#Black women don’t owe you anything
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And to the ones who decided to show up with the random anti black viewpoints just because a white woman got called out……
#Oscars#biopic#95th academy awards#oscars 2023#the oscars#academy awards#oscars#Post#Hews#Black women don’t owe you anything#Not even a smile#And yall expect her to smile when she played in the face?#Biiiiiiiiiiitches what?????#Fuck off!#I didn’t give a damn about what yall clears think since January 6th 2021#Respectability politics is so dead#Be whoever the f you want#Because ain’t nobody gonna like you regardless of who you are
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𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐒 | 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐧𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐭.𝟏
you, a regular law-abiding citizen, saved the gods by accident. now, the goddess of lust, natasha, is going to grant you a wish. you could've had just about anything, but looking at the ethereal being before you, there's only one thing on your mind.
pairing: goddess!natasha x dom!fem!reader (G!P)
note: hello, folks! this is the long-awaited goddess!nat fic for the milestone event! i am quite proud of this fic, ngl... got a bit too carried away with some parts ;)
word count: 2.5k
the milestone event | main m.list | join the taglist | AO3
When you jumped in front of a speeding car to save a cat on the road, you had absolutely no clue that the cat was not, in fact, a cat.
This not-cat was a species of flerken, and it’s name was Goose. Flerkens were extremely dangerous alien creatures. At least, that’s what the Goddess of Galaxies, Carol Danvers, told you.
Trust me, meeting an intergalactic space goddess with a pet killing-machine (that looked awfully like a cat) was about as chaotic and unbelievable as you would imagine it to be.
—
“H-holy fuck!” you yelled, jumping in your seat, as a glowing woman materialised before your very eyes, in your shithole of an office.
“I do not believe I am holy, even though I am a Goddess.” The woman stated, watching with curious eyes as you tittered over your split coffee. Lifting your laptop and muttering curses, then sifting through the messed up paperwork.
“You’re a what?” You asked distractedly, still panicking over the mess that is your desk. “My boss is actually going to murder me. Or maybe I’ll murder myself first. I am literally- Yeah, okay, how the fuck did you appear like that? And aren’t gods supposed to be like, really huge? You look kinda…… human.”
“I am a goddess.” Carol reiterated with slight annoyance. A literal extraterrestrial being was in front of your eyes, and the only thing you cared about was your damn coffee?
“We are beings you could only ever fathom from the depths of your imagination, powerful beyond measure. Which is also why we can shapeshift to look like regular human beings, so we won’t scare the shit outta you. Which seems to have still happened.”
You let out a dry bark of laughter. Carol wasn’t sure if you thought she was funny or you were about to burst into tears.
“So, why did you decide to visit me, ever-powerful, omnipresent, all-mighty being?” You asked, half-sarcastically, half simply given up on life itself. The report you had been working on for nearly an hour had been ruined by the fiasco earlier.
You dropped into your chair, kicking your feet up onto your desk. Loosening your black tie with a weary sigh, you looked at the Goddess’ eyes and continued. “I’m a nobody. I’m an overworked and underpaid attorney. I run on caffeine. I don’t know why or how you’re here, but I really–”
“You saved us. The Gods and Goddesses.” Carol interrupts, firm and unyielding. “We owe you, alright? You get one wish.”
“One wish, to get whatever it is you desire. Anything. Anything at all.”
—
Your story was absolutely one of zero to hero. From an ‘underpaid and overworked attorney’, to having the fucking gods of the multiverse indebted to you, it seemed like a rather unorthodox situation.
“So… what do you want?” Carol had asked you.
“Uhm, I don’t need anything,” you mumbled, fiddling with your loosened tie. “Like, it’s totally chill between us even if I saved your cat.”
Great. Real cool, Y/N. The middle school boys could never compare to your level of failed attempts at being cool.
“Goose is not a cat, alright?” Carol commented, offended. You mutter an apology.
“So, what do you want?” she continued impatiently. “Humans thrive off greed. You mortals always want something. What is it, money? A fancy car? A boyfr– okay, not to be stereotypical, but you’re definitely not straight. So, women on your mind?”
You splutter at her outright but nevertheless true allegation. Carol gives you this blank stare that makes you feel stupid.
“Well, I guess, as a woman, there’s something I do want,” you speak up after a while. Carol raises her eyebrows in interest. “Something I have wanted to try, you know.”
Leaning closer to whisper your deepest desire in the goddess’ ear, Carol’s eyebrows disappear into her hairline. Her impressed, intrigued, embarrassed, and taken aback emotions all morphed into one expression, almost steals a laugh from your lips.
—
“You want me to grant you a cock.”
The Goddess of Lust sits in her throne, a picturesque image of perfection, the statement falling from her lips with such ease. There’s a lilt to her voice you can’t decipher. You just nod, looking unfalteringly at the goddess, as if it was the most normal request in the world.
The Goddess was slightly perturbed by your lack of, well, awe. There you were, standing in her grand palace, unfazed by the multi-million dollar chandeliers and gold-framed pictures, unfazed by her.
Natasha was just about the most exquisite sight people would kill to lay their eyes upon. Soft curls framed her delicately sculpted face like curtains to a stage, magnificent deep eyes and a more than well-endowed body to complement her pretty face. Her rose-gold dress of satins and sequins dripped with money. There was the thrall she exuded, of seduction so strong that had men and women falling to their knees.
Natasha was the Goddess of Lust for sakes, and the only thing you cared about was redeeming your wish?
She would’ve been annoyed, if not for how unfairly charming you were, standing with your hands in your pockets, a charming gentlemanly smile on your face.
“What kind of cock do you want?” Natasha resorts to ask, a playful smirk on her features. “I’ve seen some interesting ones over the years, intergalactic sex is far crazier than you would imagine. Ooh, do you want tentacles to-”
“Uh, no thanks.” You say hurriedly, a hand going out of your pocket to rub at your nose. It’s the first sign of discomfort or embarrassment Natasha’s seen from you. She grins.
“Just a regular human one?” She clarifies, pouting at you slightly.
“That’d be great, yeah.” You respond, back to smiling brightly. Natasha frowns. She knows that there’s something under that stupid gentlemanly facade you’re putting on. She’s craving to get a taste of it.
“What size?” The Goddess asks bluntly, like a Starbucks barista asking for your order on a Monday morning.
“A regular size would be fine, I suppose.” You respond in kind, nodding to yourself assuredly. Natasha winks at you. “Ah, a regular size, I see.”
Before you can decipher that cryptic response, the Goddess stands up, a pillar of superiority and authority. She snaps her fingers, and you’re being pushed back into a fancy chair. Where did the chair come from, anyway?
You forgo the answer to that question as the Goddess begins what you would assume to be the procedure. “Sit tight.”
A surge of pain presses against your crotch area, and you almost keel forward in shock, but the pain goes as quickly as it comes.
“Wait….. that’s it?” You ask, almost disbelievingly. Natasha nods proudly.
You look down, hands resting on your belt buckle.
You look up at the Goddess, and she only smirks.
You pull down your pants in swift fashion, letting out a quiet ‘whoa’ at the bulge in your boxers. It definitely feels bigger than would be regular, but then again you don’t have much knowledge of a man’s cock per se.
“Thank you,” You say, pleased with the results. Trying something new in the bedroom would definitely bring more life to your desolate days.
All too quick for the Goddess’ liking, you’re putting your clothes back on and getting ready to leave. “Thanks for your help,” You say calmly, turning to walk down the long passageway.
God, you just wanted to watch her fall apart.
As you walk, you feel Natasha’ eyes burning holes through your back. Oh, the tension was palpable, building with each step you took. It was getting harder to walk, with Natasha’s thrall like a heavyweight on your shoulders, willing you not to leave.
As you stand before the tall doors, you come to a standstill. Natasha waits in her throne with bated breath, so many words fighting to fall from the tip of her stubborn lips.
Your hand pushes down on the door handle, and that’s the last thing you can do before Natasha snaps her fingers again, and the tension is broken like a snapped coil. Suddenly, you’re pressed against her, looking into her dilated pupils.
“You’re so annoying, you know? I’ve been so fucking horny, looking at you this whole time, and you were about to get up leave?” Natasha asks, her tongue coming out to dart at her pink lips. Her hands have grasped your forearms, but your hands are cinched around her waist, disabling movement.
“No,” you breathe, head moving down to trail open-mouthed kisses along the column of her poised neck. “I was waiting for you.” The Goddess throws her head back under your fleeting touch.
“Fuckin’ tease,” she mumbles, and you smirk against her skin. You’re rough with her, too, knowing that she isn’t made of glass, sucking purple marks into the pale skin of her neck, shoving your knee between her legs to spread them wider.
“Too much clothes,” Natasha breathes, and then with a burst of magic you’re stripped bare of any article of clothing. Her hands fly to your cock instantaneously, wrapping her delicate fingers around your semi-hard member.
You grunt against her skin, struggling to find a better position to properly have her. Since she’s sitting in the throne and you’re bent over above her, you can barely have her the way you want. Due to your lack of magical power, you resort to doing things the hard way.
Your hands slide under Goddess’ dress, going under her thighs, and then manhandling her up. Natasha’s whines of disapproval turn on deaf ears as you sit yourself in the grand chair, plopping her onto your lap. You don’t miss the way her thighs are already slightly damp.
“Need you inside now, fuck,” Natasha growls into your skin, climbing onto your cock as your hands squeeze at her thighs. You proceed to rip the fabric off her skin, deciding that there’s too much clothing restricting you from getting your hands on her.
And boy, was that a sight you’d never forget.
“Oh!” The Goddess cries, when you lean forward to wrap your lips around her hardened bud. Your hands don’t rest for a moment, squeezing everywhere – hips, thighs, breasts, ass — whatever you can get your hands on. She’s fucking exquisite.
The stimulation seems to work wonders for Natasha’s pleasure, as she engulfs your cock in her warmth with fervour.
You gasp lowly, a throaty sound escaping your lips. Her hips and ass go up and down, working her cunt around the girth of your cock, wet and warm and slick. You can barely keep up with how desperate she is, and the fact that you have this wonder of a woman falling apart at your hands makes your heart soar.
Matching the rhythm of short upward thrusts with Natasha’s riding makes her moan out loud, a pretty melodious sound that imprints itself into your brain all at once. You wanna hear it a hundreds of times more.
Natasha gets more messy with her riding, as you suck hickeys, light ones and fierce ones, into her collarbone and her neck and breasts. You can’t resist the urge to slap her on the ass as she rides you like it’s the last day she’d be on this universe.
“Ah!” The Goddess moans, and you grip her thighs and push her down hilt deep, and her eyes roll into the back of her head. You feel her cum around your cock, so needy and desperate and mindless, and that triggers your own climax.
Natasha hadn’t even begun to open her eyes again before she ends up on the floor and you hovering above her, your hands fervently spreading her cunt open. You duck your head down, licking a long stripe up her puffy clit.
The Goddess writhes, unintelligible moans falling from her lips as you proceed to give her the best fucking cunnilingus of her life.
You’re more than determined to make this an unforgettable experience for the Goddess who probably had sex every other day.
Natasha doesn’t know what the fuck you’re doing with your tongue, but you’re ravenous and your carnal desire makes her even wetter than before.
She’s slept with plenty of people, human or not, but none of them had ever been this uncouth about her pussy. Oh, it nearly drove her mad, but she was already seeing stars.
Before the Goddess registers what’s happening, your hardened cock slides into her cunt with a flippant ease once again. Natasha lets out a filthy moan as she feels it throb inside her, clenching around you hard.
You slap her thigh in retaliation, but feeling the sudden strike of pain only turns her on further. “Gonna fill you up so good,” you pant. “You won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”
Natasha takes it as a promise, when you spread her thighs and line your cock up with her pussy. The Goddess of Lust doesn’t think she’s ever wanted anyone this bad.
You enter her roughly, your previously calm exterior completely faded away. You fuck her deeper with each thrust, opening the Goddess up. Pounding into the woman’s cunt like a woman starved, you hear her beg and cry with each thrust.
“Oh, please! More! More!” The Goddes cries, nearly screaming your name every time your blunt head pushes against her cervix. You only get spurred on further, going at a pace so painfully fast you don’t know if you’ll be able to walk tomorrow.
You swallow at the sight of this Goddess, completely breathtaking in her state of unravelling.
“My divine Goddess,” You say, leaning down to press a kiss against the bulge of your cock at her lower stomach.
Those words in itself have Natasha uncoiling before you, your name falling from her lips like a sacred mantra. Her walls are wrapped around your cock so tight, her nails digging into your back so hard it nearly draws blood.
“My divine Goddess,” you repeat, eyes glazed over, reaching your own climax inside her. Natasha lets out a filthy moan, feeling each throb of your cock in her as walls of cum pulse inside her, again and again.
God, it feels so good, everything everywhere all at once, your world becoming Natasha, Natasha, Natasha.
You think you could stay like this forever.
—
A long bath and a trip to the Goddess’ bedroom later, you’re laying on her expensive silk sheets, hair smelling like rosemilk or whatever that shampoo had been called.
You honestly don’t know how this gorgeous woman’s been charmed by your awkward humour and the coffee stain on your work shirt, but you’re definitely not complaining as she nuzzles into your neck, humming in satisfaction.
“You sure that’s the first time you’ve ever had a cock?”
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mafia!toji first time meeting stripper!reader
a/n: reader is fem. and since i’ve been hit with biggest writers block known to a man, this one is inspired by one of my old work called gold. enjoy!
-
toji zenin is a ruthless man. that, you can definitely count on.
he’s known to be the one who shows little to no mercy. who’s soul isn’t as clean due to the countless of lives he had taken.
as crazy as it sounds, toji craves for the sound of piercing cries from someone who begs to spare them compassion. he likes to taunt them. mock them. pretending that he would eventually let them go just to see that little flicker of hope lighting upon their gaze.
a sinister smile would play coyly upon his lips before he decides the latter. pulling the trigger and watches the victim face planting the dark tile as their brains scatter all over the walls and floor.
it’s one way to teach people a lesson to not fuck with him. to not fuck with his business. because toji zenin is crazy like that.
he has no time for patience nor pity.
toji fixes the collar of his black sheer shirt, checking himself out in the mirror to make sure he looks good tonight. who are we kidding though? he’s toji fucking zenin,
tonight was supposed to be his day off. he had plans. before a motherfucker who runs a strip club decides to mess with him about the package deal and had almost lost him half of the money he’s supposed to own,
he could’ve let his right hand man to handle it. but this is bigger than anything he had ever done. is this goes to south, then one person’s death wouldn’t be the only thing on his agenda,
he’ll track down every single one of the bastards and kill them with his own hands,
however, tonight needs to be as clean as possible.he’s aware of the reputation he has put on himself to the world, so no point of hiding or camouflage. yet, he still doesn’t want to cause too much of a scene,
stepping away from the full length mirror, he swiftly picks his black velvet coat off the hanger before shrugging it on,
“talk to me, satoru” his heavy voice echoes the hallway as he steps out of the room to walk downstairs, watching a few of his men pocketing their weapons,
gojo satoru. his right hand man, nods,
“he’s there. word from bianco. he appears isn’t expecting you to stop by” he informs, showing toji the message on his phone. “it’s going to be crowded. but bianco is taking care of that right now. he’s got nowhere to run”
toji scoffs, snatching a glass of whiskey off the table before downing the remaining drink. “good. i need him to see me when he less expects it. owes me more than some fucking money” he mutters, tucking the G21 down his holster.
gojo raises an eyebrow. “G21? you’re going soft tonight eh, boss?”
toji shoots him a hard glare, one where the white haired man only chuckle at. “the car’s ready?”
another nod, gojo leads toji down towards the basement. “as requested. Lamborghini Murcielago. your personal favorite. packed with 640 PS and 471 Kw—i think you know what that means— rules around 213 mph if you consider on going hit and run. i packed a standard aeropack wing if you wanna go slow. windows? bulletproof. in case anyone tries to kill you” toji knows for a fact that gojo is only joking about the last part.
no one dares to try to take him down before he does it. it’s a pattern everyone knows by now,
toji lets out a low whistle, head softly shaking at the machine beauty before him. fingers tracing along the hood of the car,
“shit—you know i need to lay low, man? got anything less attractive?”
“i don’t do less. you know that, boss” he winks playfully, laughing to himself when he watches toji rolls his eyes. “besides. this thing right here will for sure earns you a bird. take her out on a stroll, bring her home. women love fast cars” he comments,
humming as a response, toji walks towards the driver’s seat. “i don’t date. were you born yesterday or something?” he speaks in a firm tone before catching the keys that gojo throws at him,
“no I wasn’t. but isn’t ‘she who shall not be named’ is like what? two years ago? and you got to stop with the one night stands. go get a girl tonight” he suggests, watching the dark haired man sliding himself into the car,
toji gives him a half hearted smile. “noted”
“i’ll be right behind you, boss. slow down, yeah?”
-
it takes about thirty minutes prior to arrival. toji blames it all on the traffic and the slow pedestrians crossing the road. cursing to himself every five seconds, each time he stops at red lights.
he parks his car close to the entrance before exiting from the vehicle, tossing his keys at one of the valet but not before roughly grabbing his collar and threaten to kill him if one scratch is prominent on his car.
clearing his throat, he walks into the bar. ignoring the stares and whispers at the sight of a notorious ruthless man who decides to pay the club a visit.
one thing he first to notice, the club is indeed packed. gojo wasn’t lying. as if God knew what is about to happen later on and isn’t going to let him get away with witnesses. he needs to play it safe tonight.
as he strides through the darkened room to find the table he had been reserved for, a few half naked girls walk right pass him. delicate fingers stroking his chest and brushing against his shoulders, making him smirk. he can’t lie, most of them are gorgeous and he’s tempted enough to touch their skin, but he has to hold it. not that he isn’t interested, because his mind changed. he is definitely taking someone back to his place tonight.
fucking gojo. he has to be right every time.
speak of the devil, the white haired man appears by his side in minutes. nodding his head towards the area where the business should be conducted. toji follows him close towards the end of the room,
he gently pulls back a chair for him to sit, as gojo and the two of his other men stands behind to watch over. toji specifically asks for the furthest table, with a glass of whiskey has been prepared for him.
toji feels irritated. he hates doing all of this dirty work just because some fucking bastard isn’t able to keep up with the deal. he should’ve known not to trust alec to do business, yet when the pathetic excuse of a man begged on his knees with a gun knocked against his head, toji thought why not? if he didn’t get to fulfill his demands, he gets to kill him either way.
“alright, alright—fuck! easy man!” alec’s frantic voice causes toji’s eyes to avert from the scene of the crowd. his eyebrows knitted, threatening gaze bores upon the man whose pushed forcefully by his men to sit, “mr. zenin! it’s always a pleasure to see you!”
mind that alec owes him more than fifty grand, and this fucker had the nerve to walk in and act like nothing happened,
he is definitely going to kill him,
“you don’t fucking talk to me that way, alec. i’m not your friend. you owe me something” toji warns, his finger pointing at him as he watches the trembling man gulp. “you remember?”
alec couldn’t feel more terrified as he casts a glance of toji’s gun on the table, facing towards him. “i—i know, man—sir” he corrects himself. “i didn’t forget. it’s just that the money is tight right now. the girls aren’t earning amount of money they—“
toji could only scoff, head thrown back. “i didn’t fucking hire your girls. i hired you. stop being a pussy and own up to that. you should know that me and patience never get along. i have one body bag left in my car and it would give me the tremendous pleasure writing your name on it” he grits his teeth, looking at alec with a dark look in his eyes as he balls his fist,
“i just need more time—“
“one month isn’t enough?!” toji barks, making alec jumps at the booming voice
“i need more. i promise. give me one more month. and i will do whatever you ask me to, sir zenin.” alec begs with hopeful eyes,
toji finds it disgusting and repulsive to see someone like him begging for mercy. or anyone at all. that gesture is weak and vulnerable. “i don’t give out second chances”
alec hears a gun clicks from behind. he doesn’t need to ask, he knows that one of the two men behind him is ready to blow his brains out. “sir zenin, please! just one more chance! please”
once again, toji isn’t a very patient man. he knows enough to understand that it’s a mistake. but he would love to see how this one goes, playing along with this little game of his.
toji isn’t a fool. never was.
he looks over at gojo, as if to ask what he thinks. the answer that gojo could give is ‘your choice, boss’
toji sighs, head shaking. “fine. you give me your best girl of the night, and i’ll give you one more month” he offers, taking a sip of his drink, leaning himself back to relax. “no more than that”
alec nods. though he feels like shitting himself because one month isn’t close enough for collecting the amount of money he owes toji to. still, he thinks this is better than nothing.
“take your pick, mr. zenin. or i could bring one or two here? we have twins in the back and they sure are on high demand, everyone has been begging me to—“
toji could only hum in response, not listening to a word he’s saying. his green eyes scanning over at the scene. the girls are putting on a show, showing off their skills, some are pulling a lap dance on a few customers. he cringes when one suddenly takes her bra off like she costs nothing. seems like none of these girls are his type. gorgeous? yes. but they don’t seem to do enough to make his cock twitch,
he’s about to take back the offer until his eyes fall on her. eyes widening in amusement and toji finds himself freezing on the spot.
a slight curvier woman has her leg hooked around the pole. long dark haired brushing against the marble floor as she arches her back slightly. toji observes the way her body moves so sensually yet gracefully, almost like a feather. the way she bites onto her pink glossed lips and how her eyes manage to flirt with the crowd with one simple look. she has them lured into her presence. himself included.
her body—fuck, he doesn’t even know where to begin. delicious curves cladded in navy blue bodysuit, full breasts supported by the cup of her outfit that bounces each time she moves. soft thick thighs wrapped by a white fishnet stockings and legs decorated in white fuzzy pumps. overall it’s quite revealing, but it still presents the modesty she has on her. he’s not quite sure if it’s the outfit or it’s just her,
but only a fool would assume that it isn’t the latter.
toji feels his pants growing tight when his gaze lowers to how her hips moving in circles. in painfully slow motion too. almost like she knows how to tease and she’s doing it so perfectly. if only he had spotted her from before, he would’ve move closer.
a damn fucking beauty she is.
“her. i want her” toji speaks in a firmer tone, almost territorial. he just can’t take his eyes off the woman. watching every single move and a wink being thrown.
he chuckles when she swats a couple of old hands who seems desperate to try and cope a feel with a dirty look on her face. he couldn’t make out what she’s saying but he knows for sure that she’s telling them off,
‘gorgeous and a fighter’ he thinks to himself
“angel? you want her?” alec asks after he realizes who he’s pointing at,
“that’s her real name?”
“no. she doesn’t let anyone know her real name. she goes by that ever since she starts working here” alec informs, watching toji nods,
so she’s new?
“some calls her birthday cake”
that makes toji’s brows scrunched. he is about to ask why the name until the answer is immediately given to him when she decides to do a side split, making her plump ass bounce against the floor.
oh that’s why
“gorgeous” toji breathes, cocking his head to the side. “not taken is she? not that i care anyway. what a fucking dime she is. you’re going to give her to me, correct?” his voice is threatening enough, dark eyes moving to look at alec who nods.
“yes! of course, sir! if that’s what you want”
“fuck yes i do. bring her to me” he demands before gulping down his drink, watching how alec immediately scrambles off the chair and hurries towards where angel is performing,
toji keeps his eyes set on the mysterious lady. refusing to move. he doesn’t want to miss a single thing. especially when she’s on her hands and knees, ass up in the air for the crowd to see and eyes looking over her shoulder earning cheer, applause and money flown just for her.
gojo lets out a wolf whistle. “good choice, zenin”
he hums, the girl now up on her feet. lifting herself up after she hooks her arm around the pole and give them a twirl. “tell me gojo. have you seen anyone as beautiful as she is?”
“definitely not. you just might hit the jackpot”
indeed he did. toji may have made a lot of mistakes but he’s never wrong when it comes to choosing partners . he’s always careful with it.
there is something so different about her and he’s very sure about it too. from how she’s not afraid to tell the men in the audience off, putting that smart mouth to use. unlike the girls he has seen around where they just take the humiliation. but her?
she fights back. just how he likes his women.
“fuck off alec, i mean it! my shift is almost over. i’m not interested being passed around to your friends or co-workers!”
he hears her protest. toji doesn’t even realize that she’s walking closer towards his table with alec’s grip around her elbow,
“who said anything about passing you around? i just need to introduce you to one of the most important men here!” alec defends,
“weird way of saying you want me to suck their cocks” she comments
a foul mouth indeed toji thinks
alec throws her a hard glare, in which she only scoffs and roll her eyes. “mr. toji zenin, I would like to introduce you to angel. she’s been here for almost a year now.”
toji grins at that, standing up from his chair and looks over at the beauty with a disinterested look on her face. seemingly look like she doesn’t want to be here. yet she smiles at him anyway, and he swears he has never seen something so pretty,
“nice to meet you, beautiful ” toji extends his hand for her to take, giving a soft kiss on it. his eyes aren’t looking away from hers. “hell. you’re even gorgeous up close”
she won’t deny it. this man is absolutely handsome. and she doesn’t see a lot of them working here. most are old and married, which something that she finds disgusting. but this man, toji? he is far from ugly.
first thing she noticed was how broad he’s built. the way he towers over her and he’s not even standing that close to her small figure. even the dark room fails to hide the definition of his muscles through the black shirt he’s wearing. and the thin scar over his pulled lips, showcasing a smirk.
is this man even a man?
as handsome as he is, angel raises an eyebrow, not feeling entirely influenced by the gesture. “so have you been observing me this whole time? that’s creepy”
“angel” alec hisses, gripping her elbow a bit tighter making her flinch a bit and her body to cowers a little.
“sorry” she mutters in irritation, gaze falling down to the floor
the interaction somehow irks toji to the bone. he eyes how alec treats her in front him, it would probably even worse behind closed doors.
he doesn’t even want to know.
“you can fucking let go now alec, you’re hurting her” toji demands, throwing him a sharp stare. alec’s pupils are wide open at that, causing him to release his grip almost immediately and for angel to nurse her reddening skin.
one thing that toji wouldn’t accept, is violence against women.
toji’s gaze beginning to soften yet again when he watches the pretty girl before him. how her long hair cascading down her back, exposing the sharp of her collarbones and valleys of her breasts,
if only her look of fear is replaced with a look of comfort,
“you can leave us be. thanks” toji coldly orders at alec, not wanting to be near his presence anymore. he’s had enough seeing that bastard,
he nods, avoiding his stare but not before muttering a ‘don’t fuck this up’ to angel before one toji’s men escorts him out,
“don’t worry about him doll. he’s gone, yeah?” he comforts her almost immediately, not wanting her to be scared anymore,
“oh—yeah, uhm thanks” she shoots him a smile. a genuine one this time, taking his hand in hers when he offers it. "so how do you want this--''
“if you don’t mind” he puts a hand behind her back immediately to guide her to the couch behind, earning a quizzical look on her face. “i want to get to know you first”
“mr. zenin. with all due respect, this is not a date. i’m working”
he chuckles at her forward response, still she lets him lead to the velvet couch. angel sits first, eyes glancing up for a moment and see a handsome white haired man with his arms crossed. he quickly removes himself from the presence and walk out. his other men following him from behind.
and now there’s just two.
“i just want to take my time with you. is that okay?” toji sits back down, watching her crossed her legs as she keeps the distance between them,
she smiles with a shrug, toying with the strap of her bra, “you could do that while i’m giving you a dance—if you want?”
toji makes a mental note on how her eyes glow under the violet lights when she stares at him. almost like it’s so easy for him to see what goes beyond that. they’re so so pretty. prettiest he’s ever seen indeed. despite the flirty tone lacing under her response, she still has the look of innocence that makes him smile back.
she’s no better too. the way he’s looking directly into her eyes should be a crime. his gaze speaks something. something… lustful and dangerous.
he nods, letting out a breathe of relief as he leans himself back before spreading his thighs as an invitation.
“show me what you got then gorgeous”
angel swears she can hear the beat of her heart getting louder the moment she sits herself down on his lap. still, without him having to suspect anything, she keeps her flirty persona for a show.
“my, my—you really are a fucking dime” he lowly whistles, eyes falling to the curve of her breasts. “i can see why people were loving you back there. hopefully they don’t get jealous when i stole you away”
she giggles, a small blush creeping on her cheeks. “aren’t you a flirt. you do this to every girl?”
toji places his hands on her plump ass, resting it there. he knows that there are rules where it’s forbidden you touch the dancers. but he doesn’t give a shit. and it’s not like anyone had the balls to tell him off anyway.
“only to those who i find interesting, baby” he says, eyes not looking away from the beauty as be squeezes her flesh making himself groan. “fuck me. that’s an ass? right here?”
his comment makes her laugh as she throws her head back. loving how genuine he actually sounds when he said that.
“so—mr. zenin” she begins, giving him a naughty smile as her hands finds their way to his shoulders, feeling how tense they are under his grip. “what brings you to this awful depth of town, hm?”
he clears his throat, wetting down the bottom of his mouth while keeping his hands steady on her hips. finding no desire to move them. “business. your bastard of a boss owes me something. I didn’t think i would actually be here right now, accompanied by a gorgeous woman like yourself”
damn. he sure is charming and cheeky. definitely a player. “you sure are a sweet talker, mr. zenin” she tells him before slowly beginning to grind against his bulge causing him to exhale another deep groan. “are you sure—you don’t make bitches wet talking like that?”
he mutters a low ‘christ’ when he feels himself growing hard under her sultry move, yet she isn’t stopping. and she only had just started. “believe me doll, i’ve had my fair shares with many—but damn, they sure don’t make me hard like you do—cross my heart”
her hips the move in tiny circles, keeping a painfully slow pace but enough to keep him satisfied. “i don’t trust you but okay—anyway, what did you and alec talked about anyway?”
“nosy, huh?”
she rolls her eyes. “i have the right to ask since he practically sold me to you for tonight—my shift was supposed to be over, mr. zeni—“
“toji” he cuts her off, thumb softly stroking against her hip bone
“what was that?”
“just call me toji” he repeats with a small grin. “and okay that’s fair—he has something very important of mine. was supposed to pay a month ago, but that piece of shit isn’t known to be the one who keeps his promises”
she hums in response, leaning herself back slowly and rests her palms upon his knees to keep her body steady. her hips are now moving back and forth.
toji shamelessly let his eyes wander down from her breasts to her thick thighs. “i was going to blow his brains out tonight. right here. on this one spot. but he begged like a bitch and i wanted to see how far he goes” he laughs almost darkly,
it scares her a little by how calm he’s being about murdering someone. with the way his eyes staring at her aren’t really helping too. like a predator eyeing his prey. almost like he knows how to make her weak on the knees.
“looks like he’s in big big trouble, then” she giggles cutely. “not surprised anyway. he owes alot of money to the girls too. mine included”
he cocks an eyebrow, feeling himself tensing. “does he now? how long?”
“can’t count. i had to pull bunch of shitty excuses to the landlord just so he won’t kick me out of the apartment. half of our earnings each night, goes to him. saying that he’ll pay me back but I know he never will” she spills casually, then her movement comes into a halt. “oh fuck, don’t tell him i said that”
with a chuckle, his head shakes. “i won’t. but i could kill him for you, if you want me to. just say the word” he speaks lowly, continuing to admire her body. “mind if i ask how long have you been working here?”
it takes her a while to answer. “almost a year. I quit college for this. not because i love it entirely, but i couldn’t pay for it anymore.” she sighs,
“i’m sorry to hear that. what were you studying?”
“bio-engineering” she smiles, “people tend to be surprised when i told them that”
“count me in as well, sweetheart, damn. not only she’s hot as fuck but she’s smart too?” he shakes his head in disbelief. “you even real, right now?”
she laughs, flipping her hair. “thank you, toji—can i ask you something?”
he hums, callouses hands move towards her back, holding her steady,
“what happened there” she points at the scar, struggling to find the urge not to trace her fingers across it,
he shrugs, “was from a fight years ago. nothing major”
“can i—touch it?” she softly asks him, looking so innocent yet teasingly,
toji smirks, head nodding. “go ahead, baby” he speaks in a low baritone. voice so deep and flirty that it almost makes her squirm,
she ignores the butterflies in her stomach when he calls her that. and without being told twice, she leans closer and her fingers reach out to pad the scar gently. feeling how soft his lips against her skin, paying attention to every single detail of it. wondering how on earth could a scar fit someone so perfectly.
there is no doubt on her mind, that he is the sexiest man she has ever come across to. she can feel the weight of his palm lowering itself down to her plump cheek, squeezing it. usually, she would tell anyone off for touching her like that. but this time, she doesn’t say anything. not because she’s afraid of him but she feels strangely turned on.
“fuck” he breathes out, feeling her ass one more time. hearing him like that just makes her giggle as she gradually picks up the pace grinding on him, catching toji off guard.
“such a naughty little girl—bet you wouldn’t mind having that ass spanked now would you?” he whispers against her ear, biting his lower lip hard.
though she would admit that she wouldn’t, she won’t allow him to win this game. she slowly shakes her head with a smirk, removing herself off his lap causing him to whine. angel spins around, not without swaying her ass side to side, sneaking a glance to make sure he’s watching,
her hand immediately circles around the pole in front of them. “dinner is mandatory if you want to go down to that path, mr. zenin”
toji watches carefully with lust and admiration as she now securing her arm around the golden pole, lifting herself off easily and give her body a gentle spin. eyes screwed shut and head thrown back. coming back down slowly, she re-enacts the movement from where she performed for the audience. legs spread apart, landing in a perfect split. long brown hair covering the side of her beautiful features, tongue licking her upper lip.
he follows the curve of her ass, eager to get his hands on them but he knows that he has to wait. there, he spots a small heart tattoo inked on her ass cheek,
angel is a little teaser. that’s for sure. enjoying herself too much in making a man hard yet refuses to be under the spell of a man’s touch. he likes that actually. likes that a lot. it may be painful to have his cock hard at the moment while she’s not doing anything about it but she’s worth it.
so, so worth it.
“you are so. fucking. sexy.” his voice switches into something darker, a seductive grin slowly forming as he thirsts over her. “must have made a lot of men mad out there”
“so i have been told” she declares with confidence, innocent smile pulling upon her lips as she begins to gently crawl towards him, eyes never leaving his.
she halts in between his open legs, settling on her knees. being the little minx she is, her hands find a place on top of his thighs. “i sense you carry danger everywhere you go, mr. zenin—am i wrong?”
she’s not dumb. she spotted his gun strapped against his holster an hour before she was even being introduced to the man.
he delicately caresses her soft cheek, almost came in his pants when she leans against his palm. “why? that scares you?” he moves a few strands of hair that are blocking his view of her pretty face,
she shakes her head, a smile doesn’t leave her face. in fact, he hears a soft giggle escapes her.
his eyes move from the curve of her breasts and up to her mouth. eyeing the way that pink gloss compliments her pretty skin.
“would love to have a taste—right here” toji whispers, his thumb grace her lower lip. his breath immediately hitches, and a groan rumbles deep in his chest the moment she opens her mouth.
“fuck—what a good girl” he moans lowly when she lets his thumb rest upon her warm wet tongue. the angelic look in her eyes disappears and is replaced with a look of lust. “s-shit” it takes him by surprise when she decides to suckle it, head bobbing her head up and down painfully slow,
“jesus—i wish it was my cock you’re sucking right now, baby” nonetheless, the amount of pleasure she’s giving him is enough to keep him satisfied,
“holy fuck, wow” she pops her lips off his thumb. wiping the saliva from the corner of her mouth before giggling again. the sound makes toji smile. genuinely.
“you’re trouble” he comments with a tsk, chuckling at the way she shrugs innocently as if she has no idea what he’s talking about. “alright. up you get, baby”
she gives him a questionable look, following his movement and rise to her feet. “mr. zenin, we still have thirty minutes left. alec gave me at least an hour and he would be upset if i—“
“if he touches you, you tell me and i’ll kill him. understand?” toji sternly orders, brows furrowing at the thought of that lowlife bastard putting his hands on her,
she’s baffles at that. how could he know what goes behind closed doors? still she nods anyway. “yes, sir”
“toji, baby. toji” he corrects with a smile. “besides, if i stayed for another ten minutes, i’ll l cream in my pants and that would be embarrassing” he shamelessly points out. she blushes at that and it makes toji’s heart skips a bit,
“this doesn’t mean it’s a one and done. i would love to see you again, sweetheart. can’t let you go too far now can i?” he pulls out his wallet from his back pocket and hands her thick amount of hundreds. “here you go, angel”
she gasps softly as her eyes go big, shocked by the bundle of cash in his hand. if she counts it right that’s gotta be at least close to one grand.
“toji this is—fuck this is too much, I—i can’t take these. twenty or fifteen is enough for me”
he frowns. who in the right mind think it’s okay for men to tip a gorgeous woman with a rocking body some loose change? fucking assholes.
“baby, you do realize who you’re talking to? i don’t give out twenty or less” he quirks an eyebrow, watching her adorable expression. “money isn’t a problem to me. a grand isn’t a problem to me. come on, you deserve it”
she stares down at his hand and hesitantly takes the money. flashing him a wide smile. “mr—i mean, toji, oh my god thank you so much. thank you, thank you!” without any second thoughts, she jumps out and wrap her arms around his neck,
“you don’t know how much this means to me. i needed this”
toji stumbles a bit, the sudden movement surprises him but he appreciates it. the way she keeps thanking him, muttering couple of blessings has somehow gives his heart a little kick,
a good one.
“no need to thank me, baby” toji grins, holding her by the waist to keep her secured for a moment before pulling away. “you take care of yourself yeah? don’t be wandering too far. would love to take you out on a stroll” he leans down to peck her cheek,
“I’ll be sure to stop by and see you again, gorgeous” with one last devilish smile, he walks out of the room. leaving her still in complete shock,
he is no ordinary man, alright. it kinda makes her feel a bit weird by all the butterflies that are erupting her stomach by how he acted earlier. has it been.. what? two or three years since she had been engaged in any sort of relationships with a man. and there has been no real man crawling around this city. only rats. she fucking hates rats.
but toji zenin? there’s definitely something about him that makes his whole aura and appearance a lot more sexier. again, she’s not stupid. she has seen the gun. observed his interaction with her boss. and the men he had protecting him suits?
that’s no 9-5 man. it’s dirty work.
and it should’ve scared her. it should’ve been a warning made for her to run and avoid him because he’s a man that carries danger everywhere he goes. toji zenin is a man that would not hesitate to paint the whole town in blood of his victims if one ever crosses his territory.
yet as she glances down at the bills being handed at her and promise from him that he would see her again, it makes her smile. heart thumping at the thought of the beautiful man coming back only for her.
angel clutches the money against her chest, squealing as she does little bounces in her heels with a giggle. overjoyed with the amount of cash that would help her,
she’s definitely making toji her new favorite client
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↱ Content warnings: mentions of sex and suggestive comments being made by both the reader and the boys . ↰
↱ The Outsiders When You’re on Your Period (Fem! Reader)↰
↱ Summary: You’re on your period and your boyfriend helps you get through it. ↰
↱ Author’s note: I’m still getting a grasp on how they talk/act so they may be ooc for the time being but I’m hoping I can get everything down soon:). ↰
Word count: 3,191
Darry Curtis:
You whimpered as another dull ache spread throughout your lower abdomen. Your thighs were beginning to feel sore and your lower back was killing you. You didn’t want to bother anyone though so you kept your head down and kept your whimpers as quiet as possible.
There was no pads or anything really. No medicine. No nothing so you were stuck with toilet paper in your panties until the cramps went away. You gritted your teeth and moved to lay on your back on the bed. You couldn’t tell whether these cramps were the worst you’d experienced as of late or if you simply couldn’t remember any periods before this.
It was eight at night so Darry should have been home by now. You looked up at the clock and waited to hear his boots coming onto the porch. He could take a quick bath and then come cuddle with you. His warmth would really help especially since you could force him to message your lower abdomen.
The front door opened and you heard Darry’s thudding boots hit the floor with each step. He went into the bathroom but quickly came back out. “Who’s bleeding? Did those socs get after y’all again?” You looked down embarrassed, knowing he had most likely seen some of the bloody tissue. You didn’t want him to though. You wrapped them all multiple times. Another wave of cramps hit as they came back to back. One after another. You closed your eyes and bit into the blanket.
Why were women expected to go through this every month again? Who decided this should’ve been a thing? You were cursing anything and everything in that moment as you heard the bedroom door open. Darry looked at you before realizing, his eyes softening a great deal. He gave you a gentle smile, “Can you wait for a second? I need to go take a bath but I’ll be out soon and I got enough money to buy you whatever you need.” He watched you nod and walked out of the room with a smile gracing his face. You let out a curse under your breath before rolling around on the bed. You were hoping to find the position that eased the pain the most.
With one more roll and a weird angle, you found the perfect position. You closed your eyes and let out a breath before patiently waiting for Darry to come out of the bathroom. Five or so minutes later, Darry came walking in with just a towel on. “What store do you usually go to? Do you know what you want to get to snack on?” Darry had dropped the towel and was cleaning everything up. He started putting his clothes on before coming to pick you up. “You don’t need to walk. Get comfortable and point to what you want.” He muttered out into your hair softly. You smiled as the pain picked back up. Even though you really wanted to kill him for moving you, you couldn’t bring yourself to actually say or do anything hurtful to him. He was trying his best for someone who had never had a period before.
Sodapop Curtis:
You walked circles around the DX, looking at the snacks and drinks. You grabbed a water and a few pieces of candy. You’d already taken something for the cramps but they weren’t going away.
You walked up to the counter and threw your things up there. Soda looked you up and down before noticing the black pants. You rarely wore black pants and when you did, it signified that time of the month. You gave Steve a dirty look as he ran behind Soda. For some reason, his voice really pissed you off.
Soda told you what you owed before he pulled change out of his pocket. “You okay? I’ll kick Ponyboy from the room back home if you wanna come back.” Soda’s calming voice always managed to sooth you though this time, you still felt a great deal of anger.
“I’m fine. Why does it matter anyways? Can’t you just ring me up and give me my snacks back?!?” Before Soda could say anything else, you had burst into tears. Steve had come out of the back to check on the girl crying and slowly went back the way he came when he noticed it was you.
You didn’t like Steve one bit when you were on your period. Maybe it was because of the times where he’d stolen your chocolate cake or maybe his ego annoyed you but whatever it was, he learned from last time not to bother you.
Soda jumped over the counter and slung an arm around your shoulder. He planted a kiss on your temple and rubbed your back for a little bit, letting you push your body weight against him. To you, it felt comfortable being pressed against him. His body heat also made you feel a lot better. Steve’s head peeked around the corner before he began mouthing to Soda about him just staying with you until you calmed down.
Soda brought you with him to sit down, cradling you carefully on his lap. You were going through a lot and he knew any man would do the same thing had you gone to them instead. He began leaving kisses all over your face and even kissed the top of your head in an effort to make you smile. You hid your little smile in Soda’s neck.
One of his hands came down to rub your lower back, remembering all the times you would complain about the pain. Soda tried, he really did. Even if it didn’t seem like much to others, it meant the world to you.
Ponyboy Curtis:
You began writing the notes down quickly, hoping to finish up with biology. It was a class you despised more than Bob which that statement alone spoke volumes. As you finally set your pen down, with your hand cramping up, you realized there was a slight pain in your abdomen. Of course, you waved it off at first as being hungry.
You also knew if you couldn’t see it then it wasn’t there but when the pain began to worsen, you knew you needed to go to the restroom. Ponyboy was sitting beside you, reading a book since he’d long been done with what you all were supposed to do.
You reached a hand out and gently tugged on his jacket sleeve. He marked the page he was on before looking at you with a gentleness that calmed you down. “Can you come to the bathroom with me? I need to do something.” Your teacher was surprisingly lenient and would allow you to use the restroom without even asking. So both you and Ponyboy stood up. With you leading, it most likely looked like something it shouldn’t have.
You scampered down the hallways in a panic to find your locker once you felt gravity do it’s job. Ponyboy was still as confused as ever as he mindlessly followed behind you like an innocent puppy. Before long, you’d found your locker and opened it to reveal your sanitary products. Ponyboy’s face went from one of confusion to realization.
“Baby..” He started as he reached a hand out for you to grab. He let you hold onto him to the trip to the bathroom, comfortingly whispering sweet nothings to you while also physically showing affection.
You had a hard time every month as the cramps and fatigue would usually get the best of you. That was okay though as you had your lovely boyfriend to get you whatever you needed.
Ponyboy placed a kiss on your head as you separated from him to go into the bathroom. He waited outside and once you got out, wrapped his arms around you.
You laid against him for a few minutes, almost falling asleep standing up. Ponyboy sighed from above you, wanting to take you home and comfort you in the best ways he possibly could. Unfortunately, the two of you still had three hours of school left. Fortunately, you two had all the same classes so Ponyboy could sit with you and comfort you every chance given to him.
Johnny Cade:
You called the Curtis household, asking for Johnny. He responded almost immediately, telling you he would be over soon enough. You set out snacks and anything else you could think of in that moment as you knew Johnny most likely hadn’t eaten all that much.
When he knocked on your door, you couldn’t have been happier. All you wanted was to lay down and cuddle. For some reason, you’d gotten really physically affectionate with him and it made him skeptical. Why would you wanna cuddle unless you did something wrong? That thought process wasn’t healthy but it was how Johnny survived. Everyone must do something to fuck him up.
“Johnny, please come lay down with me.” You whined as you wrapped your arms around his waist. Those negative thoughts faded as he realized he was thinking about you. The girl who almost physically fist fought her parents when they told her she had to break up with him. The girl who chased Bob and Randy away when they tried to tease Johnny for being a greaser. You couldn’t have done anything bad. Not in Johnny’s eyes anyway.
“Okay.” The way Johnny’s voice broke made you give him a seductive grin before you realized you couldn’t do anything with him as you were in the middle of your period. Lucky for you, you only had about two or three days left.
Johnny followed you to your living room where you had a fort set up on the couch. Blankets were everywhere and a soap opera played on the tv. There was no reason for it to be as sad as it was but it mattered none the less to you. You loved watching or reading heart wrenching things.
You sat down on the couch and pulled Johnny down with you. Your giggles made Johnny’s day. They were so very sweet and innocent sounding. If a stranger heard it, they’d think you were excited and happy. Johnny knew the difference between a happy giggle and a mischievous one. It still made his day for him to hear you happy though especially when your period came around. You used to be embarrassed about it and tried to hide it as best as you could from Johnny but he figured out what you was doing during the week you avoided anything sexual. Not that Johnny minded. He’d have a week to simply coddle you and show you how much he loved you without having to take any clothes off.
It wasn’t like Johnny was a Dallas in the making. Instead, the two of you were genuinely intimate with one another. That’s what made your relationship work so well. You truly cared for one another.
Johnny laid down beside you and pushed his face into your neck. When you first met him, you were surprised to learn that he could stand up for himself and you if he had to. You found it kind of scary to see him pull a switchblade on someone but you also found it endearing, oddly enough.
You felt his arms snake around your waist and you let one of your hands slide down to intertwine with one of the hand’s on your waist. Your smile never ceased a bit throughout the entire ordeal.
Soon enough, Johnny’s breaths were even. You realized he hadn’t spoken more than one word yet you felt loved and comfortable in that moment.
You continued to smile until a random cramp attacked and you remembered why you wanted him to come over so badly.
Steve Randle:
You cuddled into Steve with a frown on your face. “Just give me a bite and stop being so greedy.” You huffed as Steve finally lifted his fork to share some of his chocolate cake. You grinned and nuzzled closer to him.
He had an arm around you, gripping you tightly and was eating with his free hand. You were surprised to see that he could do that as when you tried, you usually fucked up whatever you had going on.
Your loving boyfriend stayed with you while the rest of the gang went out. Darry was working, Sodapop was off for the day, Ponyboy wanted to watch a movie and so did Johnny. Two-bit and Dally decided they didn’t have anything better to do and went with. You told Steve that he could go with them but he claimed that you needed him more than they did.
Which lead to you almost laying in his lap and the two of you arguing over the chocolate cake that sat beside him. “You’re so pretty, ya know that?” Steve suddenly muttered as he looked at you.
“Oh, don’t you dare. We both know that won’t stop me from getting more of the cake. Besides, I’m bleeding out right now so just give me the cake.” Steve pondered for a moment before finally giving you another bite. You made sure to bat your eyelashes at him as you knew he would give in almost immediately.
You pushed yourself further onto Steve’s lap and shoved your face into his neck. He smelt like car oil and something else. You couldn’t quite identify it but it was your newest favorite smell. Everything about Steve drove you mad. Especially now that sex was off the table for a week.
Well, more like it was off the table for him. Steve was perfectly fine with diving into it like you weren’t rapidly losing blood from that area. “It’ll get better. It always does, baby.” He pressed a quick kiss to your head. You curled in closer to him. Everything about him made you feel so very safe. You didn’t think you’d be able to survive without him especially since Bob and Randy had been staring at you like you were their next snack the last few days.
Steve had found you multiple times curled in the corner of the DX, breathing heavy and holding yourself. It made Steve more protective. On top of that, he just hated seeing you in extreme pain. He hated that he couldn’t fix what you were currently going through. He’d do whatever you’d want him to do if it eases the pain you felt.
Dallas Winston:
Dally watched as you sobbed on the bed. You couldn’t get diagnosed with anything but the pain you were feeling were horrible. It had been ten or twelve hours since you started your period and it still felt just as bad as it had when it first started.
Dally was confused and genuinely didn’t know what to do. He wanted to help you but he didn’t grow up with any girls so he didn’t know what to do. He offered you water and you almost lunged at him. You had to remind yourself that it wasn’t his fault. He was just a little clueless about feminine issues.
Dally sat down beside you, shrugging his leather jacket off and setting it down on your hunched over body. You let out another pained sob and Dally finally stood up and left the room. He would call Soda or Darry. They’d know what to do with a woman in pain. Dally never witnessed you in extreme pain as you usually avoided him whenever your period came around. You didn’t know if he would react childishly or not and you didn’t want to find out either.
As it seems, Dally never made fun of you. If anything, he’s been in as much emotional distress as you were in physical pain. Dally grabbed the phone and called the Curtis household, impatiently waiting for someone to answer.
Darry’s tired voice came through the phone. Dallas immediately began explaining his situation and Darry gave him some advice about what to do. Dallas was quick to hang the phone up and get back to you. You were sleeping in an awkward position, tear stains on your face.
Dallas sat on the bed beside you, stroking your face. Maybe some sleep would do you good. Dallas looked around for a second, trying to see if anyone was nearby.
He leaned down and whispered a quick “I love you,” and pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head. You subconsciously curled closer into his leather jacket, forcing a smirk out of your boyfriend.
You were the cutest.
Two-Bit Mathews:
Two-Bit sat on the floor with an arm thrown over your shoulder. He had a beer in his left hand while his right hand gently played with your hair. You were close to crying for no particular reason other than you felt like you wanted to cry.
Two-Bit wasn’t paying a lot of attention to you. He wasn’t hearing everything you were saying and you were repeating words over and over. You finally smacked Two-Bit’s shoulders.
He turned to look at you with a bewildered look covering his face. “What’d I do?” You gave him a dirty look.
“You’re ignoring me again. Why?” You finally glared at him. You elbowed him in the ribs gently. You couldn’t blame Two-Bit as you were the one to ask his alcoholic ass out. You finally laid your head on his shoulder.
“I’m not?” He muttered out as he finally brought you closer to him. He kissed your head and made sure to remind himself that you’re just probably in pain or maybe you were just a little emotional. He knew what time of the month it was and told himself you’d be fine. Besides, he tracked your period too. He knew that you only had about a day left. Unfortunately, you got random pain throughout the entire five days of your period.
You slowly grabbed his beer from his hand and sat it down beside the two of you. You were a huge cuddle bug when you weren’t on your period but being on it caused you to become almost inseparable with Two-Bit.
Two-Bit didn’t mind much. He enjoyed the way you stuck to him like glue. The two of you weren’t very touchy feely but you both had your times where you were completely involved with each other.
Two-Bit would aimlessly follow you, a beer close by along with watching Mickey Mouse if there was a tv. You got off of Two-Bit as the door opened and sat down above him on the couch. Ponyboy and Johnny came in, looking at the two of you and then went to the kitchen.
Two-Bit sighed and grabbed your legs, setting them on his shoulders. He reached a hand up, offering you his beer. You took a sip before handing Two-Bit his beer back.
He looked up at you for a mere second and you caught his eyes and gave him a gentle smirk. “I want something to eat.” You batted your eyelashes again before frowning at your boyfriend.
Finally, you gave a small smile as you remembered that Two-Bit was yours and even if he was a bit stupid, you still loved him dearly.
#the outsiders#johnny cade#Dallas Winston#sodapop curtis#darry curtis#ponyboy curtis#two bit mathews#two-bit Mathews#x female reader#Steve randle#Johnny Cade x reader#Ponyboy Curtis x reader#Darry Curtis x reader#Sodapop Curtis x reader#two-bit Mathews x reader#Steve randle x reader#Dallas Winston x reader
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MEINE LIEBE, MEINE SCHÖNHEIT, MEINE LIEBE— MICHAEL KAISER X READER
warnings: suggestive content, fluff, implied sex
cross posted on wattpad
i actually don’t know why it’s taken me this long to write about kaiser, i fucking love this man *moans*
love was a concept kaiser could not understand nor wished to get involved with. he believed love clashed with his ideals to escape from noel noa's shadow therefore dissociating from the norm that he is second best where noa is concerned. in other words;
love would only hold him back.
well, at least that's what he thought before you came along.
—
it all started when he was out shopping with ness, picking out over expensive items he did not necessarily need but bought anyways to feed into his swelling ego as well as affirming within himself that if 'he can he will'.
he had chanced upon a clothing shop with a shirt that caught his eye, wanting to look at it briefly at a closer angle. while the shirt wasn't over appealing to him, he had no reason to not buy it, considering how rich he is. he started filtering through, selecting the right size, giving it to ness to hold and heading towards the counter. just as they was approaching the queue, he lightly clashed into something in front of him, looking down with increasing displeasure at whoever weren't looking at where the fuck they were going, seeing an extremely beautiful woman rubbing her shoulder. he didn't speak at first, allowing his anger to simmer. he didn't need to anyways, not when ness was present and apparently feeling more offended than kaiser himself who was actually hit.
"oi, watch where you're going you idiot. you just hit the Michael Kaiser!"
what they didn't anticipate however was you having the ability to stand up for yourself.
you took an airpod out of your ear, giving the most aggravated side eye both football players had ever seen.
"first off, i would watch who the fuck you're talking to. i don't care if his name is michael or fucking joey, i will not be disrespected by a pair of strangers when i clearly bumped into you by accident. you didn't even give me time to breathe, let alone apologise, which i won't be doing now for the record."
although stunned, kaiser was somewhat intrigued at your reaction. although he likes annoying people and baiting reactions, this was truly one of the few times he had actually been knocked down a peg in retaliation. he wanted to know more about you.
"damn. feisty."
"i'll show you fucking feisty if you want."
ness stood there, solemnly humbled and out of commission to spout any other bullshit from his mouth, while kaiser was stunned into temporal silence.
"whatever, leave me alone you freaks."
you turned to walk up to the cashier desk, letting the sales assistant scan your clothes items. they gave you the price and you reached into your purse to take your card. a hand beat you to it however, a beep resounding from the card machine. you looked up to see a tattooed hand retracing back to the owner's side, holding a black card. he looked to you with a sly grin.
"what, am i supposed to be impressed?" you quizzed with a raised brow.
well damn.
it was clear to kaiser that you were different from other women, who were always easily impressed by money.
"just an apology for how my friend acted towards you, meine liebe."
you ignored him and took the now bagged clothes from the sales assistant, muttering a word of thanks while turning back to the duo, opening your wallet.
"i don't wanna owe you anything, so how much was it? i didn't see the price."
"aht, aht, that's between me and my bank account now. although if you truly must repay me, how about dinner tonight?"
ness' eyes nearly popped out of his head with seething jealousy that kaiser was diverting his attention elsewhere. he wouldn't say that to him though, he valued his life and would prefer to not be embarrassingly degraded in public again.
you gave a calculated stare at kaiser in slight shock, not expecting the once hostile environment to transition towards one of romance.
you pinched the bridge of your nose, slowly inhaling before opening your eyes.
"if it'll get you to leave me alone then fine."
you held your hand out for his phone, which he placed in your palm, quickly typing in your number and saving a name. you promptly returned it back to him, to which he looked at the details.
hot girl from store
he looked back up, only seeing where you previously stood, now vacated. he smirked to himself in amusement.
• six months later •
it's safe to say in the time he had gotten to know you, he swiftly became enamoured. although you protested countless of times, he would make sure to take you to upscale restaurants, don you with high end clothing. jewels, diamonds, shoes, dresses, you name it, he bought it. you only had to be remotely interested in the item you were looking at to find it at your doorstep the next day. and don't get you started on the way he loved you during the night. he always made sure you were satisfied before he was.
it's safe to say you had him wrapped around your finger. don't think that's it's a bad thing, but what really had kaiser keening for you was the interest you had for him as a person, not for who he was. you were probably the only person who treated him as a human being and not just a notorious football player. you allowed him to be himself around you. and he valued you immensely for that.
in the six months you had been dating each of you treated the other equally as well. although you requested for the relationship to stay secret for the meantime, he never gave you less of his love. it got to the stage where he couldn't imagine doing anything without you.
it just so happened that one night while watching a movie on his couch he couldn't hold himself back anymore.
you head was laid on his lap, stroking his thigh while he stroked your hip. your face was illuminated by the soft glow emanating from the tv and you just looked so damn beautiful.
he didn't intend for it to happen, but he couldn't stop the words from slipping out.
"i love you."
your head rose slightly, making sure you weren't tweaking and he actually professed his love to you.
his face was alarmingly red and he was looking anywhere but you in the moment, having grown shy. you sat up from his lap opting to sit on him instead, wrapping your legs and arms around him, placing your head in the crook of his neck and giving a light peck, moving to whisper in his ear.
"i love you too handsome."
he turned his head catching your lips in a heated passionate kiss, quickly incorporating his tongue into the mix, tasting the salt from the chips you were eating during the movie. it quickly escalated, your hands threading into his blonde and blue locks, gripping them and pulling slightly, to which he moaned into your mouth.
he reached his limit, and so did you . he lifted your body and lay you down on the couch, taking off his shirt and caging you in with his arms.
"i'm about to show you how much i love you meine schönheit."
#michael kaiser#michael kaiser blue lock#blue lock#bluelock smut#bluelock fluff#anime#michael kaiser x reader#michael kaiser x you#michael kaiser x y/n#oneshot#bluelock one shot#nicxl333#nicxl333writes#bastard munchen#alexis ness
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boyfriend.
INCLUDES ! katsuki bakugo x black!fem!reader
GENRE ! fluff
SYNOPSIS ! general relationship headcanons with katsuki !
WARNINGS ! cussing, kats still in highschool, suggestive(?), edited for grammatical errors but lemma know if i missed something
WORD COUNT ! 0.9k+
A/N ! once again, another old work reposted from my last blog. and again, i think it is so hot of this fandom to just headcannon that bakugo is for black women like- yes 💕(i had to break this up into blocks or this post was not going up)
MAIN MASTERLIST | BNHA MASTERLIST | TAGLIST
— ☾⋆⁺₊🧨💢✧
this mofo y’all-
this boy loves you so much but that pride fucks him up every single time
he has no problem saying i love you or even showing his love through actions but in public? you ain’t getting shit !
he just gets wayyy too flustered but i truly think that actions mean a lot to him so he'll still he’ll hug you and whisper it to you
“i love you” “huh?” “SHUT UP! I DIDN’T SAY SHIT!” “nigga damn-”
but beyond that! this man will go above and beyond to make sure you know that you are loved
hell, he’ll spoil you for the sole reason that he does in fact love you more than life itself
(this is saying so much because as much as loves heroes and wants to become one, i truly think that for you, he would do damn near anything even if it means jeopardizing his dream)
i personally think he takes pride in buying you shit so when people ask, you can be like “oh yeah, my boyfriend brought me all of that” “…sis thats at least twenty damn bags of clothes and jewelry-”
his big-headed self is probably like “hell yeah I did”
ironically, he hates when you spend yo own money on him or yourself- don't get it twisted, he definitely does not mind you being independent, he actually encourages it!
...but this is the one thing he won’t let go
this nigga will start hiding yo cards and shit or start blowing them bitches up (card pieces gets vacuumed by the damn roomba before you even notice)
he feign like he stupid or some shit despite being the smartest, most organized nigga you know
but when yo card goes missing...all of sudden, he lost his damn memory?
“kats, where did my card go?” “…....huh?” “nigga- YOU FUCKING HEARD ME! WHERE IS MY DAMN CARD!?!?”
this motherfucker is definitely checking on yo back account every two days just make sure money is coming in and not out
hell the fucking bank tellers know him by name, could point him out a meters before he walks in
if you somehow find that card, first of all: props to you!
second of all: it is not yours forever and it will go missing again in under 24 hrs.
however, the most important thing he decided to buy you was a pretty gold custom necklace of his name and gold bamboo hoops to match !
the hoops he didn’t really care for, they cute and you look gorgeous, but that necklace- chile...
it was almost like he cared for it more than you did…cause he did
he always touching it, fiddling with it, and you know that bitch is real so sometimes he likes to polish it especially when you two to go to events- let it shine in people faces and let 'em know the one by you don't play about you
but if you take it off- sis, did you write yo will yet? put that bitch back on before he catch you
it’s real for a reason- so you don’t have to take it off
if he does catch the necklace not on yo body, he’s gon be pissed
“WHY IN THE HELL IS YO NECKLACE NOT ON YO NECK AND IN MY HAND!?!?” “hol on now- calm yo self. i took it off cause i didn’t want it to get messed up-” “I DON’T GIVE A DAMN! PUT THE SHIT BACK ON!!”
….it’s such a silly thing to get angry over but don’t take it off sis, if you value yo life
(sidenote: tying back in with his love for actions, he just loves giving gifts, more importantly gifts that you can wear or use b/c then you can think of him when you do wear/use it)
for some reason, whether big or small, he loves hitting your ass. and i don’t mean no petty swat, i mean he’s throwing hands
*SMACK!* “ow! my nigga, have you lost yo god damn mind?!?” “what~? it looked at me first”
not to mention but any chance he get- he’s grabbing the yams
motherfucker can not keep his damn hands to himself, he gotta touch, even if it’s a quick squeeze
y’all laying in bed? grabbing the yams. you laying on yo couch, minding yo business? grabbing the yams. talking to yo lil friends? grabbing them yams. working on the field with him? grabbing the yams.
when y’all sleeping together, his hands always gravitates towards ya ass and stays there maybe even some soft booty rubs
moving on
i’d like to mention that: he is a big baby... like the biggest baby you have ever seen
he won’t ever admit it out loud but sometimes he hates how good you get along with his friends
like yes, he’s happy that all of you get along really well but damn it pay attention to him, not no fucking extras
and he’s so petty about it. you’ll be talking to kiri and em’ and all of sudden this mother fucker is pulling you into his lap
if you still continue to ignore him or don’t give him all of your attention, he’ll pull away from everyone to some where private and start ranting on how you should pay attention to him and not some fucking extras
and if it’s deku who’s has your attention- ok first of all, how dare you? and second of all, 'getcho yo ass over here before I kill that nerd'
dramatic much? like damn nigga calm down
and now lastly, let’s talk about golden hour
at first he didn’t know what the fuck it was but when he learned, he was obsessed
“suki, do you wanna do golden hour pictures with me?” “what the hell is that?” “…just bring yo ass on-”
the way you was just sitting there, shining and shit; melanin taking in all that good sun and the way his necklace was shining against you- mans was hooked
man’s in his head was like “i’m dating a literal goddess….good job, katsuki😌”
now he thinks it’s his personally duty to become yo photographer at golden hour. if you let anyone else do it, he will throw a very big tantrum
he loves taking the pictures especially when have just woken up, bonnet still on head, bare face, wearing his t-shirt- yuh yuh, that part;those pictures go up on his instagram page that has more pictures of you than him, with the caption “look at my baby 🥰” sappy, corny ass nigaa
the fangirls was not happy about that but ha! the comments have been off-
but yeah, boom boom boy loves you more than anything in this world💕
©STRAWHATKIA ━ all rights reserved. all content published on this blog belongs to starsoir. please refrain from copying, stealing, profiting off my works, or using my works for asmr related work. i don’t allow my works to be used or adapted in any way without my permission.
reblogs and comments are welcomed and loved, so leave some please ! i will respond ! 🤍
did you enjoy this work ? i have more !
lip gloss, lil mama. | f. | bakugo, sero, shinsou, hawks, and mirio.
taglist : @mypimpademia
#— kia writes !#— luvr season !#black reader#black!reader#x black reader#x black!reader#mha#bnha#my hero acedemia#boko no hero academia#boko no hero academia fluff#my hero academia fluff#mha fluff#bnha fluff#katsuki bakugou#katsuki bakugo#bakugo fluff#katsuki bakugo fluff#bakugou fluff#katsuki bakugou fluff#bakugo x black reader#bakugo x black!reader#bakugou x black reader#bakugou x black!reader
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i would love to read ellie x reader something like the reader is ellie's girlfriend and she is punching a envious bitch who is always pestering and teasing the reader... that would be very satisfying 😩
I hear you babe, i got you 😉
Aggressive!Ellie x Girl in STEM!Reader
Being the only female student in a classroom full of men wasn’t easy, even if they knew you were attracted to women AND that you had a girlfriend one or two still tried to make moves.
It was stupid really, but what bothered you the most was this girl, she was the girlfriend of one of your classmates, and she was a pain in the ass.
It all started when one of your classmates made a small gathering for his party, you arrived by yourself due to Ellie being sick, you wanted to stay and take care of her. But she insisted, so you went for a bit.
Upon arrival your classmates greeted you with alcohol which you only took a few sips of. All the guys started to call you party pooper to which you laughed accepting one more shot.
She eyed you, you being the only other girl in the house made her hands form fists.
Her boyfriend was paying more attention to you than to her, without her knowing that you both were only speaking about some assignments and gossiping like little girls about how much you hated some random teacher.
You excused your self to get to the bathroom and thats when it all started, her blood boiling by the fact that her boyfriend didn’t bother to check on her even though it wasn’t your fault.
“Hi.” Her fake smile and piercing eyes got you puzzled.
“Hey…” your feet kept its course toward the bathroom.
Her hand flew to your wrist, harsh move making you look at her now.
“Don’t ignore me you bitch.”
That was the first time she called you names, after that (even knowing you were with Ellie) she continued poking fun at you, laughing at the smallest mistakes and making sure she (at the very least) tried her best to make you feel embarrassed.
Ellie saw it right away, since the first nasty names she called you and tried to pull her on her place, however, you stopped her. “Babe, she is not even worth the fight, just let it go okay, you know it don’t actually affects me.”
You were telling Ellie the truth, her words meaningless to you, her own person insignificant to your daily life.
And so Ellie didn’t tried anything.
Yet, the last straw was today.
Both of you went to a frat party, none wanted to go but Dina had insisted so much that you went anyway.
Your pretty little black dress making you look incredible, pretty hairstyle that made your face glow, the center of attention really.
You looked at Ellie when she stared to drag you between the crowd to an open area.
Pretty shaggy hair ticking her neck, tight white tank top, you owed one to the universe cause she wasn’t wearing nothing underneath it, a brown oversized button up hanging from her, sleeves rolled up to see her strong and veiny fore arms crowded with tattoos, and these worn out jeans so “it doesn’t looks like i tried” (her words)
When you arrived outside, cold air hitting both faces she took the only seat available, Dina lost with Jesses somewhere inside.
You looked inside while walking to a maspreading Ellie, you sat down on her lap while she took a cig out and lit it, putting it between your lips, she took one for herself and did the same.
“Sorry angel, i ran out of weed” her face apologetic, words making you laugh. Your happiness was short lived when you heard a familiar voice.
“The dikes make an appearance” she said tugging at the strap of you dress. Ellie stood up putting you to the opposite side the girl was at.
“Hi Ellie, you look- you look very good today…” her fucking face glowing red and fluttering doe eyes looking at her.
“This is the fucking last time you tell shit to my girl” she said close to the girls face. “And do not dare touching her ever again.” She was fuming. But she returned to look at you ready to take off the night somewhere else
“Or what?”
Ellie looked back at the girl, warning her with her eyes. “What would you do for the bitch you have huh? She so stupid.”
A swing under her chin was the first hit, didn’t took many, cause even though Ellie and the girl were almost the same hight, Ellie was clearly stronger.
The girl tried to grab Ellie’s hair, Ellie was faster, punching her hard on the nose, blood spitting out, busted lip and broken nose making a bloody mess that called everyone’s attention.
The girl fell back to the girl, you thought she would’ve stopped there but months of pint up anger where finally bubbling out of her guts.
Straddling the girl now she grabbed her face, the girl spit blood on Ellie.
“Why fighting over that insignificant roach? I could make you feel better” and Ellie took her hair, smashing her head on the floor, hard enough to hurt but not to kill. She was experienced.
Neither Ellie, the girl or you had realized that her boyfriend was hearing everything.
You took Ellie by her bicep, the girl on the ground confused and babbling shit that didn’t make sense.
Ellie didn’t bother to leave the scene, but not before spitting back on the girl “bitch.” She said under her breath.
When you got to the car both were quiet. None dare to speak. You sit there for so long.
“Thanks”
“Sorry”
You both blurred out.
Laughing you looked back at Ellie, blood still on her, closing the distance you took some tissues and cleaned her.
“Thank you baby, it wasn’t necessary, but I am thankful.” Your voice quiet.
“Its nothing angel, I would fight a fucking bear for you if i had to” your brows furrowed and and laughter bubbled from your chest up.
“Why- why the fuck would you need to fight a fucking bear for me?” Both laughing now.
“You never know the situations you might find yourself in” she said out of breath. “But yeah, it wasn’t even a fight today, i basically bit the shit out of her and she didn’t even tried”
“Maybe she is into that” both of you looking at each other.
Another round of laughter washed over you.
The whole way back to your place was hurried, you need to have Ellie and you showed it by caressing her leg, very damn near her crotch, and well, you pretty little dress wasn’t helpful for her either.
The night was long, fingers and cum, mouths and milky wetness from both.
#ellie williams#ellie williams fanfic#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams x you#ellie x fem reader#ellie williams headcanons#ellie williams smut#ellie williams x female reader#lesbian#the last of us
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A/N: I'm taking a break I swear.
Summary: You haven’t been the same since you woke up in the hospital with memory loss after the earthquake hit Hawkins. When strange things start happening and you feel like you’ve started losing your mind, a group of strangers offer to help. Even though you’ve never met them before, they seem to know you better than you think.
Wordcount: 4k
Warnings: Nosebleed, brief mention of church, Angst, Readers kind of mean to Eddie but she is starting to go really downhill and it's just gonna get worse from here. 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI
Series Masterlist
I am no longer doing a tag list for this series.
Part Seven
Saturday, September 27th, 1986
The afternoon sun beat down on the top of your head. The sweet tea you were sipping on kept you from getting too overheated. The weather would start to change soon. It was nice to enjoy some warmth before the fall.
Eddie had the upper half of his body under the hood of your car. The hem of his black t-shirt rising slightly to show the pale expanse of his lower back. You could catch a sliver of the band of his boxers peeking out.
Had you shut yourself away from the outside world so much that a pair of blue checkered boxes were scandalizing? If he kept this up you were going to have to start fanning yourself like the women in those old films to keep yourself from swooning.
The past hour of Eddie working had been silent, making you wonder if he even remembered you were out there with him.
When he showed up to your house he didn’t mention anything about your episode the other day. His eyes traced your body up and down, like he was making sure nothing was out of place. Like he was afraid asking if you were okay would set you off. When he saw everything still in place, he asked you to sit with him while he worked.
Eddie peeked over his shoulder at you, catching your shameful staring. The sides of his mouth twitched at the sight.
You diverted your eyes quickly, pretending to be entranced by the hunk of oiled metal in his hand.
“So,” you started off timidly, hoping he wouldn’t bring up your gawking. “What’s left for the car?”
Eddie turned around to face you fully at this, arms crossed over his chest.
“Why? Are you trying to get rid of me?” He asked smugly.
“No,” you said firmly. “Just wondering. I feel bad for not asking questions about what you’re doing. I also need to know how much I’m going to owe you for all this.” You waved your hand at your car.
“Well, not sure on the price yet. I’ll let you know when I know. There’s a few things I’m waiting for to arrive at the shop that I ordered. Plus, I’m trying to get my hands on this really important part that might take a while to get here. They’re really hard to find,” he announced with a shrug.
“Really? What part is that?” You sat up with your spine straight in your chair, suddenly more interested than you had been. Whatever this was, it sounded expensive. If it came down to it, asking your mom for money wouldn’t be the worst decision you could make. Putting up with her lectures would just be something you’d have to deal with.
“It’s this….thing. It holds the whole car together. Yours is super rusted so it’s a wonder the whole car hasn’t fallen apart while you’ve been driving.”
“Oh, god. That sounds bad.” You pressed a hand to your forehead, anxiety causing a headache to start. You dropped your hand, focusing on the weeds that grew through the crack in the pavement below your feet.
Eddie must have noticed the grimace on your face. “Hey, don’t worry. I’ll get you back on the road before you know it. Do you trust me?”
You bit your chapped lips. Did you trust him? Despite his reputation, you had no reason not to trust him. He had shown you nothing but kindness since he started coming around.
You slowly nodded your head.
A wide, beautiful smile spread across his face. That traitorous organ in your chest stuttered at the sight. You worried that you might have to start pounding at your own chest to get it back into a normal rhythm.
“Good,” he sighed like it was a relief, still standing and staring at you.
You shifted your hips in your chair, feeling your skin buzz under his stare. You decided to stand and walk over to the radio propped up on the roof of your car. The feeling of his eyes on you as you sauntered over made you feel alive.
Probably more alive than you had felt in a while.
You loved it.
You fiddled with the station, flipping from a static filled metal station to a country one. Daring a glance at Eddie, you noticed the dramatic nose scrunch he made at the music change.
His face made you laugh. “Got any good tapes with you?” You asked.
“Hm…I think I definitely have a few that you would like in there.” He gestured towards the parked van.
You moved towards his van, a hand placed on the handle, but his body suddenly blocked you from opening the door. You looked up at him confused, wondering if maybe you had overstepped by trying to go into his car.
“Sorry. I just remembered it’s really messy in there. I’ll look around for something, okay?” His voice was urgent. You fought the urge to peek through the window.
“Okay,” you agreed, stepping back and walking back to the radio to allow him some privacy. You could hear him shuffling and cursing under his breath as he dug around in search of whatever tape he had in mind.
It was funny to think maybe it was you causing him to be so flustered.
He held the tape up in his hand triumphantly as he walked back towards you. His body crowding yours as he reached onto the roof of the car to put the tape in. He didn’t move away, he just watched your face as you heard The Smith’s start to play.
You raised a curious eyebrow at him as you let out a little laugh. “Didn’t take you as a Smith’s fan,” you stated.
“They’ve got some alright stuff. Are you a fan?”
“I love them.” You couldn’t help the smile, so wide it was aching your cheeks.
The feeling in the air shifted as ’How Soon Is Now?’ played. His eyes flicked from yours down to your mouth then up to your eyes again.
When had he gotten so close to you?
And how could you get him even closer?
For some reason, the decreasing space between the two of you felt so right, like it was clearing the fog from your head. You wanted to hold onto this brief moment of clarity. A moment in time where your head didn’t ache, your nose didn’t bleed, and the nightmares couldn’t get you. Being here with him felt safe, like Eddie was a protective cocoon that wrapped you up and shielded you from all of the bad things.
“Good,” he muttered, reaching to run his thumb gently across your cheek. So softly like he was afraid you might shatter if he put an ounce of pressure behind his touch.
You wanted to shatter in his hands though. Only because it felt like when you were nothing but pieces, only he would be able to put you back together again.
His eyes searched through yours, a silent question that you didn’t know the answer to. But you wished you did.
His face was closer now, his thumb still on your cheek. You tilted your chin up to reach him as he tilted his head and brought it down towards yours. Your eyes flutter shut, scared that if you keep them open your mind will find a way to ruin this one ounce of happiness.
And just before you could feel his lips on yours, he pulled away.
You snap your eyes open to find him standing a foot away now, hands tucked tightly into the pockets of his jeans.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t- I should probably go now,” he blabbered.
You couldn’t help but feel hurt. He was turning you down. It was a harsh slap to the ego to see him so regretful over almost kissing you.
“Right,” you agreed, keeping your voice light like your feelings weren’t hurt.
His face fell as he took you in. His pity was definitely not what you wanted right now.
He didn’t look at you as he packed up his things, shoving them into the back of the van.
You made it up the porch steps when you heard your name called behind you.
Eddie stood at the bottom of the steps, looking up at you.
“Do you want to go out sometime? With me?” He asked, sheepishly. You could see the way he fidgeted with the rings he had put back on his fingers.
“Like on a date?” You prayed you didn’t sound as giddy as you felt on the inside.
“Yes. A date,” he nodded enthusiastically.
“Okay. I think I’d like that,” you agreed, trying to keep your cool. You could already imagine the happy dance you would do once you shut the door.
“Cool! Okay. Let me get my schedule from work for this week and I’ll let you know when.” That smile was back now. His dimples in full force.
You said your goodbyes, both of you hardly containing your happiness. Once inside, you did your little happy shimmy behind the door.
You peaked out the curtain and laughed when you saw Eddie doing his own happy dance on the way to his van.
Sunday, September 28th, 1986
“I’m going to be late for church,” your mother fretted as she maneuvered down the roads of Hawkins.
You kept your head turned away from her, focusing on the window. It was weird driving by sites where the earthquake still left its proof in the earth. It seemed like some people in town lived their everyday life pretending it didn’t happen, like half of the town didn’t fall into the deep chasms in the ground.
Like there weren't men in suits and people in hazmat gear still hanging around.
Your mom was one of the people who pretended it didn’t happen. She found ways to distract herself, mostly by throwing a fit over something new everyday.
She didn’t go to church every Sunday, but on the Sundays that she did, she made sure everyone knew about it.
And if she happened to be late, she would make sure everyone knew it was because of you.
Her attitude has gotten worse lately. Everything you said was met with a snarky remark. You missed the days where you felt like she worried because she loved you. Now it just felt like you were a burden.
You couldn’t wait for Eddie to be finished with your car so you could feel an ounce of freedom. You loved your mom, but if you had to go grocery shopping with her one more time you were going to lose it even more than you already had.
Butterflies erupted in your stomach at the thought of your favorite mechanic.
You didn’t tell your mom that Eddie was working on your car. As far as she knew, you were saving money and trying to get worked into the schedule of the very busy mechanic shops in town.
You chanced a glance at your mother, scared that somehow she can read your mind now and will start berating you for thinking about Eddie Munson.
‘The maniac devil-worshiping serial killer’ she once called him when she saw a picture of him in the newspaper.
You nodded along, agreeing with everything she said because you didn’t know him then. You hadn’t even looked at the picture in the newspaper, His name sparked didn’t spark interest in you like it did now.
You can remember another time, you were having a bad day, the headaches and nosebleeds were constant. It wasn’t long after you left the hospital and you were struggling with the fact that you couldn’t even remember your high school graduation.
You sat on the couch in your mothers living room hugging a throw pillow to your chest. This was before you moved out, watching the evening news with her and trying to act like you weren’t on a downward spiral. His face and name were on the news, discussing his charges being dropped.
Your mom gave you a long lecture that night on who he was, and why you should stay far away from him. Even going as far as saying that if you saw him in the same store as you, then leave.
Back then, you agreed. Willing to do anything to keep yourself safe and your mom happy.
Now you knew she didn’t know him like you did. She would take the gossip and things she heard around town as fact.
“Why would a video store be open on a Sunday anyways?” She asked, bringing you back to the present.
“I don’t know, mom,” you sighed, eyes never straying from the landscape. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. Sometimes you felt like you reverted back to your moody teenage years.
The car pulled into the parking lot of the shopping center. “Shoot,” she muttered under her breath.
“What’s wrong?”
“I forgot I’m supposed to be volunteering with some ladies for a food drive after church. I really can’t miss it…” She chewed on her lip as she stared at the front door of Family Video.
“Do you need me to get a ride? I can ask Robin,” you offered quickly. You would walk all the way home if it meant you could get the hell out of the car and let her go on about her day.
Your mom thought for a second, like she was pondering if that was allowed or not. You wanted to scream, tell her that you were an adult. Despite your issues, you could still make adult decisions.
“I suppose that’s okay,” she finally said.
You sighed and climbed out of the car.
Steve wasn’t at work today, leaving just you and Robin to man the store on your own.
It was probably the best day you had since you worked there.
“I forgot to ask,” you said as you picked up a stack of tapes that had just been returned. “Do you think you can give me a ride home? It’s not too far from town. I can give you some gas money too.”
“Oh, sorry. I don’t drive. Steve’s picking me up. I can ask him…” She trailed off awkwardly. The unspoken words hanging in the air. Steve probably wouldn’t give you a ride home. If he did, it would not be a fun car ride.
“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” You waved your hand in the air like it wasn’t a big deal. You wracked your brain for a moment before an idea dawned on you. “Actually, do you have Eddie’s number?”
Eddie agreed immediately when you asked him for a ride home.
He showed up 15 minutes before closing to pick you up. He waved enthusiastically through the store window when he noticed you staring.
All thoughts about being a burden for needing a ride disappeared when you caught sight of his joyous face.
Robin nudged you playfully when she noticed your bashful smile.
“Come on. Let’s finish up so you can go see him,” she said with a smile.
You rushed through closing, excited to get going. By the time you and Robin locked up for the night, Steve was standing next to Eddie’s van. Eddie leaned up against the passenger side door, a forgotten cigarette burning in his hand.
The conversation looked tense. Steve’s hands moved through the air while Eddie kept his mouth pressed in a thin line, his jaw tense.
Eddie lit up when he saw you approach. He tossed the cigarette to the side, stomping it out with his boot. He waved his hand in the air to try to clear the smoke before you got closer.
And they say chivalry is dead.
“You ready to go?” He asked, cutting Steve off mid sentence.
“Yep,” you chirped. “Hi, Steve,” you say politely.
He nodded his head at you as a greeting, not saying anything to you. You could see the way Eddie’s hands turned into fists for a moment as he glared at Steve before seeming to remember that you were standing right there.
He turned and opened the door for you to climb into the van. You could tell based on the crumbs and small pieces of trash on the floor that he had done his best to clean it up. A strong smelling air freshener hung from the rearview mirror.
When he jumped in the front seat he turned and smiled at you.
“Hi.”
“Hi. Thank you for picking me up. I’m really sorry for having to call you…”
“I told you I can give you rides!” He exclaimed. “It’s really no problem. I’m happy I get to see you again.”
There were those damn butterflies again. You covered your mouth with your hand to hide your traitorous smile.
Eddie pulled out of the parking lot. You noticed he was going slightly under the speed limit, surprising because he usually pulls into your driveway like a bat out of hell.
“Do you mind if I stop by the gas station real quick? I just wanted to run in and get a few snacks,” he explained.
“Yep! That’s fine,” you said. Even with him going under the speed limit the car ride was going by way too quickly. Before you knew it, you were pulling into the gas station.
Eddie hopped out of the van. “Do you want anything?” He asked.
You shook your head no.
“Okay, well, I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere,” he said with a wink.
You watched as he crossed the parking lot. People loitering around the building eyed him suspiciously. Luckily, no one bothered him.
You looked around the van a bit, hoping to get an insight into Eddie. It wouldn’t hurt to snoop a little bit. You were positive if the roles were reversed he would definitely go through your things.
The cloth seats were surprisingly comfortable. You ran your finger over what looked like a cigarette burn that left a hole in the seat. You wondered who sat here before you to leave that permanent mark in his van.
You glanced back over at the gas station, seeing Eddie still roaming the aisles through the large windows.
Deciding the best place to snoop was the glovebox, you popped open the latch and started digging around inside.
Scraps of paper and some trash fell out first. You pushed some tapes aside, thinking that there would be nothing of interest until your eye caught onto pink cloth.
You reached your hand tentatively to grab it.
You held up the cloth to realize it was a pink scrunchy. You checked back to make sure Eddie wasn’t coming out of the store.
You were confused. Eddie wore black all of the time. He didn’t seem like the type to wear a pink scrunchie in his hair. But what did you know?
Setting the scrunchie in your lap, you reached your hand back into the glovebox to see what else you could find. Your hand made contact with smooth glass. You pulled it out to inspect it.
Your stomach dropped when you saw what it was.
Perfume.
Girl's perfume.
You shoved the perfume and scrunchie back where it belonged and slammed the latch shut.
Eddie has a girlfriend.
And if it’s not a girlfriend, then he has a girl in his car enough for her to keep her things in here.
Your stomach dropped and your chest felt like it was cracking in half.
If he has a girlfriend, why would he flirt with you and ask you on a date?
No wonder he didn’t want you to go into his van yesterday to find a tape. He didn’t want you to find out and ruin the little game he was playing.
The driver side door swung open. “Hey, sorry it took me so long. I couldn’t decide on which soda I wanted. But I got you this,” he said as he handed you a bag of M&M’s and a Dr. Pepper.
“Thanks. These are my favorites,” you said quietly.
“You okay?” He questioned. A concerned look crossed over his face as he looked at you, making you wonder how awful you looked right now.
“Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Just really tired.” You did your best to muster a smile.
He looked like he didn’t believe you but decided not to press any further. The rest of the car ride to your house was awkward and quiet, filled with Eddie’s attempts to joke and make you laugh. You could tell your one worded answers were hurting his feelings but you didn’t really care.
He pulled into your driveway and opened the passenger side door to help you out of the van. He walked beside you silently up your porch steps and to your front door.
“Look, are you okay? Because you’re being really quiet, and I don’t know if I did something or if you’re not feeling well…”
You looked up at him, his hair and face illuminated by the porch light you always left on. He twisted and turned the rings on his hand as he searched your face for a clue on why you were suddenly acting so distant to him.
The fact that he was acting so innocent made you even more mad.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” You asked, the words coming out as a harsh accusation.
Eddie looked taken aback for a moment. “Yes- I mean no-” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment before speaking again. “No. I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Then why did you just say yes so quickly?” You pressed.
“It’s complicated,” he sighed. “I didn’t mean to say yes.”
“He’s lying,” a deep voice whispered in your head, surprising you with its intensity.
The voice was right. Eddie was lying.
Your temples pounded. The edges of your vision start to turn black from the incoming pain.
You needed to go inside.
“I don’t believe you,” you gritted out.
“Why? Did Steve say something to you?” His voice came out strained and angry.
“He’s hiding something from you,” the voice informed you.
“No, no one told me anything. If you don’t have a girlfriend, then what is there for Steve to tell me? And if you don’t have a girlfriend then why is her perfume and scrunchy in your van? Am I some kind of joke to you?” Your voice was growing louder with each word you said. You could feel the anger pouring through your bloodstream.
An unnatural anger that you had never felt before in your life.
You didn’t care if you were overreacting or not. You just wanted to get him away from you.
You turned and unlocked your door quickly, ignoring the pleading look from Eddie beside you.
He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, can I come in and we can talk about this?”
“He’s trying to use you. Don’t let him in,” the voice that only you could hear stated.
You listened to the voice, trusting it fully. You couldn’t trust Eddie.
“Shit, are you okay? Your nose is bleeding, and you look really pale.” Eddie’s hand reached towards you, but you pushed it away.
“Stay the fuck away from me, Eddie. Don’t come back here or I’ll call the cops and tell them how much of a creep you are,” you spat.
Eddie reared back like he had been hit. His mouth opened as he stared at you in shock.
He didn’t move to reach out to you again as you swung the door open and stomped inside, turning to lock it immediately after it shut.
You even shut off the porch light for good measure, leaving him in darkness.
You crawled to your bed, not caring if he made it back to the van or not. Not even bothering to clean the now drying blood on your face or change out of your work clothes.
How had you not seen he was messing with you? Was he just trying to get in your pants the whole time? Or was he going to butter you up in hopes of getting more money out of you when it came time to pay him for his work? Were he and Steve acting like highschoolers and teaming up to make you miserable? Was Robin in on it too?
One thing you knew for certain, was that you would never trust Eddie Munson again.
#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie stranger things#eddie munson x you#eddie munson au#eddie munson series#mechanic!eddie munson x reader#mechanic!eddie munson#mechanic!eddie#mechanic eddie munson#eddie munson angst
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THE FULL HISTORY OF THE MICK JAGGER & MARSHA HUNT (A.K.A.”BROWN SUGAR”) RELATIONSHIP! (PART 2)
In Part 1 of the thread, it explained how the Rolling Stones frontman Mick Jagger and singer/actress Marsha Hunt met, the ins-and-outs of their year-long courtship, and how Mick was basically the one who followed her and asked her to have his baby. But their relationship eventually turned sour once Marsha gave birth to his first child, Karis, born in November 1970. In this second part, you’ll understand the fallout between them that lasted well over a decade.
After Marsha’s altercation with Mick (when he claimed he never loved her and threatened to take her nearly two week-old baby away) things started to get put into perspective for her. And though she relished in being a mother to her sweet, yet lively baby, who she mostly spoke to in Black vernacular/AAVE and nicknamed “Pookie”, the new role really whipped her into shape.
Marsha claimed, “I was able then to support myself and my daughter,” but she explained to Mick, who she was still in touch with, “I don’t need your help now, but if I ever do, I expect to be able to come to you.”
Although he made some early efforts at involvement with the baby (who, according to one associate, “looked remarkably like Mick”), he ultimately turned all his attention to his new girlfriend, Bianca Pérez-Mora Macías.
While Marsha was very attentive to her child and thrived off being there for her every need, Mick was gearing up for another tour and was still occasionally seeing other women, including his then personal chef, Janice Kenner, and occasional girlfriend, soul singer and Ikette, Claudia Lennear, while courting his girlfriend, Bianca.
Pretty much all references to Marsha and the baby were quickly airbrushed out of his life. Another one of his ‘hoes,’ Californian model and former flame of Eric Clapton, Catherine James, also claimed: “When I moved into Mick’s house, I knew about Marsha, but his relationship with her was already over. It didn’t seem a big deal to him. He just mentioned that she was a girl he had met who had got pregnant. He said he wasn’t in love with her, but she was very talented.” She also stated, “I felt he was not encumbered by anything, not by Marsha or the baby. He was young, and I didn’t get the impression he was thinking seriously about becoming a father and being part of this child’s life.”
[BELOW: Marsha photographed with her newborn baby, Karis, in 1971.]
Though she couldn’t go on the road yet, Marsha went right back to work after Karis was born. She lived frugally, hoping to get more work in the coming months to ease her escalating money troubles. She quickly realized just how expensive it was to have a newborn, so in order to pay her rent, a nanny, and for diapers and formula, she took the first job that came her way. After a sudden fire and ceiling collapse shut down the run of “Hair”, she took a role in another musical called “Catch My Soul,” a rock version of Othello. Originally singer Marianne Faithfull was to play a character in the show called “Desdemona” which was the same name of the Marc Bolan song Marsha had released in 1969, and ironically, the name of the character Marsha played was “Bianca.”
At this time, Marsha also had to be more cautious with journalists. They always wanted to turn her profiles into a risque discourse on “love without marriage” and brand her baby a “love child”. She refused to mention Mick in her interviews and avoided all questions about her baby's father.
Meanwhile, Mick and the rest of the Stones moved to France in April 1971 because the income tax in England was so high at the time (it was a 93% supertax imposed by the government on the country's top earners). In fact, they all owed about £100,000 each, so to pay it back, they had to leave. Marsha had known since 1969 that they had financial problems and tax exile was planned.
Before Mick left, he asked Marsha to have her nanny bring their baby, whom he hadn't seen since their argument in November 1970. She always made it clear through their mutual contacts that he could see his child whenever he wished or have her visit him with her nanny.
[BELOW: Mick arriving in Paris, France with the Rolling Stones in 1971.]
Bianca became pregnant a little over a month after Karis was born, and Marsha hoped (naively) that his second baby would remind him of his first.
Several weeks after Karis visited him, Mick and Bianca, who was already 4 months pregnant at the time, got married in a shotgun wedding that took place on May 12, 1971 in St. Tropez, France.
The wedding was a complete circus (from beginning to end). None of the Rolling Stones members attended, except for Keith Richards, Mick even invited his ex-girlfriend and the first woman he ever impregnated, soul singer P.P. Arnold (a detail Bianca wasn’t privy to). Right before the wedding, Bianca also discovered that according to French law, she and Mick had to make clear “what property they held in common.” It was only then that she learned how little this was and threatened to call it off, but eventually relented.
The entire event was a skin-crawling spectacle with Mick and Bianca sweating and pushing their way through crowds of pressmen, photographers, people on holiday, and rubberneckers.
Marsha’s nanny was watching the news report of his wedding and started to cry. Marsha thought, “Girl, save those tears for something more important!”...but of course, she kept quiet!
NONE of the Rolling Stones (or their wives/girlfriends), the brand’s close camp, and the many people who worked for Mick actually liked Bianca and often described her as cold, aloof, pompous, and extremely difficult to get along with. No one really knew anything about her: what she did for a living, her actual age, or even why she refused to speak Spanish even though she was Nicaraguan. She also despised the rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle (so, why’d you marry the motherfucker then? 🤔), which put A LOT of people off. She was a bit of a snob and even referred to the guys in the band as “The Nazi Party”!
[BELOW: Mick & Bianca during their bizarre wedding reception in 1971.]
Anyway, back to Marsha! When “Catch My Soul” ended its run, Marsha embarrassingly took a job appearing in a German soft-drink commercial, which she never considered doing a commercial before, but she needed to make extra cash to pay her bills.
Marsha even had to let go of her nanny and her cleaner who came by a few days a week to help her. She lived from day-to-day and tried not to think of the future.
[LEFT: Marsha in the rock musical “Catch My Soul”; RIGHT: Marsha photographed for a Afri-Cola soft drink commercial.]
Months later, Mick out of the blue, invited Marsha and Karis to see him at his new house, which was a huge palatial mansion with many spare rooms in the south of France. But at the very last minute, she was told by his longtime driver, Alan Dunn, that she wouldn't actually be staying at his house, but instead with Stones guitarist Mick Taylor and his fiancé because she wasn’t “allowed” there and because Bianca “didn’t want some woman her husband used to sleep with in her house.” (What a fucking BITCH!!!) A biographer once claimed that Bianca, who was “Catholic,” had always felt disadvantaged by Marsha because she had Mick first and mothered his eldest child, so this was one of many examples of her taking the “upper hand.”
Marsha also discovered firsthand that her friend, Mick Taylor, had fallen into a serious drug addiction after joining the Rolling Stones which she felt guilty about since she was the one who suggested him as the replacement guitarist for the band 2 years earlier.
When Marsha finally arrived at Mick Jagger’s house, she saw him and a very pregnant Bianca who almost looked like she was Black at first glance. The both of them showed her no hospitality and had no manners. In fact they were EXTREMELY rude at the dinner table: cuddling, nuzzling, murmuring, and only talking to each other in French while completely ignoring Marsha and Karis as though they didn’t exist and were there to see someone else. It felt like he was deliberately trying to humiliate her. Now, whether or not he staged the whole charade to spite and embarrass Marsha and show off his new pregnant wife, or to prove to the jealous Bianca that he was indifferent to Marsha, it was nonetheless, a shocking, disgusting, and unnecessary display.
Before Marsha left she begged him to “loan” her £200 to get by, to which he grudgingly wrote out a check. (Like, why does she even have to ask you for these things?! 🤔) He couldn’t even look her in the eye during her entire visit as Marsha claimed, “I guess he couldn’t.”
[BELOW: Mick with Marsha holding 8-month old Karis in her arms during a trip to visit him at his sunwashed villa in France in 1971.]
Later on, Marsha was still having a really hard time getting work, and her expenses were really racking up. She lost a part in a film with Sidney Poitier because she couldn’t afford a baby-sitter and had to bring Karis along to her audition.
She also regularly saw Mick in newspapers living the high life and wondered if he’d lost his integrity or would lose her mind thinking if he had any in the first place. When she was unsure, she’d re-read his old letters and they reassured her that he was capable of humanity and that their friendship wasn't a figment of her imagination.
When baby Karis spent her first birthday on the set of “Dracula AD 1972,” Marsha had the studio chef bake a big pink-and-white cake for her and Mick even had a handsome rocking horse delivered to her.
For a while, she and Mick were still somewhat ‘friends’...but the whole situation was still awkward.
[BELOW: Marsha on the set of “Dracula A.D. 1972” with her good friend, actress Stephanie Beacham & director Alan Gibson celebrating her daughter Karis’ 1st birthday in November 1971.]
Even after the birth of Mick’s second daughter, Jade Sheena Jezebel Jagger, in October 1971 (they named her Jade because Mick claimed “she is very precious”…”and quite, quite perfect!” 🙄), Marsha naively thought it would get some sense knocked into him. He actually once invited her to bring Karis to be photographed with Jade at his other house at Cheyne Walk, but he only seemed to take interest in Jade.
Strangely, Mick doted on Jade as much as he ignored Karis. The fool even bragged, “I’m a terrific dad. Jade is a fantastic kid, a lovely baby, very sweet and good tempered…I’ve always been a good father, and the kid makes it easy to be that way.”
Jade’s nanny at the time, Sally Arnold, even said that Mick enjoyed fatherhood and was eager to take lessons in baby care claiming, “He’d come in and watch me bathing her and changing her nappies (diapers) and he’d ask me to show him how to do it and he'd do it. He was a real hands-on father.”
Bianca on the other hand, was not the maternal type and would act quite awkwardly toward Jade, at times lifting her like a bowling ball and even once dropped her down the stairs. She also often complained of the “tremendous strain” of being a mom: “Nobody knows what a strain it is to keep a house, look after Jade, and be dressed properly all the time.”
According to friends, it seemed Bianca spent less time with Jade than Mick did and often left her with a nanny because she liked to socialize at parties and events, or go to the hottest discotheque in town.
Jade Jagger even once said in an interview many years later that her mother refused to breastfeed her and because of her parents’ high-profile, globe-trotting careers, they both treated her more like a “mascot” that they had to fit into their lifestyles, rather than a daughter.
[BELOW: Mick & Bianca photographed at home holding newborn Jade with their nanny, Sally Arnold, in late 1971.]
In 1972, Marsha eventually put a new band together called 22, but was put on a small retainer with her new label, and as the leader, most of her money went to her band, equipment, management, travel, and hotel accommodations for Karis and a traveling nanny. Going back on the road meant she had to ask Mick to chip in on the £600 needed for a nanny to go on tour with her and the baby. Mick was also getting ready to go on an American tour with the Stones to support their latest album, Exile on Main St., that was expected to gross over $4 million.
[BELOW: Mick Jagger during the Rolling Stones’ 1972 north American tour which grossed over a then-record of $4 million.]
As always, Mick NEVER offered her money, and she only called him as a last resort because the idea of asking him for anything made her sick. It was also very expensive for her to even track him down by phone wherever he was around the world.
Later on, while at a cafe during her tour in Germany with her band, 19-month old Karis accidentally scolded herself with extremely hot tea and had to be rushed to the hospital, but it took her hours to find an emergency doctor who would accept her because she was Black and who spoke English to treat the burns. When Mick finally phoned and asked if he could help, she asked if he could split the hospital bill with her which was £75. He promised to send it but it never arrived. Karis was finally admitted to an army base hospital and had to stay for 10 days, to which Marsha missed a few gigs. This resulted in her having to skip out on paying the bill. She felt absolutely horrible because they had been so nice to her. It seemed ungrateful. Yet, she didn’t hear from Mick again until after his tour ended.
When she finally met up with Mick, she asked why he hadn’t forked up the cash to help their daughter, he “playfully” said that she “probably would have bought shoes with the money.”
BRUUUH...Marsha was like:
This incensed her, because first of all…HOW FUCKING DARE YOU?! Like, you can’t be serious. Second of all, she thought, “When’d you ever know me to be frivolous with money”?
…MARSHA HAD ENOUGH!! 😡😡😡
She was fed up with Mick’s bullshit and trying to chase him down for an occasional handout. So, she FINALLY consulted with her band’s lawyer and asked him how she could go about setting up an emergency fund for her daughter, but he explained that the only legal right the child had to contributions to her welfare was through a paternity suit, since Karis wasn’t conceived through marriage (as English law was very unkind to single mothers).
Marsha explained that Mick acknowledged that he was Karis' father. The issue was parental neglect. Her lawyer reconfirmed that there was no other legal alternative to her predicament but a paternity suit. She wanted to vomit. She asked him to follow the necessary procedure and to go about it in a way that would keep it confidential and out of the newspapers. Marsha also knew that a paternity suit had negative connotations and it didn’t really approach the problem. She just wanted her kid to have what she needed.
To serve a writ did not mean that it had to be filed in court, if Mick was prepared to act reasonably. But to postpone service, meant that they would have to wait for Mick to come to England again. There was no way of knowing when that would be as he was based abroad. After 2 years, she had to stop lying to herself and pretending that he would do the right thing.
Later on, Marsha met Mick on the long steps of the Albert Memorial, near the same spot she told him she was pregnant years earlier. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she believed that in spite of his horrible behavior, somewhere there was still a friend.
They walked arm-in-arm through the park (really to calm him). The issue of the baby and his responsibility to her was serious. She needed things and his pretense that he didn't have to help had to be confronted.
If his jet-set life made the situation seem remote, it was understandable. So, Marsha suggested that he put aside a trust fund for the Karis’ future education and any emergencies. It could be administered by trustees and she could avoid asking him personally for help when it was needed. A £25,000 trust fund seemed adequate and he'd be free of any further financial responsibility.
After their walk, they sat in a nearby pub and Mick said he would put £20,000 in a trust for his daughter. She was relieved that they were able to find a solution without a lawsuit or unnecessary animosity.
As they parted, she assured him that he was more than welcome to see his child whenever he wanted. But by the time their solicitors spoke later that evening, Mick (like the cheap bastard he is) had reduced the trust investment once again to £17,000.
When Karis turned 2 years old, Marsha invited her half-sister Jade, who she thought was precious, to her birthday party. The fact that Mick and Bianca let her come with her nanny suggested that things were alright between them.
During this time, a very simple and straightforward trust agreement was drawn up by her solicitor. But after many months of letters and asking for signatures and funds, it still hadn’t been signed and no money was available. It NEVER happened!
[BELOW: Marsha traveling and at home with her daughter Karis in 1972.]
Marsha could only think Mick and his solicitor wanted the lawsuit, which she finally had to proceed with. On July 16, 1973, the affiliation order was filed. The hearing was set, but when it hit the newspapers it stank. Unlike their secret affair, the case was very public and unpleasant. People were shocked that Mick Jagger had possibly had a child with a Black woman.
Keep in mind, up until that time no one outside of their close circle really knew about Mick and Marsha’s relationship, so the story was reported as though Marsha had suddenly appeared with a 2 year old child out of nowhere to accuse Mick, who was a huge rockstar, of paternity.
Mick was reportedly furious that Marsha went public with the allegations and was quoted saying, “I’m not upset for myself. It’s just that my mother didn’t know, and she gets upset about this sort of publicity. Why did Marsha have to be so bloody silly? It wasn’t as though I was going to leave her and Karis to starve!”
In the whirlwind of publicity that followed, Mick denied paternity and, in an effort to stall legal proceedings, insisted on a blood test—thus implying that Marsha was promiscuous. Marsha, meanwhile, was portrayed as a home-wrecking gold-digger. Mick, stung by what he viewed as Marsha’s “betrayal,” sarcastically suggested that she had gone public merely to hype her own flagging career.
Marsha thought it was interesting that in contrast to “groupies” whose connections to rockstars gave them an elevated status, her relationship with Mick made her a pariah.
Paparazzi and photographers staked out in front of her home, so she had to hide out at a house her band stayed at until the headlines died.
Afterwards, Marsha wanted to be less visible and more incorporated in her band’s image, so she decided to cut off all of her famous hair. British Vogue even wanted her to cover the event. The magazine’s photoshoot also included her daughter Karis, who the public had never seen before.
[LEFT: Marsha with newly cropped hair; RIGHT: Marsha & Karis photographed for Vogue UK; BOTTOM: Marsha promoting her band, 22.]
There was no doubt that the suit affected how people perceived her. And when the media asked Mick to make another statement, he snidely asked if Marsha hadn’t had a new record released. He wanted to imply that that paternity suit was a publicity ploy, which couldn’t be further from the truth.
Mick’s wife Bianca was also asked about the suit and was quoted saying that she “didn’t give a damn.” Marsha of course said NOTHING!
In 1973, Marsha got a job as a host of a new late-night radio talk program for Capital Radio in London where she interviewed some big names; everyone from Barry White, Dionne Warwick, Bill Withers, Sarah Vaughan, and Stevie Wonder (who she chatted with for 3 ½ hours). The show was a success and expanded her public profile, and among the chaos of her personal life, she developed a reputation as a smart woman who conducted compelling interviews with guests.
For Marsha, hosting a radio show was extremely hard work. She had to do extensive research, stay abreast on current issues, learn about projects interviewees were releasing - all with no formal training or experience. She was also running on about 3 hours of sleep everyday, yet still found time to spend with her daughter who liked going to Regents Park in London to feed the geese.
[BELOW: Marsha during her stint as a chat show host for Capital Radio, 1973.]
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Marianne Faithfull was also one of the guests she interviewed during her Sunday-night program, while she was appearing in a play called “The Collector” in the West End. Marsha thought she'd had an interesting career, which at that time encompassed music, theater, and film. And when she went to her theater dressing room, her new boyfriend, Oliver Musker, wanted to go to the cinema while they taped the interview. He didn't have any money, so Marsha lent him some. The interview was successful. Neither of them mentioned Mick before, during, or after their chat, but he did have the audacity to write to Marsha and say that he liked it the interview.
[BELOW: Marsha with her daughter Karis in 1973.]
In addition to her talk show, Marsha also had to DJ a Black music spot on Saturday nights, which included R&B, soul, as well as reggae. One strange interview was with Bob Marley, who wasn’t a household name yet. She couldn’t understand a word he was saying because of his heavy Jamaican accent and he pretty much sexually assaulted her while on the job as he kept feeling on her legs, even when she kindly asked him to stop and he wouldn’t. 🤢 He even left his little green, weed-smelling Rasta cap for her when he departed.
But, during yet another interview with the writer and novelist Gore Vidal, Marsha found out that Bianca, Mick’s wife, was going around talking shit about her to him and other random people. This was after the paternity suit.
[LEFT: Marianne Faithfull with her boyfriend, Oliver Musker; MIDDLE: Reggae singer Bob Marley in London 1973; RIGHT: Writer Gore Vidal in 1973.]
Marsha was still working at Capital when the lawsuit came up for a second time. Mick was not at the 6 November 1973 hearing, when the case drew sensational headlines.
In spite of her work, Marsha lived a very normal life and even the mundanities of it were affected by this kind of press. People all around would be cold toward her and give her nasty looks. Even mothers at Karis’ nursery school who had been friendly before avoided her because Mick was everybody’s hero. I mean, he was the frontman of the Rolling Stones for Christ sake! So in turn, her phone stopped ringing, which didn’t surprise her at all.
Though, by Mick denying paternity, he again insinuated that Marsha was sleeping with other men when Karis was conceived (which of course she wasn’t). Therefore, it was Marsha who stood accused, and Karis was the one being punished, because whatever the father's means, a child born to unmarried parents only had a right to only £5 a week in maintenance from him.
Her solicitor advised her to accept the out-of-court settlement. The best offer that Mick would make was £500 pounds a year (£9 pounds a week) and a £10,000 trust fund that Karis would get after she finished school. BUT…this was offered by Mick and his lawyers ONLY if Marsha agreed to sign an actual fucking affidavit stating that Mick wasn’t the father. (THE AUDACITYYYYY!!!)
Extremely desperate, Marsha caved in to his demands and agreed to sign. And even though court proceedings started in 1972, Marsha didn’t see a damn dime until 1975.
[BELOW: Mick & Marsha in the mid-1970s.]
Instead of feeling angry and becoming hard-shelled, Marsha was completely humiliated. She felt like there was no justice in the world. After Mick’s paternity denial, Marsha didn’t allow any photographs of her daughter to be taken and shunned away from the press completely.
When her contract with Capital came up for renewal, she decided to step out of local radio. She was pretty much a token there during that new era of radio because she was Black and a woman, and she also found she didn’t like delving into people's personal lives and corralling them into self exposure. It felt hypocritical of her.
After that, Marsha’s agent booked her some singing gigs in Portugal and other parts of Europe. Then in 1976, she went back to performing in theater in England.
To make ends meet and to assure that her daughter had everything she needed, Marsha stayed in a tiny rundown unit catered to up-and-coming actors that had no central heating, no phone and was unbearably cold, especially in the winters. She called her daughter Karis every single day and during her time off, she rushed home by train to see her.
In 1977, after cutting a new disco record with a German label, Marsha moved back to Los Angeles to find a distribution deal and swapped her London flat with a journalist who was living in Hollywood at the time (as she saw no end to the problems that had been created in England through the paternity suit). Marsha claimed she went from being “the girl from Hair” to “the girl who sued Mick Jagger”.
It was difficult for her to sustain a recording career due to her lack of desired Black female vocal style. No one really understood her music because like how dare a Black woman get up on a stage and not sound like Aretha Franklin?! She later quit the music business, having promised herself that this would be her last go, stating, “Music was only acceptable as a career if it could provide us with an income.” She redirected her creative energies to acting and writing and tried to find more work, but the market was quite different for her in America as the industry only saw her as one-dimensional (i.e. “Black and female”) - a reason she mostly stuck to theater. It was still the Blaxploitation era in film, and most roles for Black auditioning actresses were far, few, and somewhat degrading. I mean, how many fucking times can you play a stereotypical part like a slave, a hooker, a nurse, or a gun-slinging, jive-talking stone fox before it chips away at your integrity and diminishes your artistry?!
That summer, Marsha was informed by Karis' school teacher that her daughter's test scores were through the roof and that she was far more advanced than other children in her class and age group. So, they suggested that she should be put in a school for the gifted.
Karis needed special attention, which her old school or nannies couldn’t provide, so Marsha had her enrolled at an expensive special school that was 12 miles away from where they stayed (she would often see Tina Turner walking her dogs along the way) so she wouldn’t be deprived.
While in L.A., Marsha also stayed with an old friend, musician John Mayall, who adored her daughter and was kind enough to give her room and board while she readjusted to being back in the U.S.
Around this time, Bianca was known as a socialite, (even though she once told journalist Geraldo Rivera that she was an “actress” - shit, I ain’t never seen her in anything!) and was always seen at the latest movie premiere or nightclubs like Studio 54 in NYC petting doves and shit, and would constantly spend Mick’s money on diamonds, furs, and trips. She never showed concern for her step-daughter Karis and NEVER once asked about her or her welfare.
[LEFT & RIGHT: Bianca with Mick living the high life in the mid-1970s.]
On the other hand, Mick was known to cheat on Bianca who was a stink, stuck up bitch and engaged in many affairs with various women, including famous names like rock & roll groupie Bebe Buell, singer Carly Simon, singer Ava Cherry, supermodel Pat Cleveland, and the daughter of actor/comedian Tommy Chong, Rae Dawn Chong who, unbeknownst to Mick, was actually 15 years old at the time.
Mick was even under the impression that he was the father of Bebe Buell's daughter Liv (born on July 1, 1977). He had the audacity to call her the next day saying, “I’m coming over to see my child.” Within hours, Mick and Rolling Stones guitarist, Ron Wood, literally were one of the first to show up in the maternity ward to visit. (Dude, don’t you already have a real daughter to worry about? 🤔 The NEVRE!!!) Eventually Bebe informed him Liv's father was Aerosmith's Steven Tyler.
[LEFT to RIGHT: Notorious rock & roll “groupie” Bebe Buell, backing singer & girlfriend of David Bowie, Ava Cherry, supermodels Pat Cleveland & Jerry Hall, and actress Rae Dawn Chong.]
Marsha still occasionally kept in touch with Mick through her agent/mutual friend who set up their contact.
After Mick separated from Bianca, he started living with his new girlfriend who he previously had an affair with, Texan model Jerry Hall.
Jerry was actually a very delightful and cheerful woman. Unlike Bianca who was serious most of the time, Jerry was always smiling and was very southern and fun to be around. She was also the one who prompted Mick to spend more time with his daughter, Karis.
That’s why in 1978, even though she was informed by a mutual friend that Mick was still heavily using hard drugs, Marsha still agreed to arrange for them to spend a day together while he was in L.A. At that time, he hadn’t seen his daughter Karis in FIVE YEARS.
[BELOW: Jerry Hall, 7-year old Karis & Mick in Los Angeles, 1978.]
Weirdly enough, in that same year, Mick also wrote the title song for the Rolling Stones album called Some Girls, which many believe alludes to Marsha with the lyrics:
Black girls just wanna get fucked all night
I just don't have that much jam
AND…
Some girls so corrupt
Some girls give me children
I only made love to her once
[BELOW: The Rolling Stones song, “Some Girls” released in 1978.]
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The song’s lyrics were deemed so degrading that many Black radio stations refused to play it, along with any other single from the album, due to its sexist and racist nature. Jesse Jackson, who was running for president at the time, even called for a boycott!
It’s funny, but Marsha always gave Karis a good impression of her father and wanted her to be proud of him even though he disrespected her constantly. When Karis got to the age when she became curious about who her father was (she even once asked if he was dead) Marsha told her the truth. If a Rolling Stones song played on the radio, Marsha would say, “That’s your daddy you know!” Mick had made great contributions to rock ‘n’ roll music and she always explained that his absence had something to do with his feelings for her and not Karis.
After Mick and Marsha got in touch during his visit to L.A., he realized that she was in over her head sending Karis to a school for gifted children, but as always didn’t offer to help.
Financially, Marsha was committed way beyond her means, and after house-sitting for another friend, she had to face her situation. Two promising deals she was looking forward to fell through, and even though the disco record that she cut for the German label was popular on the gay discotheque scene, her earnings didn’t cover enough for her to survive. So, she conceded that she was down to collecting social security.
She found asking for a handout, when all she wanted was a job, was absolutely demoralizing and she felt indignant at what her life had become. She was no longer a singer or an actress, she was Black-female-unemployed, another file number, another statistic.
She filled out endless forms before she came to a snag. She then realized she couldn't get any government assistance or food stamps without supplying the name of her child's father so that someone could contact him about support payments. Now, imagine a West L.A. social security employee trying to get Mick Jagger on the phone. The government had to try with a mother's cooperation to get a father to provide maintenance through a paternity suit if necessary. This wasn't an irrational requirement. But she knew that there was no other way that she could put Mick's name on a social security aid form without fanfare.
This time around, a second case would affect their daughter Karis, who was older and couldn’t be shielded. She wanted her to fully understand what was going on and what might happen, especially at school, if she took Mick to court again. So, she talked it over with her and let Karis decide.
Marsha also had to consider how another lawsuit would affect her family, including her brother who was a respected music journalist at the Los Angeles Times newspaper, and how they might be dragged across the mud along with her (especially since she’s a woman). No matter how much she wanted to avoid another paternity suit, it was her duty as a mother to acquire whatever security she could for her daughter so that if something happened to her, if she dropped dead, Karis would be provided for.
There was no question of her destitution (she was still only receiving £9 pounds a week from Mick), but before the caseworker approved her application, she sent Marsha to the local DA’s office for help in trying to get more child support from Mick. In the preliminary paternity suit hearings that were scheduled, Marsha sought $2,190 per month in child support payments.
Marsha claimed, “It’s not like a normal child with an absent father…Mick’s there every time you turn on the radio or see a magazine cover. If Karis has got to suffer that, I don’t think she should also have to suffer being suddenly poverty-stricken,” She also said. “It’s been difficult to keep her from becoming bitter when he seems to give his energy and money to other women but not to his daughter. We’re talking about a minute amount of money to someone who earns a lot.”
After talking with the welfare worker and the DA, she got legal advice from two lawyers before she approached a third. She went to celebrity lawyer, Marvin Mitchelson, the paladin of paramours, who promptly sued Mick to establish his paternity, to get Karis child support, and to restrain his promoters from paying him his share of gate proceeds from two July shows he had in Anaheim with the Rolling Stones.
The case carried on for months and she was advised to settle out of court once again. She told her lawyer that she couldn’t accept another settlement because Mick’s contributions towards their child’s well-being wasn’t the only issue any longer. She wanted his paternity legally confirmed however long it took. Karis had a right to know that Mick was indeed her father.
I mean, Mick was pasted on people’s walls, sang out from the radio, and peered at her from magazine covers. People would talk about him while Karis sat in the room as if he had nothing to do with her. It was crazy!
When Marsha discovered that her lawyer had also taken on Bianca Jagger’s divorce, she wondered if he planned to drop her case, but he said he was able to represent them both. She felt uncomfortable about it but wasn’t in a position to quibble.
A few times Marsha was asked to sell her story to newspapers and magazines for quite a lot of money, but she wasn’t tempted at all. She just wanted Karis to think well of her father and wanted to feel that the settlement served him as much as it served her. She even wrote to him to let him know that what happened was past and he was still welcome to see Karis. She wanted to put the issue behind her so that she could carry on with her life.
After the case went to the Superior Court judge, the judge was like:
Mick eventually caved in, but not before bitterly attacking Marsha and making crude comments to the press that once again called Marsha’s integrity into question. When asked about her in 1978, he told a reporter for SOUL magazine, “She’s a hustler,” and that she was, “just out for publicity. Every time she comes to a low point and she can’t be bothered to get any work, she drags me around. She never even gives me a call to say ‘Please Mick, I want some money.’ I have no idea if that child is mine or not.”
In another interview, he stated, “She’s an idiot; she won't take any fuckin’ work…She’s a lazy bitch.” And, when asked how many children he had during the interview, Mick shrugged and said, “I don’t know. Not many.”
Marsha didn’t say anything. How could she say anything?! Mick Jagger is RICH, WHITE, and FAMOUS. Who was going to come to her defense?!
[BELOW: Mick & Marsha on the cover of SOUL magazine in October 1978.]
Little did “Mick Cannon” know that after driving their daughter to school every morning, Marsha would scurry off to do various housekeeping jobs to keep financially afloat. Luckily, she had a lot of famous friends and acquaintances in the business and would often clean their homes from top to bottom. Marsha said the work had dignity, and it kept her from borrowing money from other people.
She sort of felt like she was doing him a favor. That while he was behaving badly, she was doing two things for him: taking immaculate care of the daughter that they planned and had TOGETHER and leaving the door open, so that when he was ready to come back, he could.
Marsha also thought he was kind of a fool, and once claimed that “When he gets older, and the fame dies, and he looks around at his life and all he has is his children....he’ll regret this.”
[BELOW: Mick & Marsha in numerous headlines on their second paternity suit published in the press in 1978.]
At the end of January 1979, paternity was cleared with a blood test and maintenance was ordered which was stated, may not be disclosed. It was enough to keep Karis in school at the time.
There was no lump sum and it wasn’t retroactive, as most people imagined. Every cent went to Karis. But Marsha knew that if she didn’t get work soon, she’d be in financial trouble again.
In spite of the lawsuit Marsha was also able to keep Karis’ picture out of the newspaper and protect her right to a normal childhood.
Later that year, Marsha started dating actor Robert De Niro who accosted her at a hotel when she was picking up a friend, and was estranged from his wife. She didn’t know who he was at first, but she remembered his face from a film called the “Godfather II.”
While her friends from Fleetwood Mac went on tour, their producer asked Marsha and Karis to pet sit his baby boa constrictor who she ended up keeping. Around this same time, a British newspaper called the Daily Mail ran a third-page article about Marsha which read as if she had been interviewed. It headlined an accusation about Mick as a quote from her even though she never spoke to them and it was a total fabrication. She went to a solicitor to force a retraction, but it cost a lot of time and money to sue a newspaper for libel. She got absolutely nowhere.
Additionally, in 1979, Bianca Jagger did an interview for The Telegraph saying that “Mick is avoiding taxes in every country in the world and he has 13 lawyers helping him to do it. Why should I be denied my freedom and a decent allowance for the sake of his tax situation? Then I read in the papers that Marsha Hunt had been awarded the same sum from Mick in her paternity suit (that’s a damn LIE) that I, his legal wife 🙄, am given to bring up our daughter and run the house. I felt fed up, furious. It was at that point that Mitchelson called me from Los Angeles and offered to help me. He likes women. He has a sense of justice. He made me see that if Mick wants a fight, I must use the same weapons.”
FYI, Bianca ended up receiving over £1 million in her divorce settlement with Mick, while Marsha got around $6,000 a year.
[BELOW: Bianca Jagger and her mean face on the cover of The Telegraph Sunday Magazine in 1979.]
Marsha hotfooted all around the world, from LA to Australia and back to London and the U.S again, continuing to write songs and gigging with a band she put together called Martha and the Vendettas (which was a play on her favorite group Martha and the Vandellas), even though they made little to no money at all.
Taking care of Karis was her #1 priority, as she was a very bright and congenial child. She had loads of friends, loved playing outside and scraping her knees, ate sloppy Joes, went to summer camp, and lived an extremely normal life growing up for the most part in America. Most people wouldn’t even know that she was the firstborn child of the biggest rockstar in the world.
[BELOW: Some EXTREMELY rare photos of Mick and Marsha’s daughter, Karis, throughout the mid 1970s into the early 1980s.]
In 1982, Marsha started work on a film called, “Britannia Hospital,” which was a British black comedy starring Malcolm McDowell (a.k.a Alex DeLarge from “A Clockwork Orange”). This is when she also met singer Sting, lead singer of the English rock band, The Police, who was working on a film. They became really close friends and she even stayed at his home for a while. Marsha was also the person who arranged backup singers for him when he went on tour with The Police a year later.
“Britannia Hospital” was well received, so much so that it was entered into the 1982 Cannes Film Festival, in which Marsha was invited. It was there she realized that mostly all people wanted to know about her was her relationship with Mick.
She didn’t want to talk about him at all. It felt like she was losing herself and it scared her. After years of working so hard, all the failures and all that happened with Mick, Marsha started to gain a lot of weight and eventually had a mental breakdown and had to seek professional help.
[BELOW: Marsha at the 1982 Cannes Film Festival and being interviewed about Mick.]
Mick had just gotten off the European leg of his “Tattoo You” tour with The Rolling Stones and was kinda beefin’ with the rest of the guys in the band. It would be 7 years until they toured again. So he had “extra” time on his hands at that point.
[BELOW: Mick performing during The Rolling Stones’ “Tattoo You” world tour.]
On Karis’ 12th birthday, Sting threw a little party for her and she got loads of presents from Marsha’s friends from The Police and The Who. And when she got home Mick surprised her with 3 large boxes wrapped in gleaming china-red paper that were waiting for her. It looked like Santa had made a November drop. He also phoned her from NYC to tell her “Happy Birthday” too. Marsha was happy and hoped that Mick would come through whatever had held him back all those years. Her intention was to smile and make him feel welcome.
That was it! No big apology. No “I’m sorry for how I treated you both.” He just eased back into their lives when the apology should’ve been as loud as the motherfucking disrespect!!!! ☕️☕️☕️
[BELOW: Marsha with her good friends, singer Sting of The Police and Roger Daltrey, lead singer of The Who.]
By 1983, Mick and Marsha were on decent terms and he even wanted her to be interviewed for an autobiography he was writing, which she agreed to do, but refused to show letters he had written to her in 1969.
A year after that, he and Jerry Hall were expecting their first child together, daughter Elizabeth Jagger, and that’s when the media finally started to see Mick out with his first child, Karis. Jerry would actually invite her to family events, holidays, and trips instead of treating her like a bald-headed step child. I guess after Mick had completely neglected her for 12 YEARS and having a new child on the way…it just wouldn’t look right!
Mick also made a statutory declaration to the Registrar-General in London, where a new birth certificate was entered which read ‘KARIS HUNT JAGGER’. By then, Mick (though not having custody) bore sole financial responsibility for Karis.
[BELOW: Karis with Mick and his “other” family in the mid-1980s.]
Mick and Marsha ended up enrolling Karis in a private secondary boarding school in the UK, Bedales, which he paid for, so she could be close to her father.
She also grew closer to Jade who was a bit wild and had a problem with authority. Jade was even once thrown out of her school for sneaking off on the middle of the night with a boy.
Karis on the other hand, was the total opposite. She was extremely shy, soft spoken (if she talked at all), and kind of ‘preppy.’ She learned French just like her dad a played two instruments, piano and the harp, which impressed Mick.
[BELOW: Marsha & Mick together with their daughter Karis during her christening at Bedales School in 1984.]
Once in a while, Mick would take Karis and Marsha out. They even once saw Beverly Hills Cop starring Eddie Murphy together. They sat in the front row and Mick had his arm on her thigh the whole time. Afterward, they walked to his car and someone snapped a photo of Mick and Marsha holding hands and she was like “Aw, hell. Here we go!” They later went to the very fancy and expensive Tour d’Argent restaurant for dinner, where people constantly came up to him asking for his autograph, and it was weird because it almost felt like they were…a “family”! But it was also in that moment she realized why she never married him. She couldn’t put up with the fanfare and playing second fiddle to anybody.
Later on, in 1985, an editor at a noted publishing house in England approached Marsha and asked if she would write a book about her life. Her initial response was, “Absolutely NOT!” She also said that, “Enough people had trashed my life in newspapers that I don’t want to participate in writing about my life.” She just thought they wanted to know about Mick Jagger: how hung he was or who she knew that he knew that maybe she could get some dirt on him. So, she said no she wouldn’t do it. But they were really interested in hearing what she had to say and what was individual about her life including the 60s rock scene. So she went away to write the book which was released in 1986.
[BELOW: The cover of Marsha Hunt’s autobiography “Real Life” which was released in 1986.]
Years later, when biographer Phillip Norman released a book about Mick, he said this of his relationship with Marsha Hunt in an interview: He’s a massive contradiction. He [Mick] can behave very well, and he can behave not very well…but that’s the prerogative of rockstars who don’t grow up. You can’t predict them. One minute they seem quite pleasant, the next minute they’re being completely horrible. They feel they have no control of their behavior.
Believe it or not, this is not where the story ends!!!
#marsha hunt#mick jagger#karis jagger#the rolling stones#rolling stones#brown sugar#interracial couple#ex lovers#old school tea#rock history#rock & roll#music#rockstars#black women#black mother#keith richards#bianca jgger#marianne faithfull#the who#sting#celebrities#retro#vintage#celeb gossip#1970s#1980s#80s#70s#long post#sbrown82
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You know, TG stans are so hypocrite.
They are the same ones who complain about how House Velaryon should not support Rhaenyra because of Vaemond - when Vaemond only wanted to be Lord of Driftmark because of Corlys' money - and the significance of him being black.
And while I agree HOTD producers have failed in portraying their opulence and pride, Corlys and Rhaenys owe nothing to the greens. That offer Alicent made would have been reversed and they would have given Driftmark to Daemion Velaryon, Vaemond's oldest son, in order to defend male claims over female claims. And Corlys and Rhaenys wanted Baela as queen and Rhaena as Lady of Driftmark, true, it's not the same, but as we see how Rhaenyra raised her sons - and also because of Corlys and Rhaenys' pressure - they would have listened to their opinion in matters of government.
And yet they are the very same ones who criticize Daenaera simply because she exists; it seems they are willing to support Vaemond but not Daenaera.
They say it's creepy how Daenaera is described as a smiling child whose eyes sparkle. As excuse me, if someone is fetishizing a child, it's them, Daenaera is described as beautiful because she is, and her description is meant to be one of a child's innocence, not describing someone in a sexual way. In anything, it's the greens who are sexualizing a black girl (as the Show! Velaryons are black) because they are pissed Daenaera's descendants were princes and princesses and Jaehaera (a white girl) didn't have descendants.
Exactly!
Alicent offering Rhaenys Driftmark for her and her granddaughters was such an idiotic move on her part. She literally usurped the throne from the rightful Queen on the basis that she is a woman, and she is offering the seat of the second greatest power in the Realm to another woman in exchange for approving and supporting this usurpation. Seriously?
Regardless of what TG stans claim, Corlys and Rhaenys would have always been Team Black. There is nothing tying them to the greens. Their biological and adoptive grandchildren are Team Black, and their interests align with theirs. As for what happened to their children - none of it was Rhaenyra or Daemon’s fault. Laena died in childbirth, as many women did during those times. Daemon’s own mother died in childbirth, as did Rhaenyra’s. The Maesters in Pentos were very good and they couldn’t do anything to save Laena. No one is to blame for her death, and even Corlys knows that.
As for Laenor - Corlys and Rhaenys are pretty much responsible for putting him in such a situation they knew perfectly well would bring him hardships. He was not suited to be the Consort of a ruling Queen and he couldn’t even perform his duty and give his wife heirs she needed to secure her claim. Rhaenyra cannot be held accountable for finally ridding herself of the dead weight in her life which could have cost her everything.
Don’t even get me started on the TG stans obsessing over their Green girl and how much they hate Daenaera for replacing her.
Daenaera was a Velaryon and her marriage to Aegon III brought the Velaryons back in the royal fold for the second time in history. It is an important union between the two Valyrian Houses. Way more important than the marriage between Aegon III and the last surviving member of a defeated faction.
Aegon III was already broken, having witnessed horrific things. He needed someone to help heal his broken spirit. He needed light in his life, and that light was Daenaera. If he had stayed married to an equally broken girl with issues and whose father practically killed his mother, I am pretty sure Aegon would have ended up jumping off a balcony.
Daenaera and Viserys II are responsible for healing Aegon III.
And this whole marriage pact between Aegon III and the green girl for “keeping the peace” between the two factions is such bullshit. The green faction was defeated. Only one member was left alive: a broken eight year-old girl. There was no need for such a marriage.
What would the remaining so-called green “supporters” have done if Aegon III didn’t marry that girl? Plot to put her on the throne in his place? Um…isn’t the reason why they started the war because the rightful heir was a woman? To me, Aegon III’s first marriage was so completely unnecessary, and since it was never consummated, it can’t really be considered a true marriage.
I don’t have anything against that little girl, but she belonged to the losing faction and was a constant reminder of the treasonous acts and other atrocities committed by her family. Aegon III deserved better than that.
#house of the dragon#team black#pro team black#rhaenyra targaryen#hotd#queen rhaenyra#aegon iii targaryen#aegon iii x daenaera#aegon x daenaera#daenaera velaryon#queen daenaera#viserys ii targaryen#rhaenys the queen who never was#corlys velaryon#anti team green#anti alicent hightower#anti greens#daemon targaryen#asoiaf#asoiaf meta#anti team green stans#anti alicent stans#anti aegon ii targaryen#house targaryen#the blacks#the black queen#princess rhaenys targaryen#baela and rhaena#baela targaryen#pro rhaenyra
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don’t think (vincent mancini x reader)
summary: (y/n) is determined to expose the truth behind the Corleone family and Vincent... well, he’s Vincent.
warnings: angst, swearing, alcohol, blood, violence, verbal abuse (sorta), crime (duh), fluff-ish
words: 5.3k
notes: it took me a ridiculous amount of time to finish this, but at last, here i am. also this is nothing but me fulfilling my own needs for him in this robe. i regret nothing
When his eyes dart over to hers, (y/n) stares right back at him, with the glimpse of a curious gleam in her own. She knew who he was, obviously; it was impossible not to these days. Standing before her, talking to three men in black suits, was the most feared man in New York, maybe even America. His family and alleged crimes weren’t exactly secrets anymore, if they ever were. However, with the FBI constantly getting more and more informants, their reign was soon to be extinguished and, consequently, completely exposed to the public once and for all.
There is a time and a place for everything. And no matter just how unpredictable you claim or even want your life to be, every now and then, the stars align to grant us what is rightfully ours. But sometimes, what is ours isn’t necessarily something we wanted in the first place. That is Vincent’s role in (y/n)’s dull excuse of a life. And that’s why, despite being actively involved in the confabulations to his demise, the girl couldn’t help but wonder what he would do then, as it seemed his sole purpose was living like a hustler, similar to every man in his family before him. Could he do anything else with himself, she wondered.
What more could become of Vincent Corleone?
Her thoughts are interrupted by his gaze shifting to hers once again. He nodded in acknowledgement and his mouth curled up slightly at the corner, causing (y/n) to hold back an amused expression. He tilted his head and his brows furrowed in interest at the broad, causing her to chuckle under her breath. (y/n) reckoned the ladies probably weren’t so keen on flirting with a mafia boss nowadays, and with that in mind, she raised her glass in a silent invitation. Because sure, he might be dangerous; but he is still pretty interesting. It would be a good story to share in the office tomorrow, if anything.
Vincent lifts his own drink in response, his stare lingering on her whiskey-wet lips, and (y/n) snorts softly. He approaches her table, and she points with her chin, her demeanour screaming of amusement—and perhaps some entitlement—, “don Corleone, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
He flashes a charming smile and hums, with a sultry tone, “I have heard a lot about you, (y/n).”
“Let’s keep it professional for now”, the girl keeps grinning, motioning for him to take a seat. She watches as he moves to the chair, holding eye contact all the time. His suit is perfectly ironed, his dark hair is neatly brushed back, and there is that damn sparkle in his chestnut orbs. It feels as if he could devour her whole by that look alone, and a faint shiver goes up her spine at the thought. “It’s miss (y/n) for you.”
Vincent clears his throat, still sustaining a smirk. “I see. Miss (y/n), it’s a pleasure. Now, what would a fine woman like yourself be doing alone at this bar? Surely you have scores of men ready to buy you drinks and offer their jackets?”
“Is this an offer?”, she glances at him playfully, sipping her whiskey. “Because while I surely love to hold men hostage over my looks to get a few drinks for free, I’m afraid it’s my night off.” (y/n)’s unblinking look remains on his figure, albeit her face stays friendly.
“And I’m usually not one to buy women drinks. Makes me look needy, you know? But I just had to ask.” Corleone offers her a genuine smile, the hint of a blush running across his cheeks. “You really are incredibly beautiful.”
“Don’t worry about looking needy, anything you do won’t change that.” She laughs quietly, leaning back in her chair. “And I’ll gladly take you on that offer, my friend. Whiskey. Dirty.”
He laughs and snaps his fingers at the bartender. “You got it, miss.” The waiter pours her drink and slides it over to her. Vincent orders himself a whiskey as well, peering into the brownish liquid as he motions for a toast. “To meeting you.”
“Salute.” She smiles cheekily, gulping her shot at one go. “So, tell me about yourself, Mr. Corleone. How’s the FBI treating ya? I heard you’re having some occasional encounters with them”, she says, perhaps encouraged by the alcohol, but she’s not really concerned he’d do anything to her for asking a few questions, let alone at a public space. Vincent looked like a gentleman first, ruthless criminal second. At least that was her impression at first glance.
“Things with the feds are... interesting”, he beams, taking another sip and then leaning on his hand, looking into her eyes as he speaks; his voice smooth, low, and warm. He’s playing his game, she is very aware, and (y/n) can admit to herself it’s working a little. Only a little. “You know, miss (y/n), when I ask myself what makes the FBI tick, the only thing I can figure out is money”, he wiggles his brows, as if to reaffirm his point. “Money buys loyalty, money buys power. And that’s why the feds are so powerful. It’s not the guns, it’s not the suits; it’s the money.”
“That’s a unique way of looking at it.” She rounds her glass with her index slowly, studying its emptiness. “I guess you could say the same thing about the mafia or are you not self-aware enough for that?”, she waits for his reaction. The broad can’t help but want to push his buttons, see how far she can go with him, no matter how unwise that might be. Powerful men just make her giddy and curious, like a child with a cat.
Corleone chuckles softly, not minding her provocativeness. “Maybe I’m not. I’m a man of many faults, my hypocrisy is one of them.” When he speaks again, his voice is huskier. “You’re perceptive. I can tell you’re smart.”
“Too smart for my own good.” (y/n) snorts, trying to hide her shudder. She then waves a dismissive hand, gesturing around the tables, “these people here, they’re living better than me. Ignorance is bliss in this world.”
Vincent laughs heartily and makes another toast. “It’s the biggest flaw of humanity, in my opinion. No one wants to think about how the world works, because thinking is hard. It’s easier to just go through life without asking questions”, he pauses, scanning her discreetly with his strong eyes. “Unfortunately, it’s the people who question things that make change in this world. People like you, princess.”
“So I assume you make a lot of effort not to stay ignorant?”, she raises her brows, crossing her arms slowly, and her cleavage flashes out to him unconsciously. “Because you don’t look like it. How could the worst man in this town be so clueless? I don’t see it.” (y/n) shakes her head a bit, letting a faint smile appear on her cherry lips.
“Now, why would I wanna be clueless, miss (y/n)?”, his eyes flicker towards her breasts for a moment before returning to her face, with a puzzled look.
“Why wouldn’t you?”, her gaze becomes more intense, and her smile fades gradually, making way for an inquiring expression. “Is there anything better than simply not worrying?”
He scowls, meeting her stare just as intently. “Ignorance is a disease, sweet cheeks. And I’m not a diseased man. I prefer to see things as they are rather than how I wish they were. If I see a problem, I fix it. That’s how I live my life and I’m not gonna change anytime soon.”
“That’s funny.” (y/n) stays where she is, unaffected by his closeness. Her eyes fall on his mouth for a second, then go back up. “You’re not a diseased man, but where you go, death follows”, she’s quiet, but the edge is there; unrelenting, waiting for him to crack. “Why’s that?”
Vincent, on the other hand, doesn’t appear at all fazed. Rather, he seems to be enjoying their banter as he takes another sip from his drink. “My family came to this country with nothing, we built our empire from scratch. People respect the power that my family now commands. And I’m not ashamed to admit that I’ve killed people to maintain that power. Death is just a by-product of doing what’s necessary to keep the family safe”, he considers smoothly, casually, as if speaking of a banal transaction. This realisation makes her uneasy.
“You are crazy”, (y/n) says half-heartedly, reclining in her seat and tapping her fingers on the wooden table lightly to hide her edginess.
“Maybe”, he snickers, his frown slowly dropping. “Like I said, I’m a man of faults. My biggest one is my loyalty to my family sometimes, as that doesn’t always make me do what you might deem as the ‘right thing’. Sometimes, I gotta do the necessary thing.”
She smirks and nods. “Be that as it may, I hope the FBI does their job. People keep dying because of you, good people. And you don’t get to decide if they should live or not”, her voice is still gentle, albeit her words are piercing now.
Despite looking somewhat offended, Vincent maintains his cool, finishing up his whiskey. “Death is a part of life, sweetheart, we can’t all live happy and free. Sometimes the world needs men to do dark things, to keep their families safe. That’s just the way it works.” He leans back and glances into his half filled glass.
“You sound like Michael Corleone.” (y/n) muses, studying his demeanour with a close eye. She thinks back to the days she had to interview his uncle. Back then, he came across as a broken man and she almost felt sorry for him, were it not for her knowledge of all his crimes, including his own brother’s murder. It appeared as though the Corleones were destined to go down that route and deep inside of her, she caught herself wishing for Vincent to somehow find a way out. God only knows why. “And that’s a shame. You could’ve been your own person.”
If Vincent is bothered by her subtle jabs at this point, he doesn’t let it show. “We think alike on a few things because we’re family, I suppose.”
“Whatever makes you sleep at night, beautiful”, she cackles, gazing around the bar. It was empty except for the two of them, and she sighed. Time went by pretty quickly.
“And what makes you sleep at night, miss (y/n)?”, he opens a sour, nearly venomous beam, in spite of the unchanging silkiness in his tone. “You keep throwing polite insults at me, so surely it’s no surprise that I’m curious about the state of your holy conscience.”
“I apologise if I was too honest, it’s the whiskey.” She shrugs, looking a bit tipsy indeed. “But I don’t take back what I said, not one goddamn word. I hope they catch you. You’re a bad, bad man.”
The girl rests her chin on her hand to watch him smugly, also taking the moment to admire his features. He is quite handsome, undeniably, notwithstanding all the atrocious things he’s rumoured to be doing, and the damn drinks don’t help her think rationally either. While her words say one thing, her body tells him another.
And Vincent, to his own credit, catches her flirty body language, raising his now empty glass again with a sly grin. “To bad men then, my dear.”
(y/n) can’t help but blush, rolling her eyes and getting up from her chair. “It was... partially a pleasure, Mr. Corleone.” She bows jocosely, stumbling as she takes a step backwards.
That was an exchange that should’ve never happened, and (y/n) wishes she knew that sooner. Going back home that night, she reckoned her boss would probably have her head on a plate if he caught wind of her little interaction with Vincent Corleone, since she didn’t actually get any juicy information about the Bronx killings. But, in her humble defence, he wouldn’t have given her anything anyway. Doesn’t matter how into her he looked, Vincent wasn’t one to be easily fooled by curves to the point of revealing his connections in the underworld, apart from being a very responsible drinker; at least in her company.
With a sigh, she threw herself on the bed and turned off the lights, letting sleep take over. The next day, of course she woke up with a headache. Sometimes she regretted not actually enjoying her college days, as it would probably have helped build some alcohol resistance today. The broad whined quietly before getting up and shuffling her kitchen cabinets for some aspirins. As she searched for the pills, her telephone started ringing. She winced at the loud noise, picking up.
“Hello?”, she mutters sleepily, and her boss speaks rushed in the line. “Mick, I have a headache.” She sighs and he slows down, but still sounds very anxious, and (y/n) widens her eyes when he’s finished. “I’m going right now!”
(y/n) changes in the blink of an eye and storms out of her apartment, leaving the door open. There had just been a killing at the exact same sight as the last one, but this time, they found prints. Corleone associates’ prints. Arriving at the scene, she pulled out her notepad and her pen, walking to the few officers without hesitance. They tried to tell her off until she convinced them to give her but a small clue. It appeared to be a reckoning of some kind, and they were getting sloppy, as the prints were found and catalogued only a few hours after the crime.
Now, who in their right mind would’ve been so stupid as to make a mistake like this, when the FBI was already so far up their ass? It almost felt icky to her, and it stunk of snitching into the mafia, not just arrested associates trying to reduce their sentence. The thought bothered her for some reason, because weren’t these people all about loyalty? (y/n) took a few more notes before turning around and walking to the street to get a cab. Her eyes were still on the notepad when a strong, tall body bumped into hers.
She gulps, in a mix of surprise and fear. “Mr. Corleone.”
Vincent’s eyes are sharp and intense as ever, and he examines over the area until his gaze goes back to her, with a menacingly intrigued look. He puts his hands in his pockets, sounding polite, yet not as much as the last time. “Seems you and I had the same destination today, miss (y/n). I trust this wasn’t a coincidence?”
“Surely.” She smiles, trying to walk past him, but he doesn’t let her, hardening his jaw. The girl glares at the man, despite shaking like a leaf. “Excuse me?”
Vincent scoffs, clearly impatient. “You followed me here, didn’t you?”, he doesn’t move, but his look is as serious as hers. “Spit it out now and maybe I’ll have mercy.”
(y/n) lets out a fake laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I got a call from my boss”, she grits her teeth, still forcing a grin. “And you people are getting sloppy, you know? Not even a day until they found prints?” She chuckles, raising a brow, “Michael would never make a mistake like that in his day.”
Vincent stares at her, his mouth going from a thin line to an upside-down smile. His voice has lost its earlier friendliness, and he takes a step towards the woman, a look of anger on his face, “why are you following me?”
“I follow the story, not the characters.” She pats his chest, nodding once. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I got work to do.”
(y/n) tries to leave again, and he grabs her arm firmly. “You don’t think you’re part of this story, (y/n)?”, his tone is low and almost threatening now. “Last chance. Don’t lie to me, sweetheart. Who sent you?”
The girl tries to shrug him off, but it’s to no use. “Let go or I’ll have you arrested right here.” She glances over at the cops standing at a distance from them.
“Those coppers would get down on their knees if I told them to, so cut the bullshit”, Vincent pulls (y/n) closer to him, his dark orbs burning. “You wanna try me, baby? I’ll make you scream”, he beams cheekily, yet it’s empty. He lets go harshly and steps back, putting his hands back in his pockets as if nothing happened. “We’re just talking here, right?”
“You don’t scare me”, she speaks with conviction, adjusting her coat, even though her voice trembles ever so slightly. “And your threats better stop right here. You might be a powerful man, but you’re not invincible. Everyone’s got a weakness.”
“You know what, (y/n)? I have a lot of respect for your courage as a female reporter, trying to cover this story”, Vincent grins and takes a step back. “It’s a shame I can’t trust you.”
“I’m flattered that a despicable criminal like you doesn’t trust me, as it speaks volumes about my character”, she fakes another smile, taking a step to leave. “Have a good day, Mr. Corleone.”
“That’s the nicest compliment I’ve heard this week!”, Vincent laughs out loud, not stopping her this time. He stays where he is, raising his voice so she can hear him from a distance. “You have a great day, sweet cheeks!”
A week later, (y/n)’s working late hours every day on her investigation into the Corleone shenanigans. Her eyes are red and tired, but she perseveres. This story could make her entire career and clean New York’s streets from the biggest mafia family in town. Nothing sounded better. She had begun taking precautions, obviously, like changing her locks and exclusively moving around in cabs. She did her best not to be alone at any given time, which sucked for her. Alone had always been her only moment of something resembling peace.
Her last encounter with Vincent left (y/n) feeling anxious, unsurprisingly, yet it fuelled her to find out more about the killing sprees inside the mafia. Her intuition rarely failed her and something in her gut said someone was trying to take out his own boss and perhaps covering his tracks. The dates were too close, and the second time was sloppier than before. Whoever he was, the guy was getting desperate. And with no proof, no sources and unsurprisingly no acquaintance with the Corleones, it was like walking into a dark room with a blindfold.
A sigh escaped her lips as she stared at the newspaper from last month, where the Bronx victims made it to the front page. Her chest tightened as her mind turned one of their faces into Vincent’s, his skull completely destroyed by a bullet. For some reason, the thought of his death bothered her to no end. Yes, he was a criminal, but he should pay for his crimes as the law states: in federal confinement. She was extremely against the death penalty, after all. But not only that, the girl still saw something in him she shouldn’t: a man. Not a monster, not the face of a bloody organisation, not his family’s last name. Just a man.
As she’s gathering her things to leave, her boss calls her. (y/n) picks up while walking towards the elevator, pressing the first floor. “What’s up?”
“You’re gonna interview Vincent Corleone in a few days”, Mick’s voice is calm and casual, as if he just told her news about a football game.
(y/n) stops in her tracks, standing motionless before the elevator doors. “I’m gonna what?!”, she exclaims, not really knowing what else to say. She couldn’t talk much about that subject, not to her boss. If he found out she’d been conducting an investigation on a mafia family by herself, and that the Don himself knew about it already, she would be out of a job in no time.
“Look, my dear, Leslie’s in Paris right now, she’s not gonna make it in time and you’re the only one who’s not gonna throw up in front of the guy”, he keeps talking like it’s the normalest thing in the world, to do a piece on a known and widely feared mafia boss like Vincent, and she has to scoff quietly. This has to be a joke. “This is big, we’re gonna get you the cover.”
“Mick, you have got to have lost your mind”, her voice sounds a little shaky as she walks into the elevator, finally getting to the ground floor. She holds the phone tightly against her ear as she strolls towards the street and calls for a taxi.
“Don’t you know him already, anyways?”, Mick asks, and a keyboard being pressed can be heard in the background of his speech. “It’s even better, he’ll open up to you.”
The girl wants to roll her eyes, but keeps listening. Suddenly she stops for a moment, getting an insight. Conceding an interview to a newspaper right after yet another public scandal? This doesn’t sound smart. Vincent’s either too desperate to think straight or he has an angle. She just can’t see it right now, but maybe asking him a few questions might help her with finding the traitor... The only problem was facing him after the polite offences—as he had called it—she offered him, intoxicated and now sober.
(y/n) gets into the cab and whispers her address to the driver, turning to look at the window as she sighs. “If you count me insulting him for two hours straight while shamelessly flirting with too much alcohol in my system as ‘knowing’, then yes.”
“You left that part out, huh?”, he says sarcastically, but appearing a little worried now.
“Look, you gotta find someone else”, the car stops in front of her building and she pays the nice man, giving him a wave as he drives off. (y/n) walks up to her apartment as she searches for her keys. “I really can’t do it. This guy… he’s a creep. I would feel uncomfortable”, she lies mercilessly, not caring that the statement sounds contradictory to her earlier confession of their encounter in the bar.
“The interview will be in his house next week.”
Mick hangs up and (y/n) looks at her phone with a stunned expression. She takes a deep breath, entering her home and slamming the door. Great. Now she just has to figure out a way of getting out of the Corleone mansion alive.
♡♡♡
“How’s the weather up there from that high horse of yours, doll?”, Vincent’s familiar tone comes from behind her and (y/n) turns to face him with a plastic smile, her legs trembly like two sticks in the wind. His smirk is almost disgusting, as he walks to her side and leans on the balcony slightly, giving her a look over his shoulder. “Sunny like you, I’d wager.”
Somehow, the girl managed not to go crazy throughout that stressful week. After a few more arguments with her boss, she gave into doing the damn interview—or rather, her need to have a job surpassed her fear of ever coming close to Vincent Corleone again. Sure, she did her part of exposing some of his dirty deeds to the public, but from behind a computer screen, everything is much easier and safer. Although, safety in that case would always be but a false reading of the cruel reality. Many of her colleagues had paid the price before her for wanting to tell on the mafia’s crimes, and that’s mainly why she persisted. At the end of the day, her life was a small sacrifice for the ultimate goal. Sooner or later, a journalist has to come to terms with that.
The car ride to the Corleone mansion was surprisingly calm, yet inevitably tense. She was taken there by their own private chauffeur. He wasn’t very talkative, but she figured he wasn’t paid to chitty chat with some terrified journalist in his backseat. Going through her notepad, she reviewed all her questions for the billionth time. Not that she had any hopes of getting any answered by Vincent, as she knew too well he had a mesmerising ability to make the conversation flow in the direction he wanted it to—by force or otherwise.
When (y/n) arrived in his house, some twenty minutes ago, she was readily greeted by Vincent himself wearing nothing but a silky red robe, which barely covered his slim yet athletic body, dark hair dishevelled like he had just woken up. A striking difference from the neat smokings he bore in public, and one that made her cheeks blush ghostly. Oh, it wasn’t that early, by the way. It was past noon and her stomach turned at that image of him even though she made a point of not eating anything before; that way, it would be harder for her to throw up eventually.
Here’s the funny thing about gangsters: they’re not usually the most well-mannered chaps and Vincent, of all people, wasn’t gonna be the exception. His charm was only extended to his good looks and often annoying boldness, which was duly noted again by his complete disregard to present proper in her presence while in his own home. From that very moment she knew that afternoon was going to be a complete disaster, starting with the raunchy outfit and the way her eyes couldn’t help but wander to his chest hair—and in her defence, his in specific would certainly be a sight to behold on anyone. Or perhaps that’s what she kept telling herself as he babbled about the architecture of the mansion, even though she had asked a question about his childhood before all of…
This.
“Let’s cut the bullshit, Vincent”, (y/n) blurts out, cutting him off when he was in the middle of describing the texture of the walls surrounding the garden. His brows lift in amusement at her words, and he holds his chin up, daring her to keep defying him. To hell with this. She could be trembling like a chicken, but that man was really getting on her nerves. “Just answer the question, or you can say no and I’ll move on to the next.” Her tone is firm, and she sustains his gaze, unblinking. “How did you start in this life?”
And like that night in the bar, Vincent’s demeanour goes from playful to mildly annoyed. He stands up straight, towering over her. “Look, sweetheart, your little investigation ain’t gonna get you far in life”, his voice is deep and nothing like the sensual one he usually uses with her. Stepping even closer, he adds, “word of advice? Just go home. This ain’t your problem, so don’t try to make it your problem.”
(y/n) scowls. “If I wanted a safe job, I wouldn’t have become a journalist.”
“I don’t fucking care”, he takes her arm, looking down at her enraged. She flinches at the pain, trying to shrug him off unsuccessfully. “You’re gonna get yourself killed and I don’t have time to babysit you, so get the hell out now while you can.” So they are trying to kill him. Point to her gut.
His hot breath hits her face like knives cutting through her skin, yet she doesn’t back down. With watery eyes, she keeps her head held high to challenge him, her ragged breathing touching his chin in the same burning heat. For a split second, she can swear he’ll grab her by the hair and take all his anger out once and for all, God knows how, but a loud noise comes from the living room and they both turn to find two masked figures pointing guns at them. Before she can even process what’s going on, Vincent drags her to the side and shots are fired in their direction, breaking the glass of the door to the balcony. She screams in horror and covers her ears.
“Fuck”, Vincent grunts as he keeps her body shielded with his, trying to peek inside the house to see if they went out of bullets. It appears so.
He swiftly stands back up and takes out a pistol out of nowhere, shooting the men in the head. They fall dead on the ground and (y/n) is in shock, but somehow grateful he did that. Blood splattered on the stupidly fancy walls and wooden floor, running toward the balcony where she was sitting in a foetal position in the corner. Watching the thick redness touch her feet, a jarring realisation came to her mind: Vincent Corleone just saved her life. Him, the very man she feared would truly hurt her only seconds ago. The man she saw behind the monster.
He crouches down again, pulling her into his arms, and her entire body is boiling hot. His hand strokes her hair delicately and the sensation soothes her nerves, causing her to cling to him pathetically. (y/n) grips his robe tightly, taking deep breaths to calm herself and maybe try and get back to her senses. But it’s useless when their eyes meet and he grabs her by the back of her neck, savouring her mouth without so much as asking for permission. Typical Vincent.
A soft, humble whimper leaves her lips, and it’s still not enough for her to try and pull away. The kiss is messy and sloppy and her legs begin to shake again. Her fingers reach his hair and pull his strands a bit, causing him to moan against her mouth. She feels a wetness brushing against her abdomen and when she opens her eyes again, they widen in worry. He’s bleeding.
“It’s just a graze, sweetheart”, he chuckles under his breath, smirking while she still looks concerned, sliding down his robe slowly to take a look at his wound. “Don’t hold your panties in a bunch.” (y/n) wants to roll her eyes, but she’s more focused on studying the bruise on his tanned skin. Vincent holds her chin between his fingertips and pecks her lips gently, nothing like the urgent kiss from before. She sighs and tilts her head a bit, unable to formulate any words yet. This was a turn of events she wasn’t expecting. He senses her hesitancy and glances at her, his eyes gleaming with such intensity that she was left breathless again. “Don’t think.”
(y/n)’s lips curl up in the corner of her mouth, and he helps her up and away from the bodies in silence. Her hand holds his involuntarily, maybe in a childish attempt at finding comfort in this new situation in which she knows, deep inside, she’s not alone. Not after today. When their gaze meets one more time, all she sees is the chestnut irises that made her stomach stir with butterflies that night in the bar with too much alcohol in her veins, except she’s never been more sober in her life. And it’s clear as day. There’s nothing but him and his annoyingly handsome crooked smile. She gives his palm a faint, yet so telling squeeze. This is what Vincent Corleone could become.
Hers.
#the godfather#the godfather imagine#vincent mancini x reader#vincent mancini#the godfather part iii#andy garcia#vincent corleone#vincent corleone x reader#the godfather x reader
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Beautiful Black Women 👑
essence:
Halle Bailey, how lucky are we to be part of your world! There have been waves of unsolicited opinions about you and it’s time to silence the storm! The comments aren’t just nosey - they show entitlement to Black women’s bodies and the last time we checked, no one owes us an explanation for anything. To any and everyone who thinks otherwise, swim along but more importantly - stay out of Black women's business! 🫶🏾 #ESSENCE 📸: ESSENCE Archives Getty
essence:
They say laughter is the best medicine and if that’s the truth, Regina Hall is our resident doctor. But it’s more than just the jokes for us. It’s the kind soul that shines through. Thank you for putting a smile on our face and showing that pretty girls can be funny too!
teyanataylor:
Father God, Let me tell you something about your FAVOR, your favor can’t be stopped! Lord, You told me in John 8:12 that, you are the light of the world & if I followed you I wouldn’t have to walk in darkness, because you would have the light that leads to life! Amen. You promised to protect me from the evil In the face of adversity, & you rescued me. So I humbly submit to you with a thankful heart. Thank you for reminding me that your Love & blessings don’t come with conditions and as the flames dance upon 33 candles, I find myself immersed in the profound reflections of a journey shaped by growth and artistic evolution. Embracing the present, I stand at the threshold of the unknown, ready to inscribe new chapters in the book of life. Here's to the intricate dance of time and the wisdom it unfolds. In Jesus name, Amen🌹🎂🌹 THANK YOU to all my family & friends that came out to celebrate me on such a special day for me. I feel so full ❤️🌹❤️ #33 12.10.90 🌹📸: @insurgovisuals @destinyfulfild @kvnhrtlss @oneshotmia I will be sending out all my special THANK YOU’S to everyone involved with making this beautiful night unforgettable in part 2.🌹
issarae:
🔥🏡 @hauteliving 🔥🏡 By @laurainwonderland Photography @kanyaiwana Styling @therealwourivice Fashion Director @adriennefaurote Videographer @jeanlondondia Hair @felicialeatherwood Makeup @joannasimkin Jewelry & Watches By @bulgari
victoriamonet:
I had the honor of having such a beautiful conversation with two of the most legendary producers of our lifetime at the @grammymuseum about all things JAGUAR II !! I am in awe and so grateful for the opportunity to share words and space with you both @flytetymejam and @dmile85 thank you so much for this incredibly special moment!🤎🥹\n\nPLUS my mommy surprised me and came to the event @themommymonet you’re the best!!!🙌🏾 Styled by @kollincarter in @area @jimmychoo and @alexisbittar jewelry Glam: @mua.alexander Hair: @theassassin 📸: @mr_dadams @rachelle_jl @danameyerson @1sweetlotus thank you so much for all of your work behind the scenes on this!!!🙌🏾 it all truly takes a team and I got the best one ✨✨✨
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ugh.
I’m not gonna fight with a racist whore.
What you did caused my friend to be depressed. You obviously don’t care about your fans feelings, she looked up to you and enjoyed each and everyone one of your stories. And you have the NERVE to attack her. How dare you. All she wants is a apology for how you treated her. So idc if you post this go ahead and let all ur little lap dogs know what u did💗
you…want ME…to apologize to her for being racist in MY comments ???? i knew yall was trifling but not this bad LMFAOOOO. im not apologizing to no entitled as bitches im not sorry ! i never once mentioned her religion, her race or anything like that so ur mouth hold no weight. yo lil FRIEND dont like reading work catered to BLACK WOMEN yet all up in our tags…2 + 2 = 6 chile ??? 🫢🫢🫢
and i dont have “fans.” whoever decides to support my writing, i’m grateful of them. but just bc u “support” my work does not mean imma let any trick ass shit slide under my fics ESPECIALLY when i have a target audience & ur clearly not apart of it. i don’t owe anyone shit, especially yall when it comes to what EYE wanna write, so i dont gotta apologize to no one cuz u not my daddy & u sure as hell not my mama !
but now that ur off of anon, we can go back & forth all night baby, ian got school tomorrow so whats up ?
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hi talking about the last story you wrote with the ice skater
It was amazing and i wanted to ask if you might wanna write something about back when pedro was in Tokyo for the Olympics where he meets another athlete who also participates there and they just start crushing on each other
A/N: Hi! Thank you so much! It mean a lot❤️ Sorry it didn’t turn out exactly how I wanted too but I tried so I still hope you like it!
Also I know the women and the men’s team don’t play at the same time but it was just for the stories purpose, I wasn’t too sure if you wanted her too be a professional at something else but I just made it football because it seemed good for the story😭
Warnings: swearing, hinting too some suggestive content, bad translated Spanish.(let me know if there is anything else)
Requested?: yes/no
Genre: Just pure Fluff
English is not my native language
Project get them together|| Pedri ft. Eric & Aitana
(Not my gif, all credits too the owner!)
"Aitana, are you coming or what?" The girl yelled from outside the bathroom.
"I need too look pretty!" She yelled back.
"We're only having dinner! Besides you already look pretty" The Spanish girl groaned annoyed that her teammate was using ages.
"With the men's team!" She exclaimed, finally opening the door.
"So?...Who are you trying too look so pretty for?" She asked aitana
"I mean pau torres and Eric Garcia is pretty fit, oh and of course Marc asensio" She shrugged making the younger midfielder laugh.
"Tana! He's on the rival team"
"Well for the men's team yes, not for the women" Aitana just shrugged her off.
"Still! He's from Madrid!"The other girl said making Aitana groan.
"Shut up!"
"No! I'm not letting that go, you can't have crush on a madrista!"
"Hala Madrid" Aitana joked earning a slap from her younger teammate.
"Ow! You're way to stubborn, you know that?"
"Just don't interact with him, and I'll let you live"
"How nice of you to let me live"
"Let's just go you little shi-"
"I'm taller than you, you dwarf" Aitana teased, railing the younger girl up. She got so angry easily.
"Doesn't make you smarter than me, hijo de puta" She mumbled the last part.
(Son of a bitch)
The two midfielders made they're way out of the hotel and onto the busy streets pf Tokyo, they quickly found a taxi and soon arrived at their destination.
Getting out of the car, the hit smoothed out her long black dress and fixing the top that was connected too the skirt with crossed straps around her waist. Her long silky hair fell perfectly down too her bum.
As the two girls walked inside they were met with a bunch of people, mostly men they didn't know. They greeted they're own teammates and y/n took a seat between Aitana and alba.
She looked across the table to be met by a familiar pair of brown eyes already looking into her own. The dark haired boy looked away as he had been caught staring.
She looked down into her lap a blush covering her cheeks. Aitana noticed the little interaction and smirked too herself. She gave Eric a look who sat across her and he quickly caught onto her little plan.
"So Eric and Pedri eh?" Aitana smirked.
"Sí me and Pedri" Eric confirmed matching her smirk
"I think he's the same age as you y/n, isn't he?" Eric asked looking the girl who was about as red as a tomato, she knew exactly what they were doing.
"You're 18 right Pedri?" Aitana asked him and he just nodded rolling his eyes slightly, also knowing what they were doing.
The two had met before due too being in the same club and national team. They talked here and then and it was definitely not a surprise that the two had a thing for each other.
"Great, y/n's 17! You guys are perfect for each other!" Eric's enthusiastic tone made the girl roll her head back with a slight groan. She thought for a second before coming up with the perfect payback
"Hey Eric! You wanna know something?" The girl smirked, side eyeing aitana.
"Should I be scared?" He asked
"No,no, not at all" She smirked.
"Did you know that aitana here has a little crush on you?"
Aitana snapped her head towards the girl.
"Oh really?" He asked and amused smirk formed on his lips.
Aitana hit the girl in the back of her head making her gasp.
"Ow! You fucking bitch!" She hit aitana back in a heart beat. This made aitana hit her back again and this went on and on for a few minutes until they got stopped by Jorge, they're coach.
"You're still a bitch" The younger girl whispered too her teammate. Pedri and Eric found themselves laughing at the two girls. Eventually the two girls stopped bickering as the dinner had been served.
Later on the party had started, so now everyone was gathered in a fancy club in Tokyo. The two Spanish national teams had rented the club so there wouldn't come a bunch of fans as this was supposed to be a night for all the players too enjoy.
And of course aitana and Eric wanted her and Pedri to get too know each other better, so they ended up on a booth together. Her and aitana on one side and Pedri and Eric on the other.
“Hey, I forgot I need too show you something!” Aitana exclaimed suddenly looking at Eric.
“What do you have too show him?” The other girl asked, confusion written all over her face.
“My car!”
“We didn’t driv-“ Aitana covered her mouth before she could say anything.
“Let’s go Eric!” She stood up and dragged Eric along with her.
Y/n and Pedri looked at each other before laughing.
The two started talking about god knows what. They could feel the alcohol take over they’re body. Both being athletes meant that they don’t drink a lot, so as soon as the alcohol hit they’re system they were long gone.
“Let’s go dance!”
Pedri looked at her a bit surprised.
“I can’t dance!” He tried.
“Please!? I’ll teach you!”
He couldn’t say no too her. He got up making her squeal as she dragged him up too the dance floor.
The two midfielders looked like complete fools. But they couldn’t give one fuck about that, not in their state at least.
His eyes roamed her body (respectfully). While Her eyes didn’t move away from his biceps. Her hands gripped onto them, and she fell in love with how hard they were.
As he saw her staring he smirked, proud of the way he had built up his muscles over the past few months.
(Okey so I accidentally wrote this like he is now, if you know what I mean. We all know he’s got a lot of muscles now recently. Just go with it😭)
She quickly looked back up, meeting his soft gaze which was focused directly on her.
He licked his lips unintentionally, she couldn’t stop herself before she pushed his head down a little and leaned in. He was quick too mimic her actions and met her soft plump lips.
His arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her body closely into his own as their lips moved in synch.
She tugged lightly at his hair earning a soft groan from him.
___________________________________
The next morning y/n woke up with a little headache. Not too bad of a hangover. She tried too roll over in the bed but a strong pair of arms was stopping her.
She panicked for a second before remembering that it was just Pedri. That Sounded like that was the most normal thing ever.
“Buenos Días” His groggy morning voice rang through her ears, sending shivers down her spine.
(Good morning)
“Buenos días” She replied her voice still a bit sore from last night due too all the screaming at the bar and something else;)
(Good morning)
She turned in his arms and looked up at him, his hands moved up too caress her face lightly. He stroke her hair back and out of her face.
“You hungry?” He asked his lips brushing against her forehead.
“A little” she replied kissing his chest.
He smiled softly at her actions.
“I’ll go make us some breakfast” He said about too get up.
“Noooo, don’t go” she whined gripping his arms. Pedri released a soft chuckle.
“Wanna come with me?”
She nodded her head, so Pedri stood up with her in his arms, the shirt she was wearing fell down too her knees and it smelled just like Pedri.
He walked out too the little kitchen in the hotel room.
His room was quite big so it had a lot of space.
He placed her down on the counter and started on the breakfast.
“Can I ask you something?” He asked suddenly standing between her legs, their height was perfectly even now.
“Yeah sure, what’s up?” She questioned
“This wasn’t just a one time thing right? Because we both know damn well that we have some type of thing for each other-“
She cut him off by pressing her lips on his. He stood still for a Millie second, surprised by her actions before he kissed back.
“Does that answer your question?” She asked smiling as they pulled away.
“I don‘t know, think you have too try again” He smirked as she giggled softly doing exactly what he asked for
#pedri gonzalez x reader#football imagine#football x reader#football x y/n#pedri fluff#pedri#pedri fanfic#pedri x reader#pedri x you#pedri x y/n#Pedri González x y/n#Pedri González x you#eric garcia#aitana bonmati
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The World Was On Fire And No One Could Save Me But You | D.M.
Warnings: Language. Violence. Mature Themes. Smut.
As Lord Voldemort rises to power, Death Eater legacies such as Draco Malfoy and Elise Selwyn are forced to join their ranks. Desperate to return his family to the Dark Lord’s good graces, Draco Malfoy is forced to fight alongside Elise in a war they never wanted any part in.
Part I
Part II: Blood For Blood
Little over a week had passed since I had been initiated as a Death Eater, alongside Draco Malfoy. I wore long sleeves every day to conceal my Dark Mark, which made the fresh wound hurt even more. The pain was unimaginable; often, the Mark would hurt excruciatingly for hours into the night. Some nights, I didn’t sleep at all. I wondered often how Draco was doing with it all.
Today I wore my fitted black dress that made me look like my mother. It was no wonder my father had ignored me for the better part of a day. I had just finished working at the family shop, upholding our family's reputation. I had made it in our family's world, and that came with a certain cynicism that only those without childhoods had.
The moment I opened our door to Narcissa Malfoy, accompanied by Draco and Bellatrix. I didn't have to see my own reflection to know that my eyes were already narrowed in suspicion. What had brought them to our villa?
“Mrs. Malfoy. Madam Lestrange,” I greeted the two women. “Please. Come in.”
“Hello, Elise. Are you quite well?” Narcissa Malfoy asked me as they all entered, watching me shut the door behind them.
I could tell she wanted to ask about the Mark. Although Narcissa’s husband and sister were both Death Eaters, she had never actually been one herself, despite attending all of the meetings and gatherings.
“Cissy. Quit wasting time,” Bellatrix interrupted crossly.
“I’m alright, thank you. Are you here to see my father?” I asked them.
“Yes, we are,” Narcissa Malfoy told me.
“But don’t go running off quite yet,” her older sister stopped me, “This concerns you too, dearie.”
“Very well. If you’ll wait here, I can let my father know you’d like to see him,” I offered.
“Yes, please,” Narcissa thanked me.
I nodded, looking to her son, Draco Malfoy. He seemed quiet, almost begrudgingly so, as if he didn’t want to be here. It seemed he had protested against whatever his mother wanted to speak to my father and I about.
“Father?” I said as I entered his study.
He stopped to look at me from behind his desk, a mean look on his face as usual.
“Mrs. Malfoy and Madam Lestrange wish to speak with us, both,” I reported dutifully, not unlike one of our maids.
“Very well. Fetch them for me, will you?”
I nodded silently, leading Draco and his mother and aunt into the study. He and I both stood behind them in silence as we were taught, not looking at each other at all.
“Narcissa,” my father rose to greet them, kissing her cheek politely. “Bellatrix,” he said pleasantly, shaking her hand.
“It’s good to see you, Edric,” Narcissa greeted him as they all sat down.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” my father asked, sitting behind his desk as he always did.
“I, erm… The Dark Lord… suggested we speak to you,” the woman began nervously, seeming distressed, “I don’t know if he’s mentioned anything to you—”
He and I had already had a conversation of the ‘situation’ that they were referring to. Draco had been tasked by Voldemort himself with killing Albus Dumbledore, the brilliant Hogwarts Headmaster. Everyone knew that such a feat could hardly even be accomplished by the Dark Lord himself; this was less of an assignment, and more of a humiliating death sentence for Draco.
“I am, of course, privy to your situation,” Father cut her off sympathetically.
“You are?” she asked in relief.
“Of course he is,” Bellatrix chimed in dismissively.
“I know that Draco is to kill Albus Dumbledore, Narcissa,” my father assured her.
Narcissa grew uncomfortable as he said the words out loud, as if still getting used to it herself. My father looked her in the eyes, his confident and commanding demeanor comforting her. And then, he surprised us all.
“I know that Draco has been ordered to kill Albus Dumbledore… and as friends to our family, I am offering you my daughter’s help,” he decided finally.
I remained calm, confining my surprise to the area just behind my eyes as I looked at Draco, who seemed to just be determined to brood in the corner, glaring down at the ground as if it had caused his predicament.
“You would do that for us?” Narcissa asked softly, in complete shock.
My father nodded solemnly. “I would.”
“I don’t need help, Mother,” Draco spoke up sullenly, as everyone looked at him. “I can do it myself.”
Narcissa seemed horrified at her son’s interruption.
“Draco!” she hissed under her breath. “I’m sorry, Edric, he didn’t mean that, we’re eternally grateful—”
“It’s quite alright,” Father promised her, unfazed.
I looked over at Draco, who still refused to look up. It seemed he was anger was directed even at me, despite the fact that I had nothing to do with this decision.
“Listen, I agree your mother’s being a bit excessive, but don’t be an idiot, Draco,” his aunt reminded him, “If Edric Selwyn offers you his daughter’s help, you take it!”
“I’m sorry, I hate to ask such a thing of you, Edric,” Narcissa apologized sadly, “But as you know, we can’t afford another failure… The Dark Lord, he speaks highly of you, and of your daughter’s abilities, so I came to you—”
“I understand, Narcissa,” my father promised the woman, “You have no need to explain yourself to me.”
“Thank you,” she sighed, “You’ve been so kind…”
“Elise will aid Draco in the assassination of Albus Dumbledore, out of respect for yours and Lucius’ friendship to our family, as well as that of our ancestors’, throughout the years,” my father declared. “Elise, as my sole heir, is a loyal soldier of my family, and now, of the Dark Lord’s. We all belong to the same family, and so, we are obligated to yours as you are to ours.”
“Bloody good of you, Edric,” Bellatrix said approvingly.
“May I be dismissed?” Draco asked, interrupting once again.
Narcissa shot him a glare, as my father just nodded, unbothered by his presence.
“Yes, you may. Elise as well,” he nodded.
Draco disappeared out the door automatically, and I felt obligated to follow him. I already had difficulty finding him as I stepped out the door. I eventually realized he was headed for the library, and entered the room after him. He seemed insistent on pouting like a petulant child, haphazardly flipping through a random book he’d grabbed off the shelf.
“Not thrilled about this, then, are you?” I deduced.
“Fuck off, Selwyn,” Draco retorted, lazily throwing his body across one of the chairs.
I watched him as he aggressively flipped through the pages. “That was one of my mother’s favorites, you know.”
The blond suddenly stopped what he was doing, staring at the book before shutting it with more care, neatly placing it back on the shelf. As angry and spiteful as he was feeling at the moment, it seemed even Draco understood the sensitivity of the topic of dead mothers, at least in some settings.
“It’s alright, you can read it,” I offered coolly. “I hear she used to say that books are meant to be read.”
Draco went back to ignoring me completely, staring at nothing as he made it a point not to talk to me at all. I had no idea what he was actually thinking about, but I could tell that, beneath his sleeve, his Mark was bothering him.
“It hurts,” I said darkly, “Doesn’t it?”
He just looked up at me, sneering as he pretended the conversation was beneath him before returning to his glaring at the wall.
“Alright. If you’re not going to talk, then at least listen,” I began, crossing my arms. “My father has very high expectations of me as his heir, and I’m guessing you can relate.”
I took his silence for an affirmative response.
“I know why you want this so badly; if you somehow manage to kill one of the greatest wizards of all time at sixteen, the Dark Lord might just vindicate your family,” I thought aloud.
The way he looked at me suggested I hit a nerve.
“But, if he really wants both of this on this, then neither of us can afford to fail,” I pointed out. “And I don’t know how you feel about all this, but we’re really going to have to want this.”
“I do want this!” Draco yelled, jumping out of his seat as he frustratedly ran a hand through his almost white blond hair. “You don’t know anything about me! I want nothing more than to see that old man dead!”
“Okay,” I murmured, accepting that answer, “Then let’s give it all we’ve got. I know you’ll probably want to keep things discreet, but if all else fails, one of us needs to be prepared to walk into his office and cast that Killing Curse.”
“And if it comes to it, I’ll do it,” Draco snarled, his face contorting into an ugly scowl.
“I’m not saying that you won’t,” I promised him quietly, “But I’m telling you that if you don’t… I will.”
He looked at me with pure hatred in his eyes, although the longer I looked into them, the more I noticed that it wasn’t necessarily for me.
“Listen, I don’t care who kills Dumbledore, as long as he’s dead before the end of the school year,” I continued. “As long as my family is safe, I don’t care. You wanna have your moment of glory, and make your father proud? That’s your business,” I stated.
He still had nothing to say, looking at me cautiously as if I were playing on a different team.
“We’ll go about this your way, and I’ll do whatever you want, but if in the end that’s not enough, I will kill Albus Dumbledore myself,” I vowed. “Just like you, my family has a reputation I can’t afford to tarnish. If we fail, you’ll answer to the Dark Lord first, but I’ll answer to my father.”
There was a long silence that lingered between the two of us in that moment. Finally, Draco had nothing to say, and simply listened to what I had to say.
“I know that you were just chosen for this to spite your father,” I said gently. “I know he just wants you to die in his place—”
“I won’t die! I was chosen! I’m the Chosen One!” he declared angrily. “You-Know-Who chose me to do this, because I’m the best! This is my chance to make things right, and you won’t steal it from me!”
“Listen. If we fuck this up, he’ll kill us before the Dark Lord even gets the chance,” I assured him.
“We’ll kill him,” Draco insisted bitterly through his teeth, all the vengeance in the world behind his blue eyes, “I can promise you that.”
#draco malfoy imagine#draco x reader#draco fanfiction#draco malfoy fanfiction#draco lucius malfoy#draco malfoy#draco x reader angst#draco x y/n#draco x you#draco malfoy x y/n#draco malfoy x you#draco malfoy x reader#hpdm
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I have to talk about it somewhere…
My divorce is now a separation? Idk. It’s been a ride. There’s a lot that goes into loving a human that lives with demons. We’re focusing on that, so that’s why I’m absent. I think about my stories often, but it’s just not the time.
What I came here to talk about today is heavy. Please be advised, under the cut, I’m going to talk about trauma. It’s rambling. Heavy SA warnings. Don’t proceed if it triggers you.
And don’t worry babe, it triggers me too…
I had a nightmare 2 nights ago, and it shook me. Those happen a lot since he moved out. It’s been a while that one has stuck with me this badly. It was about my abuser.
I have nowhere to talk about this aside from my support group (my village, so to speak) and it just feels like it’s building. So if you’re listening, I appreciate you.
When I was 15, I was best friends with a boy who was 2 years older than me. I was in love, and so was he. He lived 80 something miles away. We had all the same friends. He made effort. I used to go stay in his small town on weekends.
But at 17, he moved to my city, and everything changed. He was 19.
He learned he could do what he wanted after one night when I drank a large amount of rum, and he raped me on the kitchen floor, in front of everyone at the party, while I was blacked out.
No one said anything. No one stopped him.
I can’t drink rum to this day.
My brain blocked it out until 2 years ago. And the pieces started to fit.
For the following 2 1/2 years we were together, he fed me alcohol regularly, and forced himself on me. Inside me. Whenever he wanted. And when I said I didn’t want to, he guilt tripped me, called me cold, and told me I was his girlfriend, so I owed him.
If I kept saying I didn’t want to, he would choke me. Slap me. Tell me it was ‘kinky sex.’
Friends, I’m here to tell you, that is not. That is rape.
I was still so young. I was a child.
My friends cry remembering watching this happen. Cry remembering trying to stop him, but not doing more.
My husband cries realizing he didn’t find me sooner. That he didn’t kill the bastard when he had the chance.
It took too long to realize this was abuse. That I was a survivor. That I was damaged and traumatized.
That there is a reason I have panic attacks when I’m touched in the middle of the night.
That I don’t like having drunk sex.
That I am not untouched by a terrible man.
My identity was lost the day I realized.
If there’s anything in this life I will vow, it is to teach my daughter what consent is, and my son that no means no.
Drunk girls can’t consent.
Children can’t consent.
Consent is clear. It’s either yes or no. Clearly.
If you are one of the millions of women who have felt the same as me, and need someone, please know you are not alone. I’m here.
And if you’re here, and you’re listening, so am I.
It’s not an act of love if you make her.
You make me do too much labour.
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