme in the show, in relating to it's star characters. Love & Hate. You found it a bit ironic, given the circumstances. In the first act, Aida, the main character, loves her country deeply but has hate for the Egyptians who have taken her and her people captive. Including Radames, as he continues to fight against her country. Time passes in the story, and the two begin to fall for one another. You were impressed with how the performer playing Aida was able to portray the conflicting emotions of the character- with her love for her country and her love for Radames, as she begins to fall for the Egyptian general.Â
One of the reasons that made Laszlo's company so enjoyable was his ability to talk during a show, without taking away or distracting you from the experience. Often times, he'd speak quietly, leaning slightly for you to hear him over the music. He'd go on to tell you the historical origins that the opera was based on, and you had a feeling he had studied the opera before coming here. It seemed nearly impossible for him to know so much, if that were not the case. However, once the music began and each new song was sung, Laszlo's words would fall silent as all his focus was placed on the stage. Occasionally, his hand would twitch in the edge of you vision, pulling away your focus to the watch as his fingers shot up and down in the air, as though he were trying to play something.
Act Two played out similarly to the first, but showed how Radames fights with his own loyalties. By the end, the Egyptian general asked for the Pharaoh to release Aida and her people, but the Pharaoh would only accept if the general agrees to marry his daughter. Once the woman on stage stopped singing, the curtains closed and lights flickered back on. Already, some of the crowd had begun to leave the auditorium, in order to socialize with the other members of New York's society.
The two of you join them, going out into the crowded halls and lobby in order to celebrate your evening. Drinking champagne, you exclaimed your love for the story so far, as well as the performer's work. Laszlo agreed, complimenting the orchestra as well, before listening to your thoughts on the characters, occasionally interjecting how it's history was exaggerated for the sake of entertainment. Truly, you felt content in this moment, sharing your same passions with the alienist, while being able to give each other new thoughts and opinions.Â
You were both finishing up your drinks, when your name had been called from some far off part of the room. Turning, you were shocked to see none other than Louis Arnett for the second time today. The man came over to you, dressed to the nines.
"Mr. Arnett, what a surprise to see you." You greeted, politely. "I thought I recalled you saying you weren't fond of the opera?"
"I've been known to come on the rare occasion." He replied. "It's a pleasure to see you, my dear. Lovely, as always. I also seem to recall the fact that I said you could call me Louis."
Kindly, you shook your head in denial. "I apologize, Mr. Arnett, but I highly doubt that'd be appropriate."
Before, you may have brushed off the endearments, but now they were beginning to irritate you. Especially with Laszlo present. Turning your head, you looked at Laszlo, who's warm smile had returned to his usual subdued expression.
"Mr. Arnett, I must introduce you to Dr. Kreizler!" You said, steering the conversation away from you. Laszlo gave you a confused expression, before you quickly explained: "Mr. Arnett was kind enough to open his home to me for such a low price, when I first moved here. He'll stop by on occasion."
Laszlo smiled, giving Arnett a nod, before placing his cane back into his right hand. With his left, he shook your landlord's hand, introducing himself.
"Ah, the alienist." Arnett hummed. "Tell me, Kreizler, do you always take your assistants with you to the opera? One might think you're trying to keep (Y/n) all to yourself!"
"Mr. Arnett, please." You hissed out, appalled.
Arnett chuckled, but you found nothing about his words humorous. Not only were they rude, given the circumstance, but the implication alone was entirely inappropriate. You also despised how he had spoken as if you weren't right there in front of him. Laszlo was clearly uncomfortable with the man's words, but tried his best to hide it.
The alienist merely sighed. "While it's true, Ms. (L/n) does work with me, It's been a pleasure to enjoy her company. Though she does assist me with my work at the Institute, I'm honored to consider her a close colleague and friend."
The last word was barely more than a small whisper, yet Arnett seemed to catch it. The older man nodded in understanding, before looking to you.
"I understand entirely. I don't blame you for wanting to spend more time with her, especially way from those horrible murders."
You blushed, stiffening slightly at the mentioned case. "Mr. Arnett, I'm afraid the purpose of our outing was to get away from the investigation. I'd highly appreciate it if we could enjoy our night in peace."
"Ah," He cleared his throat, embarrassed at your reaction. His hand went up to smooth out his tie, his thumb brushing over the lily pin. "I apologize. Of course you wouldn't wish to speak of it here. " Something in the distance seemed to catch the older man's eye, drawing his attention. "If you'll excuse me, I must be going."
You found yourself stunned at his erratic behavior, as he moved away back into the crowd. Once out of earshot, you let out a heavy sigh, turning to Laszlo with an apologetic look.
"I must apologize for Mr. Arnett. He has a tendency to overstep in conversations. I hope he didn't offend you too greatly."
Kreizler's brown eyes had followed Arnett, before finally looking back to you. While his smile hadn't returned, the warm look he gave you had. "John has, on occasion, accused me of doing the same. I suppose its only right that I should have to experience the same hardships I deal to others."
With that, the crowd was then directed back into the auditorium, as intermission drew to a close. To your surprise, Laszlo had offered you his arm, as you both returned to the private section. As the curtains rose and the next act began, you found yourself thinking about Mr. Arnett's strange behavior and how he'd spoken with Laszlo. You could understand if the man didn't like the alienist, given that Dr. Kreizler didn't have the best reputation among most of New York. Still, you weren't prepared for how casually he had disrespected him and spoke about you as though you were merely there to entertain them. Your chest felt warm, as you recalled how kindly Laszlo had spoken about you, complimenting your company. However, the way his voice has weakened upon calling you a friend had stirred all your anxieties back to the surface.
As the first song began, you looked to Laszlo, admiring him as he watched the show. Did he truly see you as a friend? Or was his hesitation an indicator of something more?
The third act began, with the story immediately picking up where it left off. Aida and her lover, Radames, perform in a song, where the characters are lamenting their forbidden and doomed romance. Once the song ends, Aida then began to plead with the gods, praying that they take pity on her people and the two lovers. In such dark times, as the one you live in now, you felt as though you would've done the same, had you believed in such a God.Â
With the song at an end, you had expected Laszlo to then make another small comment about the show. However, when his gaze remained focused on the stage, you found yourself a little disappointed. It wasn't until you felt a warm brush against your hand, that your attention switched. It was brief, just for a moment, but Laszlo's left hand had touched yours, yet his eyes remained in place. Somehow, it seemed as though he hadn't noticed. Or if he had, he didn't mind. You blinked, clearing your throat silently, before looking back to the stage. The next song began, and followed the story with interest, wondering what would come of the two main characters, and the enslaved people of Ethiopia.Â
Once again, you felt his hand against your own. There was no doubt now. Without moving you head, your eyes went back to his hand, a finger draped over your own. Slowly, you moved your hand into his, your palm covering over his own. Your heart raced, and the room felt significantly warmer. You began to doubt yourself, cursing whatever god there was for your foolish actions. But it all stopped, as his fingers wrapped into your own. You felt your breath hitch, but fell into a comfortable silence, watching the opera with a racing heart. As the song came to an end, you weren't sure if you welcomed it's conclusion or mourned it.
Laszlo turned, facing you. Even with the dim lights of the theater, you could make out the pink color of his cheeks and neck, as he continued to stare at you. His eyes held the same intensity as the day before, but that vacant expression was gone, replaced with something much softer. A binding energy trapped you in place, unable to look away. Even as the music began, signalling the next song, the doctor did not break his stare. Instead, his gaze slowly traced over you, a soft caress.
It wasn't until the music softened, transitioning from a loud crescendo to a soft steady melody, that you heard him whisper your name, as if asking something. You responded with his own.
You didnât know who let go of the otherâs hand, but it didnât matter. Kreizlerâs hand slowly reached up to you, the back of his fingers brushing over your cheek, as he pushed back a small section of your hair behind your ear, before finding it's destination against your jaw. He was hesitant to lean into you, not wishing to overstep your boundaries. It until you matched his actions, did the space between you disappear.
It was a small, innocent kiss. Even as you broke away, you felt the soft gentle buzzing on your lips. Your noses brushing, you looked up at him, staring into those brown eyes you've grown to love. You only broke the stare to lean in again, chasing the feeling of his lips on your own once more. You hardly cared where you were at the moment, as you lifted a hand to place over his own. You kissed him gently, not wanting to ruin this moment, as you lightly parted your lips for him. The hand on your jaw fell, finding it's place back against your neck, making you gasp. He seemed to grow more bold, matching your desperate enthusiasm. His fingers then dug down, not harshly but just enough to add pressure. The sensation was enough to send a sudden jolt of heat through you, making a small instinctive whine fall from you.
Suddenly, he broke away from you, a strange glint in his eye. As you caught your breath, you couldn't quite tell if his expression was one of excitement or fear. Before you could even ask what was wrong, the doctor got up from his seat, moving to leave the small theater box, not even stopping to take his walking cane. The light happiness in your chest died as quickly as it was born, and all that was left was the sinking feeling of fear and confusion. You then followed, doing the same, as the same nagging question played over in your mind. Had you done something wrong?
Tears threatened to form, but you fought to keep them down. At least until you had an explanation for Laszlo's actions. You found him just outside, in the empty halls of the theater. As you approached, he looked back at you, a troubled expression on his face. Your heart broke at the sight.
"Laszlo, I.. If I've done something wrong I sincerely apologize. I.. I'm sorry-"
Cutting me off, his head shot up, as if stunned. "You've done nothing of the sort!"
"Then why are you troubled?" You stepped forwards, searching for answer. "If I am not at fault, then you must tell me what it is I have done that has made you react in such a way."
"I just...I don't wish to see you get hurt. By being close to me." Laszlo looked conflicted, pausing as he tried to form his thoughts. His eyes looked to the ground, as he sighed. "By me."
The phantom hold on your neck returned, as you noticed the look of fear in his eyes. This man, who has trouble follow him wherever he goes, seemed haunted by something. You bit your lip.
"I've already forgiven you for you previous actions, as I know they were not entirely your own in that moment." You took a deep breath in order to keep your voice from failing you. "And even if they were, I trust you enough to know that you'd never hurt me, Laszlo."
"And if I wanted to?" He spat it out, quickly. Though the words didn't seem directed towards you, rather.. himself.
You blinked, a blush rushing to your face once more, as you were taken aback. Gathering yourself, you reached for his hand once more, silently. Lifting it gently, you gave a soft squeeze, a comforting gesture. His eyes met your own again.
"I'll trust you even then." You replied, feeling genuine in your response.
His lips parted slightly, his eyes widening as he looked down at you. He squeezed you hand, holding it in a grasp that was almost tight. A warning. Yet you stayed right there, watching as his eyes fell to your lips.
He pulled you forward, against him, as his lips met your own again. Unlike before, this wasn't so sweet and gentle as it had once been. No, now that underlying desperation, that need, broke to the surface as his teeth pulled on the soft subtle skin on your mouth, almost forcing you to open your lips for him, hadn't you not already been willing to. His weaker right arm found a place against your waist, as his left found the back of your neck, a strong hold keeping you there.
You gasped in surprise at the sudden forwardness of the typically reserved man. Your hands fell against his suit, finding a hold on the vest beneath his suit jacket. One of your hand slowly traced a path, running against the hairs behind his ear, as you gently pulled against them. The action sent a groan from Laszlo's throat, an unfamiliar experience for you, as you felt his voice against your skin. And Oh, how you craved more, smiling at how you had earned such a reaction. In response, you felt a quick nip at your bottom lip, a small jolt of pain coming from it, before his tongue ran along the same area. At the same time, the hand around your neck squeezed down. A thrilling chill passed through your entire being, finding it's destination just below your stomach. His lips changed direction, trailing a path from your lips to your jawline. You moaned, quietly, just enough for the alienist to hear.
"Laszlo."
Lust wasn't a look you were a stranger to, but seeing it overtake every aspect of Laszlo's appearance as he looked down at you definitely was. And you had no doubts that you looked the same. He pulled away from his advances, hesitating for a moment, blinking away the haze in his eyes. You leaned up, pressing a kiss against his cheek, as his left hand came down to your waist. As you silently stared at each other, you heard the volume of the opera's music return, reminding you of your surroundings. As much as you wished to continue, you knew you couldn't. Fortunately, it seemed Laszlo had come to the same conclusion, leaning back as he smiled again.
"It would be best if we return, before we are found in such a state..." He sighed, almost sadly.
He was right of course. If anyone had gone out into the halls at that moment, the mere sight of your disheveled states would be enough to cause a scandal, something neither of you wanted for the other. You looked away, nodding in agreement as you blushed, bashfully. As if you hadn't just clung to him, wishing that he'd continue. You returned to your seats, the two of you smooth out your clothes, erasing as much evidence to your actions as you could. Once you returned, Laszlo once again placed his hand against yours, drawing gentle circles against the back of your hand throughout the rest of the show. Permanent smile crept to your face.
The opera ended, with Aida and Radames dying in each other's arms. A tragic love story, doomed to fail from the start. But then again, did it truly fail? After all, Aida's people had escaped captivity and she had found her last moments with the man she loved. Perhaps if you hadn't missed part of the story you would've come to a suitable answer. You didn't regret missing it though, finding comfort in a far more enjoyable feeling in whatever it was that was between you and the alienist by your side.
You left the theater, with your arm wrapped around his own, sharing electric glances and soft touches. Once outside, you saw the familiar faces of Stevie and Cyrus, who apparently had been waiting to escort you back. Laszlo lead you to the carriage, opening the door for you. He took your hand, helping you step into the vehicle, before quickly joining you inside. Once settled, you met his gaze once more.
He smiled, warmly. "I hope you enjoyed yourself tonight. John has told me that the opera can be rather dull, at times.."
You blinked, bewildered. Surely, he was joking. You couldn't help but laugh, as you gave him a strange stare. "You're the alienist, Dr. Kreizler. What would you believe?"
Laszlo chuckled in response, taking your joke as a good sign. Lifting his cane, he tapped the roof of the carriage twice, signalling Stevie to start our journey. Your ride home had been much calmer than earlier, and you enjoyed the comfortable silence that fell over the two of you. However, as you neared your home, you sensed that Laszlo had something to say.Â
"I'm sorry if my reaction startled you, that hadn't been my intention. The troubled minds of other have always been something that intrigued me, yet when faced with it myself, I find myself at a loss." He said quietly. "I meant it when I said you could get hurt, being close to me. Someone I held dear was taken from me, and I still fear that the same fate may reach you, the way it did her..."
He spoke as though a ghost hovered over his shoulder, a new level of vulnerability you'd never seen before. You realized that perhaps this is what John meant when he said Laszlo had been hurt the most by the last investigation.Â
"I understand," You looked up, reading his expression as you spoke. "But you shouldn't blame yourself for the past. If you truly cared for her and could have changed whatever happened, I know you would have. You cannot punish yourself for something you could not control. If you worry for me, for whatever may come, I know you will work to keep the same from happening."
Laszlo stared at you, a sad smile playing over his face, as he mulled over your words. Once more the silence fell over you. It was only a few minutes more, when you reached your home.
As you glanced out the window, you paused. "Thank you, Laszlo. I had a lovely time, enjoying your company."
"Perhaps we should go to the opera again?" He suggested, hopeful.
"I.." You blushed for what felt like the hundredth time at this point. "I didn't wish to assume."
"Never, kedvesem." He replied, speaking a Hungarian word you hadn't learned yet. But it didn't take much to know that it was an endearment of some sort. "Though, perhaps we should save Delmonico's for the next trip to the opera."
You heart leapt at the notion, sending a rush through you. You gave your farewell, before stepping out of the carriage. Quickly, you did the same for Stevie and Cyrus, once again thanking them for their services for the night. As you watched the carriage disappear into the night, you felt as though you could die from happiness. Stepping into your home, the door being left unlocked, you gave a sigh of relief. The night had been a success and so much more.
You dragged yourself into your private room, tired after the long night.
 And in your distracted state, you hardly noticed the small bouquet of roses on your pillow.
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The Rise and Fall of the Shepard Family Part 29: Summer, 1084 & Fall, 1085
Part 1& Part 2
Part 3 & Part 4
Part 5 & Part 6 & Part 7
Part 8 & Part 9 & Part 10
Part 11 & Part 12 & Part 13
Part 14 & Part 15 & Part 16
Part 17 & Part 18 & Part 19
Part 20 & Part 21 & Part 22
Part 23 & Part 24 & Part 25
Part 26 & Part 27Â & Part 28
It was strange to be back.Â
Most of Gwendolynâs memories of the Allard estate were from a time when AĂ©lgarda had been alive. During her exile at the hovel, she had come to miss so many things about it, and had reveled in the little luxuries she had once had. The fire was always roaring, the meat had always been cooked to perfection, and her feather bed had always afforded her a good nightâs sleep when her mind was quiet. But now the house had a coldness about it that she hadnât remembered from before. It was dark and damp and surprisingly dirty.
Gwendolyn wrinkled her nose at the smell of dog and garlic from last nightsâ dinner that hung in the air in the Great Hall. There was something else there that she couldnât account for....rotten vegetables perhaps?Â
Yuck.Â
They made their way to down the hall to the stairway and she could feel her palms getting sweaty. Frances met her eyes and offered her a reassuring glance, but she still felt a burning tightness in her chest as they treaded up the stairs.
Courage. You need courage.
âOh brother! I am so glad youâre here!â Francineâs face was a mix of nervousness and fear as she hugged her brother tightly, and then hugged Gwendolyn. She had never seen her so frazzled before. Francine had always been the girlish one, full of giggles and frivolousness. But today, that was all gone, and she looked older than her eighteen years. âHe is getting worse by the day, yet he still insists on coming down to sup and drink his mead. Then he is in his cups until he passes out. FrĂ©dĂ©rique says she will be here in the morning with her husband, but I am hoping they will arrive sooner. I cannot handle him anymore.â
âMead? Is that wise?â The beautiful features on her husbandâs face flashed with a look of concern.
âI cannot stop him. He wonât listen to anyone and keeps ranting about how he cannot trust women. I donât know what to do!â The look of helplessness and hopelessness on her face disarmed Gwendolyn. She had seen that look before. It was the look her father had shortly before her mother died. Â
âTake us to him.â Gwendolyn could see exactly what he was feeling without him having to say anything, just by the tone in his voice. He was nervous and slightly terrified.Â
We all are.Â
The room smelled of sweat, vomit and stale air. She had never been in the Masterâs bedroom before, but it was a beautiful room, despite the smell. The bed was large with fine fabrics that seemed to shimmer in the light, and the furnishings were inlaid with beautiful carvings done by a highly skilled hand. The light streamed into the room through long windows, which, under different circumstances would have been pleasant, but just then it made her feel exposed. The floors were covered in a variety of fine furs, and the niches were filled with silver candlesticks and beautiful decorative wooden boxes. In the corner sat a bucket of unknown contents, and Gwendolyn tried not to think about what might be in it.
Marcelle had lost a considerable amount of weight since she had last seen him. He was frail and old looking, with dark circles under his eyes. But she noticed he was dressed in a long elaborate robe in the Norman fashion that set him apart from all the other men who wore the Saxon style. There was a finely carved silver medallion at his breast, which Gwendolyn found an odd thing to wear when one was sick. Had he dressed purposely for the occasion?Â
He still wants to remind us of his status. Of course.
âWhat are you doing here, Shepard girl?â The raspy words slithered out of his mouth like a snake before she could even think. Upon his features was a look of disgust, reserved especially for her. She bristled under his gaze and felt her anger surface. Â
âI am come to support my husband.â She looked away, intimidated by his hatred of her. She wanted to add that she had also come in the hopes that the breech between them could be healed, but after seeing his face she knew that it had been a foolish hope. Why was she here? The whole thing seemed like a stupid idea now, and she wished she had stayed away.
âGet her out of here, Frances.â He said his sonâs name between clenched teeth, and her heart fell. What had she done for him to hate her so? Besides being born and falling in love with his son, she had never caused him harm or hurt him purposefully. If anything, it should be her that hated him. Â
Perhaps it was better for her to go. If Frances wanted peace, then she was likely standing in the way of that just with her mere presence. But a small part of her hated being rejected by him, and it hurt her more than she expected it would. She got up and looked at what seemed like dead eyes and held his gaze to the point of making him uncomfortable. She wasnât going to waste this chance to speak her bit, and he was going to hear it.
âI have come to inform you that I have forgiven you for all of the terrible things you have said and done. For exiling me, and for stealing my dowry, and for the hurt you have caused both of us. Although you really donât deserve my forgiveness, nor my pity, I give it anyway.â His gaze was empty, as if he found her ridiculous.Â
Then she moved closer to him and half whispered in his ear, âYour time has come old man. You better get down on your knees and pray hard that your God will forgive you too for all of the rotten and disgusting things you have done.â She could feel her lip quiver in anger as she reflected back the look of disgust he had given her. His eyes grew wide with surprise, and it gave her a slight thrill. He hadnât been expecting her to speak that way to him. In the past she would never have dared.
Before he could respond, she walked out of the room with more confidence than she felt. She noticed that her hands were shaking and her heart seemed to want to burst out of her chest.Â
As soon as she walked into the long hall she felt a wave of relief wash over her. She had said what she come to say, and now it was over. She never had to think about that man again, and once he died, she would be free of him forever. But she couldnât stop her tears from falling, yet she refused to give into the ache in her heart.Â
Not here.Â
She left word with a servant to tell Frances that she would be at the orphanage, and on shaky legs made the short walk down the lane to see her sisters. She wanted so much to collapse into Gwynâs embrace, and after a few short moments, she did exactly that.Â
She told her everything, in between sobs and sniffles. And when she had gained enough composure over herself, she asked her sisterâs opinion. âDo you think I was too harsh on him? Do you think I should have said something kinder to a dying man?â
âMarcelle?! No. He is lucky indeed that more donât make their opinions of him known. His wealth protects him. But most people have turned against him since what he did to you has come to light, they whisper about him. People are disgusted by his abuse of power against a helpless orphan girl. Heâs no longer seen as a gentleman. If I were you, I would have said much more.â
Gwendolyn felt a small sense of relief that the village was on her side, but she was still worried about the rest of her new family. Where did they stand on the issue? Would they turn their backs on her once Marcelle was dead?Â
During the ride back to the Inn, Marcelle explained everything that had happened and what his father had said.Â
âOf course he chided me for leaving, and for marrying you and called me a simple fool. He called me simple!â Gwendolyn said nothing at this, as it was hardly a surprise. âHonestly, I thought he was going to be more angry and refuse to see me. But Gwendolyn, then he said the strangest thing- he called my mother a whore and said that myself and Francine are the only ones he can be sure are really his!â
Gwendolyn gasped in shock. âHow could he say that of AĂ©lgarda?! What an absurd thing to say! She dedicated her life to all of you, and the village. And as for your parentage, one only has to look at your siblings to know they have the same parents as you do. They are all different arrangements of his own face!â
Frances nodded in agreement. Every one of his siblings had the same dark eyes as Marcelle, the straight sharp noses, and even the same shade of that beautiful sable colored hair. Gwendolyn thought that Frances was the best looking out of all of them, of course, but there was no denying that they were all related. It was as plain as day to anyone that cared to look.Â
âI can only imagine that he is suffering from delusions. Perhaps a combination of poppy juice and mead?! He looks awful. Iâve never seen him so weak. It made me pity him.â
âWell, did you make your peace with him? How did you leave it?â
âIn a way, I suppose. He said that I would inherit the estate since I am the only son he can be sure of...which shocks me to my core. I think the things you said to him had quite an affect on him, because he then told me to leave so that he could âmake peace with his maker.ââ He gave her a look just then, and she could see he was still recovering from shock. âWhat exactly did you whisper to him when you got close? Iâve never seen him pray in my life!â
She pinched her lips together and said quietly, âI told him what needed to be said. It was for his ears only.âÂ
His mouth curled into a little smile and he let out a chuckle. âSomething about god? Iâll make a note never to cross you, as I have to say that I never want to see the look you gave him directed at me.â His eyes were teasing and he kissed her gently on the neck. âWhat a saucy Tigress you are.â She laughed and then he kissed her again.Â
               * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *Â
In just a weekâs time with the arrival of autumn, another nasty illness had spread to Barton Upon Humber from the North, and then made itâs way to Grimsby. Most people remained indoors, fearful that another plague would wipe out as many as it had several years ago, or more. Their fears were not unfounded, as it had been reported that twelve people had already died in the nearby farms and villages.
First it hit the Merchant household of Handel, and killed not only Master Uddulf Handel, but his young son as well. Everyone was surprised it had brought down such a large, healthy man, but luckily his wife and daughter were spared.Â
Next it hit the Merchants, and killed the Irishman, Fåelån. For a time people thought that it would take Aoifé and the children as well, but they narrowly escaped death after several weeks.
Soon after it traveled to the house of the late Olric, where it bedded his widow, Agatha. The three children had to be sent to the orphanage while their mother was too sick to care for them, and she died just days afterwards, alone.Â
But finally it ended itâs travels at the Allard estate, where it made short work of Marcelle, who had been hanging on. It also banished Francois to his bed, where he clung to life. Yet just as quickly as it had spread, it was gone again, leaving the living to mourn the dead one more time.Â
As soon as Marcelle died a messenger was dispatched to the Inn. Frances had been summoned to the estate where the reading of the will was to take place, and they hastily began to pack their trunks. As Gwendolyn began to carefully fold her clothing, she couldnât help but wonder why she felt as if someone had punched her in the gut. It was true that she mostly hated Marcelle, but now that he was gone she remembered the days when he used to come visit their father and offered them fresh cherries from his orchard. He would sup with them sometimes, and her father had always been so proud when he did. She had considered him a father figure for so long.Â
What had made him change so much?
She glanced over at Frances, as tears silently rolled down his cheeks, and she could feel his sorrow. She stopped folding and clasped her hands in his. He looked away at first, too ashamed to look her in the eye. Then the tears gushed out, and he quietly began to sob. He rested his head on her shoulder, and she could feel him shake with misery. She gently rubbed his back up and down, up and down, until he sobbed even harder and it all came sputtering out.Â
âNow weâre both orphans,â he whispered.Â
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why the hive fckin suck at its job: a rant
spoilers for tgwdlm ahead!
first of all, it's important to consider what exactly the hive's job is. my answer is... who the fuck knows. literally. what is the hive's aim. what do you want Paul? more like, what do you want hive? let's find out!
it kinda evolves, as the play progresses. the intial aim of the hive, and one that does actually remain consistent is the constant burning need to grow and devour and gain more and more (insert capitalism metaphor here).
however, this is distorted by the people it possess who influence that aim, as we'll see later.
also the fact it crashes into a theatre displaying Mamma Mia gives the hive the motive it need to fit the world around it to the structure of the musical. having no originality of its own, the hive instead just picks up what is given to it. kinda like an evil baby.
it wants uniformity, that is indeed its ultimate goal and desire, no duh. it thinks it can achieve that through musical theatre, shame that the hive is dead wrong. cause the hive fucking sucks at its own job / aim / ultimate purpose / one concrete goal that motivates all its actions.
can't maintain control over its subjects
okay, so, the hive wants uniformity. it wants everyone to be dancing to the beat of its own tune. right? yeah. shame it literally can't keep its own possessed subjects in line at all. at the risk of sounding like the 10th doctor waxing lyrical abt humanity for the 50th time, humans are really difficult to control cause we're not really motivated by an altruistic allegiance to one primary good. we've got icky emotions that often move us to do stupid unpredictable stuff way more. it makes me wonder if the reason the hive wanted to use musical theatre to try and persuade ppl was cause it seems to think that is how theyll get emotive humans; through emotive songs. anyways. let's look at some examples shall weeeee?
Mr Davidson:
so, Mr Davidson. funnily enough, he's the guy whose in part acting as the hive trying to figure out what it wants through his interactions w/ Paul. every person it possess gives it just a bit more humanity and curiosity abt the world it is currently taking over. at least I think so. hence why as the musical develops u get character's like possessed!Alice wondering 'why does it hurt to love?' - the change in music and mood to something much more introspective really suggests to me that the hive is beginning to question the thoughts and emotions of its human hosts.
Mr Davidson is a family man through and through, he loves his wife Carol. she's his muse, his source of light. his feelings for her are not concrete or easy to explain and solve - hence why his sudden ahem demand of her is so hilarious and also jarring. it completely clashes with the 'I want song' which is simple, and often pushes forward a wider cause. not so with Mr Davidson, he just really loves his wife man. enough to break a frickin alien possession.
tbh I think its hilarious that (at least to me) the hive has to force him to forget and continue with the song, like, he straight up is just talking to his wife in that phone call, talking, not singing. so, no possession until he reverts back into song. ergo, the hive cannot maintain the uniformity it wants. even from the get go when theoretically its control should be stronger cause it has less ppl to co-ordinate. bad. at. its. job.
Paul:
this one hurts folks. yes, I know it's generally agreed, though somewhat debated that the state of Paul by the end of the tgwdlm is not purely possessed. I agree. once again, the hive is unable to truly enforce uniformity.
at this point, the motives of Paul and the hive are kinda just mixed, neither fully human nor fully alien. hence the constant shifts between pleeing for her to get away, to hide, to stay safe: 'what if the only choice is you have to sing to survive' and just full on old style hive nastiness 'let me puke in your mouth and just open your food bin girl' (so romantic đ„° /j).
the hive has gone away from its original aim, and become something... different. no longer stuck to just one type of genre or style of song, it's really clever to show the developing complexity of the hive by showing how it is now juggling lots of different motifs with references to all the old songs from before recontextualised in a new way - its learning. evil baby... no longer uniform.
general miscommunication:
there are several instances of the hive not fully having uniform control over its subjects. for instance, right after not your seed with the three teens having to like... calibrate. they aren't just completely connected then?? also, this is a very small thing, but uhhhh at the end of inevitable when Paul is about to say the apotheosis is upon... the chorus interrupts him with USSSSSSS. interruptions??? not very in sync of u hive.
I think this inability to exert uniformity is also shown in the contrast between genre of musical theatre. my alien abomination cannot decide whether it wants to be the more modern edgy rock musical (join us (and die), not your seed ) or super happy go lucky old style musical theatre (lah dee dah dah day, and inevitable). it tries to do both, even while trying to encourage union, and sticking to one thing. hypocrite!!!!!
2. aims are guided by the people it possess
so, I mentioned this a bit already, but the hive isn't only mutating the humans, the humans are mutating the hive right back. this is more an interesting observation than any actual analysis but let's goooo.
greenpeace girl:
I think it's very likely that greenpeace girl is one of the first to be possessed. This is probably easily debunkable but whatever this analysis is flying by the seat or its pants anywayyyyy. why? cause where else would it pick up that whole 'this planet needs fixing' thing? it's interesting too, cause it morphs from expressing the desire to join hands and sing together, unity and peace with no actual action behind it. this then goes right to the other end, with the hive going 'fine I'll do it myself' and trying to save things by enforcing a dictatorship on the world. it develops and changes, and strays from its original means of accomplishing its aims! speaking oooooof...
3. inconsistent in means of accomplishing aims
okay, ur an evil hive mind. u think musicals are the way to win over these silly humans cause they're all weak and emotive and seem to respond to them. but, wait! schwoopsie! you haven't realised that for emotional depth and growth to mean anything, you need there to be established development and well... growth. otherwise the sentiments are as vague as the ones expressed in What Do You Want, Paul?
this show has genuine emotional moments, just not really during the musical numbers WITH EXCEPTIONS. any strife is smoothed over quickly, and so the development and change that would have to go into such growth is just gone. (see, You Tied Up My Heart) all so it can achieve its own desire to grow and grow and grow, maybe a metaphor for art being killed under late stage capitalism??
what actually matters is the impact the songs have afterwards, in causing a death - because we have a bond and care abt these characters. those short scenes between Paul and Emma are actually way more resonant than any song. except... inevitable, and also not your seed a bit. at this point the hive has learnt a thing or two, and can actually twist human emotion a little. but for it to do that, it has to reject the uniformity it prizes, and be adaptable. point towards being more human than it first thought? methinks so. and yet it's just not enough...
it's also why let it out, to me, feels really ingenuine. Paul has expressed himself in much better ways already. what they're doing is clearly paining him, and hurting the guy. he's terrified bless.
you can't force someone into being emotional vulnerable, man.
it's why all the deaths for the characters who are forced to express themselves are really violent, involving them being ripped open - literally forcing them to expose themselves from the 'inside out' as Alice reflects in Not Your Seed. you can't force genuine emotional connection, it has to be fostered, shown in the much more affecting relationship of Paul and Emma. the only reason the hive actually has power over our characters is because of these genuine emotional connections, which it tries and often fails to take advantage of, resulting in just resorting to brute violence. messy hive, very messy.
at the core, the musical's a kinda attack on that toxic positivity mindst: trying to force people to reach the sort of easy solutions by sharing feelings in a way that feels pretty invasive and deciding you are instantly fixed. the problems these characters face are jarringly not really what you'd expect a character in a musical to face, cheating, a lot of it, mid-life crisis. problems that are bland, or wayyyy too real. this is purposefully done, to reveal just how silly the hive's aim to use musical theatre to solve everyone's problem is. life is more complex than that smh.
4. a human can write a much more expressive, and genuine song than they ever could lol
u know which song I'm talking abt. what more is there to say. so much for making persuasive songs to tempt people over.
5. make me sad cause they took some perfectly nice ppl and funked them up đ
this was a stupid point lol. basically I'm just bitter that this hive took a bunch of perfectly okay ppl and gave them hive brain. screw u hive. I swear I'm gonna watch Black Friday soon, cause I'm sure it's gonna completely destroy every thought I've had so far, but whateve,,, just take this as a look at tgwdlm like it's a stand-alone piece.
these guys are supposed to all be 'individuals' on one level, but also 'appendages of a much larger organism'. there's a little too much individualism and fracturing to be cohesive enough to do that I feel. the hive to me is not an infallible, unstoppable force, in fact, every human it takes over only brings it closer to understanding us. so that's maybe a slight positive note??? idk ?! I just have lots of thoughts and feelings abt this musical even if this doesn't make sense I'm proud i wrote it down hehe.
#tgwdlm#the guy who didn't like musicals#the hive tgwdlm#cw: swearing#sorry i swear a lot when im passionate lmfaoooo#more a reason to attack the shet out of the hive for ruining a perfectly ok town#paul matthews#speculation#my hcs#this is like#part joke part serious analysis#long post#im so sorry#emetophobia warning (its referenced a bit)#this might make literally no sense im so sorry#i have too amny thouvjfs#i have too many thoughts#head full all thoughts#my gifs#gifset
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Sheâs My Collar [SMUT]
Pairing: Damon Albarn (2015) x Reader
Word Count: 2,690
Warnings: SMUT, dom!damon, language, bj, masturbation, language, more smut, dirty talk.
A/N: Ok this was going to be just smut, but this morphed into something else. There will be a second part. Sorry for grammar or spelling errors. I've literally been trying to finish this (and part 2) for well over a month. I hope you enjoy â„ïž More to follow...
Maybe my black silk skirt was a little too short, or maybe it was just perfect. My eyes were painted with smoky gray liner and just a bit of silver glitter, in contrast to my dark wine colored lips. I was ready for him. It had been a few months since our last encounter. Our eyes met, both having a bit too much to drink, he invited me to his hotel room. From what I could remember, he fumbled trying to get my dress off and we ended up falling off the bed in a drunken stupor, but the sex was quite fantastic. After the alcohol wore off, we had agreed that we would not get emotionally involved. He was single, living his rock star life and I was just experiencing all life had to offer. Yet, here I was, again, waiting and hoping for another night with him-- maybe one I could fully remember.Â
Heat began to pool in my stomach as Damon kept making eye contact with me from the stage. We watched each other intently. I knew exactly where this would lead (hopefully me in his bed or, wherever he wanted to have me). My lustful thoughts cleared for a moment, and I remembered how good it felt being able to wake up beside him (I was mostly sober by the morning) with our bodies entangled as the sun poked through the sheer curtains of his hotel room, just waking up in his strong, muscular arms.
My phone vibrated just after the encore. It was Damon.
-Hey, beautiful. The front desk at the hotel will have a key for you, if you want to meet me there.Â
-Of course I do. I've missed you.Â
-I've missed you, too, love.Â
I soon found myself waiting patiently in Damon's hotel room. I sat down on a chair being sure to fix my already low cut dress to show a little more skin. I wanted to look absolutely perfect for him. My heart began to race with anticipation as the door handle turned.
"Well, wellâŠ. I see you made it." Damon said with a click of his tongue, as he began to eye me up and down.
"I take it you like what you see?" I purred, crossing my legs.
"You have no idea." he replied, slowly bringing his hand down to the bulge that now formed between his legs. I couldn't take my eyes off of him. Damon stood there in his slimming black t-shirt and dark slightly baggy jeans. He looked so good in black.Â
Closing the door behind him, Damon steadily approached me, like a lion hunting his prey. Every move he made was calculating, slow, seductive. He slowly licked his lips as his large, veiny hands brushed up against my thigh; he started to run both hands up and down my legs.Â
"I'm so glad you came." He said.
"Mmhmm.. not yet". I smirked as Damon let out a soft chuckle at my flirtatious response.
The heat in my stomach grew more intense as I began to imagine all of the places I wanted him to touch me with his long, delicate fingers and slightly rough palms. Oh, God I loved his hands.Â
"Get on the bed." Damon growled, in a deep, low voice, my mind snapped out of my fantasy. Standing up from the chair, I positioned myself behind him, pressing my chest tightly against his back. I snaked my arm around him, running my hand up from his thigh, lightly rubbing his bulge, up his torso to his neck. Placing my hand around his neck, my fingers moved under his chin; I pulled his head slightly back towards me and I whispered in his ear -- "On the bed? Why? So you can fuck me?" I emphasized the word fuck, as my top teeth grazed my bottom lip, then I lightly dragged my tongue across his salty, pulsing neck.
This lit a fire in him. He turned around grabbing my wrist, forcing me back into the wall, my breaths quickened as I felt wetness between my thighs grow.Â
"You'll see, love. You'll see." He responded.
Damon placed one hand on the wall, and his other hand under my chin, pulling my face towards his. I gently bit his thumb as he ran it over my lips. Now facing him, I looked directly into those bedroom eyes of his, I could feel his breath on my lips.Â
Damon pushed his knee between wet thighs, gently grazing my clit. His movements sent electricity through my body. I couldn't help but slowly grind myself against his thigh with whatever movement I could make while he held me in place.Â
I felt the weight of his body against me as his warm, sweaty skin met mine. He began to lick my lips then slowly part them with his tongue. I had missed his mouth on mine, that familiar taste of cigarettes and alcohol. His hand held my jaw gently as he kissed me, he began to run his free hand up and down my chest, caressing my breasts. He stopped for a moment and I slid my hand under his shirt, slowly rubbing his slightly toned, still sweaty torso.Â
"You are absolutely beautiful." He whispered, as he removed his knee from between my legs. I could feel his hardness through his jeans as he pressed his hips against mine.
Bringing his long fingers up, he pushed the straps of my dress to the side and started to pull the top of my dress down. I slid the loosened straps down, freeing my arms and chest. My skin was now exposed to him as he began to kiss every inch he could get his lips on. I pulled his head closer to my body as he began to kiss my breasts, slowly running his tongue in circles while lightly nipping my skin. I began to feel butterflies as he rolled my dress further down my body, running his tongue over my burning hot skin.Â
"Mmh.. I love how you touch me." I purred.Â
Damon lifted his head and smirked at me. God he was so fucking sexy.Â
He pulled away, pushing me back against the bed. As my back hit the cool sheets, he started to kiss up my leg, placing small licks as he worked his way up to my thigh. He slid my skirt down past my hips and off of me; the silk felt so cool against my warm, aching body.Â
He ran his fingers under my panties and began to slowly rub my clit. I closed my eyes just focusing on how good he made me feel. His long, perfect fingers rubbed circles as my body jerked from his touch. Looking up at me, now making direct eye contact, he slowly pushed my panties aside. Damon knelt on the bed, hovering over me and began to part my thighs with his rough, calloused palms. He dipped his head down and began licking thick, warm stripes into my folds, eagerly lapping up my juices. Watching his face get wetter mixed with the intense pleasure I felt was almost enough to push me over the edge.
"Mmm.. you're soaking wetâŠIs this all for me?" He smirked. "Oh, yes. Everything.." I nodded as he licked and sucked at my sensitive skin. He then pulled away and added two of his long, beautiful fingers inside of me. He thrust his fingers in and out of me with ease as my body responded to his every move. I let out a moan as he fingered me faster.
 "I want to please you. Does this please you?" he whispered as he continued, adding a third finger. I could barely speak "Mmm.. yes, Damon." as my hips moved in time. "Oh, baby, I love the sounds you make. I want to make you scream." He replied.
I stared into his dark, lust filled eyes, trying to retain control of my body. He pushed in and out of me causing me to moan again, but this time he quickly removed his fingers and brought them up to my mouth.
 "Fuck, c'mon." I cursed, as I was getting so impatient. He ran his wet fingers over my lips before I opened my mouth to suck them. "Good girl." he growled.
"Fuck it, Damon⊠I want you to fuck me.. " I was losing control again.
"Patience, darling, patience. You talk so dirty.. now can you see why I love how you taste?" He teased, pulling his fingers away. My mind was racing, if he only knew the things I would let him do to me.Â
"Je te veux, so, so badly." He purred in his low, silky voice.Â
The way he spoke French was such a turn on I could barely control myself. He slid off his shirt, I slowly unzipped his jeans, pulling them off as I pushed him back down on the bed. He was so big, my body was aching to feel him again.
I ran my hands over his large, stiff cock, pumping him up and down. He threw his head back as I slowly wrapped my wet lips around him. He let out a loud moan while I pushed his entire length into my mouth. I had to be very careful not to gag, I slid him out, running my tongue up him and back to his tip. I could feel his muscles tense up under me. "Fuck.." he cursed under his breath. I watched every muscle in his neck move as he swallowed hard.
 "Hmm.. now who's dirty.. such dirty words." I half whispered in between sucking him. He bucked his hips as I put him back in my mouth again, pushing him in and out as he kept moving his hips.Â
"Laisse moi te baiser la bouche." He murmured as he began to buck his hips faster against my lips. I could tell by his body language that he really wanted to fuck my mouth. I started to tease him by licking his tip very slowly smirking at him.Â
Damon could hardly control himself, he grabbed my wrist again, turning me over.
 "I want you on the bed with your knees under you." Every word that came out of his mouth sent jolts of electricity through my weakened body. I did exactly as he asked. His dominant streak drove me absolutely to the edge. I draped my body over the side of the bed and brought my legs under me, putting my behind in the air. Grabbing my hips with some force, I felt Damon pull me closer to his hard cock. I could feel him against my warm, sweaty skin now. He knelt down, licking a few more stripes of my wetness, pushing his tongue deep into me.Â
"Oh, that feels so good.." I moaned.
 He pulled his tongue out, and back in again a few more times. I could feel my core was completely drenched now with a mixture of our juices. I only wanted him inside of me again. Damon pulled his tongue out only to tease me with his tip. "DamonâŠ" I warned, before I could finish my sentence he thrust his cock into me hard, "Oh.. ffffuck" I yelped, as he was finally inside of me. I felt his hands reach my shoulders and pull me down with every thrust. I could feel his nails leaving marks in my skin as he gripped my shoulders hard.
I grabbed the sheets under me as he kept fucking me. I wanted everything from him. "Harder, please, harder.. I'm going to.." I started. He slammed his cock in and out, making our hot sticky bodies come together over and over. He started rubbing circles around my clit, trying so hard to get me off while saying such sexy, dirty words under his breath. Â
i didn't care if the other hotel guests heard us. They were getting a show for free. I was fucking the most brilliant, amazing, gorgeous man in the world. Who knows maybe they got off to hearing how fucking hot we sounded.
"Who's going to make you come?" He said, so fucking cocky, "Say itâŠ.. say it." He panted and gritted his teeth.
The pressure in my stomach built up, stronger and stronger, "Mmmh.. y-you are, Damon, you are⊠make me come.. please make me." I panted. Damon pulled out and flipped me over, onto my back. "Let me see your face." He demanded.
He quickly turned me over again, pushing my back up against the headboard. I wrapped my legs tightly around him as he slammed his length back inside of me.
 "You're so fucking beautiful when I make you come." He said out of breath. He started rubbing my clit faster.Â
I was hardly able to speak, he brought his mouth back up to mine as my orgasm hit hard. I let out a moan as his tongue pushed into my mouth. My entire body shuddered as my walls pulsed and squeezed around him. "Oh God.. Damon, Damon, Fuck, I love you, I love you.. " I caught myself. I said it, and I think I felt it or was my mind clouded? My heart was pounding as I was coming down from my high.Â
He pulled out of me then, as I laid back on the bed, breathing hard. Maybe he didn't hear what I said in the heat of the moment. He grabbed his beautiful cock and started to pump it again. Ok. I knew it was ok. It was so hot watching his muscular arms flex and the veins in his huge hands pulse as he rubbed himself inches from my face.Â
"Do you want to watch me?" I asked breathlessly. He nodded, continuing to rub himself. My body was a little worn out, but I knew it wouldn't take much to get him off I sat straddling the desk chair, facing him, slowly bringing my hand to my still wet core. I started to touch myself with one hand while moaning his name. I slowly pumped my fingers in and out and I began to seductively suck on them. Â
"Fuck it, get over here." He demanded.
I felt a little heat begin to rush back to my core again. I walked over to him, and began to rub his cock. I got down on my knees in front of him. I wrapped my swollen lips and my tongue around him again. Fitting him in my mouth I sucked as hard as I could, licking him, running my tongue around his tip.Â
"Suck it until I come.. câmon.. make me.. make me...." he struggled to speak as I sucked harder. His orgasm hit, releasing his warm hot salty liquid into my throat. My lips still wrapped around him, I licked him up and down a few more times to make sure I got every drop. I loved being so dirty with him.Â
We were messy, sweaty and spent. Damon began to speak, looking a little embarrassed after the heat of the moment had passed.Â
"Erm. Sorry I got a little carried away with you, love. I can't fucking help it. I hope that was alright??"Â
"Damon, you are incredible, you know how much I loved every moment. You're such an incredible lover, but.. you knew that already."Â
Damon smirked and began to chuckle. "You're not so bad there, yourself, Y/N."Â
I climbed into bed with him, laying my head on his warm chest. I could feel his heartbeat start to slow down. Damon's breaths became slower, as he began to fall asleep. I closed my eyes and focused on his breathing. I so loved spending this time with him, as amazing as the sex was, this was something completely different. I kept thinking back to my words. Did I really say it? Was I really falling for him? What if he actually heard me?
Lost in my thoughts, I felt Damon stir. Suddenly, he spoke. "I love you, too" he whispered in a groggy voice. My heart jumped as I opened my eyes. I was completely speechless --
[Part 2]
#Damon Albarn#fanfic#fanfiction#smut#blurfanfic#blurband#damonalbarnfanfic#britpopfanfic#oneshot#imagines#imagine#damon albarn x reader#blur imagines#gorillaz imagines#britpopimagines#fluff#damon albarn smut#damon albarn fluff#y/n
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