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cinebration · 2 years

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Your Real Voice (Sherlock Holmes x Reader) [Request]

Hi! If youre taking requests can i please ask for a (henry) sherlock Holmes where the f!reader is Enola's personal maid and when Sherlocl arrives they both fall for each and she's clumsy around a lot and they confess one night and a lot of fluff ensures? Thank you so much!—Requested by anon

So, this is not quite as fluffy as you probably wanted, anon. One, because Sherlock isn’t exactly fluffy in any iteration he appears, and two, because I rather felt the exchange that occurs in this request is more honest and open than in what I could have written. I’m sorry if you don’t like it.

Warnings: none

Gif Source: mrcavill

The first time you met Sherlock, he swept through the door with Enola, taking in the hallway and adjacent rooms with one swift, all-encompassing glance.

He noticed you last, however.

You curtsied the moment he met your gaze, a nervous smile tugging at your lips, before you turned your attention to his sister. The young woman flung a shawl at you, not out of a lack of respect but merely because she yanked it so hard off her shoulders its momentum carried forward out of her hand. You caught it clumsily, not yet used to your mistress’s frustration with upper-class formalwear, and folded it awkwardly over your arm.

“And you are?”

The sound of Sherlock’s voice startled you. Surreptitiously meeting his gaze, you gave him your name with a faltering smile and scurried off to stow Enola’s shawl and retrieve the tea the young lady was accustomed to guzzling whenever she returned from the outside world. You tripped on the irregular hem of your dress, nearly bruising yourself on the entryway to the next room, and fought the hot blush of embarrassment ruining your neck and cheeks.

You could feel Sherlock’s attention on you the whole while.

You saw him frequently after that. Though he had his own cases and Enola was busy with hers, they both met both inside and outside Enola’s apartment in the spirit of sibling camaraderie, something that could not be said of their odious third sibling, Mycroft. He chanced by on occasion to rail at Enola’s lifestyle and the besmirching of their good name, but she drove him away easily. Plenty of times, Sherlock happened to be there and did the heavy work of shepherding an irate Mycroft out the door.

As Enola’s personal maid, the only one Enola kept, in part because she had yet to learn the proper ways of navigating high-society dress and mannerisms—you served as an educator of sorts in that regard, because Enola gave it such little consequence that you were constantly reminding her of its importance—you were privy to any and all conversations that happened in the apartment. Quite often Enola would ask you to sit with her and Sherlock at the table or in the sitting room to listen and share your opinion. While you would join them, you would reluctantly share your opinion, all the while trying to avoid Sherlock’s intense gaze. You felt inadequate in the presence of such giant intellects as the Holmes siblings.

Nevertheless, as you tripped and bumbled your way through these social interactions, catching your dress on corners you forgot existed, rattling the tea tray so hard you were embarrassed for weeks afterward at the sound of the fine china jostling against each other in the silence, you found Sherlock still deigned to speak to you and ask you about your day.

“It has been pleasant,” you would answer, smiling weakly at him. “Thank you for asking.” Your answer never wavered. It was unbecoming of staff to complain.

For his part, Sherlock seemed mildly perturbed that you responded in the same manner each time he asked.

On a bright winter morning, a knock resounded on the front door to the apartment. You went to answer immediately, confused as to who could be there at such an early hour.

“Mr. Holmes!”

Sherlock, top hat and gloves in hand, smiled faintly at your surprise. “Good morning.”

You stepped aside, allowing him to enter. Reaching for his hat and gloves, you stuttered, “Miss Holmes isn’t here at present, sir.”

“No?”

“She’s gone out on some errands.”

“Errands.”

At this, you couldn’t help but smile. But you and Sherlock knew Enola was not one to complete domestic chores. It was a Thursday, and only you did the shopping and cleaning—on Fridays, no less.

“Did she say when she would return?”

You shook your head. “Not well until evening, I expect, sir. She likes to be out of doors as much as possible.”

“Indeed. Mycroft dislikes her wildness, but the city really is no place for her spirit.”

Sherlock strode into the sitting room and eased himself into his customary chair, a high-backed thing with wide dimensions that easily accommodated his broad shoulders.

“May I offer some tea or something else?”

“Some tea will suffice.”

Nodding, you scurried out of the room and hastily put together a tray with some biscuits while you waited for the teapot to boil. You had never been alone with Sherlock before. Certainly Enola had on occasion left the room, leaving you with her brother, but she had always remained somewhere in the apartment. Your heart began to trip in your chest as you heard Sherlock shift in his seat, the characteristic, crisp snap of a newspaper being opened following the movement.

What neither he nor his sister knew was that you harbored a tiny little secret in your heart. You had grown enamored of Sherlock. That he took the time to accord you any attention whatsoever, that he cared to ask about your day and even more valued your opinion, had elevated him above any other man of your acquaintance.

He could never know, of course.

Struggling to hold the tray steady, you made your way back into the sitting room. The nearer you drew to the entryway, the more the fine china rattled in your hands. Embarrassment creeping up your cheeks, you hastily set the tray down beside Sherlock and stepped back, eager to retreat.

“Please, do sit,” he said, gesturing at the settee opposite. “Have you had tea yet?”

“No, I haven’t,” you managed to answer, trying not to fumble over your words.

“Please have tea with me.”

Nodding jerkily, you poured yourself a cup, stirred in some sugar and cream, and took a single biscuit before seating yourself on the settee. You felt uncomfortable, though it wasn’t quite an unpleasant feeling. You had never imagined a scene quite so…domestic with Sherlock. The man was such a towering intellect, his reputation so widely circulated, that it seemed impossible he would bother with such trivial things as tea and the morning paper.

“How are you this morning?”

You jerked your attention up to him, nearly flinging the teaspoon out of the cup in surprise. “Um, I am very well, Mr. Holmes.”

“You may call me Sherlock.”

“It…isn’t proper.”

“I am not Mycroft, and Enola certainly isn’t. Our views on propriety differ from the general populace.”

You frowned, taking a moment to survey his handsome features as a decidedly unpleasant feeling unfurled in your gut. A mild crease appeared between his dark eyebrows the longer you looked at him.

“Is there something the matter?”

“Are you…are you hoping I will become part of your network of informants? Is that why you bother speaking to me?”

He blinked, matching your frown. “No. You are not strategically placed to be of any use to me in that regard.”

You couldn’t help but flinch. Of all the answers, you hadn’t expected one so harsh and insensitive. The biscuit tasted bland and dry on your tongue as you averted your gaze and bought time with the dessert.

“Why would you think that?”

You didn’t meet his gaze. “I can find no other reason for why you deign to speak with a servant.”

The newspaper snapped shut with a crisp sound that made you twitch. Staring down into your cup of tea, you felt your heart galloping against your ribs.

“Did it not occur to you that I may enjoy your company?”

“No,” you answered truthfully. “We haven’t much interacted.”

“No, your training prevents you from saying anything other than ‘It is very pleasant, sir’ or ‘I am well, sir’ or ‘Thank you, sir, may I get your coat?’”

You risked a glance up at him, surprised by the displeasure in his voice. “Excuse me?”

“Enola tells me you are a wealth of information and opinions that she values exceedingly. Yet I have been unable to elicit more than platitudes from you.”

Speaking past the sudden lump in your throat, you managed to say, “I apologize, sir. I am merely…behaving according to my station.”

“My God, Mycroft would love that answer.”

You stiffened, offended. “He understands the hierarchy of this world.”

“Don’t make me laugh.”

“You and your sister fail to understand that for the rest of us, the common folk, we are punished and penalized for offending that hierarchy,” you snapped, unable to hold your tongue. “We are not safe behind status, wealth, or intellect as you and yours are. If we do not stay the line, we are crushed underfoot. So do not mistake my mannerisms for acquiescence and meekness. Recognize it for what it is: survival.”

As the words died on the air between you, you realized with a sudden shock what you had done. Shame flooded through you, coloring your cheeks and making you burn with it.

“That,” Sherlock said slowly, “is what I have wanted from you.”

You glanced back up at him in surprise.

“Your real voice behind the pleasantries,” he explained. “The one Enola has told me so much about and with which I am very much enamored.”

Enamored? You scrutinized his features, trying to read the truth there. He held your gaze steadily, unflinching.

“It is your decision,” he continued quietly, “but I would very much like to hear more of that voice, if you would grant me the privilege.”

Your heart began to race not with shame but with something you couldn’t quite identify. Swallowing thickly, you nodded, trying to fight the tight feeling in your chest.

“I very much like your company,” you whispered, “but I fear my true voice may disturb you.”

“Disturbing defines the cases I solve. I doubt you could bother me to any such degree beyond them.”

“I would hate to lose the kindness you have afforded me. It means…more to me than you could know.”

“My sister is Enola Holmes, and my brother is Mycroft Holmes. There is nothing you could say or do that would be more extreme than my sister or more despicable than my brother.”

You tried to speak, found words wouldn’t surface. Nodding, you took a sip of the tea, tasting only its heat on your tongue.

Had anyone of status other than Enola cared for your true self? You glanced across at Sherlock, a creeping realization sneaking up on you. Perhaps there had been another this whole while, waiting patiently for you to grant him the privilege of seeing it.

Trying to not let hope burst out of your chest, you took another sip of tea and asked, “What, then, would you like to discuss…Sherlock?”

#Sherlock Holmes x Reader #Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock Holmes imagine #Henry Cavill x Reader #Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill imagine #Henry!Holmes #Cavill!Holmes #Enola Holmes #requests

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emeraldiis · 3 years

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Falling for a God

A/N: Forgot to properly post/format this fic, so here ya go ya filthy animals (ok but i wrote it so I’m filthier)

AO3 Link

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 7.1k

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Summary: “Tell me, does being touched by a god make you nervous? I can feel you quivering, are you afraid?” Loki pauses, then leans down until his lips are almost touching your ear. “Or is that arousal I sense?”You have a huge crush on Loki, there's lots of sexual tension, y'all fuck. That's the plot.

“Nat,” you whine. “I feel like you’re not even listening.” You prance to the front of her, spinning around to walk backwards.

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Wow, are you sure you aren’t pyschic?” She keeps up her brisk pace, and you nearly trip over yourself trying to keep up.

“That’s so rude!” You exclaim, but can’t hold back a giggle. Despite her cold demeanor, you know that Nat is just messing with you. Shooting a quick glance backwards, you decide that your path is clear, and return your gaze to your friend. “You’ll tell me if I’m about to run into something, right?”

With a wry grin, Natasha gives you a thumbs up. You beam at her. “Anyway,” you continue. “I started watching this new TV show last night, and it is so, totally awesome. There’s this guy, and he has these badass powers, and he’s fighting this girl, and she has-”

Thump.

A small oof escapes from your mouth as your back collides with something solid. You pitch forward in surprise, and yelp as you try to stabilize yourself before you fall. Large, warm hands grab your waist, tightening around you to keep you from toppling over. You sigh in relief as your frantic heart slows to a normal rhythm. “Wow, thanks,” you say, and spin around to reveal the identity of your saviour.

Piercing blue eyes meet yours, and your breath catches in your throat. “Careful, pet,” Loki murmurs softly, a sly grin spreading across his lips. His hands slide off of your waist, making contact with the sliver of skin between your shorts and your top on the way. An involuntary shiver creeps up your spine, and you bite your lip.

The reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by the ever-perceptive trickster, and his eyes flash with surprise. “Are my hands really that cold?” Loki teases. “Perhaps you could help me warm them up.” His tone is playful, but there’s something deeper underneath his banter that makes you think he’s actually flirting.

You can tell that your cheeks are red, and you choose not to respond to Loki’s question in fear of making an even bigger fool of yourself. A stammered apology tumbles from your lips, and you look back towards Natasha with a look of betrayal. She grins and shrugs. “I forgot to warn you. Oops.” Your mouth drops open. That scheming little devil. She knows about your crush on Loki, and she still allows you to make a fool out of yourself?

Your interactions with Loki were sparse, to say the least. Aside from a few casual conversations in a group, you had barely even talked to him. Still, he captivated you from the very first day he arrived at the compound. He was exactly your type; tall, dark, and brooding. Aside from Thor, most everyone gave Loki a wide berth, hesitant to forget the battle for New York. You, however, didn’t see a villain. You saw pain behind those blue eyes, and could empathize with Loki’s behavior. You knew all too well that it hurt to live in someone’s shadow, and sometimes acting out was a cry for help. Granted, Loki’s outbursts were far more drastic than yours had ever been, but it was more or less the same on a base level. And, the fact that he constantly had a witty remark on the tip of his tongue never ceased to entertain you. The man liked to hear himself talk, and damn, so did you.

It takes you a second to realize that you’ve been staring. You clear your throat awkwardly and look to the floor, eager to hide your discomfort. “Um, thank you for catching me,” you manage. When you look back up, Loki is wearing an odd expression. His pretty eyes are narrowed, searching your face. The scrutiny only embarasses you further. “Well, see you around!” WIth that, you dart around Loki and scurry off. Natasha follows you, snickering softly.

When you reach the common area, you plop yourself down on the couch and groan, throwing an arm over your face. Natasha sits down beside you. “Smooth,” she says, drawing out the word obnoxiously.

You remove your arm from over your eyes and give Natasha a withering look. “So not funny.”

Nat positively cackles at that. “Oh, come on,” she says. “He’d be an idiot to not at least have a thing for you, I mean, you’re smoking! ” She looks you up and down. “Nice rack, too.”

A giggle bursts from your lips. “Nat. Oh, my god. Stop objectifying me.”

Shaking her head, Natasha replies, “Me, objectify? I would never.”

That earns her an eye roll from you. “Sure. Anyway, can we please change the subject? I’m sick of talking about my embarrassing Loki crush.”

“What does ‘crush’ mean?”

You freeze. Now that was a distinct voice. “Thor,” you choke out. “When did you get here?”

Thor walks up behind the couch and swings himself over the back, making the poor piece of furniture creak in protest. He settles next to you, effectively sandwiching you between him and Natasha. “Just long enough to hear you discussing my brother. Now, will you please enlighten me on this strange Midgardian term?”

Before you can shut him down, Nat pipes up from the other end of the sofa. “It means she likes him. Romantically. Sexually. ”

The temptation to throw yourself onto the floor wailing is high. Instead, you opt to beg for your life. Still embarrassing, but slightly more productive than throwing a tantrum. “Nat!” You screech. You turn to Thor with pleading eyes. “Please, don’t say anything to him.”

Thor furrows his eyebrows. “What an odd expression. You’d think that the word “crush’ would be associated with something negative.” He places a big hand on your thigh. “If what Lady Natahsa says is true, then why would you not tell my brother? He is quite vain, you know. I’m sure he would be delighted to know that a beautiful woman is attracted to him!”

You groan and bury your face in your hands. These Asgardians will be the death of you. “It’s not that simple, Thor. What if he rejects me? I’d never be able to show my face around him again!”

There’s a pause, and then Thor asks you in a much gentler tone, “It seems as though you care for Loki a great deal more than you are letting on. Are you really afraid of embarrassment, or is it the heartbreak you fear?”

You’re glad that your hands are covering your face, because the way the color drains out of it at Thor’s question would have given you away. “No,” you mumble through your fingers. But he’s right, you do care for Loki more than you’d ever admit. His image ran through your head at night when you were trying to sleep, and his voice was what came to mind when your fingers were between your legs and you were pretending they were-

You rub at your eyes, then look up at Thor in desperation. “Please, if you really care about me as a friend, you’ll keep this secret.” You shoot a look at Natasha. “You, too. I may not be able to take Thor in a fight, but I could kick your ass.” You know you sound like a pathetic teenager, but you’re past the point of caring. You were perfectly happy admiring Loki from afar, and didn’t want to get your hopes up just to be met with shame.

Natasha scoffs. “As if.” Before she can continue. Thor holds up his hand.

“Lady Natasha, I believe we should stay out of this. I have done a great deal of meddling in my brother’s life, and I’ve learned that even the best intentions can cause disaster when Loki is involved.

“Thank you, Thor,” you say gratefully, relief evident in your voice. With a tired sigh, you hoist yourself up from the couch and turn to face your friends. “Well, I think I’ve had enough excitement for today. I’m going to hibernate, see you next spring.”

Natasha giggles and blows you a kiss goodbye while Thor scrunches up his face in confusion at your joke. Oh, well. Maybe he’d understand Midgardian humor one day.

Thunder rages outside your window while you toss and turn. You roll over to glance at your clock, and scowl when it flashes “3AM.” Giving up on the prospect of sleep, you opt for creeping to the kitchen for a midnight snack. Your bare feet pad down the carpet, and you shiver slightly at the cold air of the hall. Goosebumps rise on your bare legs and you start to regret your decision not to put on pants.

To get to the kitchen, you have to walk through the common area, and for a moment you linger just outside the entryway. There’s a soft glow coming from the corner of the room, and you mentally groan, hoping it’s one of the female inhabitants of the compound. You weren’t too excited at the idea of walking past one of the guys in just a sleep shirt and underwear. Still, your mission for food is not one you’re willing to give up on. Taking a deep breath, you step out of the hallway and into the room. And nearly pass out.

Across the room, perched in one of the loveseats, is Loki. He’s sitting with his legs curled underneath him, thumbing through a book. You consider darting back into the safety of the hall, but you’re too late. Loki has already noticed you, and is now staring far too intently for your liking. Suddenly feeling very exposed, you tug on the hem of your shirt, trying to pull it further down your legs. “Sorry to disturb you,” you whisper, afraid to break the deafening silence. Loki raises an eyebrow at you, then turns back to his book. You aren’t sure if you’re relieved or disappointed when his gaze leaves you.

Not wanting to linger in the entryway any longer, you make your way across the room, keeping your eyes down. As you pass Loki, a loud clap of thunder booms outside, and already being on edge, you yelp. Startled from the deafening sound in an otherwise quiet room, you stagger, falling backwards onto the loveseat. Right next to Loki. The sofa is small, and in your splayed out position, you’re almost half on top of the god.

Loki flinches away, and you immediately begin to apologize. “I am so sorry. I don’t know what happened, I guess I just lost my footing. Did I hurt you?” As you talk, you push yourself off of Loki and cower into the other side of the loveseat. Some more rational part of your brain urges you to get up, give him some more space, but you don’t listen. As embarrassed as you are, you’re not quite ready to give up this closeness to the object of your affection.

With a huff, Loki straightens himself and gives you a cool look. “You did not hurt me, mortal. I was simply surprised.” Then, having composed himself, he smirks and sets his book on the end table beside him. “I suppose it is only natural to have weak knees in the presence of a god.”

The comment lightens the mood, and you find yourself relaxing next to him. “You’re right, Thor’s thunder does make me a tad unsteady.”

At that, Loki stiffens, obviously having not expected you to return his teasing. For a brief moment, you feel proud. Then, something changes in his expression, and he scoots closer to you. His hand finds your bare thigh, and the contact sends butterflies through your stomach. Loki senses your restlessness and gives you a predatory grin. “Is that so? Are you telling me that this,” he squeezes your thigh, and you gasp. “Doesn’t make you feel...faint?” His voice is low, and he almost purrs the last few words.

You fight hard to keep your breathing even, not wanting to give away just how flustered you are. The heavy weight of his hand feels heavenly, and you can feel your panties grow damp. God, you hope he can’t smell it.

This predatory tone is so much different than the playful teasing that you usually receive from Loki. You’ve never seen his blue eyes so dark, and the unfamiliarity of it all tightens your stomach.

Taking your silence as a challenge, Loki presses himself even closer to you. His fingers creep up your leg, closer to your underwear. “Tell me, does being touched by a god make you nervous? I can feel you quivering, are you afraid?” Loki pauses, then leans down until his lips are almost touching your ear. “Or is that arousal I sense?”

Fuck. A full body shiver skates across your skin, and despite your best efforts, a small moan breaks free from your throat. Loki’s hand feels like a brand on your thigh, sending waves of heat up your body. The warmth pools between your legs, and you can’t help but shift a bit. Knowing that your panties are the only barrier between your soaking heat and the sofa, you arch your hips ever so slightly to keep from soiling the cushion.

Of course, your small movements don’t go unnoticed. Loki’s eyes are hooded as they rake across your bare legs, and you can hear his breathing get a bit heavier. He looks up at you, pupils dilated. “Oh, pet, look at you. Barely even touched, and already-”

He’s cut off by the sound of footsteps echoing through the hall, headed in your direction. Loki curses softly and reluctantly draws his hand away, then moves as far away as the small sofa allows. Your skin aches at the loss of contact.

The interrupting stranger’s footsteps approach the entrance to the common room, then carry on past. You let out the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, thankful that you wouldn’t have to explain anything. Something tells you that, while there’s nothing going on now, sitting with Loki in the middle of the night might raise a few eyebrows.

You and Loki are alone again, but the moment has passed. Whatever spell that had overcome the two of you is gone, and all that’s left is a quiet room and a dim light. “I apologize, I believe I have overstepped,” Loki says, and for the first time, he sounds...unsure. His voice has lost that arrogant confidence that it normally carries, and he sounds like a child that has just been caught stealing cookies from the jar.

You bite your lip and risk a glance at Loki. He’s still pressed against the opposite arm of the loveseat, and is avoiding your eyes. Without the atmosphere of desire from before, now you just feel...awkward. Sighing softly, you rise to your feet and make your way to the hallway. You pause briefly in the entryway, and breathe out a “goodnight, Loki.” You don’t wait for a response, instead turning and trudging back towards your room.

As you flop back down in bed, you replay the night’s events over in your mind. It almost feels like a dream, and you’re having trouble believing that Loki, the God of Mischief, had actually come on to you. It didn’t seem plausible. You’re just a plain mortal, nothing special, no powers. Sure, your combat skills could rival Natasha’s, but besides that, you can’t find anything about yourself that would attract a god.

Eventually, you decide that maybe Loki was just horny, and you were in the right place at the right time. You did walk out without pants on, after all. No matter the reasoning, you know not to expect a repeat occurrence, given how regretful he had seemed afterwards. Tears brim in your eyes as the reality of the situation hits you; Loki regrets touching you. It seems that your crush was one-sided, and even though you weren’t surprised, that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

Things are tense around the compound. You creep around corners, terrified of accidentally finding yourself in the same room as Loki. And it seems that Loki is taking the same precautions, because you haven’t even seen a glimpse of him since that night. The ache in your heart from his rejection still keeps you up at night, and you still find yourself pining over him like a lovesick idiot.

Ever the observer, Natasha catches on quickly. “Are you really still embarrassed about bumping into Loki?” She asks after cornering you in the kitchen. “You’re not acting like yourself, and it is beyond obvious something is bothering you.”

You groan at her around a mouthful of a granola bar. “Are you really still thinking about it?” You counter.

Nat rolls her eyes. “Please, it’s hard to pretend it didn’t happen when you’re playing this stupid cat and mouse game. I see you check every room for him, I can’t believe you even care that much. He barely even touched you!”

A piece of your snack shoots down your throat with your gasp. You double over, wheezing and coughing. Natasha slaps a hand on your back, sighing. When you finally catch your breath, you glare at Nat. “Yeah, maybe that’s the issue.”

You immediately regret your words as a fire lights itself in Natasha’s eyes. “Want me to help?”

“Nat, hold on. No thanks-”

“Shush, trust me!” To your dismay, Natasha is already on her way out of the kitchen when she finishes hushing you. You whimper out a half-baked protest, but your friend is long gone by the time the words leave your mouth. Fuck, you’re so screwed.

LIfe was very quickly becoming a stressful game of hide and seek. You’d resorted to spending most of the day in your room, hoping to avoid Loki, and more importantly, Natasha. You’re not sure what she has planned, but it can’t be anything good. As weeks pass by with no incident, however, you begin to drop your guard. Maybe she’s taking pity on you.

It’s around noon when you get the text. It’s an all caps message from Nat, pleading with you to at least hear her out before saying no.

That’s a terrifying text. I’m listening.

Nat: I may have bragged my way into a drinking contest with Thor, and I need a teammate to make it fair.

You want to try and outdrink Thor????

Nat: I want US to outdrink him. I convinced him that it’d be more balanced if it was 2 to 1.

You owe me.

Nat: :)

It was a terrible idea, but maybe a nice night of getting hammered is just what you need to break you out of your funk. Despite your initial reluctance, you find yourself getting excited. You hadn’t really relaxed in ages, this would be a good thing.

As the hours pass, you start to get nervous. It’s been so long since you’ve gotten properly drunk, and you seriously doubt you’ll be able to keep up with even Natasha. Still, a promise is a promise, and you have far too much pride to chicken out now.

The clock reaches nine o’clock, and you sigh. Showtime. Before leaving your suite, you set several glasses of water and a bottle of Advil on your nightstand. If you’re going to fuck over your future self, you might as well try to ease her pain. You take a deep breath and spare a glance over at the mirror against your bedroom wall. You had opted for something comfy, but cute; an emerald green dress that stopped just above your mid-thigh, and fell off of one shoulder effortlessly.

Okay, so maybe you had wanted to get a tiny bit dressed up. You’re sure Nat will tease you for it, but sometimes a girl just wants to feel pretty.

A bit breathless from those pre-competition nerves--yes, a drinking contest was that serious--you make your way to the kitchen. As you round the corner, you stop dead in your tracks. Sitting at the bar Tony had insisted on installing, is Nat and Thor, of course. But next to them, perched delicately on one of the stools, is Loki. He wears a look of disdain, as if this entire competition is beneath him. You hope he can’t tell how badly you want to be beneath him.

Natasha gives you a wicked grin as Thor waves you over, his smile far more innocent-looking than Nat’s, though you’re sure he had a part in this. Cursing your terrible friends under your breath, and yourself for falling for it, you trudge over. Naturally, the only stool left is the one on the end, directly next to Loki. You gingerly hoist yourself up and slide onto the seat.

You stubbornly keep your eyes on the counter, not daring to even glance up at Loki. It’s obvious from the way he’s angling himself away from you and towards his brother that he’s regretting that night, and doesn’t want to be near you. You don’t blame him, humans must seem like animals compared to gods. The reality is that you were a mistake to him, and you just needed to accept that and move past.

Breaking the awkward silence, Thor produces a jug of what looks like beer from god knows where. He grins and gestures to it grandly. As he opens his mouth to speak, you cut him off. “Hold up! I thought this was two against one? Loki being here makes it unfair.”

Natasha rolls her eyes at you. “Yeah, I may have bent the truth to get you to come out. It’s teams of two, but we have a handicap. Our drinks and shots count as twice the actual amount, and they’ll be drinking Asgardian mead. So,” She smirks. “No more complaints, let’s do this shit.”

You swallow nervously at the mention of shots. You could hold your liquor fairly well, but you and shots had...history. Nat knew how touchy you got when you were drunk, and how much of an oversharer you tended to be. Though you have to admit that her plan is almost flawless, you’re still unimpressed with her shenanigans. She’s pretty much set you up to embarrass yourself.

You twiddle your thumbs in your seat as Natasha grabs a bottle of Svedka from behind the bar and begins to pour the beginning drinks. Following her lead, Thor pops open his jug and splits it between two large glasses, then passes one to Loki, who sighs in apparent boredom. He shoots you an unreadable look, then grabs one of the shot glasses that Natasha filled and slides it your way.

With a mumbled “thanks,’ you gingerly take the glass, and look at Nat and Thor. Thor raises his glass. “May the better warriors win!” He announces, then tips back his glass. You roll your eyes at the word choice, but bring the shot glass to your lips and throw your head back. The liquor goes down rough, but you manage to keep your poker face and grit your teeth against any retches.

“The lady can drink!” Thor bellows, wiping at his face.

You shrug, wanting the spotlight off of you. “Um, I went to college?”

Before Thor can question you, Natasha cuts in. “Hello? I took it just as well, where’s my applause?”

“Natasha, you are not a lady,” Loki deadpans. Nat glares and pours herself another shot in response, throwing back the second one just as easily as she had the first. She then points at you. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up. Despite everything, Loki was still Loki, and he still had your heart. It seems that the tension between you and Loki dissolves after you laugh at his quip, and he relaxes his stiff posture.

You sigh in relief and reach for the bottle to refill your own glass. This time, it goes down easier. That is, until the burns travels past your stomach, right down to between your legs. You squirm in place at the unexpected burst of arousal. Still, you should have been ready for it. Alcohol has always gotten you a little worked up. It was your mistake to believe you could fight it.

Despite the setback, you keep up with your teammate as the night goes on. Shot after shot, broken up by the easy conversation that emerges as the liquor continues to flow.

You’re not sure when the competition was forgotten, but you soon find yourself splayed on the couch next to Loki, laughing hysterically at some story he’s just finished telling about Thor in his youth. You look over at him, hazily trying to center your double vision to properly admire the god. His cheeks are flushed red from the alcohol, and he looks more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him.

Loki glances over, catching you staring, but you’re far too intoxicated to be embarrassed. Instead, you hold your gaze, waiting for a reaction. Loki smirks, then eyes his brother with annoyance.

“Brother,” he says, voice a lazy drawl. “I believe we’ve won this contest, wouldn’t you say?”

Thor cocks his head, then widens his eyes in understanding. “Oh, certainly! In fact, I think it would be necessary for me to walk you back to your quarters, Natasha.”

Natasha begins to protest, but it dies on her lips as her gaze flickers between you and Loki. “What a gentleman,” she purrs, only swaying slightly when she rises from her seat. “Lead the way.” Taking his outstretched hand, Natasha stumbles down the hall with Thor, giggling excitedly.

Now that it’s just the two of you, you expect things to get awkward, but find that you’re still just as comfortable. “Well, I guess I have to bow to the drinking champ,” you slur, sitting up to give a half hearted bow.

Loki throws his head back and laughs. “You,” he manages between snorts, “are far more fun to be around than most others on this planet.”

You scoff and wave your hand dismissively. “You’re only saying that ‘cause I bowed to you.” Chewing on your lip, you let your eyes drift back over to Loki. In your drunken haze, he just looks so...comfy. Before you realize what you’re doing, you slide over to lean up against him. Loki’s surprisingly warm, and you sigh contentedly, letting your mind wander back to how his hand felt running up your thigh.

The arousal from earlier that you had forgotten about rears its head, turning your sigh into a shaky exhale that is not at all subtle. The air feels thick, just like it had on that one stormy night, and you press yourself closer to Loki, unable to resist how good his body feels against yours.

Loki freezes for a moment, then seems to force himself to relax into you. His arm snakes around you until he’s holding you comfortably against his side. For one brief moment, you start to wonder if this is a good idea, given how things had ended in the past, but the intoxicated part of your brain tells the sober part to go fuck herself, and then you’re speaking without thinking. “Do you want to walk me to bed?”

Oh, shit. You can’t believe that just came out of your mouth. A wave of sobering panic hits you, and you untangle yourself from Loki and shoot up from the couch. Before you can flee, however, a pale hand grabs hold of your arm, stopping you in place.

Loki gets up, then moves his grip from your wrist to your hand. “I think that is a lovely idea. Allow me?” With the hand that isn’t holding yours, he gestures toward the hall. Well, that was unexpected. You try not to giggle in child-like excitement, and instead nod hurriedly.

Your heart speeds up at the feel of his hand in yours, and you start off down the hall, letting Loki pull you towards your suite. Caught up in trying to navigate the titling floor, you don’t notice that you’re being led the wrong way until the two of you come to a stop at a door that definitely does not belong to you. You look up at Loki in confusion. “This isn’t my room.”

“I know,” Loki growls, then opens the door and whirls you both inside. When you’ve recovered from the swift movement, you manage to pull away from Loki’s grip.

“What-what’s going on?” You say, attempting to sound stern. Loki stalks towards you. Instinctively, you back up, until you’re pressed against the wall with Loki boxing you in.

Loki presses his hands to the wall on either side of your head and sneers at you. “What’s going on?” He mocks. “I’ve craved your body under mine since long before our little nighttime meeting, and I have run out of patience for games.” He leans in and presses a kiss to your neck, grazing you with his teeth. Just like before, his playfulness has given way to a domineering aura, but you’re not complaining one bit.

You barely suppress a full body shiver. “But,” you protest weakly. “I, I thought you regretted it. I mean, you never said anything about it, so I figured...oh…” you trail off into a soft moan as Loki roughly licks up the side of your neck, growling.

“And when would I have gotten the chance?” Loki pulls away from his assault on your skin to look you in the eyes. “You have been avoiding me for nearly a month.” Those blue eyes are staring daggers at you, and you realize that there’s hurt behind all that frustration.

Your mouth goes dry. He’s right, but the eye contact from his smoldering stare is making you forget how to speak. Fumbling with your words, you cast your gaze downwards. “Yeah, I guess I have. But with what you said after we were interrupted....I thought you were uncomfortable with what happened.”

A dark chuckle spills from Loki’s lips. “The only discomfort you have caused me is the nights I have spent spilling over my own hand because I could not have you. ”

You gasp softly as Loki’s words send a wave of heat through your overheated body. Loki takes that as encouragement, and presses himself closer until his lips are grazing yours. “Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll leave,” he mumbles, eyes hooded.

Your response is to surge forward, hands flying to the back of his head as you roughly pull him in to kiss you. You both groan at the contact. The kiss is anything but gentle; your fingers are tangled in Loki’s hair, tugging harshly, and you can feel his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. It was far better than you could have imagined, and the dizzying pleasure of it all has you feeling drunker and more sober at the same time.

Before long, the room spins as Loki lifts you and hoists your legs around his waist. He kisses you breathless as he walks slowly down the hall towards what you can only assume is his bedroom. There’s a giddy part inside of you that squeals with excitement at being carried like that, but it’s quickly overshadowed by lust as you and Loki reach his bedroom. He tosses you onto his king sized bed like a doll, then kneels on the floor and yanks your ankles until your bottom is almost hanging off the bed.

Loki slides your dress up and nuzzles the inside of your thigh. “I could smell your arousal the entire night,” he says, nearly purring. “May I taste?”

You sit up on your elbows and stare down at him, face flushed with mild embarrassment at his face so close to your soaked panties. Dumbly, you nod, words failing you. Loki growls his appreciation and hikes up your dress, taking a brief moment to admire the soft fabric. “You look absolutely ravishing in green, I’ve wanted to tear this off of you since the moment I laid eyes on it.” And then he’s sliding your panties down your legs and plunging his tongue into your heat.

A ragged gasp tears its way from your throat and you throw your head back. You feel the grin form on Loki’s lips against your skin, and a fresh gush of arousal flows down your thighs. Loki eats pussy like it’s an art form he’s been perfecting for ages. His lips tug at your pussy, worshipping every fold like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. You open your mouth to make some joke about his silvertongue, but all that comes out is a pathetic whimper as Loki drags his teeth lightly across your clit.

It isn’t long before the pleasure reaches its peak.You fight hard to keep your legs from clamping around Loki’s head, but you can’t help it when you crest over the edge of orgasm. Your muscles lock up, your back arches, and you scream. White hot euphoria explodes from your core, spreading through your body like venom. Loki’s tongue works you through it, slowing to wide, long strokes as you begin to come down.

You’ve barely recovered when Loki rises from his knees and crawls up your body, coming to a stop when his face is inches from yours. His eyes are hooded, and his glistening lips are parted to allow frantic, heated pants to escape. “Pet,” he hisses, leaning down to nuzzle into your shoulder. “You taste sweeter than the fruits of Asgard.” He bites at your collarbone, making you shudder in your post-orgasmic haze.

Still out of it, you sluggishly fumble at Loki’s belt. “Wanna make you feel good, too,” you mumble and lick your lips. Loki bats your hand away, shushing you.

“Darling, there will be plenty of time for that later. Right now, I need to feel you.” He grabs your shoulders and drags you up to the pillows, so that you’re lying comfortably on your back with him hovering above you.

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of ‘later.’ So this wasn’t just a one-night stand? You don’t have time to process that, however, as Loki barely gives you a moment to breathe. He sits back on his knees, straddling your waist, and with a wave of his hand, you’re both stark naked. Your hands twitch, wanting to cover yourself. Being naked in front of an attractive man has always intimidated you, but the fact that Loki was a god made it worse. As if sensing your sudden shyness, Loki leans in to kiss at lick at your breasts, and brings his hands up to pin your wrists to the bed. You sigh in pleasure, insecurity fading with every hot swipe of his tongue, not even wanting to struggle against his hold.

Loki lowers himself to grind against you. His hard cock slides against your dripping folds as his narrow hips press into yours. Both of you shiver, and you arch your hips to bring him closer. Loki growls against your skin and sits up. He lets go of your wrists, roughly grabs your waist and angles it to meet his. “Ready, pet? I can’t wait, I need to have you.” he breathes, eyes locked on yours.

Like a deer in the headlights, you’re frozen, anticipation coiling tightly under your skin. Slowly, you nod. Loki wastes no time. He smirks, then slides himself into you, the stretch burning in the loveliest way. Your heated groan mingles with his, and when Loki’s hips come to rest against yours, he falls against your chest, panting. You appreciate the time he gives you to adjust; Loki’s cock is thick, and longer than anything you’ve ever taken, and you can feel it throbbing desperately within you. Now that he’s released your hands, you bring them up to thread through his soft, black hair. He closes his eyes and leans into your touch, nearly purring.

“Tell me when, love,” Loki grits out, fighting to keep his voice steady. The shakiness in his usually smooth tone is arousing to no end, and you can feel yourself clench around him in approval. Loki’s hips twitch at the fluttering of your walls, and though you’re more than ready, you decide to torture him a bit longer.

You bring your legs up to wrap around Loki’s waist, pulling him closer. He shivers, but keeps his composure, remaining almost statue still. His concern for your comfort makes your heart swell, but you want to see him lose control. “You’re so big,” you whimper out, the alcohol in your system quelling the embarrassment you’d usually feel when talking dirty. You press your face into Loki’s neck, grazing your teeth along the pale skin there.

With a deep growl of barely kept composure, Loki rises up to rest on his elbows, desperate eyes searching yours. It seems that being the God of Lies gave Loki the ability to see through your cruel game, and his expression turns dark, though the neediness is still blatant. You shift nervously as he stares you down, already regretting your mischievousness. “Feeling playful, are we?” Loki asks.

Your mouth goes dry at being caught and your core tightens around him again, earning you a flutter of his eyelids. “I…” you trail off, eyes drifting to Loki’s parted lips. Watching you gaze, Loki grins at you.

“Oh, pet. I think you may be confused. You are mine to toy with, not the other way around.” With that, Loki leans down to crush his lips into yours. His tongue forces its way into your mouth and you whine around it. While his tongue’s distracting you, Loki takes his chance to begin pounding into you at a ruthless pace, and you break away from the kiss to throw your head back and shriek out a moan.

You feel utterly wrecked, stomach clenching and nerves alight with pleasure as Loki continues his assault on your body. Your eyes are squeezed shut, so his teeth nipping at your jaw come as a surprise, sending a whole new shockwave of sensation down your neck.

“You feel so fucking good, pet,” Loki moans, his voice quickly losing its characteristic steadyness. He sighs out something that sounds suspiciously like a whimper, and brings one of his hands down to toy with your clit. Your legs tighten around him involuntarily. “A-ah, fuck,” Loki grits out, increasing his pace.

The pleasure is overwhelming, and the unhuman speed at which Loki’s pounding into you leaves you no time to catch your breath. Moans and whines erupt from your mouth in a constant stream, and Loki keeps his mouth hovering above yours to drink them in. “I wanna cum,” you whimper as Loki’s assault on your senses continues.

“Then cum, pet,” Loki groans, hips stuttering. “ Cum for your god.”

You keen, writhing and chasing your high. As you climb up to your orgasm, you are met with a startling realization that Loki has already ruined you for anyone else. No human man could match the fire that he’s set upon your nerves, the blinding pleasure that mounts with every thrust and kiss. With that settling into your mind, you finally reach your second peak of the night.

Your eyes try to flutter shut, tears brimming at the corners as you wail Loki’s name again and again. Through the haze of your climax, you notice Loki’s muscles begin to tense as he nears his orgasm as well, and you force your eyes to stay open in order to watch him come apart.

Watching Loki cum is almost like a second climax. He speeds up impossibly, mouth hanging open and eyes barely able to stay focused on you. “You’re mine,” he growls out. Choked moans fall from his lips as he nears the edge, and you rake your nails down his back to encourage him.

“Cum in me, please, I need it, make me yours” you ramble breathlessly.

“Oh, fuck, I-I’m so close,” Loki manages, voice breaking. You continue to coo pleas and encouragements at him, and the way his eyes roll back at your wrecked voice gives you an intoxicating rush of pride. Finally, with a whimpering moan, Loki stills, cock pulsing within you and hips twitching as he pumps you full of his cum.

Loki slumps against you, still moving in aborted little thrusts, as if he can’t quite stop fucking you just yet. The weight of him on top of you is heavy, but not unwelcome, and you take the time to bask in the euphoria of having just slept with the god you’d pined after for so long.

“That was…” you start, words failing you.

“Divine,” Loki finishes for you. He slides his cock out of your pussy, and with it comes a gush of warm cum that you’re sure will stain the sheets. He rolls off of you, then guides you onto your side so that he can pull you up against him.

You weren’t expecting Loki to be the ‘cuddling after sex,’ type, so having him spoon you was surprising, to say the least. He nuzzles his nose into your hair, and you find yourself wanting to fall asleep like that; comfortable in his bed and safe in his strong arms.

Still, there’s a nagging question that won’t let you fully relax. Not wanting to expect too much, you brace yourself for the worst and open your mouth to speak. “Loki...what does this mean for us?”

Loki tenses behind you, and your heart breaks at the assumed rejection as he begins to pull away. “Are you...are you not mine? I thought this was-I’m sorry, I must have misunderstood. Forgive me.”

This time, your heart breaks for a different reason. Loki sounds so hurt, so unsure of everything, and you can hear a scared little boy behind that velvet voice. “No!” You nearly shout, turning around to pull him back to you. “I want to be yours, I promise,” you say as you tug Loki back into your arms, running a soothing hand down his back. “I just wasn’t sure if that’s what you wanted.”

The relief in Loki is visible as he relaxes into you. “Love, I am yours as much as you are mine, do not doubt that.”

The pet name brings a smile to your lips. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you reply happily. Heart full, you roll back over so that Loki can snuggle into you again, and finally let your drowsiness overtake you. You catch a faint, ‘I love you,’ just before you drift off to sleep, and though it could just be your mind playing tricks on you, you know that you love him, too.

#loki x reader #loki imagine #loki laufeyson #smut #fanfiction #the loki show

515 notes · View notes

hqbbg · 4 years

Text

still.

pairing: miya osamu x fem!reader

prompt: “I told you to stay still.”

genre: smut

word count: 5.3K (I got carried away, oops)

warnings: 18+, masturbation, some degradation, oral (f!receiving), fingering, some spanking, vaginal & unprotected s3x (make sure you wrap your presents, kids), like 2 seconds of cockwarming, uhm I think that’s it oop

author’s note: I'm back with another Haikyuu!! Headquarters collab piece! check out the master list of everyone else’s works here ✨ I hope y’all enjoy this!

The air in your room feels thick as you pant helplessly, feeling the familiar ache in your fingers as they begin to cramp up while plunging in and out of your sopping cunt. You feel so close to your own undoing, unable to control your thoughts as they drift to the man whose room is on the other side of your bedroom wall. You can’t help but think that it’s his fingers squelching within your warmth, though you’re sure they would reach much further than yours ever could.

You don’t do this often, touching yourself to the thought of your roommate while he’s out at work or running errands, but lately you’ve been frustrated.

When you had put out an ad for a roommate, you were hesitant. You didn’t have much of a choice, as your last roommate decided to move out in favor of moving in with her boyfriend, leaving you to scramble for a solution in order to continue to afford rent. As a full-time student with a part time job, it would’ve been inconvenient to move out in the middle of the semester, and it seemed reasonable to quickly search for a roommate to help with the bills until your lease was up.

Miya Osamu was hot, to say the least, though it wasn’t the main reason why you ended up choosing him to be your new roommate. On top of having manners and being financially stable, he knew how to cook and respected your space in the apartment. Unfortunately, you’ve been unable to say the same recently. The number of times his room door was cracked open as he changed almost made you consider that he was doing it on purpose, as if encouraging you to take a peek.

As you recall the way his back muscles flexed as he pulled his shirt over his head all those times you’d told yourself that you were just walking by, you let another moan slip past your lips. Your fingers begin to move quicker, toes curling, and you can feel your arm beginning to tire out. Your back arches as your other hand quickly moves to massage your neglected clit, rubbing harsh circles until your vision flashes white.

You fail to hear the front door open and close as your moans continue to fill the room. The memory of seeing Osamu stepping out of the bathroom in a simple pair of grey sweatpants with a towel around his neck is still fresh on your mind. You feel yourself clench around your own fingers as you recall your eyes briefly catching sight of the outline of his cock, the image practically ingrained within you. Too many times have you thought about how it would feel inside of you.

Another moan resonates on the walls and you bite your lip, though it does little to stop you from moaning Osamu’s name. Before you know it, you’re overwhelmed by pleasure and your whole body tenses before it relaxes. Your chest heaves as you lay there, trying to recover from your intense orgasm and you want nothing more than to sleep now. You hardly notice that your door is open.

Over the next few days, you can’t help but feel that something is off with Osamu. Though you aren’t particularly close, you’d like to think that you two have developed some sort of friendship with all the shared meals and evenings spent in the living room just chatting about life.

Did he hear you the other night? There was no way; you made sure to give yourself enough time before he was supposed to come home. Then again, you didn’t hear him come in…

Your cheeks begin to burn at the idea that he’d heard you. You let out a groan as you bury your face in your hands, leaning onto your desk. The little motivation you had to study has effectively disappeared and an unsettling mix of nervousness and shame begins to stir in the pit of your stomach.

Taking a deep breath, you try to push the dreadful thought out of your head and sit upright. An idea suddenly pops into your head and you abruptly stand up. You walk over to your door and poke your head out, scanning the area to locate your roommate. He’s conveniently in the kitchen, snacking on some leftovers he’d brought back from his restaurant the previous night.

“Hey,” you say awkwardly as you step out. He looks over at you and hums in acknowledgement, his mouth full. You decide to go ahead and speak, though your fingers fidget with the hem of your oversized shirt. “You’re not working tomorrow night, right?”

Osamu shakes his head, swallowing his food. “What’s up?”

“Well,” you hesitate, trying to find a way to come off as casually as you can, “I saw this recipe online for some salmon and vegetables, do you wanna be my guinea pig?”

“Sure,” he nods as he shrugs. “What time?”

“Dinner time,” you say, a little too eagerly. “How about seven?”

His lips quirk upwards into a small smile. “Sounds good to me.”

You watch as he takes another bite of his food before you realize you’re staring, clearing your throat.

“Okay, well, have a good night,” you say and quickly scurry back towards your room. Once you shut the door, you release a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding in. You swiftly move back to your desk, your forgotten notes pushed even further aside as you begin to look for that recipe you’d seen all those weeks ago.

The following day, you make a quick trip to the store to buy ingredients and find yourself nervously counting down the hours and minutes until it’s a reasonable time to start making dinner. You step out of your room to see Osamu already perched on a stool at the small island in the kitchen. He’s slouched over, scrolling through his phone when you walk up. He glances up and greets you with a small smile as you place your phone down near the center of the island countertop.

“Okay, so before I start, I just need to say that I’m definitely not a professional chef in any way,” you say as you move to wash your hands. You can feel his eyes on you as you move around the kitchen, pulling the vegetables from the fridge. You grab the apron hanging on the pantry door and sling it over your head, tying it behind your back.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen ya wear that,” Osamu muses as he leans his cheek on his palm. His elbows are both propped up on the counter and you resist the urge to playfully roll your eyes.

“I have to make sure my shirt doesn’t get dirty,” you say, “it’s one of my favorites.”

He says nothing in response, opting for a light chuckle as you begin to wash the vegetables. Once you finish, you pull out the cutting board in front of him on the other side of the island, placing a carrot in the middle.

You open a cabinet and pull out a knife, giving it a quick rinse before positioning the blade to cut through the vegetable. Placing your fingers on the edge, you lift the knife just slightly.

“Hey, be sure to cats paw,” Osamu pipes up, pointing to the hand that’s on the carrot, “If yer not careful, you’ll knick yourself.”

“Huh?” You blink your eyes at him, trying to prevent yourself from sounding like an idiot.

“Like this,” he says, lifting his hand up and curling his fingers inward into a loose fist. You try not to focus on the veins lining his hands, tearing your eyes away and mimicking his motions. You see him drop his hand from your peripherals and finally attempt to cut into the carrot.

Before you know it, the knife slips from your grasp, making a shallow but clean cut across your index knuckle. You let out a curse and hiss as you drop the knife.

“Whoa, are ya okay?” Osamu stands as you begin to make your way to the sink, blocking your path.

“It hurts, but I’m fine,” you reply, looking at him curiously before glancing at your finger. You examine it for a moment, seeing the familiar crimson begin to bead.

“Let me take a look,” says Osamu, gently grabbing a hold of your wrist. He lifts your hand up closer to his face, his eyebrows slightly creasing as you do your best to resist the blush creeping up to your cheeks. “You should be careful.”

“Well, it’s not like this was intentional,” you grumble, unable to meet his eyes. He sighs softly and you glance at him, opening your mouth to say something. However, your train of thought is completely derailed when his lips wrap around the small incision.

You feel his warm tongue gently lick around it and you can’t help but stare at the way his lips look around your finger. He catches your eyes and pulls away.

“I used to do this to my brother whenever he’d get hurt or something when we were little,” he says, letting go of your wrist. Your face is burning as you drop your hand back down to your side. “Wait here, I’ll go grab a bandage.”

You nod wordlessly, mind still reeling as you try to figure out and process what exactly had just happened. You watch his retreating figure head towards the bathroom, disappearing for only a moment before resurfacing with a familiar pink wrapper with Hello Kitty’s face scattered across the outside cover, a gift he had received from his brother. He makes his way back over to you, pulling the tabs apart and plucking out the bandaid.

Without prompting, you lift your hand up towards him and watch as he moves your hand towards him with his pinky, wrapping it around your finger.

“There, all patched up. Is that too tight?” He asks, picking up the trash and crumpling it in his fist. You lift your hand up and examine his handiwork, nodding in approval.

“It’s perfect,” you say, feeling your stomach flutter at the self-satisfied smirk that’s found its way onto his face. “I still have to cut the vegetables, though.”

“Hand it over; I’ll do it.” He motions towards the knife.

You pout, making no indication to hand the utensil over to him. “I kind of wanted to cut the vegetables though.”

He raises a brow at you. “Are ya sure? Ya already butchered yer first chance; I don’t want blood all over my kitchen.”

“Your kitchen, huh?”

Osamu shrugs. “I hardly see ya in here, so it might as well be.”

“So are you gonna help me or not?” You raise a brow and choose to ignore his statement as you cross the kitchen to grab your phone, pulling up the recipe to skim through the instructions before placing it back down. “I’m supposed to Juliette these vegetables.”

Osamu stays quiet for a moment. “Do ya mean julienne?”

“Yeah, same thing,” you wave your hand dismissively, walking back over to the cutting board. You pick up the discarded knife, giving it a quick rinse. Upon returning to your original spot at the island, your hands position themselves once again, curling your fingers like Osamu had previously shown you.

“Wait, yer gonna end up hurting yourself again,” he says as he walks up behind you. “How thin are ya trying to cut this?”

“About this much,” you reply, positioning the knife towards the edge of the carrot.

“Okay, first things first,” he says as he wraps his arms around you. Your eyes widen as you feel his chest press against your back, his hands moving to hold yours. “Ya have to cut it in half and get a flat surface.”

He grabs your hand holding the knife and moves it to the middle of the carrot, wrapping his thick and long fingers around the handle, completely swallowing yours. He ensures that his grip is stable before pressing down, the blade making a sharp cut.

“Okay, so now that ya have this, ya said ya want to make them look like noodles, right?”

You can only nod your head, afraid that your voice will crack if you choose to speak. Your head feels fuzzy, your senses overwhelmed by the scent of his musky cologne hitting your nose and the way his strong arms continue to guide you. The heat radiating off his chest envelops you in an oddly comforting embrace and something about it feels very domestic. You try hard to keep your knees from buckling under you, shifting your weight between your feet. You immediately tense when you accidentally press your backside against his hips.

Briefly scanning the island countertop, you see that his phone is on the other side where he’d originally left it when you began cooking and try to ignore the sinful thoughts threatening to infiltrate your mind.

“Makes sense?” Osamu says, his lips dangerously close to your ear.

“I-I think so,” you stammer, though you bite your lip and mentally scold yourself for your faltering voice.

“Alright,” he says, taking a step back. You exhale slowly, trying not to think of the loss of warmth. “While ya keep doing that, I’ll prepare the salmon. Where’s the recipe?”

“It’s on my phone.” You nod towards it, setting the knife down. He walks over to the side of the counter you’d left your phone at and brings it over to you. “What’s yer passcode?”

“That’s classified information, sir.” You see his eyes darken for a moment as you pluck your phone from his hand, typing in the digits before placing it in his open palm.

“Never thought you’d be callin’ me that so soon,” he says offhandedly, locating the recipe in your browser. You feel your lips part to say something, but no words come out.

You simply resume cutting the carrot and grab more vegetables, shaking your head to clear your wandering thoughts. You see Osamu grab the salmon from the fridge, pulling it out and getting some seasonings you’d bought earlier.

“Hey, can ya grab a pan from that cabinet there?” Osamu asks as he points to one of the bottom cabinets in front of your legs.

“Sure,” you nod and take a step back, opening the cabinet door and bending over at the hips. You rummage around for a decent-sized pan, feeling Osamu’s eyes on you before you straighten up. He’s quick to avert his eyes as he holds his hand out to you. You place the handle in his open palm and he takes it, setting it on top of the stove.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you prepare your own things, with you seasoning and cooking the vegetables while Osamu prepares the fish, searing it on the pan. As you both finish your portions, you decide to bring out your nicer plates for the occasion.

Opening one of the top cabinets, you stand on your toes to reach for the plates, wondering how they ended up so high to begin with.

“Need help?”

You jump slightly, startled when you feel his body pressed flush against yours with a hand on the dip of your waist as the other reaches above your head to grab two plates, placing them down onto the counter. You turn your head to look at him and realize just how close he is, his face merely centimeters away. His eyes are on your lips as you tongue pokes out to wet them before they flicker upwards to meet your eyes. You look up at him, anticipating his next move with bated breath, and feel his hand that had been holding the plates move to gently hold your jaw. He leans forward just slightly and your eyes flutter shut as your lips meet.

His lips move slowly against yours, though it’s nothing short of passionate. You feel his hand on your waist pull you closer to him and you lean into the warmth. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip and you open your mouth to welcome the warm muscle inside, letting him explore freely.

The both of you seem to run out of air at the same time, pulling away breathlessly. Before you can say anything, he kisses down your jaw to your neck as you crane your head just slightly so he can have better access and you’re not straining your muscles. He nips gently at the skin before dragging his tongue along, finding a particularly tender spot to pay special attention to. A hiss slips past your lips and you’re reminded of how close he is to you when you begin to feel something hardening against your backside.

“If ya wanna stop, ya have to tell me now,” he mutters against your neck as both of his hands settle on your waist, thumbs playing with the hem of your shirt.

“I’d rather not,” you admit rather shamelessly. You can feel Osamu’s lips curve upwards against your skin as his hands give you a slight squeeze.

“If ya say so,” he says before one of his hands reaches between the two of you to untie your apron. “If ya ever need me to stop, let me know.”

You nod your head absentmindedly, slightly dizzy from the reality of what’s happening right now. One of his hands begins to slide upwards from your waist, cupping your clothed breast and giving it a squeeze, while the other slips downwards under your apron and pushes past the waistband of your shorts, hovering over your panties. Suddenly very aware of the wetness between your legs, you move to close them a little.

“That won’t do ya any good,” Osamu mutters against the back of your neck. As if to prove his point, he presses his middle finger against your clothed slit and swipes upward, humming to himself. “Yer practically dripping and I haven’t even started yet.”

A moan slips past your lips and you can only bite your lip in embarrassment at your own shamelessness.

“It’s just the two of us; you don’t have to be quiet,” he says, as if encouraging you to be as loud as you want and disturb your neighbors. When you still refuse to make another noise, he nudges your legs open with his knees, almost forcing you to lean over the counter for support. As if to further prove his point, he pushes your panties aside and slips his middle finger in between your folds, causing you to let out a gasp of surprise at the sudden intrusion.

“Osamu,” you whimper as you feel him kiss his way towards the back of your ear.

“What is it, baby?” His finger is still and unmoving inside of you as you try to gain any sort of friction, attempting to grind your hips against him. His hand doesn’t move as you feel his tongue trace the outer shell of your ear.

“Stop teasing me,” you practically whimper as you ball your hands into fists on the surface in front of you.

“What do ya want me to do?” He sounds smug and you can almost visualize his teasing smirk behind your closed lids.

“Just fuck me,” you say. You fight the embarrassment heating your cheeks, too aroused to focus on anything else.

“I know we’ve been living together for awhile now, but let’s not forget our manners,” he says, beginning to slide his finger out.

“M’Samu, please fuck me!” It comes out too eagerly, too desperately, but you want him to just do something to you.

“That’s all you needed to say,” he lets out a soft chuckle before he slides his finger back in. You find yourself leaning completely on the countertop so you don’t buckle under him and moan when he slides another finger inside, stretching you.

You were right; his fingers reach so much further than yours ever could.

His calloused fingers continue to thrust in and out of you at a steady pace as his other hand that had been on your breast moves down to slip under your shirt. You bite your lip as you feel him expertly unclip the bra before sliding around to cup the flesh, nudging your loose bra aside. His fingers pinch your hardening nipple and you breathe out his name.

“Careful there, sweetheart,” he practically grunts, “if ya keep soundin’ like that, I won’t be goin’ easy on ya.”

Part of you has half the mind to take him up on the offer while the other is failing to form coherent words and thoughts.

A familiar tension begins to pull at your lower abdomen as you feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm. It seems that Osamu’s also aware, quickly slipping his hands out from your dripping cunt.

“Why’d you stop?” You whine as you turn back to look at him. He offers a smirk before removing his hands completely from your pants and lifting his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean. The way his half-lidded eyes are locked on yours as he swirls his tongue around makes you clench helplessly around nothing.

“Don’t worry, yer gonna thank me later,” he says, dropping his hand. He begins to lower himself so he’s on his knees on the ground before he pulls your shorts and panties down in one clean tug. The cool air hits your wet heat and you bite your lip at the sensation.

You watch him with anticipation as he leans forward, using both hands to massage your ass a couple times before spreading the cheeks apart. He nudges your feet so you can spread a little wider for him, which you wordlessly oblige, and inhale shakily as he leans forward and licks a fat stripe up your slit.

“Fuck, Osamu,” you hiss as you turn back to look at him. You use one hand to reach around and weave your fingers through his hair, fisting it as he begins to sloppily lap at your cunt.

His tongue dives in and out, the wet squelch echoing around the apartment. You feel your legs tremble as he angles his head to reach a bit further before opting to have his fingers rejoin the fun. Your moans sound nearly pornographic as you attempt to grip at anything, unable to get yourself to properly stand as Osamu wags his head a couple times, swirling his tongue in the process.

A sharp gasp leaves you when you feel his fingers angle themselves and hit a spot you didn’t even know existed, your walls beginning to clench and flutter around him.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moan, pushing his head deeper against you. You feel him hum against you as if to encourage you to release onto his face, so you do.

A strangled cry erupts from your throat as you feel every nerve ending spark up and you come undone above him. He lets you grind your hips against him a couple more times before he pulls away, breathing heavily as he stands up. He turns you around by your hips and you see your slick coating his lips and chin.

“Look at this mess,” he taunts you, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. You don’t say anything and wrap your fingers around the back of his neck, pulling his lips down to taste yourself. As you do so, he makes quick work to get rid of his sweatpants and pulls away to lift his shirt over his head. You go ahead and do the same with your apron, tossing it onto the island behind him and removing your shirt and bra to leave the both of you stark naked in the kitchen.

You take a brief moment to unabashedly check him out, admiring how toned and built he is. Chewing on your bottom lip, you let your fingers trace along the hardened and defined lines of his abdomen, trailing your fingers down to palm him through his boxers. You see the fabric straining and recognize the heat rising to your cheeks as you feel how hard he is, creating a slightly darkened and damp spot where the head of his cock is located. You glance up at him and meet eyes as you hook your thumbs on his waistband, pulling them down. His length practically springs to life, standing proud and tall before you and your mouth practically waters at the sight.

Wrapping your fingers around the base, you bite your lip as you drag your hand upwards to the tip and collect his beading precum, spreading it around generously with the pad of your thumb before using it as lubricant to continue stroking him.

“Fuck,” he moans softly as you lick your lips, getting ready to get on your knees to return the favor that he so generously had given you moments ago. He grabs your wrist to stop you and you look at him curiously. “As much as I’d love to see you suck my cock, I just want to be inside of that pussy of yours right now.”

The hungry look in his eyes is all you need before you kiss him again, this time much sloppier than the previous ones. He maneuvers you around the kitchen for a moment and before you know it, you’re bent over the island countertop with a leg propped up on the cool surface. You hear Osamu spit into his hand and look back to see him give his thick cock a couple generous strokes before positioning himself with one hand while the other holds your hip.

You feel the bulbous head nudge your lower set of lips apart before slowly easing in, your back arching at the pressure already building inside of you. A soft hiss escapes your throat as you try to take all of him, grateful when he pauses once he’s bottomed out within you. You take a deep breath for a moment and feel your muscles relax slightly as you adjust accordingly.

“Are ya ready?” Osamu’s voice comes out surprisingly soft as he leans over you, placing a kiss between your shoulder blades. You nod quietly before feeling both hands on your hips as he slowly begins to pull out. You realize just how thick he is when you feel empty, though it doesn’t last for long when he slams right back into you. A strangled mewl bubbles from your throat as he begins to thrust in and out of you. You lower yourself onto your elbows on the counter and ball your hands into fists, no longer caring how you sound; you’re too lost in your own wave of pleasure.

As Osamu continues his ministrations, you feel the counter buzz slightly and hazily look around with half a mind to simply ignore it. You see Osamu’s phone shaking across the surface next to your discarded apron, the screen lit up with an unfamiliar name.

“’Samu, your phone,” you say between moans, “your phone is ringing.”

His hips slow, though his thrusts continue to hit deep inside of you. He doesn’t have to reach far to grab it and glances at the screen.

“Shit,” he hisses under his breath. “Stay still for me, will ya?”

You halfheartedly nod your head, though you can’t help but whine at the loss of friction as he stills inside of you.

“Hello?” His voice is even as he answers quickly. “This is Osamu, yes.”

It’s hard to ignore the slight frustration bubbling in your chest as he uses one hand to keep your hips still while the other holds his phone. He continues to speak formally, so you assume it’s probably someone important or has something to do with work. You know better than to tease him in the event that this call is actually important, but you can’t resist the urge to just roll your hips a little.

There’s a slight hitch in Osamu’s voice before he clears his throat, though it sounds more like a warning to you than anything. However, that doesn’t stop you as you grow more bold, deciding to create your own rhythm of shallow thrusts. His grip on your hip tightens, though it’s not enough to hurt you just yet.

“Something just came up, so I’m gonna have to call ya back,” you hear Osamu say, his voice becoming more strained as each second ticks by. When he finally hangs up, the phone smacks onto the table, startling you to a halt.

“Sorry, I couldn’t w-”

“Ya think yer so cute, dontcha? I told ya to stay still.” His voice is dangerously low as he hunches over, practically growling in your ear. You whimper softly in response, feeling the heat radiating off his skin. You’re not sure if you should be as turned on as you are right now, feeling your walls clench around him.

He stands upright and reaches around to grab one of your arms, practically yanking you back so you’re also standing up. His other hand reaches around to grab your other arm, pinning your wrists behind your back.

“If yer gonna act like a slut, I’m gonna fuck ya like one,” he snarls lowly and you resist the urge to moan. He manages to reach for your apron and rolls it up, looping it around your elbows.

As one hand holds your newly bound arms behind your back, the other holds your hips before he begins to pull out of you. You feel his whole length leave you empty with the exception of the tip and you’re about to complain again when you feel him slam back in roughly.

“Is this what ya thought of when ya were touchin’ yerself?”

You hardly contain the cry of mixed pain and pleasure as your back arches, his hips snapping against yours at a relentless pace. You can barely process his words, though you know the embarrassment will hit you later; you simply can’t form coherent enough thoughts to care. The hand that was on your hip leaves but only momentarily before his palm claps against your ass. You yelp in surprise as he releases your arms.

“What, did ya never get spanked as a kid?” Osamu taunts as he rubs the reddening skin. You lean back over, supporting yourself on your elbows. His comment barely processes in your head as he does it again.

Coherent words fail to form as you feel your legs begin to tremble. You’re practically running towards another orgasm and you can tell Osamu is too, based on his unstable rhythm and sloppier movements. You feel one of his hands reach around you to play with your nipples while you let your own hand rub your clit, the sensations overwhelming you in a crashing wave of pure bliss.

As your walls tighten and flutter, Osamu pulls out and fists his cock a couple times before you feel hot ropes of cum paint your back and ass, a guttural groan leaving him.

“Holy fuck,” he pants once he recovers from his orgasm. You’re still shaking, bent over the island, breathing heavily.

A dull ringing can be heard in your ears from the intensity of your climax, but you faintly hear the sink running for a moment. Not long after, you feel a warm and damp towel wipe across the mess on your backside and Osamu’s gentle arm pulls you up.

“Hey, was I too rough on ya?” His voice is soft and you shake your head. He presses a kiss to your forehead as he hands you your clothes from the ground. “Do ya wanna eat now and shower later?”

“Yeah, I’m starving,” you sigh as your head begins to clear up. You look over to your forgotten food, your mouth curving downwards into a frown. “Wait, did you not turn off the stove?”

“I was a little preoccupied.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyū!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #miya osamu #osamu x y/n #osamu x reader #osamu x you #haikyuu smut #osamu smut #hrnybbg

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its-deputy-caleb · 3 years

Note

i love the sadie fic sm THANK YOU!!!!!!!! and a part two doesnt sound too bad 🧐🧐🧐 that is if you arent busy! <3

as promised anon! i bring you apart two for your sadie fic. For anyone that is new, part one is here and i suggest reading that first. this one is a little shorter but i wanted a sweet and simple date this time around. And yes i did my research the word klutz was used in the early 1900's 😌😌

-------------------------------------

“Get your ass up missy, the day’s gonna be over before you leave the bed.”

Sadie comes storming into your bedroom, a large grin on her face as she draws the curtains back with one hand. The other is holding her shotgun over her shoulder and her typical oversized brown coat and unkept shirt looks weirdly out of place in your polished bedroom that is littered with gold and white trim along the walls.

You covered the sun from your eyes, pulling the pillow over your face as you groaned from being woken up.

It had been a few months since you’d first met Sadie and she’s become something of a close friend. Okay you did occasionally sneak kisses and hold hands when no one was looking but to everyone else she was no more than a companion and bodyguard who’d been welcomed into your family estate.

She places the worn shotgun onto the wardrobe and comes to sit on the bed, prying the pillow from your fingers before smiling down at you. She leans down and gives you a soft kiss.

“Good morning.”

She pulls you up and shoves you into the bathroom, giggling and making fun of the amount of products you have for just your hair alone lying on the cabinet. You nearly trip on your night gown and tells you to get ready for the day while she waits in the garden for you.

You did your hair, waiting for one of the maids to help tie your corset and pull your petticoat over your head. Once you were fully dressed in a lighter, more casual summer dress you made your way to the garden. On the way you grabbed one of your hats, tying it under your chin as the door was opened for you.

The carriage was waiting for you with Sadie already waiting in the front seat beside the driver. She noticed you, smirking down before playfully addressing you.

“Where to Missy?”

“Why Blackwater of course— the tailor is finished with my new dress!”

Sadie hopped down, helping you get comfortable inside the carriage but as she went to leave again you grabbed her wrist.

“Sit in here with me, please?”

You gave her the biggest most innocent look you could muster, pouting as she laughed softly and shook her head.

“Now who’s gonna be guarding the carriage hmm? Wouldn’t want a doll like you getting damaged unlike last time.”

You gasped dramatically, holding your hands to your chest in mock offence.

“If I remember correctly the carriage tipped because of you Ms. Adler and it ended with mud all over my dress!”

You couldn’t stop the giggles that left you as Sadie rolled her eyes.

“All the more reason to be up the front and make sure nothing happens to that bodice of yours!”

Huffing, you slumped into the carriage chair as you called out to Sadie

“Fine. But you’re coming dress shopping with me.”

An hour later you were standing on the streets of Blackwater, your heels clanking along the pavement as the two of you scurried to see the tailor.

The bell rang as Sadie held the door for you and the tailor Mr. Kretzschmar perked up to greet you. He was a kind gentleman who always gave you extra discounts and added dresses as you were a regular customer to his service since you were young and considered you a dear friend. Often on your birthday an extravagant ball gown is delivered to your families estate.

“Hello Ma’am, it’s so lovely to see you back on such a fine day. Who is your companion?”

He gestured to Sadie who as staring at a teal blue dress hanging on a mannequin and grimaced at the thought of wearing such a thing.

“Oh this is Ms Sadie Adler, she’s a dear and close friend to me. She’s going to help me decided if the yellow or the lavender dress will suit next weeks dinner party.

Before Sadie could protest about having to watch you play dress up, you grabbed her arm and dragged her to one of the changing rooms which had been reserved for you.

“What’s wrong with the blue one you have at home?”

You rolled your eyes as you heard Sadie shuffle about and take a seat on the chair outside to the curtain. You fumbled for a minute, trying to pull your dress over your head but couldn’t manage to get the thing undone. You stumbled over your own feet for the second time today as you feel through the curtain and blushed as Sadie burst into laughter.

“For a lady you sure are a klutz sometimes— common I’ll help you with the yellow one first.”

Sadie lifted you from the floor, helping you untie the dress and putting the new yellow one over your fitted corset and petticoat. She fixed the ribbon in your hair and moved you to stand in front of the mirror as she stood behind you.

“There see? The yellow makes your eyes shine.”

She placed a soft kiss to your neck before you turned and shoved her out of the change room gently. Fussing over needing to see all your options, you were spoilt after all.

“Now get out! I want to try the lavender one.”

Sadie laughed, walking over to a wooden chair as she sat on it backwards with her hands holding her head. It was much more to her appeal than the plush ottoman in the room.

“Whatever you say Missy.”

Sadie’s playful tone died in her chest however when she saw you come out in the lavender dress. It looked beautiful on you and it took her breath away.

She stood from the chair, slowly inching towards you as she took in the sight of you. Eventually her hands landed on your waist, staring into your eyes as she pulled you close.

“Well I’ll be damned, never knew purple was your colour—“

“Its lavender—“

Sadie rolled her eyes again, laughing and bumping your noses together as her eyes trailed down to your lips. Your hands came to hold her jacket as she kissed you gently.

Your hand came to tangle in her hair and for a moment you were completely captured in her lips on yours and her hands protectively around your waist. That is until you heard someone cough awkwardly as if to get your attention.

Pulling away you tilt your head to see Mr.Kretzschmar holding the accessories that went along with the dress as well as a tape measure around his neck and a shoe box tucked under his arm.

“I hope I’m not interrupting something?”

Your dear friend gave you a soft but accepting smile as he placed the box down on onto the ottoman, nodding and turning to leave.

“I’ll leave you two alone for while, just call if you need anything.”

Before he could leave the both of you thanked him. Sadie gave him a silent nod which must have shown her appreciation while you on the other hand matched his generosity with words.

“Thank you Mr. Kretzschmar, I’ll have father invite you for dinner sometime.”

You watched as his face lit up, knowing that your father and him had been close friends. He was often eating dinner with your family, sometimes inviting his own and you certainly knew that your father supported his business. He left the room shortly after, leaving you and Sadie to giggle like you were children caught with too many lollies.

The two of you spent longer than you thought, trying on an array of different outfits and sharing kisses in between. You were however unsuccessful in getting Sadie to find a dress of her own but you always had more time to work her up to the thought of a corset and stockings.

Without wanting to ruin such a good day out with her, you left the tailor and visited the pictures. The movie was some silent film about long lost lovers but you weren’t really paying attention when your head was resting on Sadie’s shoulder and your hands were intertwined under the blanket of darkness in the room.

When you finally returned to your families estate, Sadie took your hand to help you down the stairs of the carriage, although this time she didn’t let your hand go.

“Stay for dinner?”

Sadie contemplated the thought for a moment before nodding softly and following you inside for a nice warm meal. She never thought she’d fall in love with a rich girl like you but once she met you she was smitten.

The whole night at dinner she held your hand under the table and looked to you for help at how to use the six different forks in front of her.

#lets hope the tags work oml #sadie adler #sadie adler x reader #sadie adler x fem!reader #rdr2 headcanons #rdr2 writing #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fanfiction

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kiribakuhappiness · 3 years

Note

drabble idea! who said "i love you" first, and what were they doing?? 👀

(Kiribaku Drabble Prompt) I started following the prompt and then it totally spiraled...

It was an accident.

A fucking accident.

It slipped out so casually, tumbled out of his mouth so effortlessly, felt as natural as breathing or shitting or eating or sleeping - it was an accident.

Kirishima halted halfway out the door with his hero-suitcase clutched tight in one hand, and Bakugou's entire body stiffened as soon as he registered in his groggy early-morning brain what it was that he had just said out loud.

Fuck. It was a fucking accident!

He wasn't ready to have that kind of a talk yet, he wasn't ready to deal with all of the bullshit that would no doubt come as a result from it, he wasn't ready to be in love. Not yet. Not right now. Not with Kirishima.

Kirishima glanced over his shoulder back into the apartment, and Bakugou used every ounce of the willpower that he had inside of him to force himself to keep cooking, force himself to not look back at him, force himself to pretend like he hadn't just said what he had just said.

But all that Kirishima responded with before he walked out the door was, "I'll text ya if I plan on bringing home dinner tonight, bro!"

And then he was gone.

Bakugou's muscles still felt tight, though, and his heart still felt like it was beating ridiculously fast somewhere deep inside his chest, but he forced himself to go about his own damn business. It was nothing - it had meant nothing.

It was just a fucking accident.

Kirishima didn't mind taking care of Bakugou when he was drunk.

Honestly, he was just relieved that his best bro had finally started to loosen the restrictive reins on his social conduct enough to even consider going out with the rest of their old classmates from Yuuei High.

It was nice to see him snicker and share snide remarks with Todoroki at the bar, and it was nice to watch him playfully goad Mina with teasing shoves to the shoulder at the pool table, and it was even nice to watch him knock the bottom of his beer bottle down on the top of Midoriya's and cause the foam to bubble up and spill out onto the table while everyone laughed at the display because at least he wasn't trying to kill anybody.

Kirishima didn't mind taking care of Bakugou when he was drunk.

He just didn't really know how he was supposed to respond when Bakugou said shit like that; a grunted whisper in his ear with a strong arm wrapped around his neck as the pair of them meandered down the empty night street back towards their apartment.

It probably didn't mean anything anyway. Bakugou was drunk; his words were slurring and his eyes looked cloudy and he tripped over his own feet every couple of steps. It didn't mean anything. It didn't mean what Kirishima wanted it to mean, he was certain of it.

"Eh?" Bakugou grunted louder when Kirishima didn't respond to that. He pressed harder into Kirishima's side, his bicep tightened around Kirishima's neck. "Didya fuckin' hear w-what I said, shitbag-hairstyle-shit?"

Bakugou reached across with his other free hand and pinched hard at Kirishima's flushed cheek, who couldn't help but snort as he tried to tilt his head away. Bakugou's arm squeezed around his neck and prevented him from going very far though.

"Yeah, I heard ya man," Kirishima huffed out, and he tried not to look at him, and he tried not to notice how tight his chest felt, and he tried not to think about it because Bakugou didn't mean it like that.

"Kay," Bakugou relented as he dropped his hand back down to his side again.

The pair of them continued back to the apartment in silence, save for the scuffing of their sneakers against the asphalt of the pavement, and Kirishima really didn't mind taking care of Bakugou when he was drunk.

He just wished that Bakugou would stop saying that if he didn't really mean it.

Once was an accident. Twice was a coincidence. Three times was a habit.

Or as Bakugou liked to look at it:

Once was a fluke. Twice was a mistake. Three times is the result of Enemy Action.

This was all Kirishima’s fault, really.

It was Kirishima’s fault for suggesting that they move in together after they graduated from Yuuei. It was Kirishima’s fault for insisting that they go together to buy all of those dumb household necessities like shower curtains and plates and matching fucking towels. It was Kirishima’s fault for always strutting around the apartment without his shirt on, it was Kirishima’s fault for always leaving the bathroom door cracked open when he was in the shower, it was Kirishima’s fault for always ruffling Bakugou’s hair whenever he walked by him sitting on the couch - it was all Kirishima’s fucking fault!

Bakugou stared at the black screen of his phone after the call had ended, stared at the tiny angry reflection of himself staring back at him, and his fingers tightened desperately on the edges.

What the fuck was wrong with him? Why did he keep fucking saying that shit? Why did it keep fumbling out of him like some kind of thoughtless instinct?

Why didn’t Kirishima ever say anything about it?

Todoroki blinked from beside him on the sidewalk as the afternoon rush of pedestrians scurried by like a school of fish avoiding an intrusive boulder settled in the middle of a river. "Did you just tell Kirishima that you loved him?"

Bakugou tensed. He glared at him out of the corner of his eye as he shoved his phone back into his pocket and continued on with their patrol. “As if. Get your damn ears checked, icyhot.”

“My yearly audiometry evaluation came back normal a few months ago,” Todoroki informed him unnecessarily. “You just told Kirishima that you loved him.”

Bakugou’s lip twitched into the start of an impatient snarl. “Fuck off, it ain’t any of your damn business!”

Todoroki considered this for a moment in silence before he asked, “Does that mean that you two are finally dating?”

Bakugou’s gaze snapped over to look at him with a challenging glare. “Dating?”

Todoroki nodded. “Finally.”

“Finally?!”

“Yes. It means after a long time, typically following a considerable delay or-”

“I know what it fucking means!” Bakugou chided, clenching his hands into fists. “The fuck would we be dating for?”

Todoroki blinked at him again like he wasn’t really sure how he was supposed to proceed with this conversation. Bakugou continued to glare at him as he waited for some kind of explanation, and he tried to ignore how sweaty his hands were or how hard his heart was hammering somewhere lodged up in his throat.

“Hold on,” Todoroki dug around in his pocket and pulled his phone out as the pair of them crossed through a busy intersection before he entered a number on speed dial and held it up to his ear. “Hello. Bakugou just asked me why he should date Kirishima, what was it you told me again?”

“What the shit?! Who the fuck are you talking to!?” Bakugou lunged for the phone in Todoroki’s hand, but a shard of ice shooting out of the pavement from the toe of Todoroki’s boot effectively prevented him from doing so. “You fucking bastard!”

“Ah. Right. Okay. Thank you,” Todoroki hung up the phone just as Bakugou rounded the jutting piece of ice and came to stand in front of him, looking murderous. Todoroki seemed incredibly unfazed by this as he relayed back to him, “Denki says that only bros who want to see their other bros dicks would act the way that you do around Kirishima.”

Bakugou was so blindsided by this blunt comment that for a moment the only thing he could do was look at him in stunned silence. Todoroki seemed incredibly unfazed by this, as well.

“Do you want to see Kirishima’s dick?” he asked very seriously.

...

Did he?!?

Kirishima didn’t know how much more of this he could realistically take.

Once was no big deal. An accident, a fluke, a half-awake brain grumbling a half-garbled sentence that didn’t mean anything. Twice was more of an annoyance, really. A coincidence or a mistake, a drunken statement no doubt uttered by hundreds of inebriated people on a nightly basis.

The third time it was so quick that Kirishima hadn’t even registered that it had even happened until about twenty minutes after the call had already ended.

So what though, right? Lots of people ended their calls like that. Usually when they were talking to a family member or a significant other, but Bakugou was his best friend and sometimes best friends said it too, so there shouldn’t be any reason for Kirishima to make a big deal out of it.

But there was no excuse for it this time, as Kirishima came to a sudden halt in the middle of the kitchen to stare incredulously across the counter at his roommate who had just come barreling out of his room like a man on an increasingly important mission. Bakugou stared back at him with a tightly clenched jaw and a set of narrowed eyes as though he were gearing up for a physical confrontation.

Kirishima blinked, and the base of his neck felt flushed and warm as the back of his shirt started to stick to his skin. He swallowed hard. “W...what?”

Bakugou’s eyes narrowed further. “You heard me.”

Kirishima did hear him - has heard him say it four separate times now - and still, he had no idea how he was supposed to respond to that statement. Once was an accident, twice was a coincidence, three times was a habit. So what was Kirishima supposed to blame the fourth time on?

“You gonna say it back, or what?” Bakugou challenged him with a defiant lift of his chin as though he had something to prove.

Kirishima’s hands tightened on the bowl he’d almost forgotten he was even holding on to. He couldn’t say it back, he couldn’t. Not when Bakugou didn’t mean it like that, not after how long he’s spent lying awake at night in his room fantasizing about this very moment, not if Bakugou was just going to take it all back and pretend it had never even happened in the first place.

Bakugou shifted awkwardly on the other side of the counter, restless and fidgety and growing more impatient with each second that passed, before he huffed angrily and spat out again, “I said I fucking love you. Now are you gonna fucking tell me that you love me too, or not?”

Kirishima’s eyes widened like saucers and his fingers clenched harder on the bowl. “You... love me?”

Bakugou’s shoulders tensed but he refused to back out, stubborn and steadfast and ready to go down swinging. “How many more damn times you need me to fucking say it?”

Kirishima continued to blink at him, vaguely aware of how fast his heart was racing somewhere far away, vaguely aware of how his entire body seemed to thrum chaotically down to its very core, vaguely aware of how warm his chest felt as he replayed all of the past incidents.

Murmured in the domestic hush of early morning in front of a sizzling breakfast. Whispered in the contented aftermath of a rambunctious night out with friends. Uttered in the casual routine of a midday check-up following a planned inquiry for a shared dinner later that night.

And now here. Stated bluntly and directly so as not to be misinterpreted as any kind of accident, or coincidence, or some type of forced habit. A declaration and a confession all wrapped up in one white-knuckled challenge.

“Well?” Bakugou snapped as his chest heaved with every harsh breath. “If I have to say it again, I will. If I have to say it a million fucking times for you to get it through your thick skull then I fucking will. I said I fucking love -”

Kirishima couldn’t possibly have waited for him to finish as he surged across the room, dumping his abandoned bowl carelessly onto the counter before he crashed his lips down hard onto Bakugou’s, who stuttered and stumbled at the sudden intrusion into his space before he pushed back with just as much enthusiasm.

And even though Kirishima couldn’t possibly get the words out past all of the frantic movement of their eager lips, his heart thumped painfully with each thought flitting through his mind that he was certain Bakugou could hear loud and clear:

I love you, I love you, I love you.

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crazyfreckledginger · 3 years

Text

Jason Todd x Reader - “In The Pale Moonlight”

After a one night stand, Jason doesn’t seem to be able to get his mind off you. Desperate to get you out of his head, he hesitantly agrees to go to Wayne Enterprise with his brothers for work, as a response to scrutiny from the general public. What happens when the person he was trying to erase from his memory pops right back into his life?

Requested by anon and on Wattpad: “Can I request one where reader and one of the boys are dating but they act like they still trying to get each other so they flirt a lot and stuff even if everyone knows they’re together”/

“And other one where the reader is feeling herself and singing “Meet me in the pale moonlight” by Lana Del Rey in front of one of batboys and they’re like wow she cute and kiss the readeeeeeer (they’re dating and they’re teenagers)THANK YOU AND I LOVE YOU 💕” /

“haha well I have another which was that the reader is harley and Bruce's kid and she meets batboys but jason since she knew before she left for the first time since she was away for wayne industries business meetings”

A/N: I hope you guys don’t mind that I tweaked it a little since these requests don’t have alot of depth individually!

“I’m just here for a drink.” the girl smiled politely even though she was extremely uncomfortable.

“I am too, can I have it with you?”

“Oh for crying out loud leave her alone, don’t be such a creep.” The man at the end of the counter groaned.

“Mind your business.” the creep gritted his teeth.

“Your disgusting aura is polluting my drink so it makes it my business.” (Y/N) watched as he stood up and walked towards the pair. Now that he was closer, the woman could see how attractive he was up close, stunning eyes, sharp jaw, tall and a streak of dyed white hair, “Fuck off will you?”

“Who do you think you are?”

“Sorry, I forgot a world, fuck off please.” The stranger shot the man a terrifying glare and without another word, the man studded away, like a dog with its tail between his legs.

“Thank you mister, but if he laid a hand on me I would have sucker punched him.”

“Mister huh?” he smirked, sitting beside her.

“Well what’s your name then?”

“Jason, pleasure to meet you.”

****

“This is your place?” she hummed, fingers running through his soft hair as his lips trailed down her neck, pulling her legs around his hips.

“Mmh hmm,”

“You rich or something?” the woman breathed out as he sucked on her skin.

“Something like that,” he murmured, pulling away to tease her lips with his. Jason stared deeply into her eyes.

“What are you waiting for, lover boy? You brought me here.” (Y/N)’s arms hung loosely on his shoulders, occasionally touching the back of his head.

“Yes ma’am,” he smirked, hooking his hands under her legs and carrying her to his bedroom.

****

Glancing at her side to the soft breathing of the naked man beside her, she shuffled, stretching and yawning. What a night, she tried moving her legs but winced, what a night indeed.

“Good morning princess,” his morning voice was incredibly attractive as his arm slid around her waist, pulling her flush against him.

“Mmh, good morning,” the woman squirmed in his grip as he nipped at her ear teasingly with his teeth, “what time is it?”

“You have someplace to be?” he murmured, hand caressing her naked hip.

“Yeah, I have work.”

“On a Saturday?”

“Self employed.”

“Nice!”

****

A month or so later, Jason was frustratedly sitting in the meeting room, chewing on his lip in boredom as Bruce brought all of them to a meeting at Wayne Enterprise for less scrutiny from the public eye.

“The person we will be working on for the new design is going to arrive soon so I need you all on your best behaviour.” He glared at all the boys.

“Yeah yeah, can we just get on with it so I can leave?” The second oldest rolled his eyes.

“Mr Wayne?” as if on queue, the person knocked on the one-way privacy film that covered every window of the room, the blurred figure waiting patiently on the other side.

With a last scolding glance to everyone, Bruce strutted over, opening the door and smiling.

“Good morning Mr Wayne.” the woman greeted with a polite smile.

Jason’s eyes widened, and stayed that way even when he made eye contact with the girl. She responded with the same reaction, but quickly regained her composure and greeted the other boys.

“Oh hey (Y/N),” Dick waved to his roommate, “you look great.” He flirted.

“...Um hey,” she greeted hesitantly, feeling a little uncomfortable with his usual ways in the professional setting.

“Shall we get down to business.” Bruce glared at his eldest son.

****

“You don’t have to act so grumpy.” Jason rolled his eyes as they finally arrived at their hotel in Europe after an excruciatingly long flight.

“I’m tired, I need sleep.” Not wanting to address the elephant in the room, especially when she was this exhausted, she scurried to the bathroom to slip into comfortable pyjamas and landed right into bed, “I’m having this conversation tomorrow, good night.”

The next day came quickly and (Y/N) opened her eyes reluctantly, wanting to melt in the comfortable double bed she was in. Discreetly, she peeked at the double bed facing her diagonally.

The woman frowned, it was empty.

“I’m right here.” the man voiced from behind her as he exited the bathroom.

“Jason!” she screeched, “what the hell! Don’t creep up on people!”

“Well don’t try to spy on people when they are sleeping!” he threw his damp towel to her.

“Ewwwww!” she grimaced.

“Chill, I was drying my hair with that.” he walked towards his bed, and she only now noticed that he was naked -- with a towel around his waist obviously. Steam was emitting from his skin as it glistened still.

With warm ears, she pulled the covers over her face, eyes peeking out discreetly.

“We’ve seen each other completely naked, I don’t see what the problem is, if you’re going to look, be shameless,” he moved his butt from left to right teasingly, “you can see this regularly if you want,” he chuckled.

With a sigh, she buried herself under the covers.

“I haven’t changed my mind Jason, I’m sorry, I’m not interested in commitment at the moment.”

She felt a weight on the bed and hesitantly took a peep out. Jason was laying on her bed, shirtless but with some underwear on.

“At least give me the benefit of the doubt for this trip.” he gave her the puppy eyes. Eying him suspiciously, she sighed.

“Alright, fine, don’t disappoint.”

****

A few months or so later into the relationship with Jason and gotten closer to his younger brothers, (Y/N) slipped on a comfortable T-shirt, watching herself in the mirror as she tidied her hair a bit and examined the hickey on her neck.

Swaying lightly from side to side to the song that was stuck in her head, she hummed softly to herself, setting out her clothes for the day.

“You don't have to give me anything

Just put your sweet kiss kiss on my lips now baby”

Walking back to the mirror, deciding on whether or not jewelry was necessary, the woman continued.

“Think about you almost all the time, all the time and-”

“I love you so much baby,” he breathed out from the other side of the room.

“Hmm?” she glanced in the mirror.

“Keep singing~”

“No,” she stuck her tongue out playfully, “are you ready?”

“Do we have to go?” Jason whined, marching up to her, slapping her ass and squeezing it before hugging her from behind, nuzzling her hair, his warm skin against her.

“Baby of course we do, we have to hide the fact that we’re together, plus they are fun, we’re all friends here.” she rubbed her butt against his hips and he bit her ear.

“No teasing,” he whispered in her ear, turning her around and pushing her against the dresser, “or else.”

“Or else?” the woman chuckled, “but seriously though,” her hands cupped his cheeks as he stared at her lips, “we can’t act like a couple, it’s unprofessional,”

“Technically I don’t work at the company,”

“And the person I’m working with is your dad.”

“Adoptive, you have nothing to worry about.”

“Just a coffee, maybe a lunch, and then we can come straight home.”

“Mmh, okay,” he pouted, holding her tightly as she kissed his lips and pulled away. “You sing beautifully, please do it more for me.” he pouted. She chuckled, shaking her head slightly in embarrassment.

“Put a shirt on and let’s get ready, I don’t want to be late!” (Y/N) ushered, “and the sooner you’re out of here, the less anxious I’ll be that your brother unexpectedly enters his own home and sees you in it.”

When they were ready, at a somewhat reasonable time, they drove there as quickly and responsibly as possible.

“Why is your hand still on my thigh?!” (Y/N) jumped once she realised he had discreetly snaked his hand back on her thigh when he was parking the car on the side of the road, in a surprising proximity. Slapping his hand away and giving him a look, the woman slipped out of the car and walked up the stairs, ringing on the bell.

Jason scurried up beside her, slapping her butt playfully before pushing the door open.

“Hey guys!” she grinned, not having the time to scold her boyfriend once again as she was greeted with welcoming smiles.

“How have you been?” Dick teased, having seen her just yesterday.

After playful banter, and not-so-playful for the brothers, over a nice hot drink, a new topic came up.

“How was the party yesterday (Y/N)?” Jason inquired, knowing fully well about it but trying to seem inconspicuous, “I hope no one stole your heart, that’s for me!” … or not.

She paused, giving him an unimpressed look, reluctant to answer “It was great, and no.”

“No what?” he smirked. Her cheeks burned, she did not like being put on the spot to lie, especially since this was incredibly unnecessary.

“No one did anything.”

“To who-”

“This is embarrassing, we know you two are a couple,” Damian nearly gagged.

“Huh?” (Y/N) turned to him, feeling her soul leave her body.

“How do you know?” Jason looked at him.

“It’s been a while.” Dick chuckled.

“We been knew 💅,” Tim rolled his eyes.

“Someone left someone’s underwear in an awkwardly obvious place when I came around… and you slapped her butt before you came in here, everyone saw it.” Dick explained, watching his brother.

“OH MY GOD, JASON!”

“I didn’t- wait, how do you know that it’s her underwear???”

The eldest’s expression fell and he blushed.

“I might have um-”

“He accidentally came in when I was packing my bag to leave for the business meeting in France okay?” the woman spluttered.

“You did WHAT?”

Comments, votes and feedback improve motivation, writing and publishing, so it is in your best interest to leave some! :)

Want to be tagged? Let me know in whichever way you are the most comfortable with!

Tagging: @lumifuer @ijustwantmyshipstobehappy @plethora-of-things @xlatinaaxx @lostnliterature @batette @schweeeppess @gearsinice @mizmahlia @tina8009 @disa @caswinchester2000 @brooklynalpha @jason-todd-squad @vix360

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touyasdoll · 3 years

Text

Dumb Luck

From anon: Hi, I've had a shitty few days with terrible luck and I hoping a request for you could make things better. Just a simple Shoto x reader story where the reader regards Shoto as her/their lucky charm, because he makes them feel less cursed and actually valuable. (I'm really venting here, but I hope this gets your inspiration flowing, it doesn't have to be very long.)

Word count: 2.3k

A/n: I’m so sorry that it took so long to get to, but I hope you enjoy and I hope things are going well for you, anon 🖤

———————————

“All right, class, we have a new student. I trust that you will all make her feel welcome.”

Your new home room teacher was addressing the entirety of Class 1A, but he kept his intimidating gaze squarely fixed on a shorter looking boy with purple balls atop his head, who was clearly squirming under Aizawa’s stare.

Making a mental note to avoid whoever that boy was, you scanned the room to peer out at the faces of your new classmates. They all looked nice, save for one blonde boy who’s face seemed to be permanently transfixed in a scowl.

Maybe you should avoid him too? And that’s when you saw the most handsome face you had ever laid eyes on for the very first time. His hair was two-toned, red and white. His eyes were also heterochromatic and one was framed with a large scar, but both seemed to gleam as he offered a gentle smile toward you.

“Go ahead and introduce yourself and then feel free to take your seat at the back of the class next to Todoroki."

That’s when you noticed the empty seat next to him. You cleared your throat, trying to fight off the blush that was creeping across your cheeks.

"Hi, my name is Y/n. I'm looking forward to getting to know you all."

You smiled as you took in some more of your new classmates faces, feeling reassured by the bright smile on the face of a green haired boy who just might have been an actual cinnamon roll in disguise.

"What's your quirk?"

Your attention was called to a girl with horns and pink skin, who also offered a reaffirming smile in your direction.

"Oh, uhm, I have a telekinesis quirk."

Tucking some hair behind your ear, you shifted on your feet as you were about to take a step toward your assigned seat when another male student with bright red hair called out.

"What? That's so manly! I mean--not that you're--that's not what i meant, you're really pretty actually I--," he scratched at the back of his neck, his face flushing the same shade as his crimson hair. "I mean can we see your quirk? If that's okay with you?"

Aizawa sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he took a seat at his desk, shaking his head at the awkward exchange that he would rather just not acknowledge.

You laughed it off and blushed in response to the red head's compliment.

"Uh, yeah, if that's okay?"

Looking over at your teacher, he exhaled and nodded, his stoic expression returning to his persistently tired features.

"Oh, and uh pick a number between 1 and 10,000"

Setting your bag down, you nodded toward the boy and watched him bare his sharp teeth as he momentarily paused to think and then nodded in response to your request.

"Okay, I got it."

Maintaining eye contact with him, you focused on his thoughts while activating your quirk to lift his backpack off of his seat, guiding it toward the front of the room with your hands, before returning it to it's rightful place.

"Whoa! That's so cool!"

He grinned in awe as he watched his backpack settle behind him once again.

"Y/n?" The green haired boy had his hand up, looking perplexed, but also so polite as he waited for your attention. "Why did you have him pick a number?"

You smiled as you physically picked up your bag, slinging it back over your shoulder.

"Oh, because there's kinda two parts to my quirk, but actually, could you pick a number? I don't know if I wanna repeat the one he picked."

You watched the red head blush as he shrunk back in his desk, before glancing back at Todoroki, who eyes were still intent on your frame.

"You can tell Todoroki for confirmation, so you know I'm not faking."

He perked up a bit at the sound of you saying his name, the corners of his lips turning up in a shy smile before he leaned over, so that the boy could whisper his number in his ear.

"Got it?"

You smiled at Todoroki, his small smile making your stomach do flips before you found the will to look away from him and back and the other boy.

After a moment of concentration, you announced your guess.

"4,389. Right?"

His green eyes went wide and an excited smile broke across his freckled cheeks.

"Whoa, are you psychic? Telekinesis AND telepathy? That's so awesome! Oh my gosh, can I ask you some questions after class, so I can write some not--

You nodded, blushing a bit at his enthusiasm. You've always enjoyed your quirk, but no one had ever reacted quite as energetically to it and the rest of the class seemed almost as amazed as him.

"Wait, what was Kirishima's number?"

The perpetually angry looking blonde boy's face twisted in curiosity as you moved to take your seat.

"It was uh, six thousand, nine hundred sixty-nine. Right?"

Your voice was barely above a whisper as your quickly scurried toward your desk, not missing the deep shade of red Kirishima had turned before the blonde boy smacked his arm with the back of his hand.

"Is there some significance to that number?"

Todoroki's gaze followed you as you took your seat beside him, ignoring the laughter that had erupted throughout the classroom, much to Aizawa's chagrin.

"Oh, uh, yeah it's uh--I don't quite know how to explain it though. Uhm," fidgeting in your seat, you slung your bag over your chair before turning somewhat sideways, angling yourself in your seat to face him, keeping your voice low. "Do you not know why the number 69 is significant?"

His expression seemed to only grow more puzzled as he cocked his head further to one side.

"No. I can understand why 6,969 would be significant, seeing as it's 69 repeated, but I don't see why that number i--"

A boy with yellow hair, striped in the front with a bit of black leaned over, interrupting Todoroki's query.

Suddenly, his eyes grew a bit wider and he nodded slightly, the faintest hint of a blush creeping up on his cheeks.

"Oh, I see. Okay. I can see why that would be funny.”

His smile was small and somewhat reserved, but it was adorable and the sight of it made you giggle.

"Yeah, that's why I didn't wanna go with his number. Didn't want anyone to think that I was a perv or playing a gross joke or something. I'm not trying to start off on the wrong foot here."

He cocked his head slightly to the side again, turning somewhat in his desk the way you had to better face you.

"Well, I think you have made a good first impression. I like you."

Your cheeks may as well have gone up in flames, you could tell they were beet red.

"Oh, uhm, thank you, Todoroki."

Clearing your throat again, you hoped the excess color would drain from your cheeks in the time you took to stare at the floor beneath your desk.

"You can call me Shoto."

His hand awkwardly extended toward you after a brief pause, flashing in front of the view you had of your feet beneath your desk.

You reached out and shook it carefully, feeling an icy coolness in your palms that you were grateful for as you felt your hands clam up.

"It's really nice to meet you, Shoto. You're uhm, you're so much nicer than anyone I ever interacted with at my last school, so uh, thank you for that."

His brow furrowed in confusion as you both retracted your hands.

"What do you mean? They weren't nice to you? Why?"

You shrugged shifting your weight to rest your elbow on the desk, accidentally knocking your unprotected cell phone straight off the desk, which mercifully landed on top of Shoto's bag, which had fallen to the floor, no doubt saving your phone from what would have been a thoroughly cracked screen.

"Oh--! Oh, wow, I thought that was going to end up broken for sure. That would have been my just my luck."

"Maybe your luck is changing. I hope your experience here at UA is different than it was at your previous school. I'll do my best to make your time here more positive."

His smile was somewhat sheepish, but genuine and for the first time in a long time, you felt comfortable around your peers. Maybe transferring schools was a good idea after all.

//Two Weeks Later//

"Dang it!" You huffed as your hurriedly threw your books into your backpack, scrambling to get up from the desk in the library.

Shoto calmly looked up at you in your frenzied state and stood, beginning to pack up his things as well.

"Where are we going?"

Throwing your bag over your shoulders, you nabbed the last of your books off the desk and made a move to start toward the door, but stopped when you realized Shoto was getting up to follow you.

"I completely lost track of time. I have to catch the last bus to go and pick something up downtown and I think I'm about to miss it."

He nodded and stepped toward you, following you out the library doors.

"Sometimes the buses run a little late. Maybe if you're lucky, it won't have come yet."

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at his suggestion.

"Yeah, sure. Look, I will give you fair warning now; I'm one of the unluckiest people in the planet. The odds are super slim of even something small going wrong? My luck dictates that absolutely EVERYTHING will go wrong. At this point, I'm nearly convinced that a witch cursed me as a baby or something."

He shrugged, coming to a halt at the curb as a bus slowly began to pull up.

"I told you."

Your mouth gaped slightly as you shook your head.

"Okay, wow, well I'm glad you were right about the buses running late."

"I meant about what I said about your luck changing. I hope you've been having a better time here than at your last school. You deserve to, Y/n."

He stepped back and gestured for you to enter the bus ahead of him, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Oh, uhm, I--uh, I hope so."

You climbed up the steps and nearly tripped up the small flight of stairs, but his strong hands steadied your hips from behind before anyone could notice your falter, keeping you from making a fool out of yourself in front of a nearly packed bus.

"Thank you, Shoto."

You scurried toward the first set of open seats that you could find, letting your hair dangle in your face to try and conceal the heat on your face.

"Sorry, I, uh--," Shoto took a seat beside you, actively trying not to let his muscular thigh brush against yours, which was virtually impossible on a crowded bus, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable with the way I touched you, I--I just didn't--didn't want you to fall or anything."

Feeling a bit more brave in sensing how nervous he was over the interaction, you relaxed and let the arm and leg that were already pressed up against him in the tight quarters press against him a little more intentionally.

"It's okay, I appreciate you not letting me make an absolute fool of myself. Seems like you're always around to help me in that regard."

Giggling, you began searching for the nerve to look up and make eye contact with him.

Hearing him mumble something, you decided to dig deep and look up at him with a curious smile.

"Hmm? Did you say something?"

His left side was giving off more heat than usual as you noticed he was blushing too, scratching the back of his neck nervously with his right hand.

"Dumb luck, I guess. That I'm always around when you need it. I'm glad I can be, I hope I can, uh, continue to be. If you, i-if you would let me be around you more often lik--"

He was rambling, clearly nervous, and it was an adorable sight to see. Further emboldened by his demeanor, you shifted your weight to lean against him, brushing the back of his hand with yours.

"Are you trying to ask me out, Shoto?"

His expression went blank as he nodded, save for the adorable flush on his cheeks.

"I am. Did I do it right? Or---wait, did you read my mind?"

You shook your head as your giggled, knitting your fingers together with his.

"No, I didn't need to."

He smiled, shifting his weight to lean against you as he rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb.

"How did you know then?"

You shrugged playfully before resting your head against his shoulder.

"Dumb luck."

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girlwiththereapertattoo · 3 years

Text

begin again - part four

Jax Teller x female!Reader

Summary: After the return of her abusive ex-boyfriend, the reader plots her escape

Word count: 2,9k words

Warnings: bad language, alludes to the death of a minor character, physical & verbal abuse & kinda angsty

Author's note: Enjoy the fourth installment and all feedback is welcome! :)

If you’re in an abusive relationship or you suspect that someone you know is being abused, speak up and reach out to the correct people!

Beta read by @crucifixedbitch

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

💀💀💀💀💀

You examine your face in the mirror, pleased with the job you’ve done to conceal the marks left by B/N. Last night was brutal and you would do anything to erase it from your memory. To never have it happen again.

“Toots!” A loud pounding sounds on the bathroom door, “Come on, sweetheart, we’ve got to go.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I-I’ll be there in a second.” Moving quickly, you pack your makeup back into your cosmetic bag. “I just need to grab my bag.”

“Five minutes, okay?” he sounds irritated with you. “We’ll wait outside.”

With a shaking hand, you zip the bag closed and leave the bathroom for the bedroom. Your handbag is on the bed but your phone’s not on its usual spot at your bedside table and you just know B/N has something to do with its disappearance. And you know that it’ll be a while before you see it again. You’re so upset, it brings tears to your eyes but there’s no time for them. He’s waiting for you and being late will lead to trouble.

S/N and B/N are on the small patch of grass outside the house, kicking around a ball.

“You gotta kick the ball to me, okay kid? You gotta kick it hard.”

S/N scurries towards the ball and kicks it so hard, it zooms between B/N’s open legs and bounces off of the fence. They both cheer from excitement, and S/N runs straight into B/N’s open arms.

“That was amazing, buddy!”

You clap your hands, drawing their attention to you.

“Did you see that, Mommy?”

“I did, ace, and it was so good.” You walk over to join them on the grass, “Hey, sweet boy.”

You haven’t seen your son all morning. You lift him off the ground and hug him to your chest, it feels good to hold him so close to you, and for the second time in the last five minutes, you feel you might cry. The three of you make your way over to B/N’s rental SUV parked on the small driveway.

“Mommy, are you feeling cold?”

You briefly glance over to B/N who’s prepping the baby car seat. “A little. Mommy’s not feeling too well.”

“Do you need chicken soup?”

You chuckle and press a kiss to his forehead, “Will you help me make it when we get back?”

He pinky promises you to. You hand him over to B/N who buckles him into the car seat. It’s not his intention, but you can’t help but feel humiliated by S/N’s question. A turtleneck and jeans in the dead of the summer in Charming, California? That’s sure to raise suspicions.

“Baby, do you not think I should stay behind?”

B/N turns in his seat, brows furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

Pointing at your turtle neck, you explain, “It’s going to draw attention. It’s summer and I’m dressed for winter.”

“And you care what these people think of you?”

Yes, a lot. It’s your fucking hometown, of course, you care! You want to scream at him, claw at his face, but you’re weak. Pathetic. You can’t even muster the courage to get away from him.

“Sweetheart, no one’s going to be looking at you. Trust me.”

Ouch.

“Don’t ruin this outing by being so self-obsessed.” He starts the car’s engine and backs out of the driveway, “Do you want to listen to some music, buddy?”

Today’s your last day in Charming, B/N’s orders. Later on today, you’ll embark on a five-day road trip back to North Carolina. The idea of being trapped in the car with B/N has you regretting every decision you have made in your life that has led you to this point. Forty fucking hours? The car just isn’t big enough and no amount of eagerness from S/N can change your mind.

“When we get back, I need to see Mabel.”

Mabel’s a friendly neighbor who lives down the street from your mother’s. She moved to Charming a few months before your escape to Charlotte, and since your return, she has been a great help.

“Who’s Mabel?”

“She lives down the road.”

“Why do you need to see her?”

To use her phone to call Jax. “I want to give all my mother’s old furniture to charity. She offered to help me organize it.” It’s a believable lie, “It shouldn’t take more than ten minutes.”

After a dragged-out silence, he murmurs a soft ‘okay’ and warns you not to do anything stupid. “I might not be able to stop myself this time around.”

The chilling part is that it’s not an empty threat. You look back at S/N who’s softly singing along to ‘Old MacDonald Had A Farm’, gazing out the car window. Leaving Charming was a decision you made for his sake, to protect him from his father’s world. To give him a shot at a normal childhood, to raise him away from gangs and violence. Instead, you found yourself in the clutches of a wicked man who will one day kill you.

“Mommy, will we see Abel before we leave?”

“No,” B/N responds before you can.

God, you fucking hate him. Your feelings towards him are violent, and you’ve got to come out of the car before you act recklessly.

“Stop the car.” You unbuckle your seatbelt prompting the seatbelt alarm to go off. “Stop the car, B/N, now!”

He pulls into the empty parking space in front of a bridal shop. You frantically open the car door and stumble out of the vehicle, gasping for air. So glad to have distance from the devil you call your boyfriend.

“Toots, what’s wrong?”

You take a step away from him, needing the space. “I need to breathe, B/N.”

That upsets him. “What are you trying to do? Huh? Get in the fucking car so I can drive to the grocery store.”

You pace around in a circle on the sidewalk, contemplating your next move. You can’t run off, B/N could easily catch you and S/N’s still in the car. You can’t leave him, even though you know B/N would never harm him. He loves him too much. Think, think, think! You have a moment of clarity when you look across the street and see who you believe to be Bobby Munson sitting at an ice cream shop. What are the odds?

“Ice cream and candy!” You spin to look at B/N who’s shooting daggers at you. “I want ice cream and we need candy for the road trip, don’t we?”

“What are you doing, Y/N?”

You walk back to the car to open S/N’s door and start unbuckling him from his car seat. “D’you want ice cream, ace?”

His face lights up. “Ice cream! Ice cream!” he chants.

“Alright. Come on.” You shut the car door, S/N clutched tightly in your arms, “It’s just a small pit stop. Do you want any?”

B/N looks furious but there isn’t much he can do to you out in the open. He’s starting towards you when his work phone starts ringing. He has to take the call and so he tells you to go ahead, he’ll meet you inside the shop. You flash him a smile and make your way to Scoops & Sweets. Now that you’re closer, you’re certain it’s Bobby, and he’s standing behind the counter with his arm in a sling, drinking beer.

“Bobby?”

“Y/N?” His stony expression morphs into a smile, “Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi, Bobby.” For the first time in the last 12 hours, you feel safe. “I thought it was you.”

“Who’s the kid?”

“This is S/N,” you look proudly at your son. “Say hello to Bobby, ace?”

Bashful, he waves awkwardly at Bobby before concealing his face in the crook of your neck. You casually look over your shoulder to check if B/N’s still on his call before you turn back to Bobby.

“Bobby, is there a phone I can use? I want to call Jax, there’s something I want to tell him, and my phone’s broken.”

He looks out the window to B/N who’s pacing next to the rental. “Why didn’t you ask your friend to use his phone?”

“He doesn’t like to share.”

Bobby looks back at you. “Jax’s upstairs. Come, I’ll take you up to him. Bring the kid.”

Bobby calls for Chuckie who emerges from what you assume to be the staff break room. When you last saw Chuckie, he had fingers.

“What happened to your fingers?”

“Chinese cut them off,” he holds up his prosthetic hands. “These were a gift from Gemma.”

You regret asking. Bobby orders him to keep watch of the shop and starts leading you towards the flight of stairs.

“Uh Chuckie, a man will come in here looking for me. Could you tell him I went into the bathroom?”

Chuckie nods and you continue on your way with Bobby.

“Is this the new clubhouse?”

“Somethin’ like that.” Bobby leads you and S/N down a short hallway and stops in front of a closed door. He knocks once before he opens it, “Visitor for Jax Teller.”

The men in the room, consisting of Jax, Chibs, Tig, Happy, and Juice, all turn to the door. From their expressions, you’d swear they’ve just seen a ghost. You might as well be a ghost.

Jax raises off his chair and crosses the space to join you at the door. “Is everything okay?”

“Hi, boys. I’m sorry for interrupting your meeting,” suddenly, coming to Jax seems like a bad idea. But B/N. You put S/N on the ground. “I just wanted to see you before we leave this afternoon.”

Jax scowls.

“We’re headed back home to North Carolina. Driving.” You throw your arms around your ex, wincing at the discomfort you feel at the contact. “I’m so glad I could see you again.”

He returns your hug, holding you flush against him and you don’t care that you’re in pain. You’re vaguely aware of the fact that the bottom hem of your sweater’s risen, probably exposing the bruises on your lower back. There’s a pang of pain in your heart when he releases you. The tears blur your vision. God, you hate that you’re so emotional today.

“How are you getting home?”

“B/N arrived last night, he’s waiting for us downstairs.” Probably impatient and suspicious. “We should probably get going.”

Downstairs, B/N’s at the counter listening to Chuckie recount the time he had his fingers cut off by Lin’s men. S/N leaps out of your arms and runs over to B/N.

“Here’s your candy.” Chuckie slides two bags of candy to you, “Don’t worry about paying, it’s on the house.”

You smile at him. “Thank you.”

B/N snatches the candy from the counter and the three of you make your way out of the shop. It’s a short trip to the grocery store and luckily for you, there aren’t a lot of people buying groceries whilst you’re there. The tension from earlier has subsided, and the ride back to your mother’s house is a sing-along with S/N leading you. You’re helping B/N unload the bag of groceries from the car when you spot a familiar van at the end of your street.

“When will you go to Mabel’s?”

“After lunch,” you start unpacking the groceries, “I’m sure you boys are hungry.”

“Starving.” He leans over to press a kiss to the side of your head, “I’ll have a beer with my lunch.”

He leaves you in the kitchen to join S/N who’s building Lego in the living room. You’ve just finished laying all the lunch ingredients on the counter when you hear the thunderous roar of a motorcycle outside your house. Shortly after, a knock sounds.

“I’ll get it,” you call from the kitchen.

Unfortunately, B/N beats you to the door. He angrily signals for you to go back into the kitchen.

“Do as you’re fucking told,” he warns through gritted teeth. “Go back to the kitchen.”

You open your mouth to protest but he marches over to you, grabbing your arm harshly, and drags you through the kitchen to the laundry nook.

“You’re hurting me!” you complain, struggling in his firm grip.

The sound of the back of his hand connecting with your cheek bounces off the walls of the small space. You forcefully shove him away from you and try to escape but he hooks a strong arm around your waist and hauls you back into the nook.

“Let go of me!” you claw at his arms and the pain causes him to release you.

“You little bitch!”

He lunges towards you but you’re quicker than him. You grab the first item in your reach which happens to be an iron and whack him on the head with enough force to make him cry out from the pain. You dash past him and run to open the front door at the same time Jax is about to shoot at the door.

His scowl deepens at your disheveled appearance. “Where is he?”

“In the laundry nook. I hit him on the head but he’s still conscious.”

“Where is the kid?”

S/N! You run into the living room, your eyes frantically searching around the space for your little boy. His Legos are strewn on the floor but there’s no sight of him. “S/N?”

“Mommy!”

He’s behind the couch. You find him curled up, his eyes closed and his hands covering his ears.

“My baby.” You scoop him in your arms and carry him towards the front door. “Jax?”

He calls back from the kitchen and tells you to go outside. “Rat’s got the van out front.”

“But Jax–”

“Go!”

You rush out of the house, S/N cradled in your arms. You’ve just stepped onto the patch of grass when you hear grunts coming from the house. Ratboy meets you at the gate and takes S/N from your shaking hands to carry to the van. He helps you into the vehicle before he climbs into the driver’s seat.

“Where are you taking us?”

“Gemma’s.”

💀💀💀💀💀

S/N and Abel are asleep in Jax’s old bedroom and you’re sitting at Gemma’s dining table staring blankly into space. If you had been told a week ago that you’d be seeking asylum at Gemma Teller’s home, you wouldn’t have believed it. You replay the last twenty-four hours in your head, you’re somewhat in disbelief of all that’s happened.

Gemma places a gentle hand on your shoulder, drawing you back to reality. “Here you go sweetheart,” she places a steaming mug of herbal tea in front of you, “it should help calm your nerves.”

“Thank you.” You place both of your shaking hands on the mug, watching as Gemma takes her place across the table from you. “Have you heard anything from Jax?”

“No,” she reaches for the box of cigarettes on the table. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

You nod, your eyes dropping to the mug. “Did he… did he tell you why he had Ratboy bring me here?”

“Psycho boyfriend,” she takes a pull from the lit cigarette. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

The shame brings fresh tears springing to your eyes. It makes it worse to know that this time around, S/N was awake to hear it all. You feel like you’ve failed him, exposed him to the very thing you vowed to protect him from when you left Charming all those years ago.

“What do I tell S/N?”

“Nothing,” she stubs out the cigarette in the ashtray. “You shouldn’t worry yourself with that right now. You should try get some sleep, you can worry about that tomorrow morning.”

“I don’t think I’ll be getting much sleep tonight.” You take a small sip of the hot tea and sigh, “This is all my fault.”

“Sweetheart, no.”

“It is and now I’ve gone and gotten Jax involved in this mess.” The frustration is eating at you, “I just–”

You’re cut off by the kitchen door opening. Jax’s back. Thank the heavens! Gemma rushes over to greet him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Are you okay, baby?”

“I’m fine, Mom.”

Joining you at the table, Jax pulls you into him and tenderly strokes your back. All your fears and concerns are alleviated once you’re in his arms.

“Did he hurt you?”

He chuckles and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You shouldn’t be worrying yourself with that.”

“I can’t help it,” you laugh through your tears.

“You should get some rest.”

“All my stuff is back at my mom’s.” The thought of returning to the scene of last night’s brutality has you shuddering. You pull away from Jax and roughly dry your tears. “I don’t… I can’t–”

Jax pulls you back into him, holding you tighter than before, and gently rocks you. “He’ll never hurt you again.”

Guilt. You feel a tremendous amount of guilt. Is he dead? Possibly, and your guilt deepens when you recognize a small part of you overjoyed by the possibility. He deserves it. How could you even think that? No one deserves to die — not even B/N.

“How are you going to get rid of the body?”

He doesn’t respond to your question, instead, he tells you that he’ll get Rat to bring yours and S/N’s bags to Gemma’s.

“Jax, don’t leave,” you plead, the surge of panic hits you like a freight train and has you fisting the hem of his shirt. “Stay.”

He presses a kiss to your covered shoulder. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,” he assures you.

💀💀💀💀💀

PART FIVE

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mysterioushogwartsrequests · 4 years

Note

Would you do a slight NSFW Draco Malfoy imagine of him dating a Slytherin who's good friends with Hermione, Ron and Harry and she manages to convince Draco to go to the Three Broomsticks with the Golden Trio and be cordial with them since she's promised him some alone time if he's nice to them since she wants them to see that he's not all bad because they don't get what she sees him in?

Hello! This one took forever to write, I lowkey got stumped and I couldn’t figure out how to write the ending, lol. I didn’t want to go all-in so this is what I came up with. I love Draco Malfoy so I want to do him justice!

ϟ ϟ ϟ

Draco watched as (Y/N) (L/N) adjusted her lipstick in his dormitory mirror, studying her silhouette as she bent over his dresser. As an upcoming superstar for the Slytherin Quidditch Team, (Y/N) was quite popular and often found herself being the center of attention. But once the school caught wind of her relationship with the Draco Malfoy, it did not take long for them to be considered the power couple of Slytherin House. However, despite sharing a perfectly healthy relationship, there were a few students that questioned (Y/N)’s partner of choice.

These complaints came from the three most determined students of Gryffindor House. Despite being in separate houses, the Golden Trio and (Y/N) managed to become great friends, effectively breaking the hateful stereotype between Gryffindor and Slytherin relationships. During their second year, (Y/N) found herself in quite the predicament when she fell off a borrowed broom hours past curfew. She spent a fair amount of time sprawled across the training grounds staring up at the starry sky trying to ignore the excruciating pain of her broken arm. It was then that Harry, Ron, and Hermione stumbled upon her still body as they pursued the mystery of the Chamber of Secrets. Hermione Granger was the first to approach her, momentarily scolding (Y/N) for breaking the rules before examining the extent of her wounds.

Harry and Ron followed cautiously behind Hermione, the two of them exchanging worried looks before kneeling beside (Y/N).

“It’ll be alright,” said Ron with a sympathetic smile, “We’ll take care of you.”

From that day on the four of them were inseparable. Which was a natural outcome when a group fabricated lies to fool Madam Pomfrey or any other staff member, for that matter. When they were not chasing dangerous creatures within Hogwarts, they often spent their time near the Quidditch Pitch, with Harry and Ron teaching (Y/N) the basics of the game while Hermione reviewed her books from the ground. As time went on (Y/N), and Hermione calmly listened to Harry and Ron’s rants about Draco Malfoy and how much they despised him.

Being from the same house as Draco Malfoy, (Y/N) often found herself conflicted between choosing her friends and abiding by the “your house is like your family” statement. She could not think of one occasion where Malfoy had been rude to her directly, but she could not excuse his behavior towards her friends. It was not until Professor Snape paired them up for a Potions essay that (Y/N) and Draco began learning more about each other. Draco was used to boasting and putting on a show in front of other students, but he quickly realized that (Y/N) would not succumb to his usual tricks.

Draco lay comfortably against his bed, his arms crossed behind his head as his eyes landed on the plaid pleated skirt his loving girlfriend decided to wear for their Hogsmeade trip. (Y/N) looked at Draco’s reflection, a devious smile playing at her lips as she bent forwards, giving her boyfriend a better view of what he quietly desired. At this movement, Draco clicked his tongue and scowled in her direction, swiftly rising from his four-poster, and making his way towards her.

“Little nymph,” uttered Draco against her ear, rubbing small circles against her hips as she straightened up, “We could just stay. Avoid the trouble... and have a little fun ourselves.” Under different circumstances, Draco would have been thrilled to visit Hogsmeade with his beloved, but he knew they would not be spending the afternoon alone.

(Y/N) cleared her throat, her eyes landing on the silver “I” on Draco’s robes before excellently replicating Professor Umbridge’s high-pitched voice, “Boys and girls are not permitted to be within eight inches of each other,” she teased, leaning back into Draco’s grip as he scoffed. Spinning her around, Draco lifted her onto his dresser, pushing her skirt up farther up her thighs.

“I’d like to think I can change your tune rather quickly,” Draco snapped, pressing chaste kisses against the smooth skin of her neck, “I’ll never understand how you imitate that woman so perfectly” he added, earning a giggle from (Y/N).

“One of my many talents,” retaliated (Y/N), wrapping her arms around Draco’s neck, “You know, I can’t help but think this is your way of distracting me” she added, twirling small strands of his platinum blonde hair.

“Ugh,” groaned Draco, “I just don’t understand why we have to spend our Saturday with Potter and his stupid friends,” he spat but quickly scowled at (Y/N)’s hurt expression.

“I’ve told you before, Draco,” (Y/N) frowned, “They’re my friends too and I wish for us to get along. It took me a while to convince them, but they’ve agreed to give you one more chance,” she said, placing her hand against her boyfriend’s cheek, “I want them to see the real you, the Draco I fell in love with.”

Draco turned his head away from (Y/N) but held her hand to acknowledge her words. Despite being together for a little over a year, he still found it quite difficult to let his guard down completely. He supposed it was due to his family’s teachings and the expectations of his Father, but throughout his relationship with (Y/N), he came to realize there were far more important matters. One of them being keeping (Y/N) (L/N) safe and content.

“Fine,” Draco uttered, his grey eyes meeting hers, “I’ll do it for you, Darling” he added, pressing a gentle kiss against her forehead before capturing her lips in a sweet kiss. (Y/N) smiled against his kiss, pressing her forehead against his once he pulled away.

“I appreciate it, Draco,” She whispered, pressing a light kiss against the tip of his nose, “and don’t forget, I promised you a little reward if you behave.” (Y/N) added seductively, leading Draco’s hands underneath her short skirt.

Draco hummed contently, harshly squeezing the back of her thighs and lifting her against his body, her legs wrapping instinctively over his hips, “Well then, I’ll make sure to be on my best behavior,” He said, kissing her once again and setting her down in front of him, “We better get going, it’s not polite to keep them waiting.”

(Y/N) laughed at his change of behavior, taking one final look in the mirror, and heading towards the door. A loud smack suddenly filled the room, earning a small yelp of surprise from (Y/N), “Draco!” she exclaimed, turning to face her seemingly innocent boyfriend, “Why don’t you save the spanking for later?” she teased as Draco chuckled.

“Alright, alright,” He added, raising his arms defensively, “but you are aware of how much I adore those little skirts you wear.”

(Y/N) opened the door of the boys’ dormitory and took another glance back at Draco, “and that is exactly why I wear them,” She winked and scurried down the stairs, filling the stairwell with her giggles as Draco chased behind her.

ϟ ϟ ϟ

Meanwhile, at the Three Broomsticks, Ron Weasley let out his fourth impatient huff of the afternoon, leaning his hand into his palm with a noticeable scowl on his face. “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he grumbled, taking another swig of his Butterbeer as they waited.

Hermione sighed once again, “Ron, this is for (Y/N), just try to give him a chance.” Even though she was attempting to sound positive, Hermione could not help feel wary of what was to come. They had never seen eye to eye with Draco Malfoy and his new position on Umbridge’s Inquisitorial Squad made the situation even more cumbersome.

“Ron’s right, Hermione,” added Harry, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back into his seat, “I find it hard to believe that Malfoy has a ‘good’ side.” Hermione scoffed at his words, glaring at the crabby boys beside her, “Oh, stop it!” exclaimed Hermione, “You two know how much (Y/N) cares for him, we at least have to make the effort to talk to him.” Ron and Harry looked towards each other, exchanging abhorrent looks until Hermione elbowed them both.

“Bloody hell, Hermione!” exclaimed Ron, tenderly rubbing his aching side, but quickly shut up once he noticed the presence of his friend (Y/N) and her boyfriend. Hermione quickly rose from her seat and greeted (Y/N) with a tight hug before awkwardly turning to face the silent Draco Malfoy.

“Hello, Draco” she greeted, extending her hand for him to shake. Draco shifted his eyes towards (Y/N) who gave an encouraging nod as he gripped Hermione’s outstretched hand.

“Hello, Granger,” He replied, a meek smile playing at his lips as he turned towards the boys sitting at the booth, “Weasley, Potter, good to see you.”

Ron absentmindedly let his jaw drop, hesitantly replying “Erm- Good to see you too, Malfoy”, carelessly scratching his head as Hermione returned to her seat beside him. Harry, however, did not speak, he only acknowledged Draco with a subtle nod of the head as he sipped his Butterbeer. Draco smiled towards (Y/N), pulling a chair out and gesturing for her to take a seat, “I’ll go order us some more drinks,” He stated, kissing the top of his girlfriend’s head before sauntering away.

Ron watched Draco go in shock, “good to see you?!” he whispered harshly, slapping his hand against his forehead, “I sound like a prat!”. Hermione scowled once again, shooting a reassuring look towards (Y/N), “Ron’s just getting used to this, I’m sure he’ll behave once Draco returns” she stated comfortingly, taking (Y/N)’s hand into hers with a smile, “But honestly, I didn’t expect him to say that either.”

(Y/N) laughed, patting the top of Hermione’s hand as she glanced back at Draco at the bar, “I told you he was polite,” she added with a grin, “You just have to get to know him.” With nearly perfect timing, Draco returned and took a seat next to his girlfriend, wrapping his arm around the back of her chair. Ron examined the situation carefully, his protective instinct rising as Malfoy got closer to his friend.

“Madam Rosmerta will bring our drinks soon, I also requested an assortment of pastries” Draco spoke out, lacing his fingers with (Y/N)’s underneath the wooden table, “My treat,” he added, earning a satisfied smile from his girlfriend.

Some of Ron’s animosity disappeared at the mention of free food and he gave a small nod of appreciation towards Draco, “Thanks, Malfoy” he uttered, looking towards Harry and Hermione who were also having a difficult time understanding this “new” side of Malfoy.

A wave of silence fell over them. It seemed like they were unsure of who should speak first, but upon feeling the gentle squeeze of (Y/N)’s hand, Draco cleared his throat, “So, (Y/N) tells me you two taught her how to play Quidditch,” he added, nodding his head towards Harry and Ron curiously.

“Uh, yeah,” Harry replied, speaking up for the first time since the couple’s arrival, “(Y/N)’s a natural though, it didn’t take long for her to learn the basics.”

“That reminds me,” added Ron, grinning as Madame Rosmerta set down their freshly baked pastries and full goblets of Butterbeer, “(Y/N), you haven’t told us your favorite Quidditch team! I think you should have a pretty good idea at this point,” he said, bringing his cup to his lips to take a generous gulp.

(Y/N) took the opportunity to play a joke on her friends, taking a bite of her warm apple tart before saying, “Why! The Chudley Cannons, of course!”

Harry immediately regretted taking such a big drink, choking on the liquid before (Y/N) even finished her sentence. Hermione let out a panicked squeal, patting Harry’s back as he violently coughed, “T-The Chudley Cannons?! Have you gone mad?!” He exclaimed tearfully, looking towards (Y/N) in bewilderment.

Ron subtly placed his hand over his mouth, concealing his smile as Harry finished up his coughing fit. Draco, on the other hand, could not hide his amusement and snickered at Potter’s antics. (Y/N) burst laughing at Harry’s reaction, quickly shaking her head, “I was just pulling your leg! The Chudley Cannons are complete rubbish!”

Ron let out an angry scoff, “Hey! It is just a management problem! The players are quite good!” He defended while Harry violently shook his head.

“I’m glad it was just a joke, I was ready to take you to Madam Pomfrey” Harry exclaimed, dabbing his mouth with a napkin and sinking back into his seat.

“And what would she have done?” Hermione asked dubiously, taking a bite of a pumpkin pasty.

“Unless she knew a cure for madness, she would not have been much help,” chuckled Draco as he sipped his Butterbeer, earning a noticeable smile from Ron and Hermione.

Harry rolled his eyes and grabbed pastry off the tray, “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled in annoyance, “She could’ve examined (Y/N)’s head or something, I don’t know”

“Who do you follow then, Potter?” Asked Draco curiously, wrapping his arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders as they continued their conversation.

“Uh-” Harry paused, caught off-guard by his question“Well, the Bulgarian team has some great players, but I’d say it’s between them and Ireland” He admitted, recalling the 1994 Quidditch World Cup, “Can’t say I have a favorite, though”

“The Gryffindor team is definitely your favorite,” teased (Y/N), “but that is a bit biased since you are their Seeker.”

Harry playfully rolled his eyes at her comment, “Can you honestly say your favorite team isn’t the Slytherin team?” He asked, pointing an accusatory finger towards (Y/N). Both she and Draco laughed, shrugging at Harry’s reasonably accurate comment, “You got me there” she admitted.

“We are quite good,” Draco admitted proudly with a nod of the head, “Never lost a match until you came along,” he added, shrugging towards Harry, “I promise we’ll beat you next time, (Y/N) and I have been training non-stop.”

Harry snickered at Draco’s comment, “We’ll see about that, Malfoy,” he grinned, “I’m not going to let you off easy just because you’re with (Y/N).”

Draco clicked his tongue in amusement, “I want a fair match, Potter.” He stated sternly, “I wouldn’t be satisfied if I won a match just because you threw it”

“Then we’ll settle this on the field,” Harry stated confidently, raising his Butterbeer in satisfaction and finishing it off.

After a surprisingly pleasant outing, the five of them walked back towards the castle, hoping Professor Umbridge would not catch them sneaking in the extra special butterbeer Madam Rosmerta brewed per Draco’s request (and compensation, of course). Disregarding educational decree number twenty-six, Draco snaked his arm around (Y/N)’s waist, pulling her closer to him as they strode towards the Great Hall. Once there, Hermione gave (Y/N) a hug as they happily exchanged goodbyes for the evening. Draco and (Y/N) gave the Golden Trio one final wave before turning towards the direction of the Slytherin common room, making their way there quicker and more excitedly than usual.

Delighted to find his dormitory empty, Draco urged his girlfriend into the room and swiftly locked the door. Although he would not give her the satisfaction of knowing this information, he actually had a great evening at Hogsmeade with (Y/N) and her friends. However, this realization did not deter Draco’s excitement as he recalled his dear girlfriend’s promise before they left.

Placing a hand against the small of her back, Draco pushed (Y/N)’s stomach against the dresser she used to tease him earlier. “I’d say I put forth my very best manners today, wouldn’t you agree?” He muttered against her ear, earning a small gasp from her as one of his hands gripped her hip and the other sneaked towards the buttons of her shirt. A sultry moan slid past (Y/N)’s lips as Draco’s hips ground against her clothed behind.

Encouraged by her noises, Draco wrapped his fingers underneath her chin and lifted it so their eyes met in the mirror, “Should I take that as a yes?” He asked huskily, pressing a kiss against her cheek as he gave her throat a squeeze.

The boldness she exhibited earlier quickly cast out the window as she gave a rather desperate nod, enthralled by Draco’s movements. (Y/N)’s mind had strayed farther than she had expected it to. It did not matter how confident she acted before their usual teasing started, as soon as his expertly calculated movements began, she became putty in his hands. The feeling of his fingers tracing lines up her thigh until they were hidden under her skirt made her heart beat wildly. Draco carefully inched his fingers up her inner thigh, ghosting them over her dampening core, but moved them away without pressing them into her. Shifting her hips, (Y/N) let out another small whine as she attempted to at least brush herself on Draco’s fingers, earning a small tut from him.

“Cat got your tongue, Princess?” inquired Draco, his hands moving to flip her skirt up, exposing the flimsy black lace underwear she flashed earlier, “I’m not going to do anything until I hear that pretty little beg of yours…” he added, removing his hands from her body and loosening his emerald green tie, his school robes discarded at his side. Draco’s words sent shivers down (Y/N)’s spine, his low tone forcing her thighs together to provide some friction, something her observant boyfriend had taken note of.

“Oi, where are your manners?” he retorted, gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. Fed up with her silence, Draco slapped his hand against her exposed ass cheek, the cold, silver rings decorating his fingers adding another layer of pleasure as she gasped harshly. “I’m not going to ask you again,” With that, Draco hooked his index fingers underneath the lacy fabric and yanked it down her ankles, her arousal on full display.

“I-I’m- Please, Draco,” (Y/N) whined out, squeezing her thighs together in front of him, “I need you, please touch me..!” She begged, another gasp overtaking her as Draco swiped two fingers against her folds.

“That’s a good girl,” He praised, dipping the press a kiss against the back of her neck, smirking at her moans as he finally inserted a finger inside of her, “Keep making those noises for me and I’ll reward you” demanded Draco, lowering himself onto his knees as he pumped his fingers. Flattening his tongue against her folds, (Y/N) let out a sensual moan, her hands reaching for the corners of the dresser in an attempt to anchor her shaking legs. Draco smirked as (Y/N) shuddered at the sudden loss of contact, rising to his feet while he fiddled with his belt, “Let’s get started then, shall we?” He stated, kicking his trousers away and gripping (Y/N)’s hips tightly, her skirt pushed up to her waist as he ground his erection against her needy core.

As their moans and groans echoed throughout the empty room, Draco could not help but think about giving in to her requests more often. If all of them ended with her writhing and calling his name underneath him, he did not have any qualms with entertaining Potter and his friends for the afternoon.

#Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy reader insert #draco x slytherin #Harry Potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter hogwarts mystery imagines #harry potter smut #draco malfoy x reader smut #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy smut #hogwarts imagine #hogwarts request #hogwarts fanfic

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cilliansgirl · 3 years

Text

wounds ✧ theseus scamander

Pairing: Theseus Scamander x Fem!reader, Newt Scamander x Fem!reader

Warnings: maybe some swearing, mentions of sex, blood

Summary: “Who is he? The guy that you were with last night?” The woman exclaimed, “I wasn’t with anyone. Your brother had invited me over for dinner, so be careful before you go making assumptions about someone.”

GIF IS NOT MINE

Y/N strode through the British Ministry of Magic, slipping into the elevator before the sliding door could close. She pressed the button to level four, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. As the elevator door slowly opened, she ran out of patience for it to open completely, wedging herself between the door and the wall of the moving cylinder. She quickly paced down the corridors, making various turns on the way to her office.

Inside, she was panicked, her body flooded with anxiety. Her report was due to Travers first thing in the morning and she hadn’t even started. How was she going to fit two months worth of events into three hours? Oh, she dug her hole deep this time. She finally reached her office; once the grand door was closed, she threw off her heels and scurried over to her desk. Y/N sorted and ruffled through the papers on her desk, her anxiety growing the more papers she scattered.

Come on, come on. It has to be here. I knew I put it in this stack.

She turned around to face the monstrous book shelves that only a library would have. Her hands delicately swept over numerous books, trying her best to remember if she had stuck the blank report in one while she was researching.

“Looking for this, I presume,” the gruff voice spoke from the balcony.

Her head suddenly turned faster than a thestral could fly. She met eyes with the icy blue ones she knew all too well. The tall man walked down the stairwell, sure enough grasping the blank report in his hands. Her bare feet padded against the marble floor so they met in front of her desk. They were standing close to one another, maybe too close.

“Give it back, Thes.”

He sighed, stepping back to sit in the leather club chair placed in front of the engraved wooden rectangle. He extended his arm out to her, gesturing to take the file from his grasp. Once she responded and reached out for the report, he cruely snatched it back to his body.

“Theseus,” Y/N stated back in a warning tone.

He cleared his throat, an evident smirk on his face, “On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“Where were you last night?” He raised his eyebrows as his smirk faltered.

“No,” she spat back, walking behind her desk to sit in her own chair awkwardly, “that is none of your concern.”

He adjusted his position so he leaned closer to the girl, “Because I stopped by your place and you weren’t there. It’s kind of ironic. The night you come back from a two month assignment, you’re miraculously not at you flat.”

Y/N squinted her eyes, “Why were you at my flat?”

“I was being a nice friend and checking up on you. So, I went to your place, but didn’t find you, so I left.”

“I’m sorry Theseus, I-”

“Who is he?” Theseus interrupted.

She scoffed, “Pardon me?”

“Who is he? The guy that you were with last night?”

The woman exclaimed, “I wasn’t with anyone. Your brother had invited me over for dinner, so be careful before you go making assumptions.”

She abruptly stood up, placing her heels back onto her feet as she walked out the door. As she passed Theseus, she snatched the report out of his hands, the force of the swipe startling him. Something boiled in his veins. He didn’t know if the feeling was jealousy, anger, betrayal, sadness, or all of the above. As quick as he could be, he apparated to Newt’s place. Without thinking, he was banging on the door, demanding Newt to open the wooden frame. Once he did, Newt was shocked to find a very angry Theseus at his door.

“What is wrong with you?” Theseus screamed, allowing himself into the flat.

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you are talking about,” Newt answered.

Theseus’s face reddened out of anger as he pointed a finger at him, “You know how I felt about her. You, you git! And still, you invite her over for dinner and she stays over here.”

Newt was confused, astonished even. He thought she told Theseus about the wound. That is, the only reason Y/N came over. Maybe to catch up as well, but that was after Newt had given her something to heal the pain.

“Well, say something!” Theseus sternly stated.

“I-I think,” Newt huffed, “Y/N came to me. She didn’t want the Ministry to find out she was hurt on her assignment to Romania. Y/N’s hip and lower abdomen were burned by a Hungarian Horntail. There’s nothing much you can do to heal it with a wand, so I helped her and applied some potions to the burn and-and I wrapped it for her. She did mention avoiding St. Mungos because the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary had told her there is nothing that they could do. But, but I-I thought at least she had told you.”

Theseus asked, “If Y/N was hurt why did she go into work this morning?”

Newt quickly shook his head while diverted his contact from Theseus’s eyes, “That’s not, um- I told her that it would be wise not to go in and report sick. But she never seems to listen to me and my instructions. I applied Burn-Healing Paste around the area and then I wrapped it with a mixture of plum leaves to counteract the pain. I insisted that she stayed the night so that she could rest and that way I could check up on her if she needed it. That was it Theseus, I swear to you nothing else happened.”

There were so many thoughts processing through Theseus’s head. Why didn’t you tell him the truth? Why didn’t you tell him that you were hurt? Did you not trust him enough? Why did you come running to Newt instead of him? All he knew is that he needed to get to you as soon as possible and set everything straight.

“I am sorry for getting upset with you Newt,” Theseus apologized.

“It’s okay,” Newt replied, his gaze focused on the floor as he fidgeted with him bow tie, “I suppose if the roles were reversed, that I would feel the same.”

Before Newt registered what was happening, Theseus had embraced him in a warm hug. A forgiving hug. Newt wasn’t a big hugger himself, but this once he responded back and wrapped his arms around his older brother.

“Theseus, I think now would be a good time to tell Y/N how you feel about her.”

Theseus smiled softly as he pulled away, “Alright, Newt. Thank you.”

Theseus hands remained on Newt’s shoulders. Before Theseus apparated, his hand reached up to pat the side of his brother’s gentle face. As soon as Newt blinked, Theseus was gone. Although Newt was not the wishing type, he hoped with all of his being that Theseus and Y/N would get this sorted out. Not only because they are best friends, but because Newt sees the love both of them have for each other.

Back at the comfort of her own home, Y/N was distracting herself with chores. She hadn’t visited her London flat since she had decided to go to Romania. As much as she seemed clam and collected, her feelings were quite the opposite. She hated to admit it, but being back in London has set a terrible feeling of uneasiness over her body.

Uneasiness...that's all she could feel. The atmosphere of London brings back memories. Memories of work, memories of her personal life. Memories of the night she left. All of the above she wanted to forget. Maybe that's why she accepted the job in Romania so quickly. Maybe she wanted to get away from everyone that had hurt her. She shuddered thinking of the old time. She had placed the cleaning supplies away on the top shelf, and just as she was going to make herself a cuppa, there was a sudden pain in her side.

"Merlin," she mumbled.

She quickly but cautiously made her way to the full-body mirror that stood upright in her room. Y/N gently lifted her olive green blouse and immediately cursed herself. Her gaze met with dark red liquid seeping through the plum leaves that were sealed to her body. She discarded her shirt to avoid staining blood on it, careful not to strain the wound anymore than it already was. She paced to her bathroom, opening her medicine cabinet that stood next to the porcelain-top sink. Browsing hastily through all the bottles and bags, she quickly tried to find the burning paste that Newt had given her. However, the more Y/N moved her body, the more nauseated she had become. After finding the burning paste, she stripped her slacks, leaving the girl in her undergarments. She couldn’t determine whether her tripping and stumbling was from dizziness or urgency, but she knew if she did not sit down soon, she was going to faint. Y/N turned and snatched multiple wash rags and sheets of gauze to soak up the spilling blood while she applied pressure to the wound.

Too preoccupied with the task at hand, Y/N had not even heard the almost urgent knocking at the door. She also did not hear the footsteps of her best man walking through the apartment. Suddenly, he bursts through the bathroom door, clearly making himself known.

“THESEUS!” Y/N jumped, attempting to cover herself decently without straining the wound.

Much to Y/N’s dismay, Theseus observed the scene of the bathroom quickly. Blood-satined rags and towels scattered across the cold tile floor while medical equipment was on the counter. Theseus did not hesitate to walk towards the cowering girl. But as he approached her, Y/N’s arms flailed around, repetitively hitting Theseus in the chest, pushing him back. Before she knew it, Theseus had grabbed both of her wrists and pulled her body close to his to avoid her relentlessness.

“Stop, stop it. Y/N listen to me, you’re going to make the bleeding worse. Stop it,” he spoke sternly.

“Theseus, get out! Get out! I don’t want you here!”

“Darling, let me help you. Please let me help you.”

She would be lying if she said that his words didn’t flutter her heart. Honestly, it wouldn’t be anything Theseus hadn’t seen before. Reluctantly, she let Theseus take her robe off, giving Theseus a full view of the wound.

He gently brushed around the sensitive skin surrounding the inflammation. Y/N winced as he applied pressure to an area above her rib.

“Come on, “ Theseus muttered, taking her hand and leading her to sit on the edge of the bathtub. Theseus cautiously applied the burn paste and wrapped the bandages around Y/N’s torso. He stepped away, wiping off his hands with one of the discarded rags. He helped Y/N stand up, guiding her to the bathroom sink. He picked up her silk robe from being draped over her vanity and gently slipped it over her shoulders, carefully easing her arms through the designated positions. They stood next to one another, both leaning against the porcelain sink. There was silence as time passed, as if the both of them were scared to talk to the other.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Theseus asked, leaning against the sink.

“I was scared of how you’d react,” Y/N replied.

“Scared of what?”

Y/N turned and walked to the master bedroom, Theseus following close behind for precaution.

“I was scared that you would find out I was hurt and pull me out of Romania, that’s why I didn’t tell you. You are Head Auror now, so you can do that. And Merlin, Theseus, I know how you are; if I would have written Travers saying I was burned by a Hungarian, you would have come and got me yourself.”

He sighed, “I wouldn’t have.”

Y/N’s head whipped around, “No! You don’t get to do that! You don’t get to say that because you would have. And then, to top it all off, I come home and you put me in an uncomfortable position because you’re acting like everything is fine when everything is not fine. It made me feel like I couldn’t tell you. That’s why.”

Theseus’s eyes flashed between hers, “Tell me what’s not fine.”

“Merlin, Theseus! You’re so ignorant and oblivious!” Y/N stressed, her hands running through her (h/c) hair.

Her eyes met his, hers burning with rage and frustration as his were with confusion.

“Theseus, the night before I left, we spent the night together. We spent the morning together before I left. The moment before I left for Romania, you said you would wait for me. Then I come back, ready to jump in your arms and give you the biggest hug ever imaginable, yet you weren’t there. So I sought comfort at Newt’s.”

Theseus looked away, shaking his head profusely, “No.”

Y/N scoffed, “No what, Thes?”

Theseus looked back into her (e/c) orbs. Y/n couldn’t read his face, but there was a flash in his eyes, a hint of passion.

“No, you’ve got your story wrong,” Theseus grabbed her wrists and pulled her gently against him.

He brought her hands up to the sides of her face while hers rested on the lapels of his suit, “I’m still waiting for you.”

Instinctively, Theseus and Y/N both leaned in, their lips cascading in the wave of emotion that was built up within their months apart. The kiss was passionate, nothing but the love and yearning they had for one another. They pulled away, catching their breaths while their foreheads rested against another’s. Theseus’s right arm slipped down to drape on her waist while his left stroked the side of Y/N’s face.

“I love you, Theseus. I have ever since 4th year,” Y/N whispered.

He chuckled, “Good, because I’ve loved you since 5th year when you spent the holidays with me.”

Y/N’s arms wrapped around his waist, embracing him in a hug while her head rested on his chest.

“Thank you for waiting on me.”

“Anything for you darling,” he mumbled as he kissed the crown of her head.

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

A/N: Okay this sucked really ,really bad. But, I just love my baby Theseus.

#newt scamander x reader #theseus scamander x reader #theseus scamander #fantastic beats the crimes of grindelwald #fantastic beats and where to find them #fantastic beasts #newt scamander #theseus #newt #jk rowling #harry potter #wizarding world #imagine #theseus scamander imagine #fluff #etc

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fandom-imagines-stories · 3 years

Text

Star Wars Pajama Pants

Dr. Spencer Reid x Reader

Words: 873

Summary: Having made a breakthrough in the case you're both working on, Spencer stops by your hotel room to relay the information… at three in the morning. Since you packed your favorite PJs for this trip, your nerdiness is exposed.

Notes: No this isn’t based off of my own PJs, why do you ask? Something short and silly and sweet since I have some darker Spencer imagines coming. I also came up with this idea at one in the morning sooooooo enjoy.

Find more Spencer and more HERE

He figured it out. The first step that the two of you had been desperately trying to find and he finally knew what it was. And he couldn’t wait until morning to tell you.

Spencer nearly ran down the hall to the room that you were staying in. He knocked lightly at first, almost reluctant to wake you up. Maybe it was the time crunch of the case or just his eagerness to tell you that made him knock a little louder.

“Y/L/N!” He whisper-shouted through the door. If anyone had walked by, they would probably think he was nuts; wide-eyed and holding crime scene photos at 2:45 A.M. He was tempted to give up and wait until morning, but a small click from the other side of the door made him stay.

You squinted, the bright light from the hallway nearly blinding you. While the lack of evidence on this case was eating at you, you had tried to get a little bit of sleep to keep from burning yourself out. Your partner on the case, however, evidently had not.

“Reid?” You groaned.

“I found the connection between the victims.” He blurted. You let him into your room and turned on the light. He started to lay out different pictures on your unmade bed and turned around to do his showing off thing when his eyes fell to your legs. “Are those… Star Wars pajama pants?”

And just like that you were as awake as you’d ever been. You didn’t want to know how red your face turned. Not only were you wearing pants that had little cartoons of different Star Wars characters all of them, they also had ‘Jedi Knight’ written across the butt.

“What did you figure out?” You squeaked, hoping to distract him with the case. He finally lifted his gaze from the fleece R2-D2 to your face.

“Right. I think I know how the killer is choosing victims.” He pointed to one note on each of the three files. You took a closer look.

“They all colored their hair?”

“Every woman found was brunette, but none of them used to be.” This was the part he was excited about. “And, after some digging and help from Garcia, I found that they all had their hair dyed at the same salon.”

“The killer probably works there.” You exclaimed. “Reid, you really are a genius!” You pulled him into a hug before you had the chance to stop yourself. He tensed for a second, but then he hugged you back. Embarrassed, you pulled away quickly. “We’ll-uh- we can tell the team first thing in the morning. Like Hotch said, we need to be at the top of our game to catch this guy, you and I should get in bed.” And your brain spiraled it from there. “Not together! I just mean we should go to sleep. Separately. In our own rooms.”

Reid just stared at you blankly. You were pretty sure he wasn’t blinking. Oh god, why are you the way that you are? You waited for him to laugh at you or to awkwardly leave, but he didn’t. He just ran his fingers through his hair and blew out a breath, glancing down at the floor.

“So… Star Wars?” He looked up at you with those big hazel eyes that made your heart stop. You laughed nervously and rubbed the back of your neck.

“Yeah… my parents were really into them, so I basically grew up loving them.” His mouth spread into a smirk. “What? Did you think you were the only nerd on the team, Reid? Because I know I may look like a badass FBI-” His lips were on yours before you could finish. He was kissing you. Reid was kissing you! And you were definitely kissing him back. He pulled back and smiled awkwardly.

“Sorry. I just really wanted to do that.” He gathered up the files and tucked a hair behind his ear. “Goodnight.” He scurried towards the door and for a moment you just stood in shock.

“Spencer, wait.” You ran after him, nearly running into him in the hallway.

“If I made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry-” You kissed him before he could finish. This time, you were grinning from ear to ear.

“Spencer, I was just going to ask if, once we’re done with this case, you’d maybe want to come to my place for a movie night?” Your confidence shrunk a little until he nodded.

“I’d like that.” This kiss was slower and less urgent than the other two. It was just sweet and, dare you say, hopeful. You only pulled away from lack of oxygen. Spencer laid a hand on your cheek and pressed his lips sweetly to your forehead. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Reid.” You resisted doing a little happy dance as he walked back to his room. When you turned back to go into yours, you froze. Standing just down the hallway was Morgan and he had a very satisfied looking smirk on his face. If you weren’t blushing before, you definitely were now. “Aren’t you supposed to be asleep, Morgan?”

“Hey, I’m just getting ice.” He chuckled, his eyes dropping to your pants. “Nice PJs.”

I forgot to do the tag list for the last one. My bad!

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagines #Matthew Grey Gubler #my husband #star wars pajamas

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someonestolemyshoes · 3 years

Note

So... during the time skip, Hange is on a business trip to Marley. Levi stays home to deal with some installation or important project for Hange, gets injured in some stupid way, falls off scaffolding or something. And he doesnt think too much of it because it's such a stupid way to get injured. And he hides it even when it gets worse and Hange is the only one who notices because she knows him so well. BUT when she gets back, it gets worse. And Levi hates hospitals so Hange forces him to go <3

Hello! Thank you so much for the prompt :) I’m not super thrilled with the way this one turned out, but I had a lot of fun anyway, and I hope you enjoy it! Angst ahead, if that’s not your thing.

(Drinking game: take a shot every time Levi says he’s fine)

Levi was no stranger to pain. While he had been luckier than most, Levi had sustained his fair share of injuries. Bruises and breaks were commonplace. Pain became easier to handle, wounds less debilitating to endure.

It didn’t make them hurt any less.

It wasn't a particularly bad accident, but it was a particularly stupid one.

Hange had been tied up in meetings for days, stuck inside Sina with other military personnel, with carnivorous media, with business moguls eager to ensure their pockets would be well lined by any negotiation plans with Marley and their neighbouring countries.

She had taken Armin and Jean alongside her; Armin had a mind with similar mechanics to her own, and as such he was best suited to help her formulate a compelling case with their higher ups, while Jean had attended at Levi’s insistence. Hange had already made it clear that, with Armin gone, they needed somebody to oversee continued construction on the railway line, and Levi, uneasy with the idea of Hange being without an attack dog, had demanded Kirstein attend in his place. The brat was becoming something of a budget Moblit, always trailing after Hange whenever she was around—Levi thought he looked a little pitiful, following her around like an eager puppy, but he supposed he was grateful for it now, if it meant he had no objections taking a trip into the interior with her.

Levi had been left with the rest of the brood. Eren and Mikasa worked diligently, though Eren—distant and despondent as he had been since the Queen’s address after Shiganshina—remained sullen, while Mikasa alternated between shooting Eren looks of concern, and staring scathingly at Levi whenever he came into view. She tolerated him far better, these days, but Levi was unsure she’d ever fully forgive him for his public display at Eren’s trial.

No matter. She did as she was told, reluctantly as may be. Connie and Sasha, on the other hand, were proving problematic.

They lacked focus. The four of them were working on construction of a rail house near the coast, somewhere to store equipment for maintenance, with a few flat beds for workers to rest in between commutes. The walls were coming along, but the space was still lacking a proper roof, covered only by tarp to keep the metal beams and frames inside from rusting before they could be treated and on the tracks. Eren and Mikasa were working quietly on one side, while Connie and Sasha were goofing off on the other.

Levi clicked his tongue. The work was, in theory, far less hazardous than slaying titans had ever been, but they were still a couple of stories in the air on flimsily constructed scaffolding, without any gear to catch them if they fell. The drop wasn’t deadly in itself, but the inside of the half-built hut was full of great mounds of metal, beams and poles and wires covered only by papery thin sheets. A fall onto that, from this height, would result in breaks and bruises at best.

"Oi,” Levi called, making his way around the rickety structure. Connie and Sasha either did not hear him, or chose to ignore him. That had been happening upsettingly often, of late; whatever intimidation tactic Levi had employed when they were still bratty kids had lost its effect. Connie teetered around Sasha as she tried to smear mortar on his cheek, edging along the scaffolding on only his toes until he made his way around her. Levi picked up his pace and called again, more of a snarl this time, a warning, but Sasha let out a shriek of delighted laughter as she managed to slap a trowel full of mortar on the top of Connie’s head. Neither of them heard him.

“You fall and break your necks and Hange will kill me,” Levi said. Sasha twisted to look at him but offered only a smile. Levi was within feet of them, when Connie moved quickly behind Sasha—he was doing nothing suspicious that Levi could see, but Sasha, awaiting retaliation, tried to scurry hurriedly away. Her foot missed the edge of the scaffolding, and there was a fraction of a second in which her eyes widened, body tilting, before Levi moved.

His hand closed around her wrist. With a sharp tug, he jerked her back onto the safety of the scaffolding, but in his rush to grab her he hadn’t the time to brace himself—with his weight unbalanced, the force of his pull sent his body careening forward, tipping over the edge of the plank.

He barely managed to release his grip on Sasha before he lurched over the edge.

It didn’t make them hurt any less.

Levi hit the beams with a resounding clatter. Metal clanged and wood splintered, dust gathering in great plumes as Levi hit the tarp. The beams, built with enough strength to hold steam engines, had no give to them—Levi struck one solidly with his side and his body bowed around it. Something—his ribs, his spine—crunched on impact. The sudden stop made his neck whip down, temple cracking hard against the stone floor.

Every last drop of air punched out of his lungs and a white, dizzying pain exploded in his head. He slumped the rest of the way to the ground, gasping fruitlessly, but his chest, all empty, crushing pressure, would not expand, would not allow for a single wheezing breath.

He lay in a heap on the cold stone. Dimly, he could hear voices, the clatter of feet on wooden planks and the echo of sturdy shoes on the scaffold poles as the kids clambered their way down to him, but everything sounded muffled and distant, warbled by the pound of his pulse and the rush of blood in his ears. He blinked rapidly, squeezed his eyes closed to push the fuzziness from the edges of his vision, then gathered himself slowly, shifting to lay on his back. His every muscle felt tight, seizing from the shock of the impact and sharp, stabbing pain, but despite the tension, something in his side felt loose. He sucked in a few small breaths, pausing at every spike of pain before trying again, and then he pushed himself up to sit. His head felt thick and full, stuffy, too heavy for his neck to hold up. It throbbed with the change of position, a crack of pain so sudden he thought his skull might split in two. He resisted the urge to grab at it as the kids’ footsteps sounded close by, several sets of feet scuffing and clicking against the stone.

Levi pre-empted their concern with a wheezy, “I’m fine,” as Mikasa, followed swiftly by the others, rounded the corner and stopped short of him. “Get back to work.”

None of them moved. Levi focused his swimming gaze on them as well as he could, attempting a glare, but the corner of his eye and the side of his face felt fat, skin tight over the rapidly swollen flesh, and his breathing was tight, uneven, chest jerking with each attempt to fill his empty lungs. Nobody looked intimidated by the sight of him—in fact, all four of the little brats looked almost frightened.

“Captain…” Eren said. Levi scowled, fought not to wince.

“I’m fine.” Gritting his teeth to muffle each pained grunt, Levi grabbed a nearby beam and used it to drag himself up to his feet. His head spun, the ache intensifying to something almost unbearable, and that, coupled with the sickening grinding sensation in his side as he straightened up, was enough to make him sway on the spot. Mikasa was the first to step forward, hovering awkwardly. Levi suppressed the manic urge to laugh—there was some irony somewhere in Mikasa, grudge so steadfastly held, being the one ready to catch him if he fell. Levi shooed her away. His chest ached something terrible, a persistent, resounding swell behind his rib cage. It should be impossible to feel so full, so bloated, yet so empty at the same time.

“You should rest a little more,” Eren said, at the same time Sasha erupted with a wailed apology. Connie looked pale and guilty behind her.

“Hange wants this—shitty thing—finished, by the time—she gets back.” Levi hitched stilted breaths as he spoke. He took a careful step forward. His side screamed, and his head pounded, but he remained upright, which was good enough. He passed by Connie and Sasha, who both looked ashen-faced, and clicked his tongue against his teeth. They’re too tall now, so tall he almost lost his precarious balance when he stretched up to pat them both roughly on the head. Then he brushed past them with as much ease as he could manage.

“Hurry up. The damn walls won’t build themselves.”

Levi had expected to be better by the time Hange returned.

The pain had not subsided at all in the three days that passed between the injury and Hange’s arrival—if anything, it had intensified, and Levi’s bouts of dizziness and breathlessness were near constant. He hid it as well as he could from the others, compensating with vicious scowls and quick, barked instructions, but he couldn’t escape their concerned glances.

The building, at least, was almost complete. They had laid the rafters for the roof the day before, and were hammering on the felt when Hange, Armin, and Jean appeared in the distance.

The weather was blisteringly hot. Eren and Connie had removed their shirts long ago, while Sasha and Mikasa had tried fruitlessly to keep their hair off the base of their necks and out of their faces. Despite his lack of manual labour Levi was just as sweaty as the rest of them, though his skin was pale in comparison. He had argued, albeit rather feebly, to do his part in aiding the construction, but the damn brats had put their foot down on that, at least—as such, Levi had spent the last three days sitting beneath the shade, glumly watching their progress.

He stood when he saw the horses approaching. The others climbed down from the scaffolding, wiping sweat from their hands and faces. They cast Levi a sidelong look, and he glared in return.

“Not a word,” he reminded them coldly. Levi had already demanded that they keep the details of his incident quiet. The swelling on his face had gone down some with the aid of a bag filled with cold sea water, but the bruises were persistent, mottled from his eye to his ear. He could play it off as a far smaller incident than it was, so long as he could keep the ugly welt on his torso well hidden. The bruising there was dark, a deep, violent shade of purple, wrapping around his side and bubbling out over his back.

Eren looked uncertain. Mikasa gave him a stoic, level look, while Sasha and Connie still looked sheepish, avoiding his gaze. They had apologised profusely, and on multiple occasions, for causing such a mess. Levi had, at their insistence, scolded them for messing around, but in truth he had little energy left to care.

Hange waved as soon as they were close enough. She kicked her horse on, Jean and Armin following dutifully behind her. The three of them pulled to a stop and dismounted, leading their horses to shade and water, looking tired, but satisfied. Levi kept his angled down, twisted to one side. He was prolonging the inevitable, he knew, but if he could get Hange talking about the meetings, or with some luck the upcoming expedition, or maybe even the mostly completed rail house, Levi could at least wait until they were alone before Hange battered him with questions.

All three of them had dark circles under their eyes. Armin yawned widely, he and Jean bumping into one another as they walked. Hange, as tired as she looked, strode forward with a delighted confidence—Levi, in spite of himself, quirked his lip in a small smile. It has been too long since Hange looked excited about anything. The prospect of an expedition had breathed some life into her.

“We’ve still got to work out some kinks,” Hange said, “but things are looking good. We’ll set up another meeting with Kiyomi. It might take a little while, but we’ll get out there ourselves. See the world with our own eyes, and—more importantly—let them see us.”

Connie and Sasha exchanged excited glances. Mikasa and Eren shared a more subdued look. Levi understood both perspectives—the prospect of venturing out into the world opened them up to a lot of risks. Each of them carried targets on their backs. One wrong move, and they would be in trouble. But, if all goes according to Hange’s plan, there would be plenty of reward. Freedom was worth any price they could pay, if only they can secure it.

Levi listened as the group reacquainted. Eren and Mikasa seemed pleased to have Armin back in their company, while Sasha hounded Jean endlessly until he relented, and surreptitiously pulled a small pack of cured meat from the inside pocket of his jacket. He had the decency to look embarrassed when he caught Levi’s eye on him, but his abashed expression quickly turned to one of confusion when he caught a good look at Levi’s face.

“The hell happened, Captain?”

Hange, who had been quietly engaged with Armin and the other two, looked around. Levi tutted and curled his lip, letting his fringe fall to cover part of his bruised brow.

“None of your business,” he said. His chest spasmed and he clenched his teeth, fighting the sudden urge to cough. “If you’ve still got the energy to stand around talking, you can get up there and help them finish the damn roof.”

Jean, who either hadn’t quite developed the same immunity to Levi’s brash tone as the rest, or was nervous about Levi scolding him for stealing food from the interior, nodded once and shrugged out of his jacket. Sasha’s eyes followed longingly as he hooked it over the nearby cart sitting on the tracks, but then her gaze shot back to Levi, and she scurried after Jean towards the rail house.

The others followed. Hange’s eye was still on him, and she waited until the group had scrambled up onto the scaffolding and picked up their tools before she crossed over to him. She bent a little, tilting her head to get a good look at his face. Hange let out a low whistle.

“Quite the bruise,” she said. Levi gave her a somewhat guarded look, and carefully shrugged one of his shoulders.

“Brats were messing around,” Levi said simply. “Caught me with a stray elbow.”

He didn’t dare look Hange in the eye long enough to determine whether she believed him. He nodded towards the rail house and said, “They’ll be done in a few hours.”

Hange beamed, bracing her hands on her hips. “They’ve made good progress! I wasn’t sure they’d get it finished by the time we made it back.”

“You wanted it finished,” Levi scowled, “those were your orders.”

“Calling it an order is a little harsh, Levi.”

“You’re our commander, Hange,” Levi said. “You tell us to do something, we do it. By definition, it is an order.”

Hange grimaced. It had been years since Shiganshina, years for Hange to come to grips with the position that had befallen her, and to her credit she had taken to it admirably enough, on the outside. It was only in small, private moments like this that she allowed herself to show doubt. The lack of cooperation from Hizuru had been a blow Hange had expected, but hoped to avoid—she had worked hard on her proposals and her negotiations had been sound, but the rejection stung nonetheless. With each new trial and each new error, Hange felt herself all the more lacking. Her distaste for her own position, for Erwin’s faith, grew stronger, and showed face more often.

Levi took in her sullen expression and winced internally. After a moment of heavy silence, he said, “They give you a hard time?”

“Who?”

“Zackley. The reporters. The kids.”

Hange let out a low chuckle. “Zackley’s as rigorous as ever. Picked apart every last thing we had to say, highlighted every possible flaw in the plan. Made us work hard, as usual. The reporters...asked a lot of questions we didn’t have answers to. They’ll smear our names in the papers tomorrow, no doubt, but it can’t be helped. We did our best. Armin was a huge help, though. He’s still a little nervous, but—so clever! So full of interesting ideas, and he negotiates well. He’ll make a good commander one day.”

“And Kirstein?”

“He’s an excellent paperweight,” Hange said, shooting Levi a sideways grin. “I appreciated the company, but I think we would have been fine without him.”

“Never know,” Levi said gruffly. He couldn’t be sure whether it was the heat of the sun or simply standing too long, but Levi was beginning to feel woozy. Breathing was still a chore, a concentrated effort to suck air into his aching chest and let it out again without choking, coughing, and more often than not he felt lightheaded. He nodded towards the boxes he’d been using as a seat over the last couple of days. “Sit. You look like shit.”

“For once, I don’t think you get to judge me for that.”

Levi had already begun walking stiffly to the boxes, and made no comment. He had no valid argument to give—he did look like shit, far worse than Hange, and he felt even shittier. He dropped a little heavily onto the box and bit back a grunt of pain.

Hange sat next to him. The box shuddered. Levi tensed as pain lanced through his side. He took in a quick, sharp breath, holding it high in his chest when the pain intensified. He could feel Hange’s eye on him and clenched his teeth, fighting to keep his face somewhat neutral.

“You sure you’re okay?” Hange said to him. Levi grunted. He busied himself taking slow, shallow breaths, staring resolutely ahead, avoiding Hange’s keen stare. “You look a little clammy.”

Levi made another quiet noise. Levi wasn’t very talkative at the best of times—this, he knew Hange was aware of, and most of the time Hange was content to fill the silence herself, but today she was quiet, and watching him too closely. Scrutinizing. Levi had often praised Hange for her powers of observation—she had an incredible eye for detail and a knack for spotting patterns and anomalies, a talent which had served the Survey Corps very well, but right now, Levi was cursing it. He didn’t need Hange surveying him.

He was hurting. He’d had a near constant headache since the incident, and his chest felt tight, riddled with pain both dull and sharp, stabbing whenever he breathed too deeply or gave in to the pressing urge to hack out a cough, but more than that, he felt unwell. Groggy, sickly, light-headed. His heart beat frantically, and his skin did feel clammy, cold sweat sitting on his brow. He stared ahead, blinking the fuzziness from his head and resolutely ignoring Hange’s steady stare.

Hange’s palm pressed to his forehead. The sudden touch made him jump—his muscles tensed, his ribs screamed in protest, and Levi let out a strangled groan, biting his tongue a second too late to trap the sound.

He was barely aware of Hange’s fussing as he fought to draw breath. Air grated in his battered lungs as Hange’s hand pressed flat to the back of his neck, her voice warped and muffled in his ear as she felt his sweat-damp skin. His vision tunnelled. He blinked rapidly to clear the black spots and wheezed in the humid air. His chest felt like it might split open, pressure billowing out from behind his ribcage, pressing agonisingly against his damaged bones.

He breathed short and shallow until the haze of pain lessened. Hange’s voice was loud beside him, the sharp, deep bark she used when she felt it necessary to assert her authority. Through the fog in his head he could barely make out her words, but he knew exactly what it was she was demanding. Sasha’s voice was meek in comparison, but it still carried over the distance enough for Levi to hear her.

“It was an accident,” she was saying. “It was our fault—my fault—”

Levi hissed through his teeth. Hange’s hands—one still at the back of his neck, the other curled around his arm—tightened their grip on him.

“Drop it,” Levi said. “Stop grilling them. It doesn’t matter what happened, I’m fine.”

Hange had the audacity to laugh, but there was no humour in it. “Fine? Levi, you can’t even move. You can barely breathe! What the hell did you do?”

“Fell,” he said shortly. His voice sounded weak, but he didn’t have the breath to put more force behind it.

“From where? When? Hell, Levi, when did this happen?”

“Hange, leave it.”

Hange turned her question to the rail house, and Connie answered immediately. Traitors, Levi thought scathingly. Mikasa explained without prompt that they didn’t know the extent of his injuries, that Levi had refused a proper medical examination despite the head wound that had left him unable to stand straight. She explained that they had managed with very little effort to get him to observe the construction from the ground, which, it seemed, was enough to concern Hange—Levi wasn’t the type to sit around doing nothing. He despised being idle and she knew it.

“You should see a doctor, Levi.”

“I’m fine—”

“No, you’re not. What else did you hurt? Just your head?”

Levi felt ill. Hange’s persistent questions were making his head spin and his entire body felt sore and spent. He mustered enough strength to glare at her, but nothing more. Hange was watching him carefully, brow furrowed in concern, but at his silence her expression hardened, and she stood abruptly. Levi bit back another groan as the box moved beneath him.

“You can ride, then?”

Levi squinted up at her. “Hah?”

“If you’re fine, you can ride back into town with me.”

No. “Sure.”

Hange stared at him a little longer, waiting, no doubt, for him to backtrack, admit defeat. Levi clenched his jaw and maintained steely eye contact. Hange narrowed her eye at him, then turned towards the rail house.

“Oi!” Hange called up, cupping a hand around her mouth. Six heads turned their way, popping up over the roof. “We’re heading back early. Leave the scaffolding when you’re done, we’ll send for it tomorrow. Good work!”

She turned on her heel and headed towards the horses, still tacked and tethered beneath the shade of a small copse of trees.

“We’ll go get your head checked.”

“Hange, I said I’m fine.” It was a weak argument, made even moreso when he stood too abruptly and swayed on the spot. Hange darted back towards him and steadied him with a hand on his shoulder, and a little of her angry resolve cracked, worry creasing her brow. She led him, more slowly now, towards the horses with her hand hovering over his back. He braced himself for the agony of her touch, if she pressed her palm against him, but Hange—perhaps in fear of not knowing what other injuries he had sustained—didn’t touch him.

“Humour me,” she said. “If you’re really fine, and it’s really nothing, no harm done. I’ll feel better knowing, and you—” she drew them to a stop by the horses and turned to face him fully, grinning, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, “—you get to say I told you so.”

Levi said nothing. The thought of riding for hours on end made him feel nauseous.

“This is pointless,” he said. “I’ll rest here, if you’re so worried.”

Hange shook her head at him. She untied her own horse and Jean’s, holding the reins out for Levi to take.

“We’re going back now, Captain. That’s an order.”

An hour into the journey, Levi began to struggle in earnest.

No part of the ride had been pleasant—the heat was oppressive, and the motion of the horse required a fluidity in his hips and back that sent sharp jolts through his side with every step. Hange was uncharacteristically quiet, occupied instead by watching Levi from the corner of her eye. His head pounded with increasing intensity the longer they travelled, and between the pain, and the scorching sun, and his pitifully shallow breathing, Levi was feeling more faint by the second.

It was an unsettling sensation. Injuries were always difficult, but Levi had never felt so completely wiped out by physical damage in the past. Three days was enough time for his body to at least begin healing, but Levi had seen no improvement since the moment he struck the beam during his fall—if anything, he’d felt worse by the day.

Now, he was fighting to keep himself upright in the saddle.

They were approaching another clump of trees, great leaves wilting in the heat, when Levi, jaw tight and teeth bared, grunted out a request that they stop.

Hange looked torn. She wanted to hurry back into town, and was already impatient enough that Levi had requested they walk—”It’s too hot, for the horses”—but something on his face must have reflected the severity of his discomfort. Hange directed them to the treeline, dismounting and taking Levi’s reins while he did the same. His feet hit the ground and his knees buckled.

Hange caught him about the elbow but only after he had sunk to the grass. He felt shaky, weak, but more than that he felt vulnerable. Realistically, Levi knew that there was no shame in being hurt, in needing help, but he was a stranger to it. He had been self-sufficient since he was in Kenny’s care, and had grown up with the express understanding that showing weakness was a death sentence. And then again, in the Survey Corps—an injured soldier was titan bait.

There were no titans now, but Levi felt distinctly exposed, sitting in the long grass with his vision swimming and his lungs burning, barely functional.

Hange knelt next to him in the grass. She brought a hand up to his face, fingers curling against his jaw. Her gaze darted over his face, all of her righteous anger forgotten as she took in his state. Levi wanted to shake her off, to shake off the spinning in his head, to stand up and get back on the horse and continue their journey, but he couldn’t find the strength to gather his legs beneath him. Hange’s hands—one on his arm and one still on his face—kept him sitting upright.

“Levi…” Hange said slowly. Words sat on his tongue, reassurance that he was fucking fine, that he just needed a minute, but try as he might, he couldn’t get enough air in to voice them. His chest bubbled and rattled as he drew in a thin breath.

“Levi,” Hange said, sharper this time. Levi blinked blearily and searched for her. Neither of them were moving, but Hange’s image wavered and blurred in front of him. He swallowed. Wheezed. His heart hammered in his ears. Hange’s fingertips found the pulsepoint in his neck, pressing, counting. “Levi—what else hurts?”

Levi swallowed thickly, a nauseous tremor under his tongue. After a moment, he choked out, “cracked a few ribs, probably.”

Hange sucked in a sharp breath. “Let me see.”

He didn’t have the strength to fight her as Hange began unbuttoning his shit. He swayed where he sat, struggling to balance without her hands keeping him upright, until he heard Hange’s hiss as she uncovered the bruises wrapping his chest and back.

Levi looked down and grimaced. The bruising was worse than he remembered, stretching further up his chest, dark and mottled, the flesh tight and swollen.

“Levi, this is bad,” Hange said. “We need to get help.”

“Just need rest,” Levi said. His voice sounded slow and slurred in his own ears. Hange’s hand cupped the side of his neck, her thumb tipping his jaw up to look at his face. His eyelids felt heavy.

“I know it hurts,” she said, “and I know you don’t want to move, but—Levi, please. C’mon, I need you to get up.”

It had been a long, long time since Levi had heard that frantic tone from her. She sounded urgent, panicked. Desperate. Levi dragged his eyes open, but found he couldn’t focus on her face anymore. His lungs protested violently as he tried to speak, only coughing instead, dry and hacking. His chest burned.

Hange dragged him to his feet. Levi’s limbs felt heavy and clumsy, detached and completely out of his control. He leaned heavily into Hange’s side as she moved him across the grass.

“C’mon, Levi—work with me.”

Hange hefted him up onto one of the horses. Her horse, he realised, as she clambered up with him. She settled behind him, her arms gripping the reins either side of him. Levi tried to sit up right, but as she kicked the horse on, he slumped back with a low groan. Hange’s voice rumbled through her chest when she spoke.

“You good?” Hange asked quietly, and then, “stupid question, of course you’re not.” Levi found the strength to scoff, but it was a pitiful sound, and followed swiftly with another pained grunt and a fit of coughing. “Bear it a little longer, okay?”

Consciousness drifted, as they rode on. Levi was dimly aware of the sun on his feverish skin, and of Hange’s warm, solid body at his back. Her jaw brushed his head when she moved. Her voice was constant now, a rumble up his spine and in indistinct mumble in his ear. At times he could pick out her words, but his comprehension was hazy, mind unable to string sentences together, to find meaning in her chatter.

In this state, there was no focal point for the pain. It was consuming, indistinct but ever present, impossible to isolate in any one location. His whole body ached. His breathing was quick and laboured. There was no real respite even in this state.

Hange’s hand repeatedly found his throat, fingers feeling for his frantic pulse.

Time passed strangely. The ride seemed to last a lifetime, with Levi waking a thousand times to agony, consciousness barely breaking before he succumbed again to his feverish dozing.

At times, he awoke to new sounds and new sensations. The echo of multiple voices around him, all talking frantically over one. The scratch of crisp sheets beneath his bare back, the click of shoes on tiled floor. New, stinging, fiery pain, sudden and excruciating enough to make his body jolt in discomfort, followed swiftly by strong hands on his arms and legs to keep him still. Cool air blowing gently over his heated skin. His hand caught in a loose, tangled grip.

The aches in his battered body settled, localised. Levi felt it acutely in his chest, though the pressure no longer felt as intense. Breathing still hurt, but the air came easier now. He felt his lungs fill with it, little by little, for the first time in days. He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly in the light, then rolled his head slowly to look around.

The small window had been cracked open, the fresh, cool air lifting Levi’s fringe, tickling at his brow. Thin morning light poured in, illuminating the small, sparsely furnished room. Besides the bed he lay on, there was only one small table and a stiff, uncomfortable wooden chair.

Hange was slumped low in the chair. Her legs were sprawled out in front of her, her chin dropped to her chest while she slept. She had discarded her military jacket, eye patch, and glasses in a heap on the floor, and her sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, the top buttons of her shirt undone and splayed open. Her hair hung limp and ratty around her face. She looked pale and exhausted.

Levi’s tongue was dry, tacking to his teeth and the roof of his mouth. It took him three attempts to say her name, and when he did it came out raspy and ragged. He tried to move, to reach over and nudge her awake, to ask what the hell had happened since he’d last been lucid—but as he leaned over a sudden, white hot agony ripped through him, tearing into his side.

He gave a strangled groan and pressed himself back into the mattress, squeezing his eyes closed as he rode out the spasms. Wood scraped by the bed; Hange must have startled awake at his outburst. Levi squinted an eye open to see her blinking rapidly, rubbing her knuckles into her eyes before scooping up her glasses and taking in the sight of him.

The pain subsided little by little, though Levi didn’t dare move again. Hange sat on the edge of her chair and reached for him, her hand stopping short of his and falling to grip the bed sheets instead.

“How you feeling?”

Levi cleared his throat. “Like shit.”

Hange managed a weak smile. The bags under her eyes were considerably darker than they had been before, her skin paler, papery. Levi frowned at her. “You still look like shit.”

Hange waved him off with a small laugh, sitting back and scrubbing her hands over her face. She hung her head over the back of her chair, fingers pressing into her eyes beneath her glasses. She sat for a long while, observing the backs of her eyelids. Levi watched her through pinched eyes as the burn in his side settled to a more familiar ache.

“Don’t do that,” Hange said, voice strained by the stretch of her throat. “Don’t do that again.”

“Which part?” Levi said.

“All of it. Don’t get in stupid accidents. Don’t pretend you’re fine when you’re not. Don’t—”

She stopped short, then, with a sudden hitch of her breath. Levi watched her dig her fingers harder into her eyes, watched the bob of her throat as she swallowed reflexively. For a moment she was quiet, then she sat up straight and turned watery, bloodshot eyes on him.

Hange was strong. She was a far more emotionally available person than he could ever be, but she had an incredible capacity to compartmentalise. To switch off. To accept the necessity, the inevitability of loss, to evaluate and recalculate and move forward. Hange mourned—Levi had witnessed the aftermath of it plenty of times before, repaired broken tables and reorganised upended bookshelves in the wake of her disaster—but she mourned later. Alone. Felt all her fears and frustrations in isolation, away from prying eyes.

Hange wasn’t the type to cry at peoples besides and beg them to live.

And yet.

“Don’t leave me on my own.”

“It wasn’t that—”

“You dare tell me it wasn’t that bad and I’ll kill you myself.”

Levi clamped his mouth shut. Hange was glaring at him like she might really mean it. Instead of arguing, he said, “what’s the damage?”

Hange slumped forward, elbows on her knees and head hung low. “Broken ribs. Ripped up a few muscles in your back. Collapsed lung. The air pressure in your chest was restricting blood flow to your heart.” She put her head in her hands and dug her fingers into her messy hair. “You got so fucking lucky, Levi. If we hadn’t left when we did—”

He watched silently as Hange groaned into her palms. She breathed deeply, back and shoulders raising as she did.

“You could have died.”

“I didn’t.”

Hange’s head shot up. “By the skin of your teeth, Levi. You—” she took a long, steadying breath, but her voice still shook as she continued, “—you were barely breathing. You couldn’t talk to me, you would hardly even respond to me.”

“Sorry.”

Levi wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to say. Hange looked distraught, her composure tenuous. Levi’s fingers twitched on the sheets, itching to reach out and touch her, offer some kind of reassurance that he was here, he was fine—but he wasn’t fine, and moving so far was out of the question. He gripped hard at the sheets instead. “Sorry.”

“Not you as well,” Hange said quietly. Levi’s chest tightened painfully at her tone—she sounded so small in that moment. Scared. Levi wasn’t sure he’d ever heard her sound so frail before. “What am I supposed to do if you—” she cut herself off again, shaking her head.

“Same thing you always do.” Hange curled tightly in on herself. Levi turned to stare at the ceiling instead. “You keep going, Commander.”

“Don’t. Don’t do that.”

“One day or another, everyone you care about eventually dies. You said that.” He listened as Hange’s breath hitched, but refused to look at her. “It sucks. It hurts. But we keep moving forward.”

The mattress dipped by his hand. Levi rolled his eyes down, and found Hange hunched out of her chair, her face pressed into the blankets. Levi sunk his fingers quietly into her hair.

They lapsed into a painful silence. Hange hiccupped and sniffled now and then, while Levi scratched lightly at her scalp. After a long while, Hange spoke again.

“I know those were my words,” she said thickly. “But I can’t accept that. Not now. Not after everything.”

“Stubborn,” Levi said quietly. He pulled lightly at her hair until she raised her head, wiping her cheeks and nose messily on her arm. “Disgusting.”

Hange managed a bare, wobbly smile. Levi’s hand fell from her hair as she straightened up, and Hange scooped it up in both of her own. She played absently with his fingers, curling and flexing them, rubbing her thumb over the lines on his palm. She seemed to be gathering herself, brow a little furrowed in thought.

“I know we can’t guarantee anything. I know how uncertain our world is. But just—” Hange paused, closing Levi’s fingers around her own, then looked up at him with a fierce determination. “Promise me anyway.”

Levi blinked sluggishly at her. “Promise you what?”

“That you’ll survive.”

Levi tensed. “Hange…”

“Indulge me. Just this once, please.”

A promise of that kind was unrealistic, Levi knew this. Hange had said so herself: there were no guarantees. Except, that wasn’t quite true—death, at least, was a constant. The only inevitability they had. The island may be free of titans now, but the threat of attack loomed over them like a persistent storm cloud, black and heavy, ready to give at any moment. And accidents, as he had painfully learned, could happen in the blink of an eye.

Levi was resilient, but he wasn’t invincible.

But Hange was looking at him steadily, her resolve unwavering. She wanted his word here and now. Needed it, maybe, but Levi knew her. Hange valued honesty over everything else. There was no way she could feel at ease with such an empty promise.

Levi sighed.

“You’re a brat, you know that? Looking at me like that.”

Hange’s gaze held firm. Levi felt her grip on his hand tighten.

“I can’t promise shit like that, Hange,” he said. She squeezed his hand tighter still, and her body tensed, shoulders drawing up to her ears. “You know I can’t. Nobody can.”

For one horrible, gut wrenching moment, Levi thought she might cry again. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes but when she opened them again, her good eye looked terribly blank.

“You’re right. Sorry, sorry!” She let go of his hand and sat back in her chair, hands resting on her legs instead. Her voice sounded lighter, more like Hange, but there was something off about it. Something forced. Strained. She adjusted her glasses but didn’t meet his gaze again.

This was the Hange he knew. The Hange who could bury her feelings in the moment, squash them down and push them aside to focus on the rational, the plausible. Seeing her like that didn’t relieve him the way it should have. It left a sour taste in his mouth and a discomfort in his gut, knowing that he was the cause of the grief she felt she had to hide.

It was stupid, the whole situation—how a moment of carelessness lead to this; Levi bedridden, and Hange struggling to hold herself together.

The space between them grew stagnant. Hange seemed a little lost in thought, gaze caught blankly on Levi’s blankets, while Levi watched her, waiting for her to say something else, to change the subject, to be Hange again. But Levi was never one for giving inspiring speeches, and in truth, he didn’t know that anything he could say now would make anything better. Hange would do what Hange always did—wait until she was alone, and vent in whatever way she could.

And Levi, as soon as he was able, would do what he always did, too—pick up the broken pieces and mend as much as he could.

“You should rest.”

Hange blinked tiredly over at him. It had been an age since Hange looked well-rested, years since Shiganshina and the exhaustion of that particular battle had never left her. The burden she carried—everything Erwin had left behind and all that they had discovered since—was so impossibly heavy, the expectations put upon her too much for any one person to handle. Hange had enough to deal with, she didn’t need to be worried about him, too.

“Eat something, bathe. Sleep. I’ll still be here when you come back.” After a pause, he added, “I’ll promise you that much.”

Hange gave him a weak, wry smile as she fished up her eye patch, strapping it into place and righting her glasses over it. “I guess I’ll take that. And then tomorrow, you can promise me the same again.”

Levi rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever. Go.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll nap for a couple hours and come back. You should sleep some more too, you know. It’ll help you heal faster.”

Levi grumbled in response, and grumbled louder still when Hange stepped up to the bedside, but he fell quiet when she leaned over, brushing his fringe back from his forehead and pressing a small kiss to his hairline. It was such a simple gesture, and nothing out of the ordinary—Hange had been a physically affectionate person as long as he had known her, always grabbing and hugging and kissing whenever she got the chance—but there was something so tender in it, this time. Levi’s eyes fluttered closed.

Hange lingered longer than was strictly necessary, and yet it still didn’t feel like enough. Levi could easily have let her stay close, feel the warmth of her breath and the softness of her lips on his skin until he drifted into sleep, but she straightened up after a moment and Levi was left instead with the cold breeze from the open window. Levi blinked sluggishly up at her. His own exhaustion barrelled in, making his eyes sting, lids heavy. Hange folded her jacket over her arm and pushed the chair into the corner, out of the way.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” She said.

“Mm.”

“You’re gonna feel like you got crushed by a titan when the pain meds wear off, so make the most of it.”

“Got it.”

“And you should let the doctor know if anything changes. Straight away, don’t wait around.”

“I will.”

"And there are nurses around, if you get hungry or thirsty. The bathroom is just down the hall too, but they've got bedpans if you need to—"

“Hange.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” Hange had already crossed the room as she spoke, but she paused in the doorway, fingers curled around the frame. She deliberated with herself for a moment longer, then said, “hey, Levi?”

“Hm?”

Hange chewed on her lip, contemplating something, a faint blush building on her cheeks. And then she shook her head, gave him a small smile, and said, "Ah, doesn't matter. Sleep well."

She left quickly after that, closing the door quietly behind her. Levi stared at the space she'd vacated, brow a little furrowed; her hesitancy confused him.

But he was tired. His body hurt. His head felt thick and fuzzy, and without Hange's presence to keep him occupied, he consciousness began to drift.

Tomorrow, he thought hazily. He would ask her tomorrow. For now though, he would follow his own advice; for now, he would rest.

#snk #levihan #my writing #man I had a hard time with this in the end hjhgjj I can't say I'm that satisfied with it #but!! I am sticking to my philosophy after the Drabble week #someone somewhere will like it #levihans relationship ended up more ambiguous but hey ho #also ended up being a lot of angsty hange

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lilyharvord · 3 years

Text

Meet Me at Our Spot

HELLO EVERYONE!! Vet school turned its back for a day and I was able to finish this one for you all. ((: Here is a lovely little one shot that is rated M people, so please read responsibly. Office AU because someone asked for it once upon a time and the image of Cal in one of those well tailored shirts/suits with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows has lived in my head rent free since then. So enjoy!!! ((:

also, I’m obsessed with that song Meet Me at Our Spot by Willow and The Anxiety (specifically the live version). So that’s the vibe were going for. (:

find it on Ao3 too: link

Mare Barrow always felt underdressed when she entered the massive glass and steel structure that housed the Calore enterprises. Even when she put on her only pair on heels, and a nice outfit, she felt like a smudge of dirt on the pristine floors. Today though, she was determined to not feel that way. She had a plan, a vision, and she was not about to let some socially constructed idea like dress code ruin it for her.

Striding up to the main desk before the elevators that lead to the corporate side of the building, she planted herself firmly before Tiria and cleared her throat to announce her presence.

The young woman looked up from the book she was scribbling things in and held up a finger as she spoke into the receiver cradled in her other hand.

“Of course sir. Yes, two on Friday.”

With a sigh, Mare braced her forearms on the counter and glanced out at the massive atrium next to her. Multiple people strolled by in their nice suits and tight business dresses, carrying portfolios and briefcases and talking heatedly about a number of things. She got a few looks from them for her baggy sweatpants, oversized jacket, and faded ugly sneakers. She simply smirked back at them in response, a glint in her eye that dared them to talk about her after they had passed.

No one had ever really gotten a good look at her here, and if they had, it was when she was quickly being ushered past this front desk and into the elevators behind it. She was, for all intents and purposes, a very well-kept secret. One that was mandatory to remain a secret, given her position and her affiliation with this place.

Never in her wildest dreams had she thought she would ever set foot in a place like this, let alone be associated with the circle she now tenuously walked through. It had its perks though, like getting to give a bright shiny middle finger smile to the people Farley would have spit at. Mare couldn’t exactly spit like she wanted to though, because she happened to enjoy being around one of them. And she was supposed to be on her best behavior when she was in this building. It was part of the stupid rules she had been forced to agree to a year ago.

Rule number one: No one can know your name, where you are from, and who you are.

Rule Number two: best behavior at all times when you are in the building or near him. No exceptions.

Rule number three: You are not allowed to show up unannounced or uninvited.

Well rule number three could just go fuck itself today, and rule number two could join it. The rules were just a way of making sure that the pristine reputation of this place didn’t get tarnished in the tabloids. She had laughed herself hoarse when they brought her into that dim conference room and dropped the pile of papers with the rules outlining everything in front of her. She never thought getting into a relationship would feel like a contract or a business deal but somehow this was made into one. Then again, the Calore family could make a business deal out of a child’s pretend game.

“Yes sir, I will let them know. Thank you for confirming, we will see you then.”

Tiria snapped the receiver back into the cradle and turning a scrutinizing eye to Mare she quirked a perfectly manicured brow. Every front desk girl in the world honestly looked the same to Mare, and in this place, there was no exceptions.

“Can I help you?”

“I have an appointment.” Mare said as she pressed onto her toes and pointed with a finger randomly into Tiria’s book.

The girl looked down at the line Mare pointed to with a frown while Mare swiped the key card Tiria always kept just under the ledge with her other hand. Tucking it into her pocket, she forced her eyes wide in a fake showing of bewilderment as Tiria gave her a contempt glare when there was nothing on the line.

“I could have sworn I called!” Mare gasped as she pressed herself up onto the counter to teeter further over it while her feet dangled. Damn these stupid things were high. She should have worn heels just so she could actually see over the top of the counter. “Maybe I should have called to confirm.”

“Miss Barrow, please stay on that side of the counter.” Tiria sighed as she leaned back in her chair.

Sliding down and dropping with a huff, Mare crossed her arms, trying to mimic the expression she saw most of these people give when they didn’t get what they wanted. “I want to go up.”

Forcing her sigh through her nose so it wasn’t as obvious, Tiria shook her head and adjusted a pen that had moved out of its perfectly straight line. “You’re not supposed to be here today. Don’t make me call security.”

“Well that would announce my presence.” Mare argued before picking up her backpack. “Besides, I’ll only be ten minutes.”

“Miss Barrow, I like my job and want to keep it. Leave.”

Letting out her own exaggerated sigh, Mare threw her hands up and spun on her heel to leave. “Honestly, you’d think I’d get a free pass giving who I’m dating in this place.”

Peeking over her shoulder to see if Tiria was still paying attention, she smirked as the girl dropped her head to write something down. One of the benefits of everyone looking down on her here was that as soon as she turned around, she was out of sight and out of mind. It made sneaking around easier.

Spinning back around, she scurried over to the elevators, ducking below the ledge of the counter slightly in case Tiria looked up again. Humming a song she heard on the radio to herself, she swiped the card and pushed the button to call the elevator. She had joked once this place was locked up tighter than a military institution, only to learn there was a reason for that. She doubted she could just swipe a key card and sneak into the Pentagon though.

The doors opened with a little ding, and she glanced over her shoulder once before darting in and pressing the button for the top floor. She had to swipe the key card again and punch in a four digit code she memorized weeks ago, but the doors still slid shut and the massive glass box rose.

Grinning like a fiend, Mare glanced over her shoulder at the green land stretching out behind her. She had to borrow Bree’s car to drive out to this place, and it almost didn’t make it. Her brother’s check engine light had been on since he bought the car, but he assured her it could make it the fifty mile trip and back. It had coughed the whole way, but it got her here. Beyond the trees she could just make out the highway she took with cars rushing along it.

The first time she saw this place, she was afraid of it. Why was it so far away from everything, why was it so tucked away? What were they trying to hide behind the wall of trees? She hadn’t entire believed the excuses they gave, but she was at least certain they weren’t building nuclear weapons at this place.

The doors slid open silently to a long hallway with dark floors and another bank of windows for a wall. Stepping out into the sunshine, Mare strolled forward, adjusting her hair and jacket as she went. Turning a corner, she passed a few smaller offices that belonged to some of the board members that held staff positions. The only one that was closed belonged to one of the only people she really, really didn’t want to see.

Volo Samos made her nervous. If there was anyone who might be trying to make a nuclear weapon in this place, it was that man. She edged by his office, glancing through the swaying vertical shades to see if he was actually there or he had left for lunch. He was sitting at his desk on the phone.

Scurrying past him, Mare quickened her pace. If he was here, then the rest of the board might be too. Which meant she might be walking in on a meeting. Not exactly the best option, and neither was sitting outside in the hall and waiting.

She had been so certain that there was nothing happening this week. She had planned everything around that fact. Maybe she should have called… just to make sure before she drove all the way out here.

Before she knew it though, she was standing before the heavy dark wood doors at the end of that hall. She had never been nervous to open them. They were intimidating with an exterior that was meant to deter people, but once you opened them and peeked inside there was nothing to fear, just like with the man behind them. She knew that, and yet, she had to squash the shake in her hand as she nudge the door open a fraction.

The office was empty.

Throwing the door open all the way, she stepped inside and glanced awkwardly around the space. She had spent enough time in here that she knew there were very few places to hide. Not that Cal would have any reason to hide in his own office. Pursing her lips she pushed the door closed and stormed over to the desk before throwing her bag down behind it and tossing herself into the chair. It spun in a slow circle with her momentum until she faced the back windows. Slouching down she tried to determine her next move with a pout. Maybe he had left for lunch. It wouldn’t surprise her. If the board members were here, then he might have had to play the good CEO and daddy’s boy he was supposed to be and taken them all to lunch to placate them. But Volo was here… so maybe they hadn’t gone to lunch?

She had put makeup on for this surprise. Honestly, was it so hard for him to be in the place he was supposed to be at this time?

Forcing out a sigh, she crossed her arms and spun the chair back around with her toes to look at the papers scattered around the desk. Cal was perhaps one of the most messily organized people she had ever met. He was an oxymoron himself though, so it only made sense. She picked up a thick stack of papers that were clipped together and lifted one of the corners between her finger and thumb like it was radioactive. She didn’t understand a word on the next page or the numbers scribbled in the margins. Putting it back in its place she glanced at the few pictures he kept on his desk.

The first time she had been in his office he had been on a phone call, and she had to entertain herself. She had picked up the pictures and made up the stories behind them while he watched her out of the corner of his eye. The picture of the two little boys crouched and playing in the mud on the edge of a lake was her favorite. She had been confused by it at first, until she saw the one next to it, with the same two boys almost a decade later in front of the Roman Coliseum.

Cal and his brother vaguely looked like brothers. They had similar features, but they wore them very differently. Where Cal was tall and broad, his younger brother was lean and sharp. Their eyes were strikingly different, but it was to be expected. She’d met Maven twice in the year she’d dated Cal. The first time was when he flew home for their father’s retirement party. He’d been quiet and reserved the whole evening until Cal dragged him out for a drink with her after to introduce them, properly as Cal had teased. When the brothers were alone and not around their father, they were different people. Maven especially. He seemed to soften, to melt a little bit. It had surprised her that someone could be so different just because the personnel around them changed. But Maven was a master of it.

The second time she’d seen him, Cal dragged her halfway across the world to Scotland to surprise Maven on his birthday. Cal’s brother lived as far from their father as possible, and honestly, Mare didn’t blame him. Unfortunately, Cal wasn’t afforded that luxury. Hence the rule book she had to follow.

He had a picture with his uncle next to that. The man was a few years younger than her father, but he caried those years poorly. Still, he adored Mare, and she didn’t have to pretend to tolerate him, unlike most of the other people that surrounded Cal at a given time.

A picture with his father was next to that one. It was a close second favorite of Mare’s. She couldn’t stand his father, the man was insufferable, but she loved to look at the younger version of Cal. He looked impossibly different as a kid, so different she almost hadn’t recognized him in the picture. She had told him that he reminded her of a taffy piece that was pulled too long in that picture. He was only ten in it, but his legs were already too long for him, and he was thin as a pole. He certainly had grown into his body, but the smile he gave to the camera there… he only gave it to her now. Or at least, she thought he did. She’d never seen him smile that brightly at anyone else.

Next to that, tucked almost behind the other pictures was a photograph of a young woman in a window box with a toddler resting on her legs. She smiled at him, clutching his hands in hers, completely unaware of the camera trained on her. Cal didn’t talk about it, or the woman in it, but Mare wormed it out of Julian that Cal’s mother was a sore subject with everyone. Even though she was smiling in the picture, Mare could almost sense the sadness that radiated from her. She didn’t look much older than Mare in that picture. No doubt she had been tied up with the same strings and restrictions Mare faced now. If that were the case, Mare wasn’t surprised she had been so sad. The rules and regulations that came with dating a powerful person were like a cage. It worried Mare some days. She didn’t like being confined, but when she was with Cal away from all of this, she didn’t feel that way. It was only when they were together around other people that she did. More oxymorons where the man was concerned.

The door into the office opened and Mare snapped to attention as Cal stepped in. His hands were full with papers he shuffled through while balancing his phone on his shoulder and speaking with someone. He’d nudged the door open with his hip and because of that, he had yet to turn and face her.

Even though she hated all the restrictions she had to face while she dated him, she knew they didn’t truly bother her because he was hers. All of him carefully folded into a suit that hugged every muscle made her stomach tighten and other parts flutter. And all of it was hers, some nobody from a backwater city block. She sometimes felt like a tiny dragon hording a single coin when she was with him. She didn’t have much to her name, never had and probably never would, but he was hers. She wasn’t sure if she would get to keep him, but she planned to enjoy every last second that she could with him.

Her lips curled into a smile as she leaned back in the chair and crossed her leg over the other, trying to paint a picture of coyness. It was probably not the best showing of it, but Cal was a miserable good boy who couldn’t handle anything remotely teasing.

The papers ended up on the other side of the desk from her, while he shifted to hold the phone and rest his other fist on the table. The muscle in his jaw that always twitched when he was irritated fluttered like a bird’s wing now. He pressed his fingers into his closed eyes as if he could force whatever headache was probably there away with just that touch.

“We didn’t agree to that when we signed the papers. They can’t come back and impose that restriction on us now.” She squirmed in the chair at the tone in his voice. There were multiple sides to Cal that she had seen. There was her Cal, who had no idea how to dance, and who blushed whenever she teased him. Then there was the Cal she sometimes got at one in the morning who would grab the inside of her leg while he whispered in her ear exactly what he was going to do. Then there was this Cal. The one who had been heir to an empire company since the day he was born, and who could command a room like it was any other Tuesday. Sometimes it was hot to watch him do it. Right now though, it was the opposite. He wasn’t happy with something, and it honestly sounded like the last thing he needed was her here.

She decided she definitely should have called before coming.

Edging the chair back with her toes, it squeaked as it went over the floor, and his eyes darted up to her before widening.

With an awkward smile, she wiggled her fingers in greeting before spinning the chair to face the back windows. Her cheeks were burning, and there were other parts that had melted to a very dangerous temperature. The look he gave her as he looked up at been fleeting, but it had been enough to put her on the teetering edge of deciding to grab him and pin him to the desk, or ask him to do just that with her.

“Deal with this. Don’t call back until you have.”

The silence following his words told her, that she was now the singular focus of his attention. His gaze was like a brand even through the leather of the chair. Crossing her arms and adjusting her posture accordingly, she went to spin the chair back around. He beat her to it though, spinning it to face him and tipping it back slightly so she had an easier time looking up at him.

“I don’t believe I left anything at the apartment.”

“You left me.” Mare pouted with a withering stare in his direction.

“Very funny. Now how did you even get up here?”

With a smirk, Mare fished the ID card out of her pocket and flashed it before him proudly. He snatched it from her hand with a startled gasp.

“Mare… what the… what are you a thief now?”

“Obviously.” She waved her hand to dismiss his comment before gesturing to the card. “You should really get lanyards to put those on by the way. I just kinda grabbed that off her desk. And if I got it anyone else could have—”

“You can’t go around stealing people’s ID cards. She needs this to get around the building.” He gestured at her with it, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

“Well I needed it more in the moment.” Mare reasoned with a smile before leaning back in the chair. She didn’t really feel that bad, but the worry starting to etch itself into Cal’s brows did make her feel a little guilty.

He tossed it unceremoniously onto the desk before sitting on the edge of it and massaging his face slowly with his hands.

“While I’m happy to see you, I don’t have time to deal with anything outside of work today.” His words were muffled by his palms but she could still hear every stressed syllable. Even when his work got stressful, which it undoubtably was at times, he still could push it aside whenever he saw her. Whatever he had been on the phone about had been serious, serious enough that he actually wasn’t all that happy to see her.

“What happened?” Mare asked, scooting the chair close enough for her to set her hands on his thighs and squeeze gently. Now was not the time to be thinking about just how well that suit fit, but the thought still crossed her mind. Along with a few choice other thoughts.

“Stupidity.”

Cocking her head to the side, she waited for him to elaborate. It took him a moment, but he eventually dropped his hands and let his head fall back to look to the ceiling.

“We signed papers on a deal a year ago. When that happens it’s done, the contract is sealed and stored away. In that contract, we agreed that should anything happen with a shipment, we were not liable. The group we shipped to doesn’t like that anymore, because a 30.5 million dollar shipment got lost.”

Now it made sense to her. This wasn’t anger, or frustration. This was stress. Stress she could handle.

“How does one misplace 30.5 million dollars?” She teased before running hers hand up and down his legs.

“I don’t know. But there are five different parties all in a screaming match over it, including us. And if the other four don’t back down anytime soon, I’m going to have to find 30.5 million dollars somewhere.” His eyes darted down to her as she brushed her thumbs along the inside of his thighs. Glancing up through her lashes at him then, she tilted her head ever so slightly.

“And that is hard because?”

“Does it look like I have 30.5 million dollars lying around to just throw at someone?” He reasons, and the dips in his cadence brought a smirk to her lips. Now she had his attention. Pushing up to her feet she slid between his knees until she could drape her arms around his neck. Immediately, his hands found her hips and hugged her closer still.

“I’m sure there are one or two things you could sell in this building to cover that cost.” She ran her thumb along the back of his neck, before tracing the spot at the base of his jaw. His head tilted in the opposite direction, trying to escape the feather light touch. Both of them knew exactly what it did after all. Smirking at his reaction, Mare ran her other hand along his shoulder, tracing the contours she knew by heart.

“I bet I could pick out one of two things.”

“I don’t need to find the thirty and a half because it’s not our fault what happened.” He squeezed her hips, and even though she could see the fight in his eyes, it was quickly guttering. The tension in his shoulders was still more than she would have liked, but that tended to be where he kept most of it.

“So stressed out over something that isn’t even your fault.” She teased as she pressed her thumb into the knot closest to his neck. He tensed under her, but didn’t speak. At this point, his voice had already dropped an octave, and Mare had known him long enough now to know that when he went silent like this, he was trying to hide just how far she had pushed him. “Do you want help releasing some of that?”

“Not unless you can get up in front of five different boards and convince them otherwise.” She had to admire how even he kept his voice. It still wavered in a few places as he tried to remain composed under her scrutiny. Dropping her hands from around his shoulders to land on his thighs again, she squeezed hard enough to emphasize her next point.

“That sounds like a challenge.” Mare actually witnessed his pupils dilate as she dropped her voice an octave too. “You and I both know it’s not much of one. I can be very persuasive.”

“You’re gonna get us both in more trouble than I can get us out of.” He whispered to her, a tiny smile lifting the edges of his lips. The glint in his eye made her stomach flutter, especially as he started to finger the waistband of her pants. She didn’t want him to put his hands under it just yet though, she still had one surprise she wanted to save.

Pulling back to slip out of his arms, she dropped back into the chair with a proud smirk. “Then I see no reason to not walk me down there, call up these assholes, and have me deal with them.”

His hands grasped the air where she had been a second ago as his mind failed to register her abrupt disappearance. Frowning, he leaned forward to grab the arms of the chair and pull her close again. Her heart pounded against her ribs as she watched him look her over and hold for a little too long on her lips.

“I’d love to see them try and deal with you.”

Oh she was going to make him sweat so very much.

Grabbing his face and yanking it down to hers, she crushed her lips against his. He tasted like mint toothpaste, and he smelled like that cologne she bought him for Christmas. Gisa said it was cheap, but he’s smiled and thanked her for it anyway. And now he was wearing it. The very idea sent a thrill through her.

With a groan, he slid his hands along her legs and then underneath them to grab her ass and hike her out of her chair until she was flush against his chest. Her lips curled into a smile as she took his lower lip between her teeth and pulled hard enough to draw a sound from the back of his throat. Knotting her fingers in his hair, she tugged and whispered, “You get to deal with me first.”

His eyes opened, barely an inch from hers, and the look in them sent a shiver down her spine. When he looked at her like that, it drove her half mad every time. “Put me down and I’ll show you just how persuasive I can be.”

He set her down with exaggerated stillness, making sure to drag her body along his so she could feel every inch of him. Smirking at getting her way, Mare nudged him back until he was sitting on his desk. Bracing her hands on either side of him, she asked, “Which do you want first? Surprise one, or surprise two?”

His brow quirked, and he slid a hand around her waist to pull her between his legs. “I want you, just you.”

When his voice dropped that deep, it made it very difficult to stay focused on what she had planned. But she wanted to see him squirm, and if there was anything Mare Barrow was, it was persistent.

“Surprise number two it is.” She grinned like a cat with a mouse as she hooked his belt with a finger and trailed it along the waistband of his pants to the buckle. Humming to herself, she undid it, sliding it through each loop like a needle with thread. When it was fully out, she held it up with a wink. “Give me your wrists.”

Even in the heat of it all, his cheeks burned. Immediately he put his hands behind his back. Pouting at his movement, she lowered the belt. “It’s no fun if you don’t play along.”

“Can’t be restrained. I may have to get to my phone.”

“Then I’ll answer it and tell them you’re busy.” She teased before cupping the back of his neck and pulling him close to ghost her lips across his. He sighed, and the tension in his shoulders melted as she ran her hand along one side. She loved when he scrambled in these moments. Locked between a rock and hard place, he was like turtle on its back. If all she had to do to knock him down was insinuate like this, she would do it every night.

When he pulled away with narrowed eyes, she released a mock exasperated sigh and tossed the belt away. “Fine, next time.” Without giving him a moment of relief, she unbuttoned his pants and tugged to start sliding them off. “But since it’s my job to help you relieve stress, here’s what I’m going to do.”

He visibly swallowed, even as he helped her slide his pants off. Running her hands up his legs after she dropped them, Mare chewed on her lip. “If you can keep it together for longer than ten minutes, I will let you do me from behind.”

His eyes widened, shock pouring out of every pore of his body. She hated that position, and always refused it. It was the most degrading thing, she insisted. If a man was going to fuck her, he should look her in the eye while he did it. She may be trash from the other side of the tracks, but she knew her worth.

“Ten?” He breathed, his eyes darting to the clock on the wall next to them.

“Ten.” She confirmed before crouching down. “But it has to be ten. If you cheat, I’ll know because I will be keeping track of the time.”

His mouth opened to refute before closing with a snap. She could see him working it over, trying to determine whether or not she would play fair. She never really did, but this time she made a promise to herself that she would. Besides, she trusted him to at least make the whole experience entertaining.

“Clock starts when I do.” She teased before tugging on the waistband of his boxers, making the elastic snap back. He tensed at the feeling, until she pulled them off too.

Perhaps it was the fact that she had snuck up here, or maybe it was the fact that anyone—including one of the most prestigious board members—could walk in on them at any second, but the sight of him sent electricity along every nerve in her body.

It was ten minutes. He wouldn’t make it to five, she told herself as she dragged her tongue along her lower lip. With that thought for reassurance, she gripped his thighs and closed her mouth over his cock. Immediately she felt the muscles in his legs tense, and his breathing hitched. She hummed, almost laughing at his reaction as he immediately grabbed the hair on the back of her head and pulled. She slid back an inch before diving back down, taking more than she had before. The groan he released was loud enough that she almost paused to make sure no one had heard. There was the fun in this, she supposed, getting caught might be exciting.

“Mare.” He gasped as she continued her ministrations, and began to trail her nails along his skin up to his hips. Forcing her head down further, he muttered a breathless apology when she gagged. Digging her nails and fingers into his skin, she smiled and hummed again.

“Fuck.” He spit the word like poison and bucked against her, earning another hum from her. “Not fair, that’s not fair.” He panted as she picked up the pace of her work.

His finger dug into her scalp as he pulled even harder on her hair. She stayed on like a leach though, stifling a laugh at his squirming. His other hand gripped the edge of the desk until his knuckles turned white, and his legs tensed in time with each of her movements. But the stubborn bastard kept it together, and no matter what she tried in her arsenal, he only cursed and gripped that desk until she thought it might splinter.

“Ten,” he crowed with a breathless laugh. “That’s ten.”

Mare snapped away with a grunt, swiping her hand along her mouth, smearing the lip gloss across her cheek. Glowering up at him, she grumbled a curse word that would have made her mother slap her across the mouth. A deal was a deal.

“Don’t look so bitter about it.” He teased, before cupping her face and lowering himself to capture her lips. His tongue darted along hers as his fingers gently pushed the hair he had pulled behind her ears.

When she pulled away for air, her chest ached and the space between her legs ached even more. “I’ve got one more surprise for you.” She rose to her full height, and had the pleasure of seeing a bead of sweat roll down from his hairline. He had barely made it. If she was being honest, she would say that she hadn’t been keeping track of the time. She’d lost all of it to the feeling of his hips rocking and the tension of his muscles.

Backing away a step, she winked at his confusion. “Remember a few weeks ago when I went to mall and made you go find something to do?” She fingered the zipper of her jacket, another bolt of electricity ran down her spine as he straightened up, completely attentive to her. “I was saving this for your birthday, but I got tired of waiting.”

As she went to unzip the jacket, he leaped, catching her hands almost knocking her over. Scrambling to stay on her feet, Mare let him take her whole weight as she gasped. “Fucking hell Cal—”

“Let me.” He smirked as he straightened her up and grabbed the zipper before she could. With a gentle tug, he unzipped it halfway, his eyes darkening again as he caught sight of the top half. She’d picked it carefully, the first time she’d ever done something like that honestly. Normally she grabbed things off the rack and hoped it matched. This though, she had taken her time selecting.

He had the jacket off in less than a heartbeat, and his fingers danced along the thin black lace of the corset. His eyes followed his hands as he searched the whole thing over, making her swallow in uncertainty. He trailed a knuckle along one of the many straps, his teeth obviously working at the inside of his cheek. Gently, he grabbed the waistband of her sweat pants and pulled them down as he dropped into a crouch before her. His eyes widened at the matching bottoms.

Immediately, his hands gripped the back of her legs as he glanced up at her. The weight of that stare could crush her if she didn’t realize that it was the most reverent of gazes. He looked at her like she had put the stars in the sky, and hung the moon too. It she was honest, she would admit that it might go to her head a little bit ans that the smile she gave him was mostly fed by that. She could bring this man to his knees by simply standing in a pair of lacy panties.

“Where,” he voice cracked on the word, and his fingers dug into her hamstrings a little more before he dragged his lips up the inside of her bare thigh. “Where did you keep this?”

Threading a hand through his hair, she exhaled in a sigh as his lips grazed the seam along the inside of her thigh. “You like it?”

“I’ll like it better when it’s on the floor.” He murmured before sliding his hand up to grip her ass again. She almost yelped, and grabbing his shoulders she let out a breathless laugh as he pressed more kisses along the inside of her thigh.

Standing up, he kept his hand on her as he lifted her off the ground. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and let him spin her around to the desk. With a quick sweep of his hand, he sent the papers all over it to the side before laying her down on it. With a tug, he dragged her back to the edge so she was still straddling him and braced his hands on either side of her head. She panted as she watched his lips curl into a hint of a smile.

“Forget fucking you from behind.” He murmured, before lowering himself to trail his nose along her sternum. “I want to see every inch of you in this.”

She grinned triumphantly as he slid a hand up her side to squeeze her breast, made far more generous with the help of the corset. It had been a good idea to listen to the pushy sales girl just because of that. “Good thing you don’t have to take it off.”

His brow quirked in confusion, and sliding her hand down her body, she opened her legs a little wider to brush her fingers along herself. “Made sure it would be easy for you. Didn’t want you to feel intimidated by all the straps and buckles.”

The snort he let out made her laugh, and she smiled as he stole the sound from her lips with a kiss. Rubbing his hips against hers, he lifted them off the table slightly until she was arched against him. Groaning when she felt how hard he was, she dug her nails into his arms, and said, “If I knew all it took to get you like this was wearing a pretty scrape of lace, I would buy sexier panties.”

“I happen to like the panties you already own.” He teased before reaching between her legs for the bundle of nerves there. Rubbing in a tortuously slow circle, he grinned down at her as she craned her head back so her hair spilled across the desk. Grabbing onto the edge above she tried to grind against his palm, seeking further friction.

Dropping his lips to her neck, he let his finger slide down to penetrate her. Groaning loud enough that she actually slapped her other hand over her mouth, Mare arched until her chest was smashed against his. He let out his own pleased sound at how wet he found her, and let her grind against his palm.

“Can you last ten minutes?” He whispered in her ear before catching her earlobe with his teeth and pulling lightly. Mare twitched in response to the movement of his finger inside of her, whimpering when he pressed a kiss to the point where her pulse pounded in her neck. And although this was heavenly, she’d be damned if he won at this.

Setting her jaw, she squeezed her legs together, earning a laugh from him as he withdrew his hand and brought his fingers to his lips. Sitting up quick enough to make herself dizzy, she grabbed his wrist to stop him from putting those fingers in his mouth. He froze as she closed her lips around his fingers and glanced up at him through her lashes. Releasing them with a pop, she watched his pupils dilate until they swallowed almost his entire iris.

Smirking when a blush exploded across his cheeks and neck, she licked her lips and said, “You won’t even last that long.”

Without speaking, he put a hand to her shoulder and slowly guided her back down to the desk as he stood over her. He pinned her hips down with his other hand as he tilted his head to the side ever so slightly and said, “I will take that as a challenge.”

Mare’s heart fluttered in her chest at the tone of his voice, and how deep it had dropped. Keeping her breathing as level as possible, she closed her eyes as he traced a hand along her side and cupped her breast before leaving open mouthed kissed along the column of her throat.

“Cal,” she breathed his name in a gentle exhale as she threaded her fingers into his hair at the same time that he slipped his hand to her entrance again and pressed his palm against her.

“Say my name like that again.” He whispered in her ear. “And I will do anything you want.”

“Anything?” Her voice hitched as she ground against his palm, her eyes fluttering as she sought out the friction he denied her as he teasingly pulled away.

His lips pulled up into a hint of a smile as he withdrew enough that she chased him with her lips. Their breath mixed as he rested his forehead against hers, and through her lightly fuzzy and crossed vision she could see the depths of his irises. Dark gold, and amber like honey. She could drown in them and be happy.

“Anything.” He answered her.

Lowering herself back to the desk, she pulled him with her while her other hand threaded between them to grab his hip and pull him closer. Without breaking eye contact, he let her guide him to her entrance. With a sigh, she tipped her head back and locked her ankles behind his hips as he pulled her completely to the edge of the desk.

“Cal.” She whispered as she grabbed the top of the desk again and squeezed her eyes shut.

“That’s my girl.” He replied before putting a hand on her hip to keep her pinned to the desk and pulled out before pushing in deeper. Mare bucked against him, gasping as she clenched her thighs together around his hips, pulling him closer. Bracing his other hand next to her head, he dropped his chin as he moved in and out. She only regretted doing this here for half a second, since she had to contain whatever sounds she made to minimal volumes. The last thing they needed was Volo Samos hearing something or coming to investigate what he was hearing. Although that might have been part of the thrill. If they were at her apartment, she could be as loud as she wanted, even with the window open. The traffic outside was loud enough to mask anything that happened in her shoebox apartment.

“Harder.” She panted as she dragged her nails down the side of his nice shirt. She wanted to tear it off of him, to get to his skin underneath. He caught her hand before she could do just that, and pinning that hand above her head he obliged her. She half yelped, half gasped as she slid along the desk until her head almost dangled off the edge.

Like a light switch flickering on and off, the light beyond her closed eyelids alternated with each meeting of their hips. She could feel the change in pace as he sensed her reaching her climax, and her lips curled into a pleased smile even as she arched slightly, hoping to escape him to last longer. He laughed softly at her attempt and pulled her toward him until she was dangling off the desk and had to grab on or risk falling to the floor. He caught her, but she still gasped as the change in angle pushed her completely over the edge so she shattered like glass. Every muscle in her legs contracted and her chest hitched on the rapid inhale she took. Curling around him as much as she could in her position, she stifled any other sound that wanted to come out.

The best part? She knew she had lasted longer than ten minutes. The worst part? She wanted him again. And there was no way that was going to happen because as she sat there panting after he put her back on the desk and bent over to kiss her lightly, she heard the subtle ringing from a cell phone.

“You’re getting a call.” She panted in his ear as she ran her fingers through his hair. It was damp now, and his chest pushed into hers with every inhale he took around his rapid heartbeat.

“It can wait.” He murmured in reply before pressing a kiss against her jaw again.

“I thought thirty and a half million dollars meant a lot right now.” She laughed as she traced a finger down the column of his spine from his neck to the middle of his back. He turned the full force of his gaze on her and she almost melted into a puddle in the heat of it.

“You’re worth more than that. More than any deal, any job.” He kissed the tip of her nose. It kept her from turning away to hide the blush that exploded across her cheeks. He traced a thumb along it, and smiling at her he continued, “Who’s blushing now?”

With an amused roll of her eyes, she traced a finger along his jaw in response to his light touches. This close to him, she realized he was beautiful, in the same way a marble statue in a museum was. She used to think he belonged in places like that, surrounded by priceless and irreplaceable objects that everyone paid to see.

“I love you.” She tilted her head to the side, testing the phrase again. It was only the third or fourth time she had used it seriously with him. The weight of it settled over him, and he brought her fingers to his lips to press a kiss to them.

“I love you.” He dropped the hand and pulled her into a sitting position so she could drop her legs from around his waist. Still connected with him, she trailed her fingers along his arms and drank her fill of him with her eyes. A part of her knew that someday she would lose him. Nothing in her life was ever truly hers and he luck had always been rotten, it was why she never bought a lottery ticket. And of course, his father did not like her. He wanted her gone because he saw her as an obstacle, or a hurdle his son would trip over. It took everything to not dig her fingers into Cal’s arm when they were around his father. Maybe if she did so, she could tattoo herself onto him and never lose him.

“What are you thinking so deeply about?” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and pressed another kiss to the tip of her nose.

“Nothing important.” She lied effortlessly, the smile she conjured for him almost real. If he saw through it he didn’t comment. The phone rang again from its sad position on the floor where it had ended up, and this time they both looked at it. The screen was lit up and he grimaced at the number showing on it.

“I think you have to take that one.” Mare whispered before pressing a kiss to his cheek and sliding away from him to hop off the desk. He managed to catch her, and bring her to his chest before she could escape. Closing her eyes, she let herself melt against him for a second, inhaling the smell of his cologne and the smell of her that was now on him.

When he pulled away to grab the phone off the floor and his pants from their pile near it, she sank back into the chair and watched his back as he finally answered the call. Whatever he was saying was like a buzz against her ears. She could only see him right then: the man he was, and the one he could become. She hated what he was in a small part of herself. But he wasn’t… he wasn’t like the other people he had spent most of his life around. And neither was his brother. Maybe that’s what that life did to people like them. Pushed them so hard that they turned out the opposite of their parents.

He glanced at her with a smile as he managed to step into his pants with one hand and pull them up. She conjured up another smile for him and stood to fix his hair. He leaned down far enough that she could do that while he went about stringing his belt back into his pants. She trailed her fingers along his chest and down to the buckle and wrestled his fingers from it to clasp it shut herself.

By the time she had finished he was done with the call, and was sitting in silence watching her work. She glanced up at him through her lashes, but he cupped the back of her head so she tipped her head back completely to him. His thumb rubbed a soothing rhythm along the back of her skull as he whispered, “I have to go. They found a solution.”

She nodded. “So I guess you don’t have to bring out the big guns and put me in front of them.” Her smile was easy even as she prepared to pull away from him again. He held her steady, staring into her eyes for a long moment.

Just after the silence had stretched too far, he whispered, “Thank you.”

“For what?” She managed to disentangle herself from him, and turned to gather her clothes. If he was leaving she needed to disappear too. They couldn’t leave together though, or people might notice. And she did not need it getting back to his father that she had broken any of those stupid rules. Then she might as well consider this the last time she ever saw him. What a last time it would be though. It would live with her for the remainder of what she had heard his father call a measly insignificant little life.

“Everything. You… you make me impossibly happy Mare.” He threaded an arm around her waist before pulling her back against his chest and laying a kiss on top of her head. She finally melted completely into his arms. Wrapping his forearms with hers to trap him for a moment longer she closed her eyes. Suddenly, she didn’t care about the rules she had agreed to. Rules were meant to be broken, and she had always excelled at doing just that. With him, she would break every rule and scatter the ashes of them to the wind.

#(*ask lily*)#(*shut up lily*)#my writing #my fanfics #red queen #glass sword #kings cage #war storm #broken throne #post broken throne #marecal #office au #enjoy everyone!#rated M for MATURE please #thank you #also find on AO3

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nancywheelxr · 3 years

Note

Word of Honor prompt suggestion: WKX and YBY play the drunken ancient Chinese equivalent of Truth or Dare. The situation rapidly escalates from throwing Wolong Nuts to property damage, while a horrified ZZS attempts to restore order. In the end, Gu Xiang smacks both of them down.

anon, i am delighted by this prompt, thank you so much

Zhou Zishu loves having an extended family.

It’s great, so great. Amazing. Really, just lovely. A blessing.

“Who are you calling blind? Twice that distance, it would still land true!”

A blessing. Especially when they all decide to visit at the same time. Lovely surprise, truly. So great. Zhou Zishu is just so happy. Estactic even. Look at him, he’s a shining beacon of happiness.

“Shifu,” Chengling says, frowning up at him from the where he’s supposed to be meditating, “are you alright? You look stressed.”

“What nonsense are you spouting now?” Zhou Zishu snaps, “who’s stressed? If anything, it’s your laziness that’s stressing me!”

Chengling doesn’t look too convinced because, unfortunately, somewhere down the line, the kid seems to have lost all common sense. Personally, Zhou Zishu blames Wen Kexing. “Sorry, sorry, I promise I’m not being lazy,” he grins, eyes going wide and pleading-- another thing, that, personally, Zhou Zishu blames Wen Kexing for. “As soon as we stop hiding, I’ll go back to training!”

“Who’s hiding!” Zhou Zishu takes a deep breath. He’s been told to manage his stress levels. Besides, he’s not stressed. Beacon of happiness. Shining, that’s what he is. This is all fine. “We’re not hiding. We’re meditating away from the mess your Shishu is making with Ye-qianbei.”

Chengling nods once, serious. “A warrior knows when to retreat.”

“That’s not--” He stops himself. Somewhere, probably in the courtyard, there’s a crash loud enough to echo in the room they’re using. This is fine.

“Where would that count? I dared you to strike down that tree, not take a statue’s head!”

“What’s wood compared to stone?! Have you gone senile? Your dare was too stupid to consider, I made it better!”

Wen Kexing is slurring his words already, Zhou Zishu can tell, and it’s with a startling clarity that he can see it in his mind: Wen Kexing, drunk, throwing his fan around the courtyard on a dare, and Ye Baiyi, not drunk, unbothered by the very real risk of someone losing a limb if he deemed it entertaining enough.

They had been throwing those blasted nuts around, the last time Zhou Zishu checked on them. Shooting them around like arrows and leaving dents all over his walls. Then, he had been merely grateful for their unspoken agreement of not ever choosing truth, just in case someone stepped in one of the several emotion landmines scattered in their past-- if anyone starts crying, Zhou Zishu is walking out, he’s decided this very early on.

Well, he supposes, if it’s Wen Kexing, he would probably stick around to sober him up, tears and all, but he’d really rather not.

It was a mistake though, it seems, to leave them unattended for too long. Now the dares have escalated and one of the statues is allegedly missing a head.

So great.

“Stay here,” he tells Chengling, just in case the kid’s luck strikes again, and goes investigate the noises. Following the chaos is always sure to lead him back to Wen Kexing.

The several disciples scurrying away from the courtyard is also a good indicator he’s on the right path.

“Old Monster,” Wen Kexing is saying, and in his arms there’s a large stone that might at some point have been a statue’s head but has been hacked at too much to retain any semblance of its former image. Hacked at too heavily to have been done by a fan, lined with steel or not. Which means-- “I dare you to-- I dare you to cut this in half now!”

“Ha!” Ye Baiyi snorts, sword already unsheated, and there’s a faint flush to his face which is all sorts of terrible because if even Ye Baiyi is a little drunk, then how much have they drunk? And could people, please, stop waving around sharp weapons while inebriated? “You call that a challenge? Brat, I could be in my death bed and that would still be too easy. Don’t waste my time, come up with something better.”

Yeah, no, it’s definitely time for an intervention. “Alright, alright,” he calls, stepping out into the courtyard and promptly tripping over an entire watermelon. What the fuck. “What the fuck?”

“A-Xu!” Wen Kexing grins, waving at him while hugging the head to his chest, and it’s horribly endearing, yes, but also, terrible because Zhou Zishu is trying to hold on to his annoyance. “A-Xu, be careful! I won that fair and square, it’s my prize! Isn’t it good? We can have it after dinner but not the Old Monster, he can’t have it, A-Xu!”

“As if I wanted! It’s probably rotten--”

“Oh, it’s good that you’re here, A-Xu, I’ve missed you, and now you can stand guard on our watermelon!”

Deep breaths. “Where did you get the watermelon?”

“I won it.”

Ye Baiyi scoffs. “You cheated.”

“You won it. From where?”

“No, he cheated,” Ye Baiyi repeats as if speaking to a particularly slow child, “I’ve already told you that, stop making me repeat myself.”

“Don’t listen to him, A-Xu,” Wen Kexing walks over with his stone head, swaying as he goes, “no cheating was involved. Look, isn’t it a good watermelon?”

The question is accompanied with a genuinely distressed look, as if it was of paramount importance that Zhou Zishu agree with him on this, as if the whole world is hanging on this thread, so Zhou Zishu finds himself picking up the damn thing and awkwardly inspecting it around. “Yes, it’s very good.”

Immediately, Wen Kexing spins around, using the statue head to point at Ye Baiyi vindictively, “see? Take that, Old Man! How about it? A-Xu says it’s good, so it’s good, it’s not rotten!”

Well, in truth, it might be a little past its prime, but Zhou Zishu decides to keep that to himself and not think about where it came from anymore. This, he figures, is going to be a problem for Sober Wen Kexing when he wakes up tomorrow. So he places the watermelon back down and steels himself for the task of prying the head from Wen Kexing. “Yes, yes, I’m always right, and now A-Xu is saying it’s time to go to sleep.”

For his troubles, he receives a most betrayed look, “A-Xu, it’s still so early, A-Xiang isn’t even back yet,” something seems to click on his head, “and the Old Monster hasn’t completed the dare!”

Zhou Zishu curses silently. Having deemed Wen Kexing’s ramblings boring, Ye Baiyi had retreated back to the his seat at the table and been about to pour himself some water, but now he perks up again, throwing one of their precious nuts at them. “Come up with a worthy dare, then! Qin Huaizhang’s disciple, bring more wine.”

Hearing this, Wen Kexing rushes forward, waving the statue head. “Don’t change the subject! If you think it’s too easy, how about I throw it in the air first, huh? I dare you, cut it in half before it touches the ground!”

I’m going to have to rebuild this place again, Zhou Zishu realizes with a morose sort of resignation. The manor might have survived the Window of Heavens, but he’s not so sure it’ll survive these two drunk idiots.

This epiphany takes some time to be processed, so Zhou Zishu doesn’t feel too guilty for not noticing Gu Xiang arriving with Cao Weining until they’re at his side, gaping like little dumb fishes at the scene. “Ah, Zishu-ge! Why did you let them get like this!”

“A-Xiang, A-Xiang,” her husband says helplessly, and Zhou Zishu snorts, magnanimously forgiving her slap at his shoulder, “don’t be so harsh, it’s not so bad! Wen-gongzi is...” without anything other than drunk out of his mind to finish his sentence with, Cao Weining trails off.

“What a mess,” she grumbles, “what a mess. You were supposed to keep an eye on them!”

“Me? How am I to do that? Do you think I can grant miracles?”

She hits his shoulder again. “Zishu-ge! You just had to keep an eye on him! That’s the one thing you like doing!”

“A-Xiang!” Cao Weining gasps, grasping at her sleeves to keep her from going for another slap, “Zhou-xiong, we’ll help clean it up, it’s the wine we brought anyway.”

“Pah,” she scoffs, shaking Cao Weining off and marching towards the two still squabbling about how best to throw the statue head, “who’s we? Honestly!”

From their spot by the door, Zhou Zishu watches as Wen Kexing beams at her, saying something too garbled for him to make out, while Ye Baiyi just squints like he’s seeing a new weird-looking bug.

A-Xiang’s screeches are very clearly heard, though. In a minute, she’s prodded and bullied Wen Kexing into giving up the head and poured them both healthy servings of tea, taking advantage of Ye Baiyi’s seemingly internal debate over insulting a little girl to shove the glass at him.

“Huh,” Zhou Zishu says, admittedly impressed. She really is efficient when she wants to be.

“Ah, A-Xiang really is amazing,” Cao Weining sighs in a horrible smitten way, so Zhou Zishu has to fetch and toss the nearest broom at him, on principle. “Ah?”

“It’s very good that Cao-gongzi offered to help,” he smiles, knowing Wen Kexing will laugh about this come morning, “now if you excuse me, this one has a very drunk husband to rescue.”

Feeling very satisfied with himself, he labels the mess a problem for Cao Weining now.

Zhou Zishu loves having an extended family. A blessing, truly.

#woh #shl #woh fanfic #wenzhou fanfic #wen kexing #zhou zishu #gu xiang #ye baiyi #cao weining #woh tag #word of honor #wenzhou tag

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