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papaver-decervicatus · 8 months

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Cat/Mouse/Den: Pt. 4, Mus Urbanus

Fatal attraction is one thing but stuck on a stakeout, a certain little mouse decides to push her luck with the cat who's been chasing her... just how far is too far, and how much more can they take?

CW: Obsession, stalking, canon typical violence, intrusive thoughts, unsanitary wound care

Authors Note: Hahaha, remember how I said I was going to do shorter updates? Yeah well, I felt really bad for missing the previous week but I did have a lot of terrible IRL shit happen, so working through that was a priority. That being said, going back through all the amazing comments and everything everyone has written has been absolutely keeping me afloat! Thank you all so so so so so much, you will never know how much it all means to me.

There are a couple of Hannibal references in this part that, hopefully, will start to make sense by the last part of the story (which was, coincidentally, the first part written!) Not going to lie, I am just glad to publish this so I never have to think about this damned part again as I have been stuck on in for literal months. Also sorry if Soap's accent sucks, the only experience I have with anything remotely Scottish in the way of language tendency is my grandmother whose father was a Scottish immigrant and that's it.

Anyways, I hope you like agnst and interrogation scenes, because next week, König loses his faith in god and in mouse while tied to a chair! See you there!

❣️Cura ut Veleas ~ Caedis 🥀

PREV | Pt. 4 Mus Urbanus | 4.2k words | Mouse POV | NEXT

“Mouse?” A voice from in front of her calls out, but only after she deliberately drags her feet into the threshold of the neutral ground, alerting him of her presence.

“Quiet as a.” She utters her usual response, stepping into the little flat in Buenos Aries, Argentina. She hears the smile as Soap sucks in a breath at her little joke. Her callback should be old by now, shouldn’t make him smile anymore, but he does anyway. He’s easy to get along with, something hard to come by in war. She crosses the minimal space between the two and takes stock of his little setup.

For a mission, it’s luxurious. He’s sitting, in a chair might she add, with a scope poking barely out of an antique window on the 7th floor of an apartment building, looking into a busy market square. His arms rest on a table littered with little signs of life, a map of the area adorned with notes and coordinates in inexpensive ink, no less than 7 pens whose caps are chewed through (everyone’s got bad habits but this little sin of his drives poor Price up and down the goddamn wall), two disposable cups with sediment rings denoting how much instant coffee was drunk from them at a time before they returned to their places besides their drinker. Most notably, however, are two radios in a strange moment of near fornication– backs ripped open and wires crossed in an almost pornographic display of field ingenuity.

Damn demolition specialists, she hears the echo of Gaz say in her head and she absentmindedly rubs the scabbed over cut on her left hand where the shrapnel of a certain someone’s frag grenade got her two weeks ago. She wants to be mad but-

“Hear any good ones, lately?” Soap turns to her, he’s disengaging from his post, changing his guard for her to take his spot, just as command ordered. He’s been in this little nest for about 6 hours and she can feel his desire to scuttle and tinker about radiating off of him. As he takes apart his gun, already aware and familiar that she refuses to use anyone’s but her own, his eyes shine to life. The color of sky blue permafrost, yet they radiate a certain lived-in warmth impossible to distance yourself from. Eyes almost like-

She bites her tongue at the thought. Bad time to be thinking about König… she mourns. But, speaking of the man.

“Yes, but it’s bad,” she offers, in fake warning as she sheds her outer jacket before moving to unhook the case that stands between her and the assembly of her gun. She knows the warning will only intrigue the poor pyrotechnic more.

His smile is nothing short of sadistic as he raises an eyebrow.

“No, like, really bad,” she emphasizes, throwing a pleading look his way. His grin gets even more shit-eating-er if that sort of thing were even possible. “I mean it, MacTavish. Pass it along to your long-suffering Lieutenant, and you will be picking teeth out of your shit.” “I’m sure I’ve done worse to Ghost,” he supplies, rolling his shoulders. Yeah, I’m sure you have, she thinks but is much too self-preserving to say, especially aware that the Frankenstien’s monster of a radio he’s resurrected from two dead circuit boards is likely not secure enough to promise any real privacy. She would rather not alert Simon Riley that she’s become a dealer in his and Soap’s arm’s race of terrible jokes. He does not take prisoners, after all…

“Alright, alright, just don’t tell him it’s from me,” she smiles, putting her hands up defensively in a quick jest. “Okay, play along with me now,” he nods along as he steps away from the perch and lets her take his spot at the table.

“So, what's the difference between a piano, a fish, and a gluestick?”

“I know about two-thirds o’ this one.”

Mouse trap baited. She smiles.

“Give it a go, then.” She wiggles in the chair, pressing her cheek to the crux of the sight and its metal holder. She sighs into the familiar feeling of control that settles into her bones as she hunches over.

“Can tuna piano but’cha can’t tuna fish?” He supplies, half teasing her already.

“Yep, but you’re forgetting something.” She sighs and goes to fiddle with the red-light optics extension, Command is confident enough in her abilities that she was specifically told to take it off for this one. She hears Soap whisper a quiet ‘oh shite’ behind her when he realizes he probably forgot to himself and she laughs a little.

“What about the glue?”

Mouse trap set. Poor Soap, always getting himself into ambushes…

She smiles wide and hums remembering how excited her kitty-cat was to tell her this part.

“See, I knew you’d get stuck on that one.”

Mouse trap sprung. A moment of silence.

“Oh fuck me, that one is bad.” Soap chokes out a hearty laugh as he collects his discarded coffee cups from her side.

“No thanks,” she purrs as she finally sets herself into position. “Use it at your discretion, soldier.”

“Aye, that I will.”

Soap goes to rummage through the kitchenette to her right and she takes the moment she lacks supervision to indulge herself. She does not move her sights to alert the man with her of the wandering of her eyes, instead, she scans windows and alleys without visual aid. The stale air threatens to choke her as she rakes over the golden-hued morning scene with desperate efficiency.

After what feels like an eternity of stolen glances switching between her targeted area and anywhere he may be, she sees him.

Technically, she has no way to know for certain that it’s König, she doesn’t have his usual wave or cheeky grin (affectionately referred to as a Cheshire Cat Smile in her own belabored heart) to alert her to his presence. That being considered, there is a masculine figure barely peeking out of a window into an alleyway who is just shy of 7 feet tall and his face is covered. Yeah, probably König. She smiles despite herself and her company. She wonders if he has radio access to her little hideout.

(She remembers the seemingly endless weeks of his arrival to her perch. The early morning light hits the streets the same way it had hit the forest ground that day. Like a fairy tale prince, beseeching a princess on hand and knee, he would always somehow appear in her sights, nearly as though it was just meant to be!

His form stands out tall and proud from its surroundings and she recounts every single reason he should not be here. By the third time their eyes caught she’d decided he was doing it on purpose, but she never let him get away with it without some acknowledgment on her side. She can only imagine that if she’s getting hunted for sport, her calling out his position will, at least temporarily, halt his advance.

But by this rate, she’ll be in his mouth by the end of the year.

His eyes are cold and bloodshot red. Painted tears lick their way down the hood she’s never seen him without, possibly a feeble attempt at impersonality? Maybe if he looks enough like a monster people will just trust their first assumption and leave him alone. But she’s never been one to judge a book by its cover…

“I see you, König.” She warns out to him. He stills among the foliage, bathed in sweet-honey-like warmth from the rising sun. He does not shy away from his imminent death on the business end of her rifle, of course not! Instead, he raises his chest proudly, seemingly aware that the loneliness in her yields to whatever greater magnetism the loneliness in him commands. He’s an enigma, it bothers her that of all the people to put the effort into finding her, it has to be him. Mostly she curses herself for promising him a next time all those encounters ago, if she’d known what sort of a game it would inspire in the predator stalking her like prey despite her flipping sniper rifle, she never would have said a thing.

He may be in her scope, but he’s got her under a finer microscope to seek her out so faithfully. She wishes she got this sort of dizzying devotion from someone, anyone else. It is the third day this week he has found her.

What she expects to happen is what has happened for weeks now, 1) he hears her transmission, 2) he smiles at her as a predator smiles at pray, his eyes find hers and her hackles rise in utter terror, and 3) he hums to himself and turns away, self-satisfied enough to have won hide-and-seek for the time being.

That does not happen.

Instead, König sits down, right where he is, and pulls out that monster of a knife he keeps strapped to himself. He throws it up and catches it without looking at it, instead his eyes are laser-focused on Mouse. This is, of course, despite the fact he should have no earthly idea where she is. He plays with his knife idly for what must be an hour, but she does not- no, can not- look away from him.

She remembers her trigger finger twitching with sinful power, she remembers choking back the insistence at killing another lonely person, devoid of their autonomy on a basic level when they signed up for a mercenary-issued ticket to hell.

She remembers hopelessness. She remembers refusal. She remembers the smile reaching his eyes when she played along with his joke.

“Why don’t rats like cats?” Her radio labors out.

She half forgot what his voice sounded like, surprisingly excitable and shrill for a man of his stature. Her brain stutters around the implication of the only words she’s heard him say to her since the fateful ravine that gained Mouse her own personal 6’10” shadow.

She blinks a few times in surprise, genuinely pondering if her long hours hiking through the woods have made her susceptible to hallucination and general hysteria. She is not thinking when she timidly responds-

“Why?”

“Because they are weapons of maus-destruction.” Konig replies like it’s not the stupidest thing she’s ever heard in her goddamn life. Perhaps it's pity at the memory of his discomfort around his comrades. Of the thought of the way he tries to make his body so small when around others (truly an impossible task he routinely fails.) Maybe it’s irrational fear, twofold and buried in her instinct to shoot despite the clear disadvantage on his behalf and her insistence that she does not do her damn job, or fear of the inhuman man in front of her stalking her through the woods. Or it could be discomfort, no one ever prepared her for dealing with whatever the fuck this is in basic training or field school. In the end, it doesn’t really matter what it is.

In the sparkling, decadent light of a sunrise, her heart hammers in her throat at the first joke he’d told her, in some strange and desperate attempt to fill the meters of silence between them.

She laughs.

And he hears it.

And with his wide stance, his ghastly executioner’s hood in the place of a crown, and his knife back in its holster- his beautiful eyes seem to smile. Suddenly, his eyes look lived in, like someone has just put up new curtains in an abandoned house. His whole affect changes hinging on what was an irresponsible outburst on her behalf at best.

And for the first time, she does not fear a monster hunting her through the woods, silent and purposeful in his pursuit of prey. Instead, she wants to understand a man, whose eyes have lit up like a princess has just laughed when he kissed her hand.)

Soap wanders back into her small perch with two cups of coffee and sets one down next to her. She takes a quick glance and hums with appreciation. He takes another sip out of his and she remembers that they’re supposed to share shift for about an hour before his rotation ends.

“You treat all your girls to coffee in the morning?” She quips.

“Only the pretty ones,” he returns with an effortless charisma and her breath catches.

Not because of Soap, but because in that alleyway, where she really shouldn’t be looking, she sees the uneasy rise of two massive shoulders and-

Oh my god, did König just… get jealous?

The next idea she has is downright evil, really this is not the place or the time or any of that but-

Fuck it. She’s already flirting with the enemy, what more could this do? She’s already told the poor mountain of a man something dangerously adjacent to “God I really missed you when we didn’t talk to each other for three weeks like a horny teenager and by the way I love you desperately and think about you when I’ve got my hands down my pants,” and she probably imagined him tensing up, anyways. No harm, no foul.

Maybe, it's dangerous, to wave a steak in front of a mountain lion, but what if she wants to get mauled?

“Hey Soap, what page are you on?” She says, putting her terrible plan into action. She sees him look up from his report, or more likely an idle sketch, on her periphery.

“Ah, only the second chapter, did'ya move my bookmark?”

“Nope, the book’s in the leftmost pocket in my duffle.”

“Thank ya,” He says and moves from his spot to go fetch the book from it. She takes a quick sip of her coffee, delighted to realize he’s made it to her specifications as far as milk and sugar go, as he rummages around in her bag.

The impromptu book club started nearly eight months ago when Nova passed her copy of Emma by Jane Austen off to Gromsko to help him with his English. That turned into Mouse recommending the book Jane Eyre to Nova on the pure suspicion that she would hate it, which she did. Gromsko still needed to practice and enjoyed the spirited discussions so he joined the blossoming group with an English copy of The Doll by Aleksander Głowacki after he finished Jane Eyre. Never one to be left out, and surprisingly well-read when he wanted to be, Soap had pitched the idea of The Lord of the Flies (because to quote “Fucking Brits,” and he wanted to subject others to his high-school reading list.) If she remembered correctly, Farah and Reyes had also started sharing copies of books they enjoyed occasionally.

“Can’t believe it was Gromsko that put it in rotation.” Soap says, pulling out a well-worn copy of The Silence of the Lambs from the bag.

“He said he picked it up years ago in Polish thinking it was a cooking field guide.” She offers, as the man next to her idly thumbs through pages.

“Yer shitting me, yeah?”

She just shakes her head and smiles into her scope. Soap laughs and removes his homemade bookmark, a pencil sketch of a stake-out view somewhere in Mexico scribbled onto scrap paper. He keeps his thumb on the page and flips through to where hers is, much further along.

“Yer a right romantic, ain’cha Bonnie?” Soap laughs somewhere between the pages and somewhere behind her. “Hmm?”

“This part, that’ya highlighted,” she hears a well-meaning sneer in his words. “The one you put the hearts by and everything…”

Mouse’s mouth tethers itself into a terse line and she attempts her best noncommittal shrug.

Somewhere in her line of sight, a mountain shrugs himself chuckling lightly. She wonders what it would feel like, to lay on his broad, muscled chest as he laughs, how closely he would hold her, how she could rest entirely on top of his chest and not touch the ground beneath them and-

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” She lies through her teeth. Soap’s laugh behind her is loud and proud. Suddenly, his casual sadism isn’t so amusing when turned around on her.

“Do you think it's because I like to look at you and think about eating you up—“ he reads from the book, voice dripping in mock chivalry and breathless romanticism. “About how you would taste?"

She feels her cheeks and ears heat up as Soap loudly proclaims her funeral to all those who may care, and she doesn’t miss the way König leans a little too close to his radio as he goes about mocking her. His stance shifts as if he hangs on the very words like he’s found a secret buried deep in her subconscious. Technically, she has no way of knowing, but Mouse knows in her heart that König is smiling. At least someone is having fun.

Once Soap comes down from his laughing fit he puts her bookmark back to its spot and talks at the back of her head.

“With your pressed flower bookmark and everything. Oh, it would be sweet if he wasn’t Hannibal the Cannibal.” Soap hisses out. “I always figured you were…” he pauses searching for the right word, “adventurous from how Gromsko talks bout ya, but seriously cannibalism?”

If she’s not mistaken, König’s hand grips ever so slightly tighter on the radio attached to the best. Maybe the battle plan has to change, but she’s still got some ideas.

Soap is completely oblivious to the electricity licking up the air between her perch and one man on the ground. He looks around frantically, seemingly desperate to find her, and look in her eyes. Mouse is a sniper, she really should hate the attention, but something fatalistic descends into her smile as she lets Soap continue his little outburst.

“I swear. You and him, yer sure there’s nothing there? He’s even given you special field medicine lessons, no one gets treatment like that from Gromsko.”

“His name is Sobieslaw.” Notably, it is not a denial. Technically, everything that’s just been said is the truth.

König’s shoulders rise.

He looks right down her site.

She smiles.

Come and get me, kitty-cat.

“See! That’s what I’m talking about. You’re the only person who calls him by his first name.”

“Because you never put in the effort to learn it.”

“That don’t mean a thing since I don’t have tits.”

“You do, just not as good as mine.”

“Aye, off it. Gromsko is into you.” She can hear from the way Soap’s voice carries haphazardly around the room that he is pacing and talking with his hands. She doesn’t turn her back, gaze still fixated on the looming shadow in her sights. Soap continues, entirely unaware of the exact type of beast he is tempting. “He swaggers around you, never even bothers to fucking ask to pick up your boxes, he just does it. His voice gets all soft around ya, too, like he’s cooing at a goddamn pet animal or something. He nearly got into an actual pissing contest with Ghost the other day when he bitched about you beating him in poker. Face the facts, Bonnie, he wants you.”

König’s eyes have focused with the ferocity of an apex predator and his chest labors out concentrated and sharp inhales and exhales. He resembles a recently sharpened knife, desperate for some carnage after a particular kind of attention. His body is crumpled in on itself not unlike a cat getting ready to pounce. His heels dig desperately into the cobblestones beneath his feet. His hand flicks out his beloved Glock field knife with all the reverence of a praying man.

In short, he looks every part like he does in immediate battle. He looks like he did the split second before he started sprinting for her in the snowy woods, the scene that occupies her lonely nights when she tries in complete vanity to recreate the feel of his hands cradling her sides.

Mouse should be scared of König.

Instead, she sees before her a scene of complete and hopeless adoration focused so intently on her alone that she should be afraid of. Realistically, she recognizes the clear and present danger of the moment. Is König upset at her? At Soap? At a potential adversarial suitor by way of Gromsko? She doesn’t quite know, but after a career of intentionally hiding like a coward, she basks infatuated by the calamitous captivation he exhibits.

He looks like he wants to maul something to death.

As keen as she is on getting him close enough to try to get over to her (and ideally, throw her under him,) in her infinite mercy, Mouse decides the teasing has gone on long enough.

“I like Gromsko just fine, but not like that.” Soap audibly scoffs and König’s entire form relaxes. Both men mutter something to themselves before an encore of gunfire breaks out. Mouse’s heart stutters to a stop when her radio comes in.

“Visual on Gaz, he’s hit!” Nova calls out, clearly alarmed. Soap grabs for the radio right next to Mouse and brings it to his face, holding onto a few loose wires as he does to ensure the amalgamation does not fall apart in his fingers.

“Where is he?”

“Two blocks from south from you, Gromsko is a click out.”

Soap looks at Mouse with his heart bobbing in his throat. The pain and worry on his face is palpable.

“Go.” She says. Soap looks around frantically at their supplies, seemingly taking a split second worth of inventory, making as many life-or-death decisions as he can in such little time.

“Soap, listen to me,” Mouse soothes. “I keep overwatch, you take my TAC vest and stabilize him until he can get a medic.”

“Mouse, I can’t just leave you-” “You can, and you will. Go.” She says with all the finality of a door slamming shut. Soap doesn’t look at her again as he gathers her supplies and nearly sprints downstairs.

Soap leaves. Quickly. Quietly. He never looks back.

Her stomach settles into discomfort and she looks through the door he closed with the same sad nostalgia she looked through falling snow and monumentous trees. She can’t help but think she would not get the same priority in Gaz’s situation. Like some terrible premonition, she imagines bleeding out on the ground as Soap turns away, never once looking back.

Would König come for me? She ponders, before she smothers the paranoia-induced delusion with the memory of his large hands on her sides. She looks down at her shoelace, where she carved a cylindrical hole through his effigy to attach it. The birchwood mouse carving that sleeps at her right toe gives a silent reassurance: he never really left you, did he?

By the time she looks back into her scope, in between the all-too-familiar white noise of war that’s broken out around her, she sees a shadow dart out from the alleyway one down from where König is. The figure is cloaked in the specific type of military fatigue denoting his affiliation, one that is unluckily for him, kill on sight. It ducks behind the building to the right, where König is. It stalks out, lining itself up behind the hooded man, brandishing a drawn pistol.

König doesn’t have the time to react to the blood spray that litters across his back from the other man’s head once Mouse pulls the trigger on her gun, silently thankful (as awful as it is,) that Gaz getting hurt allowed her to take the shot without Soap inquiring into her actions. (But maybe it’s her fault in the first place that König was distracted enough to allow someone to get the drop on him…)

König looks back towards her and his head lulls to the side like a heavy flower bloom weighed down by morning dew. His eyes, somehow the softest she’s ever seen, are also carving a large chunk of her soul like a knife cuts through soft wood. When he lifts his hood to blow a kiss to her, she knows she will never get her traitorous heart back.

“Danke, mein Engel,” the radio on her table whispers in his voice.

“It’s only fair. I did owe you, after all.” She responds, all together unconcerned with whether or not he can hear her. She smiles, thankful she can see those bright eyes another day.

When he turns away, she feels her entire heart walk away with him. With every step of his fleeting form, she feels less and less herself, as though someone had separated her shadow from where it meets her feet. Something has changed in the air between them, a sad resignation settles into her trigger finger when she releases it.

For the first time, she does not feel as though she wouldn’t run if he took her, but rather that some integral part of her is with him as he leaves.

All is fair in love and war, but she’s not sure just how much longer she can stand to play cat and mouse.

taglist!

@kneelingshadowsalome @sprout-fics @bucca2 @dead-cipher @gallowsjoker @lostagoodcigar @berryjuicyy @haisebo @crowbird

And special thanks to @bucca2 and @ivymarquis for finally kicking my ass into gear to write this. Can't wait to read yall's WIPs!

#Navigation -> Cat/Mouse/Den #König #König x reader #König x OC #König MWii #König COD #Char: Mouse

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an-architect-of-words · 7 months

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the thing with once upon a time at bennington is that... it paints itself as trying to paint a picture of "all" bennington, but all it does is spread misinformation and cut up interviews with people who loosely knew donna tartt and bret ellis. if you want any more proof of that anolik is like... really reaching and unethical, look no farther than her insistence that michelle maitland (costume designer on succession) is the inspiration behind judy poovey. she said numerous times that she didn't know donna, and maybe her car was the basis for judy's corvette, but THERE WASNT A COSTUME DESIGN MAJOR AT BENNINGTON, and she was a theater major, and she seriously doubts donna has a third eye and could know what industry she'd go into like 10 years after TSH was published. anolik published the interview and said maitland is surely judy anyway.

https://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/2021/12/succession-secret-history-judy-poovey-connection

Geeeeeez 🤦🏻‍♀️. Yeah this was the stuff I was skeptical about. There seemed to be things that could be such crazy interesting details, but that we can’t know the full context of. And they’re just being stated as truths. I hate to talk about this podcast only having read articles about it; these are just my takes from stuff analyzing sections— but I have thoughts on Matt Jacobsen and Todd O’Neal as well. They probably did give Tartt inspiration for Bunny and Henry. Certain quotes and details seem very taken from them. And Claude Fredricks totally inspired parts of Julian and the Greek class.

That said, it seems fallacious to assume there’s a 1-to-1 comparison between these people and the characters. Just because aspects of Matt Jacobsen were seen in Bunny does not mean that everything Tartt had Bunny do was with Jacobsen in mind. Bunny is still a fictional character. She also stated here that Julian was based on her mind running wild and creating a character based on rumors about Claude Fredricks. He wasn’t literally just Claude Fredricks. Tartt also has given a huge list of books that inspired writing choices in TSH and it really checks out for certain characters. Did Donna Tartt use the fact she transferred colleges and perhaps felt like the odd man out in a Greek class when she wrote Richard? Sure. But does that mean Richard is literally her avatar and that they share every thought, and that he came from zero other inspirations— or that she never departed from herself while writing him? That’s such a stretch.

And there’s another part of this narrative that just doesn’t make much sense to me. If TSH is really a revenge story about how Donna Tartt hated her Greek class and wanted to get back at them, and Richard is her stand in to do so… why is Richard so bad? Do self indulgent revenge fantasies typically make the supposed author stand-in just as wicked as everyone else? And he ends up miserable and alone and coming to terms with that he’s not special and that he’s got California in his blood (being from Cali is a huge part of Richard and Tartt isn’t from California).

Again, I can level with the assertion that authors/artists I like are flawed (some of my favorite authors are severely flawed). But my issue here is that some of this immediately jumps out as wildly intrusive (it reminds me of a different interview where the person asks Donna Tartt a really personal question, and it really shocked me that the person didn’t feel intrusive in asking it. It’s like Tartt’s emphasis on her own privacy makes people weirdly bold.). And it definitely seems like many people in the podcast have a story they want to tell and have decided to tell, despite the discrepancies and lack of clarity. Ultimately, these people are like “please be aware we aren’t claiming this is as fact” but they’re still inserting a scandal into the world.

Finally… another thing that’s weird to me is that Tartt’s peers paint this bitter picture of her for using true happenings and facts about them in the context of her fiction, and they view it as a scummy thing. But I mean, she never addressed anyone by name, claimed a character was them, or portrayed TSH as truth about Bennington. Nobody would even know these people now or about their lives if they hadn’t revealed this stuff on the podcast. But then they go on to say stuff about Tartt that is painted as biographical and they use her real name for profit. I guess I just don’t understand how that’s not very clearly doing what they’re upset she may have done. It’s very hypocritical.

#the secret history #donna tartt #tsh

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rueririn · 1 year

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ALSJSKSKS I JUST GOT CALLED A PEDO ON A WATTPAD COMMENT PLSSSS

So like. Verity, OC story where we give Fairy Tail a big brother. I have said before that I didnt want anyone to expect any ships and definitely not a harem, because they're all his "kids", but mostly because I'm not interested in writing any sort of romance for Eir. But I am also alright with whoever wants to ship whatever in the comments so long as they do not force the perspective on me-- because have fun. You know? I don't control you, so if you enjoy seeing what's interpreted as 'ship vibes' between Eir and Laxus, power to you!

And so, underage police dropped by and said how disgusting that was, how Eir was technically a man with another lifetime of maturity, how grooming this was, yada yada.

(I don't care. Eir is physically two years older than Laxus, and the laws of reincarnation is how you interpret it. Did Eir continue to be an adult and is now the grumpy ikemen equivalent of a loli hag? Is Eir just a child struggling through traumatic remembrances of adult memories in his head? Is Eir's maturity adapting to his body? Is it not okay to ship him with Laxus, but ok to ship him with Jura since Jura is... two years older than Eir? Which is still way younger than Eir's unspecified 'mental age'...)

I really dont care. I am not even going to bother with the damn age question. I am not going to make him get together with anyone! I thought people would know the trend of my stories by now. The second you fall in love yeah goodbye get into your grave lmao romance is a plot device go brrr

But anyways.

Once again I put a warning in 'not shipping' because I didnt want anyone to pester me about eventual harems or keep asking what the main ship is. I don't do it to ban my readers from never talking about it again. They are allowed to squeal about how cute a duo can be in the comments or wish soandso would be the main pairing while acknowledging that I, the author, cannot fulfill their dreams. I liked that, you know, you guys be silly in the comments, let your intrusive thoughts win. Go on a siege on terrible villain #3. Have fun. It is a wattpad comments section and it isn't that serious.

So.

About underage police.

Went off about how "this isnt okay" and "get help" and how "it is obvious you are a child". "I sincerely hope whoever gave you this mindset dies."

Like. Wow. Okay. Chill.

Yaoifangirl123 just said they saw 'ship vibes' between Laxus and Eir and then doubled down on this person to say "you can't stop me, ;)" so basically you fell for the rage bait. And then you sent... a death threat? Really? To Yaoifangirl123? Called them obviously a child because they... what? The projection here. They created a "person that gave them this mindset" and wished death upon 'them' pretending they're not literally saying 'go kys if you're not, in my opinion, young'?

So I stepped in, you know, mainly because I didnt want this person coming in picking fights each time someone remotely hints toward a relationship I already said won't happen. What will poor underage police do when Sherry shows up??? All Sherry talks about is capital L Love!

I said they needed help if they were going to send a death threat over something so silly. How it wasnt their business how 1 comment was saying something problematic. (And mind you, this comment wasnt "winkwink nudgenudge ooh Laxus and Eir had ship vibesss I am now going to imagine them romantically!!!" it was "LMAOO WHY DO THEY HAVE SHIP VIBESsssS?!?" And this person felt the need to police a weird fella trying to be funny.

Anyways.

I laughed so hard when I read the response.

"I wasn't wishing death on them, I just wish the person who gave them this mindset dies, which is different."

I shit you not. They blocked me but it's still in my news feed so I can read it but this fella unironically said "no I didnt give a death threat, I said I WISH THEY WOULD DIE! ITS DIFFERENT!"

Anyways they called me a pedophile, a part of the problem, and how they "should have known I would be in support of this" because, and I quote, "no wonder you made the line between pedophilia, platonic relationships, and harem so thin" in this fic.

Chronically online behaviour help.

The line is thin? I dont even understand romance, so... If that is how you saw it... I think it speaks more about you...?

Anyways, if anyone would like to read a sincerely familial Fairy Tail fanfic, written by a romance-repulsed aroace author, about an OC going around to be a big brother to all of the cast, please give my fic a read, it's called "VERiTY" on wattpad and "it's a timeless verity" on Ao3.

Bless you all and have a greater morning!

#ariswrites #fairy tail #rant #death threats

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ihopeimsomeonesstellasomeday · 1 year

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OFF THE TABLE

Author's note: hiii! this is basically a one shot inspired by an Ariana Grande song: off the table. It doesn't include anything about her other than the producer she worked with, unfortunately. It includes Calum Hood, surprisingly, not majorly just enough to let you know he is in there somewhere. This is a work of fiction and has no truth to it. Any kind of feedback is appreciated, as long as it's kindly said. TPWK.

The rain picked up as she parked the car. The weather was just her favourite: sweater weather. Cosy enough to allow you to wear comfy clothes but not warm enough to make you sweat. So, she wore one of her favourite hoodies with simple black leggings, since she didn’t have any plans for the day anyway. It was her day off between the two cities and she just wanted to work on some stuff that has been wanting to come out for a little while now. After she killed the engine, she picked up her bag and her to-go coffee cup and opened the car door, trying to block the rain from reaching her computer. She jugged to the other side of the road where the studio stood tall. With rapid but rather short steps, she reached the studio.

“Good morning!”

With a smile and a cheerful tone in her voice, she greeted Hank, the receptionist that she became friends with since the first time she discovered the place about 2 years ago. He was a tall, lanky guy in his mid-twenties despite the image his name created. He was also a music major graduate and has been working in the studio since he was still a student. They shared similar tastes in music, and she frequently asked his ideas about the things she had been working on and bombarded him with million questions about subjects she was new in. He always looked happy to be a part of the process though, that’s why she was always looking forward to seeing him and showing him new stuff when she was nearby.

“Morning!”, he raised his head from his phone and replied with a polite tone, his eyes and smile growing bigger as he recognized the source of the sound. “How have you been?” he asked, intrigued by her presence, his phone long forgotten.

“I’ve been alright. Just same ol’, same ol’.” She replied. “How about you?”

“Ehh, the same things.” He said with a light shrug of his shoulders. “Definitely missed you though.” He smiled warmly. “Well, the feeling is very mutual. It feels like it has been ages,” she said with a dramatic tone. “Could live here if I had the chance, to be honest.”

“Okay, no need to threaten my job as soon as you step inside every time, you know?” he replied with a fake boredom and exasperation in his voice. “You’re extremely lucky I am high on demand with the jobs and not actually trying to settle down at the moment.” She said jokingly, while stepping closer to the desk. She called Hank last night to ask if there is any empty spot in the studio today for a session, knowing it is a low possibility at short notice. Luckily, he was able to squeeze her in out of the goodness of his heart.

“Yeah, yeah. One can only hope,”

She slid the bag from her shoulder and to her hand, sipping the coffee that was now cold. She shrugged her shoulders and looked up from the cup to his eyes with a competitive glint in her eyes.

“So true. Where should I head to?”

“Down the hall, room 7,” He replied easily. “Just press the button if you need anything and I’ll be of service.”

“Thank you so much, Hank.” She started walking down the hall, while a peaceful aura settled on her chest. She felt like the day ahead will be a productive and soothing one. But the main goal was to rid her mind off some intrusive thoughts. She was feeling a bit down in the last couple of days, to be exact, since the day she started to think she will never feel anything romantic for someone else ever again. The thought of looking at someone else as more than a friend churned her stomach, made her feel sick with the thought of opening herself like that again. After Calum, she was deadly scared to share any part of her past life, fearing but deep down also knowing that it would be the deal breaker. “No one wants to be a part of that.” As he put it, it made her realise no one really did. It was scary before him to open herself up anyway, because she thought it would give people power over her, and she didn’t want anyone to look at her with pitying eyes. But it felt safe when she did it, Calum made her feel safe. With his constant reassurances and gestures that made her feel like jelly inside. It made it impossible to have any insecurities or second thoughts. But in the end, it was the reason Calum lashed out and blamed it on her. He looked at her with such tiredness that she felt all the blood leave her body and a coldness replaced it instead. He asked her if she really thought he could put up with this for any longer. She was smothering him and making everything about herself. As soon as she heard him say that, her soul basically left her body. She was barely able to hold back tears while her whole demeanour changed. Her shoulders slouched forward while she exhaled, like all the strength ran away with her posture.

It didn’t matter what he said after that, because she didn’t hear them from the ringing in her ears. She just said they should end it then, she would’ve suggested it earlier if she knew how much of a burden she has been, but love is blind after all. It’s a big blur after that, she doesn’t want to relive any of that, so she doesn’t think about them often.

It probably wasn’t fair, but she reasoned by saying it was all her. Yes, Calum was wrong to lash out the way he did and was wrong when he ignored her and refused to talk to her, but it was still because of the cage she put him in. Who would want a whiny, traumatised, high maintenance girl, anyway? If you asked her, he tried to put up with it for quite some time. But after two years, he had enough. Fast forward to today, she finds herself softening while thinking about the amount of love she had for the boy. She knows it is nowhere near close to ending yet, but it still feels like it should’ve progressed more. At least more than the mess she is in right now. It has been bugging her since the time Rook said she should at least try to give other people chances. She felt like she used her only chance though. The fear of bothering people any longer made her sick to her stomach. How can someone want to be with her, even when he grew out of it.

After entering the room and closing the door behind her, she started getting the necessary items out of her bag: her laptop, her notebook, a water bottle and her phone charger. She put the phone on silent and plugged it in. Couple of sentences were written in her notebook that would hopefully be enough to build the song on. She sat on the sofa, extending her legs and getting comfortable, with her notebook and pen in her hand.

“Is love completely off the table?” was written at the top with small letters. Just like how the question made her small, like she didn’t want to say it out loud. It was scary. She was feeling a slow sensual vibe with the feeling, not surrounded by a lot of sounds but something calm. Just simple, in a way that didn’t feel at all. She just wanted the heaviness to show, without anything clouding the rawness of the lyrics.

“Will I ever love the same way again?” she wrote down. Feeling a bit more comfortable now that she started properly, breathing better too.

“Will I ever love somebody like the way I did you?

Never thought you’d be so damn hard to replace.”

She mumbled back the lyrics to herself, trying to find the rhythm that suited it best, in a low tone. She felt herself slip off from reality. She used to think controlling her feelings is her biggest strength, just a piece of cake. She was used to filtering her emotions since she was barely 14, she would spend hours on deciding on her words while talking to people, just so they wouldn’t get suspicious and ask questions. So that they wouldn’t see through her, so that they wouldn’t pity. But she lost that too with time, she couldn’t mask it anymore. The hurt, the fear, the denial, the regret. Maybe it’s because she got everything she wanted and now the absence was heavier than anything else. The greater the build, the greater the fall.

The greatness of the feeling woke something in her mind. She wanted the song to be furnished with strong and sure vocals. The opposite of what she felt.

“I swear I don't mean to be this way

If I can't have you, is love completely off the table?

Do I sit this one out and wait for the next life?”

It felt overwhelming to always be the problem. It turns the person into a stranger even when she is alone. It doesn’t feel safe anymore to do the instinctive things, it estranges you, makes you feel disgusted with both the things you’ve done and think about doing. It makes you realise you drove away every single good thing that happened to you.

“Am I too cold? Am I not nice?

Might not be quite yet healed already

Should I be goin' too steady? (Too steady)

But I just wanna know is love completely off the table?”

***

A week after her alone session in the studio, she met up with her friend Matt who presented her with different new beats he assembled. The lyrics were almost done but she still felt like something was missing. She knew she wanted a guy’s point of view in the song, but it didn’t feel right to just show it to anyone. The song became something much more intimate than what she originally thought, and that scared her. She was scared that someone would see right through her when they read the lyrics.

That’s why she decided to put it on the shelf with other songs she wasn’t brave enough to share. Well, that obviously lasted until she heard Matt’s work. He asked her if she had something that would presumably go with one of these. The paper came out as easy as it was to breathe, Matt was an old friend, so it didn’t phase her much. She was even glad that it was him that she got to work on the song with.

When they started working on the song and it paired perfectly with one of the beats with just a couple of changes, she felt the relief in her veins. Matt helped her create the other verse that would describe the other point of view. When they got most of it done and recorded, it transitioned into the strong melancholic ballad, surrounded with strong and clean vocals all over. It wasn’t usually her style, but it interpreted the emotions just right. The congratulatory pub they treated themselves with some of her friends she hadn't seen in a while was just the break she needed after the draining session.

#ariana grande #5sos #calum hood imagine #calum hood #calum hood one shot #5sos imagine #5sos one shots

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helloalycia · 3 years

Text

girl next door [one] // wanda maximoff

summary: somebody new moves into the flat next to yours and you feel the need to introduce yourself, only to learn she's not very talkative

warning/s: none i don’t think??

author’s note: first part to a three-parter i’ve been working on, hope you like it! (also the masterlist needs to be updated so soz about that)

Shopping bags in hand, I returned from the supermarket to my flat when I saw the usually-vacant flat next door to me in use. The front door was slightly ajar, with several moving boxes in front and the sound of someone moving about inside. Huh, so someone moved in. It had been vacant for half a year now – it was nice to finally have a neighbour!

I headed to my own flat, my nosey self taking a peek through the door to see if I could have an idea of who was moving in, but I couldn't see anyone, so I continued to go into my own place and unpack my groceries. After doing so, I decided to head next door and introduce myself, excited to meet someone new in the building.

The boxes from earlier were gone now, probably all inside, and the door was shut like I usually saw it. I sucked up a breath before knocking on, a friendly smile reserved on my lips for whoever would open.

It took a moment, but the door finally opened and revealed a brunette with bright hazel eyes and a mildly confused expression on her face. She seemed strangely familiar, but I couldn't quite pinpoint it.

"Hey! I just wanted to come 'round and introduce myself. I'm your new neighbour." I pointed to my door next to hers and added, "I saw you moving in earlier. I'm Y/N."

She pursed her lips, eyes glancing around subtly before looking me up and down. "Er, hi... I'm Wanda."

I detected a slight accent in her voice with the few words she spoke and became immediately intrigued since everyone in this building was usually the same old American. I didn't ask about it though, as I didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable at our first meeting.

"Nice to meet you, Wanda," I returned with a smile. "I've been living here for a year now, so if you need a hand with anything or need pointers for where to get the best Chinese, I'm your girl." I paused, expecting some sort of reaction, but she didn't move a muscle. Swallowing awkwardly, I added, "Of course, if you just need a hand with unpacking or anything, I'm also happy to help."

She still didn't reply, and in fact, she looked a bit peeved with my presence which made me realise that maybe she just wasn't a talkative person.

I cleared my throat nervously before finishing with, "I'll, er, I'll leave you to it. Sorry to disturb you..."

I chewed on my lower lip as I avoided her piercing gaze and went back to my own place. Not everybody was interested in befriending their neighbours, I got that, so I respected her decision and decided not to bother her in the future. It didn't make me feel any less embarrassed at my intrusiveness though.

I didn't think much of it until the following morning when I was watering my plants out on the fire escape. My fire escape was joined with the neighbour's – the neighbour that usually didn't exist but was now Wanda. The brunette was stood there, drinking some coffee and staring out into the distance. I debated wishing her a good morning, but decided against it as I recalled her being quite introverted. Instead, I awkwardly watered the several plant pots I had, opting to stay quiet so I could be in and out without bugging her once more.

To my surprise, she spoke up and it took me a second to realise she was talking to me.

I held my watering jug upright as I glanced in her direction. She was already staring at me, deep set eyes darkened over the rim of her coffee cup.

"What's that?" I asked, not sure what she’d said.

She cleared her throat, eyes flickering to the plants to distract from her discomfort. "I'm sorry. For being strange yesterday. You were being warm and welcoming and I just..." She paused, releasing a shaky breath. "I've had a bad past few weeks. I didn't mean to take it out on you."

I definitely wasn't expecting that, then realised how many bad days I'd had and taken out on random strangers. I didn't blame her and instead felt bad for her – moving into a new place was supposed to be exciting, so I couldn't imagine what had ruined her past few weeks.

"Well, apology accepted," I said with a small smile. "And I hope things begin to look up for you soon, Wanda."

Her lips twitched into the tiniest of smiles and I noticed how different she looked when she wasn't down in the dumps – she was quite beautiful.

I finished watering my plants before giving her a final smile. I was about to head back inside, but I hung back curiously.

"Er, Wanda, if you don't mind me saying," I started randomly, "you seem familiar. We haven't met before, have we?"

She raised her eyebrows with surprise. "Oh, really? You don't kn–?" She tilted her head to the side, as if expecting me to understand, but I wasn't sure what she wanted. "I... I guess I just have one of those faces."

I studied her curiously, trying to figure it out. But nothing was coming to mind, so I hummed in agreement. "Yeah, I guess so... anyway, enjoy the rest of your day."

She nodded. "You, too."

–

The next time I saw Wanda was probably a week later, just after I collected my mail from the mailroom. I'd received one of those random free trial boxes for a subscription I must have accidentally signed up for – a box of different flavoured trail mixes – and felt bad throwing it out since it was still food at the end of the day. There were nuts in the mixes, which I was allergic to, so I decided to knock on Wanda's door and see if she wanted them.

I hadn't spoken to her since she moved in, except for the occasional good morning on the fire escape if we saw one another, so I hoped she was a little happier compared to when we last spoke properly. Maybe whatever had bothered her was resolved now.

When she opened the door, she seemed surprised that it was me, probably not expecting me to stop by again after last time.

I offered her a smile. "Hey, Wanda. I, er, hope this isn't a bad time."

She shook her head after recovering from her surprise. "No, no, it's not. Is everything okay?" She paused, glancing around, unprepared. "Do you want to come in or...?"

"It's okay, I'm good here," I said when I saw how uncomfortable she seemed. I wasn't just about to invite myself into her flat because she felt she needed to ask. "I just stopped by because, well, do you want this?" I handed her the box, adding, "I got a free sample in the post. Didn't wanna throw it out because it's food, y'know? And I'm allergic to nuts, so my throat will probably puff up and stop me from breathing which isn't good."

I laughed awkwardly, internally cringing at how I spoke utter nonsense because of her lack of her words and my stupid need to fill the silence.

"Unless you're allergic to nuts too," I added as an afterthought, when she glanced at the packaging with no readable expression. "In which case I should probably throw them right away and this whole thing is stupid."

After what felt like an eternity of me not shutting up, she lifted her gaze, eyes softening with a hint of amusement.

"I'm not allergic to nuts," she assured me, before nodding. "Thank you, Y/N."

I relaxed, not even realising how tense my shoulders were. "That's– that's good... so, how are you settling into your new place? All good, I hope?"

Subconsciously, I chewed on the inside of my mouth, wondering why I was so eager to speak to somebody who clearly didn't want to speak to me. She was so quiet, not a woman of many words, yet I couldn't help but feel responsible for welcoming her.

"It's nice," she said, glancing around thoughtfully. "It's quiet. Private."

I nodded in agreement, eyes falling to her doorframe as I said, "Yeah, that's true. Nothing eventful ever happens here."

She hummed, acknowledging my words. I figured the conversation had ran dry and I'd stayed a little too long, so I tried to think of a way to end it without her feeling forced to. Instead, she spoke up next.

"I like your garden."

I furrowed my brows, wondering what she was talking about.

"The flowers on our fire escape," she clarified, small smile tugging at her lips. "They're beautiful."

I stifled a laugh. "I mean, thanks, but it's barely a garden. I've always wanted a proper space to grow stuff, but obviously I can't have that here."

"Well, you've done a great job with what you have," she complimented, and I was sure it was the most she'd spoken to me since moving in. I suddenly didn't feel like she disliked my presence as much as I once thought.

"Thank you," I said gratefully. "Maybe you can start your own alongside mine some day."

"Maybe," she shrugged, "but probably not. Everything I touch–" She paused, life leaving her eyes momentarily, and head looking down to her shoes. "Everything I touch dies."

I pressed my lips together, not expecting the awkward silence to follow. Wanda seemed stuck in thought and I wasn't sure how I'd managed to bring the conversation down so suddenly, especially with the talk of flowers.

"The lovely thing about flowers," I began, earning her attention and hoping to brighten the mood, "is that they only require a little love, some sunlight and some water to keep going. They tend to take care of themselves. Perfect for even the blackest of thumbs."

She let out a breath through her nose, a half chuckle and half acknowledgment of my comment. It was the closest I'd get to a response, so I ran a hand through my hair and took a step back.

"Anyway, I'm glad you're settling in okay," I concluded with a kind smile. "Again, if you need anything, I'm just next door."

"Thank you," she said, returning the smile, and her eyes sparkled as she did. "Have a good afternoon, Y/N."

"You, too, Wanda."

–

The apartment complex I lived in rarely had people entering that I didn't recognise – I'd lived here long enough to know who was who, even the postwoman and maintenance guy. So, when I was leaving for the supermarket and saw a suspicious-looking man walking down the hall, eyes checking every door, I grew curious.

"You okay there, sir?" I called out to him after locking my front door.

He looked my way, readjusting his cap lower on his head, casting a shadow over his face. "Er, yeah..." He hesitated, glancing at his phone before looking to me again. "Actually, maybe you can help me. I'm looking for Wanda Maximoff's apartment. Do you know which one that is?"

I narrowed my eyes at the tall stranger. "I'm sure you can understand my concern when I ask who's asking."

"Oh, no, I completely understand," he said with a nod, and I could swear I had seen him before. "I'm an old friend of hers."

I quirked a brow. Strange man who claimed to a woman-who-lived-alone's friend? That had trouble written all over it. And from one woman to another, I was concerned, even if I didn’t know her very well.

"That's not saying much, sir," I said, biting back the annoyance. "I think that maybe you should–"

I stopped speaking when Wanda's door opened and she popped her head out. She looked to me before spotting the tall stranger, shoulders relaxing.

"I thought I heard you out here," she mumbled to the stranger, before stepping out fully and giving me a reassuring look. "It's okay, Y/N. I know him."

I nodded, glancing at the man, before meeting Wanda's eyes knowingly. "If you're sure..."

She seemed comfortable as she crossed her arms, hugging herself. Smiling reassuringly, she nodded. I relaxed when I saw she knew the suspicious stranger.

"In that case, sorry 'bout the interrogation," I apologised to her friend. "But, you gotta understand with the whole getup you have..."

Her friend chuckled deeply, looking to his shoes with amusement. "Yeah, sorry about that, ma'am. Didn't mean to worry you. It's nice to know Wanda here has thoughtful neighbours though."

"I'm twenty-two, not a ma'am," I said with amusement, before shaking my head. "Anyway, I should get going. Sorry again."

Wanda and her friend nodded as I left them; I was just glad it wasn't some creepy perv stalking our building – that had happened once.

I headed to the supermarket to do some shopping when I saw Wanda again, this time in the milk aisle. Well, she actually saw me, her trolley stopping before mine as she got my attention.

"Oh, Wanda, hey," I greeted her with a smile. "Fancy seeing you here."

She cracked a smile. "Yeah, well, I needed to pick up a few things. Milk, actually," she grabbed some from the fridge to prove her point, "when I saw you."

I nodded, before remembering earlier and feeling a little embarrassed. "Hey, er, sorry about before with your friend. I hope I didn't offend them or anything."

"No need to apologise," she said with a shake of her head. "It's actually very nice of you to have my back like that. I mean, we don't even know each other that well, but you watched out for me. I appreciate it."

"It's the bare minimum of a neighbour," I joked, before settling into genuine smile. "Besides, I'd like to think you'd do the same."

"Of course," she agreed, nodding slightly, before her eyes drifted to the fridge.

I noticed that every conversation we shared felt unfinished, like there was more to be said but neither of us had the guts to say it. Like now, for example, I wanted to check in and see if she was okay, but I felt like I was overstepping since, as she'd put it, we didn’t know each other very well. So, I changed the subject instead.

"So, just milk then?" I asked, nodding to her trolley which had a few bits and bobs in.

She was confused for a moment, zoning back into reality, before it registered in her mind and she answered, "Along with a few other things. And you?"

"Pretty much same," I said with a shrug.

Her eyes lingered in my trolley as she stifled a smile. "That looks like a lot more than a few things, Y/N."

I almost laughed. "Technically, yeah, I guess..." I met her curious gaze, explaining, "I'm having a meal with my sister, her boyfriend and my boyfriend at my place tonight. Cooking a lamb roast." She raised her eyebrows with mild surprise, making me shrug dismissively. "It's not that big of a deal, but there's a lot to prepare and I like things to be perfect, so yeah."

She licked her lips and nodded. "It sounds great. Good luck, I guess. I'm sure it'll turn out wonderful."

"Fingers crossed."

She chuckled, glancing at her shoes, making her dark hair fall in front of her like a curtain. When she looked back up, I couldn't help but smile at how cute she looked.

"I'll leave you to it then," she said, before redirecting her trolley around me. "See you whenever."

"See you." I nodded as she walked past me, shoulder brushing mine and leaving me startled at the weird effect she had on me whenever we spoke.

It didn't last for long though, so I brushed it off and continued to do my shop. The evening couldn't come soon enough, and I soon found myself entertaining my boyfriend, my sister and her boyfriend at my dinner table.

"So I was cooking us a nice meal, as we planned, and she ended up having a go at me because of the mess I made afterwards," my boyfriend, Teddy, was explaining to my sister and her boyfriend, Caleb. "That's why I don't try to be romantic anymore."

I paused from sipping my water, looking over at Teddy with an are you serious? look on my face. Y/S/N and Caleb laughed at Teddy's story, but I wasn't as amused as they were.

"Aw, c'mon, babe, don't be pissed off again," Teddy pleaded teasingly from beside me. "It's a joke. I'm joking."

"But that's not how it happened," I corrected him, before looking to the couple before me. "What Teddy means to say is that I had just cleaned the kitchen and told him that when he cooks, he should try to clean as he goes along so it's easier, but of course, he drops cream everywhere and I had to clean it out of the crevices of the counter. All over again."

Y/S/N and Caleb laughed at my retelling of the story, and Teddy frowned playfully as he looked my way.

"And that's definitely not the reason you're not romantic," I said to him promisingly. "When was the last time you even got me flowers?"

He tried to take lead of the conversation again, straightening up and asking, "When was the last time you got me flowers? Feminism, Y/N. It goes both ways."

He was never usually this obnoxious and it was irking me. Y/S/N and Caleb assumed it was all a joke, so were laughing it off, but I was starting to get frustrated. How could he try and make me look terrible in front of my own family?

"I bought you flowers two weeks ago when you got your promotion, remember?" I answered him with a raised brow.

"Damn, she got you there, Ted," Caleb said like it was a burn.

I subtly clenched my jaw and distracted myself with sipping water. Teddy sighed and tried to wrap an arm around me, but I pulled away slightly.

"Oh, come on, you're not mad, are you? This is all in good faith, babe," he said lightly.

I downed my water and looked between them all. "I think I'm gonna get some air. You guys enjoy your drinks."

They all chorused their disagreements, but I couldn't be bothered dealing with them when they were tipsy and annoying, so I ignored them and headed to the fire escape for a breather.

When I reached the railing, I sighed immediately, feeling like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Until I heard a creaking noise and jumped with surprise before seeing Wanda sitting on her side of the fire escape, drink in hand.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," she said apologetically.

I breathed out, turning around and leaning my back against the railing so I could see her better. "It's okay, it's not you. I just– I forgot you could be there. Used to living without a neighbour. It's taking some getting used to."

I forced a small smile to reassure her, before looking down and taking small breaths of fresh air. Teddy could get under my skin at times, tonight being one of those times, and it was happening more and more lately. Why couldn't he just be less... annoying?

"Is everything okay?" Wanda asked, and I looked up fo see her green-gold eyes glowing in the dark under the moon light.

"Yeah," I said with a nod. I glanced inside, seeing my three guests laughing it up like I was still there. I collapsed on my chair and stared into the bustling city ahead. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Wanda hesitated. "Didn't you have that dinner tonight?"

I leaned in the palm of my hand, mumbling, "Yeah. It's still going on. I just needed some air."

Wanda must have sensed there was more to my words – it didn't take a genius to see that – but to my relief, she didn't push on. All she said was, "Oh, okay," and stayed quiet.

The two of us sat there, in a comfortable silence, staring into the city and revelling in the moon's presence. It was beautiful out, though not a single star could be seen because of the city's pollution. Instead, the moon hung high above our heads and conflicted with the many street and building lights of New York City, thriving even past dusk.

I probably could have stayed there all night, preferring Wanda's silent yet comfortable presence to whatever was waiting for me back inside. But to my dismay, I was called back in and sighed quietly to myself.

"I should head back in," I excused myself, standing up to leave. But I lingered by the door, asking Wanda, "Have you eaten dinner yet?" She seemed puzzled with my question, and I continued speaking anyway. "I made a lot of food and have loads of leftovers I can't finish myself."

She seemed to understand what I was implying and shook her head. "That's okay, Y/N, thank you."

"Wanda, I insist," I said with a small smile. "It'll just go in the bin otherwise."

She was still reluctant. "Honestly, it's fine."

i wasn't taking no for an answer though. "I'll stop by in a bit to drop it off."

"Y/N, I–"

"See you then!" I exclaimed before heading back inside and leaving her no choice to deny it.

"There she is," Y/S/N called out to me when I returned. "You feel better?"

"Perfect," I said sarcastically.

She laughed. "C'mon, we're all sorry. Besides, Caleb and I have to go now, so we want to end on a good note."

Was I being too butt hurt? Probably.

"Right, sorry," I said, looking to them all, before saying, "Do you guys want any food to bring back with you?"

"You guys enjoy it," Caleb said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "It was delicious though, Y/N. Thanks for the lovely evening."

"Anytime," I said with a tired smile, before leading them to the door and looking to my sister. "Let me know when you're home, yeah?"

She hummed in agreement, before pulling me into a tight hug. "Love you, Y/N."

"Love you, too," I returned with a playful eye roll.

After bidding them a goodbye, I was left alone with Teddy, who was surprisingly washing the dishes.

"This your way of apologising?" I joked, stopping by the sink.

He glanced at me with apologetic eyes. "Depends. Is it working?"

As I met his brown eyes, I thought back to how frustrating he was acting earlier. He must have been acting out in front of guests for some reason, but he wasn't always like that. Maybe I was overreacting.

"I'll let you know when you're done," I retorted, making him smile with amusement.

As he did that, I worked on filling some containers with leftover dinner for Wanda, being sure to include a generous amount of everything.

"Who's that for?" Teddy asked, noticing what I was doing.

"Wanda, my new neighbour."

"Never heard of her."

I gave him a knowing look. "Hence the word 'new'."'

He returned the stare. "What I mean is, I've never seen her around."

I shrugged, finishing packing the containers and stacking them to carry. "She prefers to keep to herself."

"What, like a weirdo?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, Teddy. She's just private. Introverted, if you will."

"Sounds like a weirdo to me..."

I chose to ignore him as I left the flat and headed to Wanda's. She opened up quicker than usual, probably since she was expecting me this time.

"Bon appétit," I joked, before holding out the takeaway containers. "It's lamb roast with veg, potatoes, some gravy and bread."

"You really didn't have to," she said, though accepted the food. When she glanced down at it, she added, "This is a lot for one person."

I couldn't help the smile on my face. "Enough for second's. You'll have to let me know if you like it. It's my best recipe."

She snickered, eyes meeting mine. "I'm sure it's delicious... do you want to come in?"

Stepping to the side, she looked to me with what I think was a hopeful expression. I felt bad when I smiled sadly, shaking my head.

"I'd love to, Wanda, but I've actually still got my boyfriend over and I can't really, y'know..."

"No worries," she was quick to reassure. "It's– no, it's okay, honestly. I just thought I'd ask."

It was the first time she'd ever asked and meant it, which meant she was finally getting comfortable with me. I would have preferred to go in, but I couldn't just leave Teddy, nor kick him out.

"Maybe we can hang out tomorrow?" I asked hopefully. "If you want, that is. Because I want to. But I don't want to just invite myself over."

She seemed amused as she nodded. "Tomorrow sounds great. Maybe I can make you dinner, as a thank you for this food."

I grew a little excited at spending a bit more time with the quiet, reserved brunette. "I'd like that."

She nodded, lips pursed into a suppressed smile, and glanced at the food in her hand. "Great. Well... have a good evening, Y/N. And thank you again for the food."

"Good evening," I returned, subconsciously memorising the rare smile she gave me, before leaving her to it.

When I returned to my flat, all I could think about was the next night and getting to know Wanda.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #marvel imagine #scarlet witch #wandavision #elizabeth olsen

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lordkilluazoldyck · 3 years

Text

summary: established relationship with gojo. it was originally meant to be about him comforting you but then it just kinda went into a little relationship blurb. dunno, it’s kinda cute.

warnings: INSECURITY ABOUT BEING CHUBBY! reader is upset and insecure about their weight! triggering statements remembered from a past relationship. I gave gojo a God complex for funsies. He doesn’t actually have a God complex pls don’t attack me

author’s note: you’re all beautiful babies! this was written out of my own insecurities! being /fat/ doesn’t mean you’re not gorgeous! i love all of you and you’re all sexy as hell. also this sat in the drafts since it sucks. i tried to doctor it but idk. enjoy!!

main masterlist | jjk masterlist | guidelines

Your eyes watered as you stared at yourself in the mirror. Memories of your long gone ex boyfriend resurfaced as you poked at the cellulite on your thick thighs. His harsh words rang in your ears as your reflection broke you.

“You’re so fat it’s disgusting.”

“Nobody would ever want to be with you.”

“Maybe if you lost weight I’d be more interested.”

You knew those things weren’t true, and he was long replaced by your loving Gojo, so why were these intrusive thoughts making you so upset?

Gojo opened the door, happily greeting you with a bag in hand, probably a souvenir from his work trip today.

“Baby! You gotta see these pictures of Megumi! And some kid might be Sukuna’s vessel! You should’ve seen-“ he cut himself off after seeing your tear stained cheeks.

He dropped his bag onto the bed and rushed over to your spot on the floor. In one motion he thumbed away your tears and took off his blindfold, revealing his deeply concerned gaze. Gojo knew you’d find comfort in his ocean eyes.

He took your hands in his.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” His words were almost a whisper.

When you didn’t answer, and simply looked away, he persisted.

“No, baby girl. Look at me.” He lifted your head to meet your gaze. “Tell me why you’re upset. Please,”

You finally gave in with a huff. “I need to work out more.”

He looked at you with an amused expression.

“And why is that?”

You sighed deeply.

“Because I’m fat, Gojo.”

His gaze and voice softened. “What?”

You shrugged and looked away again.

“Come here, baby.” Gojo patted his lap.

You complied reluctantly, physically hesitant to sit on his lap in fear of breaking him. But, you knew he’d persist so you eased your way onto his thighs anyway.

You sat perched on Gojo’s lap in front of the mirror exactly as he asked.

“Thank you.” He whispered into your hair. He placed one hand on your thigh, the other on your stomach and rested his head on your shoulder. “You’re a Goddess, and this is your throne.”

You half smiled at that.

“You’re perfect in every way, and I find every part of you to be stunning. I’m not lying when I say you’re my ideal woman, baby.” He began moving his hands all over your body, where you felt most insecure. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

You smiled a bit at that. “You really think so?”

Gojo chuckled. “Yeah, baby!” He pulled you tighter to him as he began to tell you about his day. He was desperate to get your mind away from those dark thoughts, and he knew he could get you to laugh.

“Megumi really took it tough, huh?” You said as he showed you the pictures. “He’s a good kid, Gojo.”

Gojo grinned. “I know!” he grew a bit serious and continued, “He asked me to save Sukuna’s vessel. I’m not sure if I can.”

You had turned to straddle him by that point. His hands caressed your thighs as he spoke.

“You’re Gojo. You could do anything, love.” you smiled proudly at him.

He chuckled and kissed you lightly.

“Don’t ever be insecure baby, especially not around me. I love everything about you.” He kissed you again, “I’m always here to make you feel beautiful.”

You smiled. “Thank you so much.”

After a bit of silence, you continued. “Is there anyway I can help save Sukuna’s vessel for Megumi?”

Gojo smiled. “A God and his Goddess. Who wouldn’t listen to us?”

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cherrybracelets · 3 years

Text

I’ll Take You On

bucky barnes x f. reader

18+ / drinking mentions, heavy smut (unprotected s*x, oral s*x (m receiving) )

inspired by: ill take you on by brockhampton

For your whole childhood, as long as you could remember, you wanted to be a veterinarian. You had loved animals, and couldn’t imagine a better way to spend your days than caring for them. But, as you grew up and the harsh realities of adulthood and capitalism dawned upon you, your dream was becoming less likely.

Vet school was way over you and your mom’s budget. It was just the two of you, and she wasn’t exactly bringing in buckets of cash at her teaching job. So, you had to get a bit more realistic.

After graduation college with a business degree, you set forth into the world hoping for a lifetime of amazing opportunities. But, a job didn’t come as easy as you’d hoped, and you were getting desperate. So desperate, in fact, that you called your estranged father begging for a job.

Your father left your mom when you were nine. You didn’t care much, as he wasn’t around a lot anyways. He was some big shot lawyer in Miami, and he was always traveling for work. It was honestly easier on you and your mom once he left. He didn’t make much an effort to connect with you after that, only calling every few months and sending wads of cash on Holidays, hoping to make up for his absence.

So, as you pushed aside your pride to call and ask for his help, it was really the least he could do. And lucky for you, his firm’s office manager had just quit. It didn’t sound like an incredibly difficult job and the pay was beyond what you wanted. Your father was most likely overcompensating with the salary. But he could afford it.

He also promised you a place to live, rent free. He owned multiple properties around the city, most of which he never used. It was kind of the perfect situation. A little suspiciously perfect.

But there were no other options. You needed a job and he desperately needed to feel like he wasn’t the worst father in the world. It was a win-win for both of you.

And obviously, Miami wasn’t the worst place you could be. You didn’t know anyone besides your father, but you didn’t care. The idea of relaxing on a beach alone soothed you way more than a group of screaming drunk girls.

After a week of settling into your apartment and the city, it was finally time to start your new job. You had met up with your father multiple times already, getting prepared for the job and visiting a few of his favorite spots around the city. He was actually really kind, but it was slightly uncomfortable talking to him.

You walked into his office on your first day, shaking in nerves as you prepared to meet your new coworkers. Would they treat you kindly, or did they catch up on the obvious nepotism that was lingering through this entire situation?

But your fears were quickly buried over as his staff welcomed you with open arms, talking highly of you and about how “proud” your father was to have you working here. You rolled your eyes at his obvious attempt to show a warmer side to his staff, but you let it slide. You had a job and place to live because of him, so it was the least you could do.

You spent the morning learning the phone and computer system, battling intrusive questions from everyone in the office and trying to learn how to work the damn coffee machine. But all in all, it wasn’t a bad job.

You never really knew what kind of law your father practiced, and maybe that was something you should’ve asked before, so you were a little less shocked. His clients were mega rich and famous. And your father was just mega rich. It kind of pissed you off, seeing how well he lived and how you and your mom never saw a penny of it. Part of you wanted to scream at him, break all the expensive glasses in his office and storm out. But what was the point? Caring about him was more energy than it was worth.

Your father met with his clients throughout the day, and part of your job was welcoming them to the office, getting them something to drink, and telling your father when they arrive. And today, at 2:12 PM, twelve minutes late for his appointment, he walked in.

“James Barnes. I’m here to see Henry,” he commanded, not bothering to look up from his cell phone and pay you an ounce of attention.

“Of course. Can I get you anything to drink?” You asked kindly, trying to keep your voice from quivering. He stood towering over you, his large frame blocking the light above, casting a shadow over your desk. He was one of the most beautiful and intimidating people you’d ever seen. You felt like you were going to choke if he looked directly at you.

But he didn’t. He walked cooly over to the sofa in the waiting area and sat down, mumbling “Scotch…”.

You stood up and walked away quickly, desperately trying to catch your breath. You slipped quietly into your father's office, smiling as you closed the door behind you.

“James Barnes is here. And he mentioned something about scotch, which I’m not sure if I’m authorized to give…”

Your father chuckled and stood up, walking over to a small bar cart in his office and pouring two drinks.

“Everyone calls him Bucky. He’s a good friend. Come on, i’ll introduce you.”

You followed behind your father in a daze, not ready to face him, not ready for his eyes to meet yours. Your skin felt hot and the room was spinning as your head, his loud voice greeting your father in excitement.

“Bucky! It’s been too long!” Your father yelled, handing him a drink and smiling sheepishly.

“Yeah, I had to be in New York a bit longer than I thought,” he trailed off, taking a sip of his drink. You were hiding behind your father, hoping he would forget about you and you could sneak away without a word. But of course you wouldn’t get away that easily.

“Bucky, I have to introduce you to my daughter. Today is her first day working here! (Y/N), come introduce yourself,” he instructed, turning towards you and ushering you in closer to Bucky.

“(Y/N)...” he whispered, the sound of your name in his mouth making your whole body light up. You had never heard it sound so beautiful before. He reached his hand out towards you, and you grabbed it lightly. His hands were soft and cold, shocking your skin as he touched you. As you shook hands, he leaned towards you, the smell of mint and tobacco pouring from his skin.

“Why don’t we head to your office, Henry,” he frowned, dropping your hand and turning towards your father. You brought your hand back to your side, confused and dizzy as you found your seat.

“Can… can I get you anything, Henry?” You stuttered, realizing awkwardly that this was the first time you’d addressed him, and you didn’t say dad. There was an uncomfortable silence between the two of you, and you cleared your throat awkwardly.

“Sorry, thought that would be more professional. Totally awkward, right?” You laughed, trying to ease the tension. You didn’t think your father would care if you called him Henry, but maybe he wanted you to play into the sweet daughter character at work.

“No, sweetheart, this is actually a private meeting. I don’t want any interruptions, unless someone’s dead. Okay?” He said in a serious tone, pushing aside any awkwardness. He hadn’t said this with any other clients he’s seen today, so it gave you an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach.

You turned towards Bucky, looking for some sign of a joke with him. But his face was carved of stone, his eyes locked on your father as if he expected Henry’s devout secrecy for any conversation they had.

The two walked quietly into his office and shut the door, leaving the image of him to only exist in your mind. You were curious who exactly this beautiful mystery was, so you did what you always did. Googled him.

You searched for a while, under both of the names he went by. But nothing. You couldn’t find him anywhere. Nothing on Facebook, Linkedin was empty, Twitter and Instagram were farfetched. It was like he didn’t exist. You even unblocked your father on facebook to stalk his friends and see if he existed there, but nothing. He was a ghost.

You got frustrated after a while, sitting back angrily in your chair, realizing you had three voicemails. Yikes, you were not very good at this job.

You finished all your work quickly, hoping it would distract you from him.

They spent the next two hours locked away in your fathers office, leaving you to wilt away in boredom. It only took about 30 minutes to catch up on calls and emails, and then all you could do was scroll aimlessly on your phone hoping someone would bother you.

But everyone seemed very quiet here. Beyond the initial excitement of meeting you in the morning, everyone stayed at their desks all day, focused intently on their own work. It was one of the quietest offices you’d ever been in. Maybe they were just trying to show off on your first day, or trying not to bother you… but it was odd.

At 4:15, your father loudly exited his office, Bucky following behind. He was smiling, something you hadn’t seen before. It was almost god-like, his perfect smile, radiating warmth and happiness. You wanted to be close to him again, missing the sweet smell of his lips…

“(Y/N), I have a request…” your father interrupted your daydreaming, making you jump as you stood up to help him.

“What’s up?” You asked casually, refusing to take your eyes off Bucky.

“Bucky and I are grabbing dinner tonight, and we’d love for you to join us,” he said quickly, Bucky finally turning towards you and meeting your glance.

“You… want me to come?” You asked quietly, Bucky still staring at you. He smirked slightly as you spoke, but refused to break your gaze.

“Well, Bucky would really love to get to know my daughter. You know how… proud I am of you. The light of my life!” He said, smiling intensely at you. You finally looked away from Bucky and towards your father as he spoke.

It was disgusting, the way your father was obviously using a fake relationship with you to get in good with his clients and employees. But you would’ve done anything to see Bucky again. So you agreed reluctantly, wondering why a man like Bucky would care about his lawyer's daughter…

“We’re going to a nice place so… dress up,” your father instructed, eyeing your clothes. You had noticed you were the least dressed up at the office.

“Um… I don’t really have a nice dress…” you whispered quietly, wondering how “nice” you needed to dress…

Your father pulled out his wallet, handing you a thick black AmEx card.

“I’ll have my driver take you downtown to some shops. Get whatever you want,” he instructed, pushing the card in your hand.

You didn’t refuse, why would you? Free shopping spree and dinner with some hot mystery man sounded like your perfect day.

You spent the next few hours in and out of shops, spending more money than your father most likely anticipated. But you needed a new wardrobe anyways, most of your old clothes were too warm to wear here.

You picked out a gorgeous light blue silk dress and some strappy white heels to match. You were maybe a little ‘under’ dressed for dinner with your father, but all you could focus on was Bucky. You felt high whenever he crossed your mind, your body unable to focus on anything except the feel of his cool skin touching yours.

By the time you were done shopping, it was almost time to meet them at dinner. The driver promised to bring the rest of your bags home and drop you right off at the restaurant. It was all the way across town, and you’d most likely still be late even if you left now. So you hopped in the car quickly, your new outfit looking perfect.

The drive to the restaurant took just as long as the driver said it would- maybe even longer. You were getting impatient as the time went by, wondering if he was thinking about you the way you were thinking of him.

It was unlikely. You still weren’t sure who exactly he was, but you knew he didn’t spend his time with ordinary girls.

But why did he want you to come to dinner? It was odd of him to take such an interest in you. None of your fathers other clients seemed to look twice in your direction. But then again, Bucky was the only one that required privacy.

As you got lost in your thoughts, your mind tumbling through expectations and excitement, your driver pulled swiftly up to the front entrance of Paterro’s.

Upon walking through the doors, you were taken aback by the overwhelming fanciness of this restaurant. Your father definitely undersold how nice it was. You felt slightly underdressed, but no one seemed to look twice at you. You were used to not turning heads, being able to walk through a crowd without notice.

That changed when you got to your table. Your father wasn’t there, most likely in the bathroom or at the bar. It was just him, looking just as beautiful as you pictured he would.

He wore a navy blue suit that hugged his skin tightly and left very little of his body up for imagination. As you walked towards him, his head lifted from the table and his eyes lingered towards your body. He gave you a soft smile, but he was obviously distracted by how much of you he was seeing.

“Your… Henry ran to grab a few cigars for later…” he mumbled, standing up awkwardly and pulling out a chair for you.

“Thank you…” you whispered, sitting shakily down in the chair as he pushed you in towards the table.

You were in between Bucky and your father’s seat, but much closer to Bucky. Your father came back less than 30 seconds later, which was ideal, since you couldn’t think of a single word to say to Bucky.

Your father greeted you kindly, a wide smile that read as ‘You better be good tonight.’ It clearly wasn’t normal for him to have guests attend his business dinners. He seemed just as put off as you did, but the two of you kept your thoughts to yourselves and made small talk.

“This is one of my favorite restaurants, (Y/N),” your father smiled, handing you a menu to you.

“I’m excited to be here. Thank you for having me,” you responded kindly.

Bucky and your father started talking about business, leaving you to your own thoughts as you scoured the menu. The prices were insane, but obviously you weren’t footing the bill. You had half a mind to order the most expensive thing on the menu, for the hell of it, but you settled on a nice glass of red wine and pasta.

You weren’t included in much of the conversation, wondering why exactly you were invited in the first place. It seemed that the two of them barely even knew you were there. You sipped at your wine angrily, wondering how you could get Bucky’s attention.

It was then when you decided to make one of the riskiest decisions of your entire life. But, high risk, high reward, right?

Bucky cracked a joke with your father, and you laughed loudly and girlishly, forcing him to draw his eyes towards you. You then gently placed your hand on his knee, dragging your fingertips on his thigh lightly as you smiled at him. For a second, you forgot your father was even there, lost in the delight of finally having your hands on Bucky.

But you quickly drew your hand back, afraid of how far you’d go if you didn’t stop. Luckily your father didn’t seem to notice, or care. But Bucky did.

In fact, he was glaring at you. His fists were clenched on the table, his breath shaky and his stared. His face started to relax and he looked away, a slight smirk on his face as he grabbed his drink and gulped it.

“I have to run and make a quick phone call,” Bucky said abruptly, not waiting for a response before leaving the table.

You turned awkwardly to your father, not sure what to say to him at this moment. Thankful for you, he clearly felt the same, and buried himself in his phone. That was the nice thing about your father, he never forced you to talk.

Bucky was back quicker than you’d expected, looking relieved as he sat down.

“Sorry about that,” he smiled, clearing his throat. “Where were we?”

The three of you started chatting again, a feat that only lasted about five minutes, before another interruption. Your father’s phone started ringing loudly, much to your embarrassment.

“One sec,” he whispered, jumping out of his chair and answering in a rush.

Your heart dropped as you realized you were alone with him for the first time. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him after you nearly groped him under the table. You felt a lump in your throat as you stared intently at your fathers empty chair.

“Do you wanna talk about what the hell you’re doing?” Bucky growled at you, making you finally turn your head and face him head on.

“I don’t know what you mean…” you whispered innocently.

“Oh, shut the hell up. I’m not gonna fall for your sweet girl act. Your father might, but I see right through it…” He snickered, taking a large sip from his third drink of the evening.

“I’m sorry if I’ve done something to upset you, James.” You could see him cringe at the sound of that name. You couldn’t help but to get under his skin. Something about him so angry made it hotter.

“Listen, if you wanna fuck me, just say it. I’m not here for all these little games.”

“You truly think every girl in the entire universe wants to have sex with you? Seems like somebody has a little ego problem,” you retorted, rolling your eyes and looking away.

“Oh, baby,” he laughed, touching your cheek lightly with his thumb. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t get under this table and suck my cock if you could?”

The thought of your mouth around him made you quiver, which was very evident to Bucky. He laughed coyly, before tightly gripping your chin. He brushed his thumb lightly over your lips, your body aching at his touch.

He dropped his hand quickly as your father approached the table, looking distraught.

“I’m so sorry guys... My client just called, major emergency. I’m gonna have to run… Bucky, can you make sure (Y/N) get’s home safe? I’m gonna have to take my car…”

Bucky chuckled quietly and nodded at your father, enjoying the obvious win.

“I’ll take good care of her, man.”

Your father thanked Bucky, throwing his credit card to you for dinner and running off in a hurry. You felt sick to your stomach, all the red wine dancing around in your body. You felt Bucky’s hand on your thigh, rubbing circles on your skin.

“You ready to go?” He winked, tilting his head for an answer. You could only nod, unable to think of any words to say.

Bucky tossed three one-hundred dollar bills down on the table, taking them from a large wad of cash hidden in his jacket. You felt dizzy at the sight of all the money, wondering where it could possibly be coming from.

The valet pulled Bucky’s car around, which was obviously something beautiful and fancy and nauseatingly expensive. He opened the passenger door for you, helping you up into the seat. He leaned towards you after you were sitting, pulling your face to his. He kissed you intensely, not giving you a second to think, or breathe. You melted into him, allowing his body to do whatever he wanted.

But he quickly broke away, closing the door and getting in the driver seat. He didn’t speak to you the rest of the ride, just casually glancing in your direction every few minutes. You wondered if you should tell him where you lived, or if he already knew. But you quickly realized you weren’t going home.

You pulled up to a large white house on the beach. The gates opened promptly as you arrived. They closed quickly behind you, making you finally realize the intensity of the situation. You were here now, locked inside, with a complete stranger. A very, very hot stranger.

Bucky opened the door for you, clearly picking up your awe at the size of the house.

“I’m just renting it. I don’t usually stay in one place too long…” he explained, a hint of sadness in his voice.

“What exactly do you do?” You asked, instantly regretting it as you noticed the distaste in his voice.

“You don’t need to know that, yet,” he snapped, emphasizing the word ‘yet’. What the hell did that mean?

He ushered you through the front door, offering you a glass of wine as you entered. You accepted happily, staring at his wide wine collection that was much nicer than the box sitting in your fridge.

You sat down on his couch, sinking into the soft cushions, realizing just then how tipsy you were. As he walked back towards you with your drinks, you felt a wave of excitement and spontaneity wash over you. Fuck wine, man. The worst and horniest decisions you ever made were because of wine.

Bucky set your drinks done and you didn’t waste any time. You jumped up towards him, pushing your lips onto his and dragging your hands down his body. He didn’t fight you, unbuckling his pants quickly. He began kissing your neck, pulling down the straps of your dress. You hadn’t worn a bra, giving his lips easy access to your breasts. He sucked your nipples lightly, grazing his teeth.

You pulled his shirt over his head, revealing a perfectly sculpted body that at this point, you had expected. You brought your hand down to his dick, already hard and poking out through his boxers. You pushed him off of you as you got down to your knees, removing his boxers and taking his length into your mouth.

You flicked your tongue across his tip, making him shake under you. He grabbed the back of your head and pushed himself deeper into you, hitting the back of your throat. He moved in and out of your mouth, his hand holding your hair out of the way.

Finally he pulled out of your mouth, beckoning you to stand up. You did as you were told, getting off your knees and following him to the catch. He sat down and dragged you onto his lap, feeling his cock under you. He kissed you for a while, but you never got bored. You could’ve kissed him forever.

But you felt him twitching beneath you, begging to be inside. You positioned him to your opening and slid down gently, adjusting to his size. He moaned slightly, throwing his head back as he went in.

“Don’t move for a second…” he commanded, sitting up and taking your face. He was inside of you, not moving, just holding you.

“You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen,” he whispered, the scotch spilling from his breath. He didn’t give you time to respond before he grabbed your hips and began to rock you on him.

You let him move you for a few minutes before you started moving yourself. You felt the overwhelming rush of pleasure take over as you got close to cumming, speeding up your motions.

“Shit…” you squealed, riding out your high as he kissed your neck.

“Keep going… I wanna cum inside you…” He whispered into your ear, his lips tickling your jaw.

You kept grinding your hips, moving faster as he got closer. He gripped onto your hips, digging his nails into your skin as you felt him twitch. You felt him fill you up with warmth, claiming you as his in that moment. The ultimate trophy of male dominance.

You felt sick to your stomach after you got off, feeling him drip down your thighs as you rolled to the other side of the couch. The fun of the wine had worn off into an annoying headache, and you were dreadfully thirsty.

For some reason, you wondered if you had dreamed the whole thing, before you looked over and saw a naked Bucky, staring blissfully at you.

“Can I get you anything?” He asked, kindly.

“Water.”

He smiled graciously, standing up and putting his boxers on. He walked down a hallway, presumably to the kitchen, and your fight or flight kicked in. You quickly grabbed your shoes and bag, bolting out the front door, unable to face him.

You were greeted by the fresh air, happy to be back in the realm of normalcy. And then you remembered. The gate.

“Fuck…” you exclaimed, dropping your shoes on the pavement.

“I’ll take you home.” You heard, seeing an uncomfortable Bucky standing in the doorway.

You got back in his car, staying uncomfortably silent as he started the engine and opened the gate.

“Do you regret it?” He asked. His voice snapped through the quiet like a whip. It made you jump.

“No. I don’t.” You answered. It was the truth.

“Good. We’ll talk soon, then.”

He dropped you off without another word, and you realized you never actually gave him your address.

Who the hell was James Barnes?

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #tfatws #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #james buchanan barnes

185 notes · View notes

sweetestlamb · 3 years

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Let's Play A Love Game

Author's note: this one is rated 😈 so yeah. There was originally more angst in my mind but once I got to that part I was over it lol I'm the worst at angst I much rather make it naughty. It's more rushed than I wanted but I don't really have time to write 10k fics right now. But hopefully soon.

Summary: it's just pretend, right?

She hadn't meant to push the event in the corner of her mind until she forgot about it completely, so much so that when the e-vite showed up in her inbox she stared at it in wide eyed shock not even noticing Mi-Seon creeping up behind her.

"It's already time for that? I usually know it's coming because you start buying expensive dresses you can't afford and crying at your credit card bill. Maybe country life has really changed you hm?"

False. Inaccurate. Utterly wrong to the every core.

She lets out a shrill scream letting her head fall painfully on her desktop.

"I'm an idiot! Just kill me now, I deserve it." She has nothing to wear, okay the mountain of boxes in her living room, bedroom and some hidden in the linen closet beg to defer but none of that is worthy of this event. The annual dentist convention in Seoul, it's a week long getaway. It's meant to be an opportunity to build connections and attend professional learning classes, but that has long been abandoned. Now it is a fashion show and chance to show off your success and this year more than ever she has to impress everyone. They all look down on her and her cute little practice. Those judgemental snarky bitches.

"Do we have anymore patients?" She absently asks her best friend, only friend already getting up and walking away.

"No that was the last one. Do you want to call it a day?" She doesn't give a verbal reply lost in her phone and the disease that is online shopping, in the span of three minutes she has already added seven dresses to her cart.

"Chief Hong is going to have a long day."

It's just as Mi-seon says the next day the nosy know it all shows up glaring at her over the handful of packages in his arms.

"Don't tell me you're doing this again. What more could you possibly have to order? How much things does one woman need?" His voice is an air warmer than the last time they were in this very same position, but she tries not to think too hard about it. Their relationship is too confusing these days, as temperamental as the sea.

"Are delivery men allowed to complain this much when they're doing a job they are getting paid for?" She snarks back, snatching her packages from his arms with a huff. Ignoring the grin on his face as she disappears into her house.

"That better be all you order. I'm not coming back."

He comes back. At least six more trips, more boxes each time on the last day he doesn't simply leave after making his delivery.

"I'm coming in for tea because of you I've been working too hard." She squeaks indignantly as he pushes past her, their shoulders brushing in the tight space of the doorway.

She should wait until she doesn't have an audience but she's too impatient so while he's making the tea in her kitchen (so rude and intrusive), she starts to open a few boxes pulling out the contents. Dresses, blouses, shirts, hair accessories, lipsticks in all shades and hues, and of course shoes; heels, flats and everything in between.

"Your house looks like a department store." She jumps at his voice glancing up at him, almost laughing at the hedgehog mug that he's drinking out of that Mi-seon gave her as a joke. Leave it to him to pick the most ridiculous mug.

"Hurry up and go so I can try everything on." She starts to take the objects out and organize them, putting together possible outfits lazily.

"Why not have a fashion show?" He slurps loudly at the tea, sighing and smiling down at the warm beverage. Acting like he's never had tea before, such a plebian.

"A fashion show?"

"Yeah, model all that", he motions to the new boxes littering her bedroom floor, "and I'll let you know what looks good."

She scoffs, loudly looking at his lackluster outfit; a simple white tee tucked into dark cargo pants with suspenders.

"What do you know about fashion?" She replies meanly, despite the little voice in her mind that reminds her that while his outfits are more practical than fashionable there is something distracting about the way his shoulders fill out his shirts and the way his long legs sit in his pants.

He shrugs looking down at himself, "I'm the town handy man I have no need to look good. But I'm still a man I can tell you what I think looks good on a woman."

Oh. It's a nonchalant statement said with no real heat but the implications make her skin warm up, she's never once thought that he saw her as a woman; nor considered looking at him like a man. (Lies.)

"I--why woul--why?" She stutters through an answer, tongue heavy in her mouth. He looks back nonplussed, sitting down pointedly on her couch.

"Never took you for the shy kind. You growing bashful now Ms. Dentist?" His eyes twinkle with mischief and she knows that she's being played but she wants nothing more than to wipe that smug look off his face. Slamming her room door, she pulls off her casual house clothes and grabs the first thing that catches her attention- a buttery yellow dress that grazes her knee, pairing them with white heels and a high messy bun. A swipe of lip tint completes the look and she confidently opens her room door.

Du-sik is staring aimlessly at his phone and doesn't notice her reappearance at first, so she coughs loudly folding her arms and when his eyes land on her, a chill runs down her spine at the look that lands on her body. It's been a long time since a man looked at her in this way, his eyes are undressing her even though he was the one who implored her to dress up in the first place. She hates it. At least she should hate it. But she can't ignore the satisfaction that washes over her at his dumbfounded look, that smug look obliterated by her very first look.

"Well?" She pushes harder, twirling to give him the full look. His gasp is loud behind her, she knows exactly why. The deep revealing plunge that travels all the way to the small of her back. There's no way she would wear this to the convention much too suggestive but that's her business.

"Wher-" his voice cracks and this time she can't contain her smile, dimples flashing now at her clear affect on him, clearing his throat he tries again, "Where exactly are you going again?"

She hums turning back around, gleeful at the vibrant blush on his cheeks. So he is just a man after all.

"A dentist convention." She answers cheekily and he guffaws loudly, eyes narrowing at her like he knows exactly what she's trying to do. They stare at each other for a long moment and she ultimately breaks the stand still, realizing what's happening. It feels a lot like flirting.

Collecting herself, she barrels back into the room.

"What the hell are you doing?" She whispers to her reflection, face too flushed for her liking.

A hard knock at the door pulls her from her self chastisement, "You didn't even wait for my rating."

She sighs loudly covering her face in embarrassment at her own action. She doesn't even have alcohol to blame this time.

"I don't care. This was stupid, let's stop."

Of course he ignores her.

"I liked it. But it's too...sexy for convention. You should wear that for someone special. I doubt anyone with a beating heart would be able to resist you."

What the fuck.

This isn't who they are, when did they become comfortable enough for conversations like this? They despised each other, right? Confused and annoyingly flattered, she peels the dress off her body trying her hardest not to think about the fact that only a door separates him and her naked body.

"I would love to see the others. But I have to go, but if you want my opinion. Red is definitely your color."

"What?" She replies, but she can hear the too loud click of the front opening and then closing and just as capriciously as he arrived, he leaves.

Burying something that feels a lot like disappointment she flops onto her bed, head fuzzy like its been wrapped in cotton.

"What is going on?"

They don't see much of each other the next day and it's unusual given how much they see each other on a regular basis but she refuses to think about it or even consider that he's avoiding her. He's just busy and she doesn't care anyway, they have nothing to do with each other.

The convention is in two days now, she has her overnight bag packed with all her new purchases and the messages have been pouring in their group chat. She's mostly chosen to ignore them but on a whim she decides to check what they're so excited about, only to feel her stomach drop.

Why isn't Hye Jin answering?

Maybe she's busy with her mystery man 😉

Oh! She has to bring him, we need to interrogate him!

Yoon Hye Jin don't pretend you don't see these messages!!

That she had forgotten about.

"Why did you tell them that he's interested in you? Has living here altered your brain, you idiot." She berates herself.

"Who's interested in you? Why are you an idiot?" Mi-seon looks curious from the doorway, without waiting for an invitation she hops onto the bed with two cans of beer. She grabs one, drinking it in a flash.

"Oh it's that kind of night." Mi-seon says excitedly running to grab more beers.

"So let me get this straight, you told them that Chief Hong is interested in you and that he's been chasing you but you're not interested?"

She nods meekly, wishing the floor would swallow her up.

"Why did you lie?"

That's the brunt of the issue, she's a liar. She should have sent her initial message and told them that there was nothing between them but how could she when they were all calling him handsome and acting like she finally did something right? She'd spent that entire dinner feeling like her teenage self on the outside looking in, wanting nothing more than to be someone worthy of being included.

"I know I should have told the truth."

"Yes, you should have told them that you're interested in him too."

Huh.

Time stops as she processes the words that her best friend just uttered. There is static in her head as she tries to make sense of it.

"What are you talking about?"

Mi-seon looks at her unimpressed.

"You can both keep lying to yourself but the rest of us aren't as stupid. You're both interested in each other. It's mutual."

She wants to ardently deny the accusation but the words are caught in her throat and all she can manage are refusing sounds.

"You've been wearing red all week." Mi-seon says accusingly and she jumps up in huff, "So what? I'm allowed to wear colors!"

"You hate wearing red. You said it makes your skin look too pale. You hardly ever wear it. So color me surprised when I learned that red is the favorite color of a certain part timer."

That damn town chat. There has to be a way to get Mi-seon out of it. Maybe it was a mistake letting her live here. She was learning too much.

"Don't even bother to deny it. I won't believe anything you say. But I think you should ask him to go with you, you'll get some time alone to figure this out."

There's nothing to figure out. They are..... acquaintances who can admit that the other is vaguely attractive at times. His face isn't all that bad and she's pretty, so it's natural that there is tension at times, like he said they were still humans.

So she doesn't tell him about her fib, pretending everything is fine until it's the day of the convention and her anxiety has all but smothered her and her hands have a slight tremble in them as she starts to drive.

"It's going to be fine. Everything will be okay." She doesn't believe a word she's saying to herself, her heart is thumping in her heaving chest. She doesn't want to go alone. Convincing Mi-seon to leave was a failed endeavour, her and that police officer becoming inseparable. She knew what that smile meant when her best friend had realized that she would have the house to herself. She could barely get a word in as Mi-seon started frantically shaving her legs then pushed her out of the bathroom to "shave her wild cat".

With a sigh she starts driving, the car too quiet despite what she'd told Du-Sik and the Gongjin grannies. Uncharacteristically she turns on the radio, kpop blaring from the speakers. She recognizes the tune, never before has something as mundane as butter seemed so interesting but the kitchen essential was given new life by the song. She bops her head to the catchy beat, trying to ignore the fact that she's driving to the lion's den.

Some time later, she pulls into the hotel a valet already coming over to get her car. Grabbing her overnight bag, she exits the car handing her keys to the waiting hands of the valet.

Everyone is here and none of them had come alone, she was the only one without a plus one. They haven't noticed her yet so she watches as they all laugh at a joke she can't hear, unnecessarily stroking at their husband's chests as if to show off their exorbitantly priced wedding rings. Everything was always a competition here.

She shouldn't have come. Their was nothing about her life that they would be envious of. She was going to make a fool of herself. Impulsively she starts stepping back but it's too late, Hong In-A spots her and points her out and immediately all eyes are on her, they all start walking over to her and she wants nothing more than to run far, far away. Get on a bus and go to the beach and never see any of them ever again. But she's no longer a child, no longer that scared little girl; worked too hard to shed that skin.

Fortifying herself she puts on a fake smile. Ready for war.

"Hye-Jin ah, there you are. We were beginning to think you wouldn't come. You never responded in the group chat." Ye-Ri states with an attitude, looking around her as if searching for someone and eyes brightening when she sees no one. "Did you come alone?" This makes all of them perk up, looking around like chickens with their heads clucking. She swallows the shame the question elicits, "Who would I be with? I told you in already, it's not like that."

They all look at her with pity, it makes her want to slap them all across the face. Who were they to make her feel like shit, she didn't need anyone that didn't make her pathetic.

Finally one of the husbands cracks the awkward tension by introducing himself, she tries her best to ignore the pervasive way his eyes run down her body. Instinctively she crosses her arms, feeling naked under his stare. Nobody else notices her discomfort and after all the introductions, they all walk away as if she's no longer worth their time.

Lump in her throat she walks into the hotel, determined not to show them that they've gotten under her skin.

There's a scheduled lunch and she tries to find a new table but Sung-Mi waves her over and she doesn't see anyone else she recognizes or wants to sit with.

He hadn't been wrong, she has no friends besides Mi-seon.

"You were looking around, were you looking for someone? Are we not good enough to sit with?" The question is asked with a bite and sneer as if the idea is laughable that she would ever be better than any of them.

She swallows her pride, "No nothing like that. I was merely looking around."

Sung-Mi looks satisfied as if putting her in her place has righted her world.

They begin a conversation that completely excludes her, regaling drama that she knows nothing about and doing nothing to bring her up to date or invite her to join. It's the polar opposite of her experience in the countryside and with shocking clarity she realizes that she wishes she were there, it's only been a few hours but she misses it. Nobody looks down on her there, no usually she's the only doing that she notes with shame.

"I'll find the restroom." She says to no one because none of them are paying her any mind except the husband with the wandering eyes and she would much rather not have that attention.

Thankfully the bathroom is empty and she has to stop herself from splashing water on her face, her make-up was done perfectly it would be a waste to ruin it. Pushing her hair behind her ears she takes a deep breath and then another until her head is clearer, the noise lessening.

"It's only a day and a night. You've suffered far worst."

With that lacking pep talk she exits the bathroom, almost colliding into a wall. Wait, no it's just a person- a chest to be specific. She looks up ready to apologize when a familiar face stops her in her tracks.

"What are you doing here?" She stares flabbergasted at him, more dressed up than she's ever seen him. In a white suit with a white vest, the tee-shirt peeking under the only thing that feels like him to her. And his white sneakers. She can't hide her surprise at his sudden appearance and without thinking she starts to pull him to the side, to avoid being seen but she's not fast enough and soon they are swarmed by her colleagues, before she even has a chance to talk to him.

"Aren't you the man from the picture?" Yoo-Jin asks blushing way too much for a married woman if her husband's cold stare means anything.

"The picture?" Du-sik replies, clearly confused.

"You're the guy that's chasing after her. She told us that you liked her and you were courting her." Sung-Mi answers for her, she wants to vanish. It would be better if she had never existed. Even non-existence would be better than this embarrassing moment. "I got a picture of you two last time, when you followed her."

His eyes ping-pong between the group and her and she realizes this is his chance to ruin her. After everything she's done, all her rude comments and snobby remarks about the town and people he cares for so much, this is his chance for revenge. He can laugh and deny any feelings for her, tell them all that she's a liar and he's never been interested in her, not even once. This is what is going to happen. She prepares herself for the fall out, surely after this she won't be able to show her face in Seoul again.

He starts to laugh and her stomach tightens, her palms are so sweaty.

Here it goes.

"Oh I guess she wanted to keep me a secret."

Wait. What. That doesn't sound like denial.

"We're together now. I finally bulldozed those walls and made her mine. Nice to meet you all I'm Hong Du-sik, Hye-Jin ah's boyfriend."

Her eyes widen as he bows and starts to shake hands with the husbands, the one that stared at her looking disappointed. Their handshake goes on for a second too long, eventually with the latter pulling away with a pained look. She's too confused to consider what that means.

"And you were so cold earlier saying you had no one. Did you want to make a fool of us?"

He answers for her, "It's nothing like that, my honey is still getting used to us. I'm sorry I'm so late I had something to take care of."

Her head is spinning too fast to keep up with everything happening and she's grateful when he excuses them and guides her outside with a large hand on her hip.

Fresh air is much appreciated and she takes in huge heaps of it as soon as they're free.

Then reality crashes down on her.

He knows about her lying.

He had called her bluff.

But he didn't out her.

"Why didn't you tell them the truth?" She finally manages to say, head still reeling.

But instead of answering he's staring at her legs, then slowly his eyes swivel upward cross her thighs curving around her hips, past her breasts (a bit too slow there) before moving to her collar and settling on her face.

"You look great."

She feels the heat rushing to her face. What was he doing to her?

It hadn't been in purpose but she finds herself in red again, an a line dress with criss crossing straps over her shoulder and a middle slit. It was conservative without being too formal or professional. She'd felt comfortable in it but now seeing that look on his face, comfort is the last thing she feels.

He was distracting her and she couldn't afford that with those harpies inside waiting for her downfall. They needed to get back on track.

"What are you doing here?" She tries again, but he responds with his own question, "Why did you tell them that I was chasing you?"

"It was a mistake. They thought we were together and I just....said that for no reason." It's half the truth.

"They don't seem like your friends. You looked like you needed someone on your side, so I just found myself saying we were together for no reason."

She looks at him blankly, heart pounding now. In her moment of weakness instead of kicking her, he'd lended a helping hand. What kind of person did it make her for expecting the former?

"So what now?" She asks still in disbelief that he's here and that he'd told people that there were dating, she would be angry and offended later that they had readily believed it. Perhaps it didn't seem too farfetched now with him looking like that right now.

"Well, don't look but they're watching us through the glass."

This time she finds herself turning to look and he's the one that has to stop her, he does so by suddenly grabbing her hand and tugging her into his body. She squeaks at the collision. Leaning down so his lips are level with her ear, he speaks, "We can give them a show. I'm happy to be your pretend boyfriend."

Why?

She yearns to ask him why he's willing to go this far for her? Why was he even here when she had never told him where the convention was taking place? But his words were hot on her ear and she's tired of being their source of entertainment so she nods looking up at him, "Just this once. I'm going to lean on you. Let me borrow your eraser and copy your homework."

He stares before a blinding smile graces his handsome face.

"Let's go then." His hand is heavy on her waist as he walks back towards the hotel, taking his role very seriously it seems.

He fits in perfectly. Able to talk about a plethora of topics to anyone he's introduced to and even she's impressed by him. Be it travel, philosophy or poetry he seems well versed in everything things that even she is ignorant to and it makes her regret the way she looked down on him before, he was anything but a country bumpkin.

She leaves him to his conversation to get a drink, a whiskey on the rocks. Needing something hard tonight.

Not that. Down brain.

"Yoon Hye Jin? I would recognize that face anywhere."

Twisting to face the voice, she sees a familiar face- old classmate. Rung Do-Bae, they weren't anything more than classmates despite his many, many attempts.

His eyes sweep over her hungrily. She swallows her drink, painting on a shallow smile.

"Sunbae, how nice to see you here."

Invading her space he grabs her hand, "There is no need for such formalities. You can just call me by my name, Hye Jin ah."

As if she ever would.

Gently she tries to extract her hand but he won't let go and she doesn't want to make a scene.

Suddenly she's warmed by a body pressing into her, she knows who it is without even looking, her body relaxes immediately.

"Sorry I got lost in conversation honey. Who might this be? Another friend of yours?" He thrusts his right hand out and Do-Bae has no choice but to release her hand to return his handshake. Scarily enough she's starting to become used to his nickname, barely reacting to him using it again.

"Yes, this is my sunbae from school. Sunbae this is Hong Du Sik my....."

She knows that this is all an act, they were doing this to help her but she can't bring her tongue to form around the word, boyfriend.

"Her boyfriend." He finishes for her, pulling her tighter to his body.

But Do-Bae looks suspicious now.

"Boyfriend? I thought you were still single. You never changed your status on SNS. I've checked."

"Why are you so curious about that?" Du-sik challenges in return, doing a great job of sounding like a jealous boyfriend. She's almost even convinced.

"Hye Jin ah and I have always had a very special relationship. Beyond that of a hoobae and sunbae. Isn't that right?" He directs the last bit to her and she feels Du-sik stiffen next to her, seemingly believing these lies. So she clears that up.

"I have no idea what you're referring to honestly. We have never had anything that would constitute as a "special" relationship. I would appreciate if you didn't spread such lies, especially to my boyfriend. Enjoy the rest of your night."

She tugs Du-sik away, not waiting for a reply from the other man. The conversation was over anyway.

When they get far enough he speaks, "You have a lot of admirers."

She raises an eyebrow at the non-sequitur.

"Are you surprised?"

He brushes a hand across her cheek, making her freeze.

"No. It makes sense."

She blinks slowly before laughing, it sounds fake even to her ears.

"You should have been an actor. Your acting skills are incredible." He doesn't laugh, doesn't move before they're pulled into another conversation and she tries not to think about how tightly his body is pressed against her own.

"How is he in bed? He hasn't left you alone all day, I bet it's passionate." As soon as lunch had ended they had invited her to a spa, she'd considered saying no but she knew they would talk about her even if she wasn't there so it was best to at least know what they were saying.

Du-sik looked sad to see her go, but she told herself that she wasn't good at reading his faces. They hardly knew each other.

"I can't remember the last time I had a passionate night of sex. Kids and a full time job, leave no time for that. I'm pretty sure he's cheating on me and I'm too tired to even care." Sung-Mi confesses and she's shocked when the others nod in agreement instead of threatening to castrate him, as she'd done when Mi-seon told her about her ex boyfriend cheating.

"I have no complaints. He's... attentive. He's always touching me and pushing his way into my space. He's gentle but passionate, and I like...that he's so much bigger than me." She knows she should stop, this is definitely taking the lies too far. But that night bleeds into her thoughts, making everything she's saying feel true. He'd been so gentle with her, those huge hands cupping her face. She wondered how they would feel on other parts of her body.

"Damn. Look at you getting horny just from remembering. I'm so jealous."

Jealous. There were envious of her, it was all she'd been hoping for but the happiness she expected to erupt never comes. Instead she feels cheap, like she'd used Du-sik for her own benefit. She had tainted that night. This wasn't what she wanted.

As the day had gone on she found herself looking at him too much, he'd come all the way just for her and regardless of her brain trying to minimize that, it was huge. He hated snobby people like them who based a person's worth in their monetary success and yet he put on a smile and chatted with everyone, letting them mock his way of life and call people like him useless dreamers. All while she did nothing to defend him and drank wine, happy that they were being accepted.

He was the perfect gentleman all day and he was getting nothing in return for this. It was all just to help her.

Would a friend truly go this far to help? Was she being naive or was it like Mi-seon said, was she lying to herself?

"I'm such an idiot."

Without another word, she flees the sauna rushing to the locker room and changing back into her clothes. Nobody follows her because they aren't her friends. Why had she wasted so much time trying to impress these people who aren't even truly happy in their own lives?

The drive back is long, and she doesn't know what she's going to say but she knows that she's tired of being scared.

Leaving the key in the car she rushes past the valet, into the hotel elevator pressing their floor and waiting impatiently.

It takes three tries to get into their hotel room but once the door opens, he's right there. Sitting in the seat by the window reading a book.

"You're back early. I thought you would be gone until three?" He looks up, dog earring his book and giving her his full attention. Her heart skips a beat.

"Why did you agree to do this for me? Why go through all this trouble for me?"

It's the same question he's been asking himself since he first met her. Why was he was interested in her and why did he keep wanting to save her?

It was the desire that led to him being here.

He had accidentally overhead Mi-seon talking to Eun Chol about being worried about her, the convention was overnight and everyone would be bringing someone and she'd be all alone. The thought of her alone and isolated, made him race to her without a plan. Only stopping at a store to buy his outfit so he would fit in with her crowd, he'd spent more in that shop then he usually did in a week. But it was worth it for her.

It was a miracle that she hadn't questioned his presence more, he knew it was shameless and deceiving but none of this felt like pretending to him. His jealousy had been real, he'd had to strangle the urge to kick the pervert husband with the wandering eyes and then the insistent sunbae who wouldn't take a hint. She was a vision in the red dress and it wasn't a surprise that men found her enchanting, he just didn't like them looking at her. But she wasn't his, never would be because he couldn't confess.

They weren't right for each other.

"Do you like me?"

That question again. Last time he had laughed it off, called it absurd. But it wasn't. Not liking her would have been absurd.

"I don't know why you're asking me that."

"Because I'm tired of us lying to ourselves. Don't laugh and don't you dare say it's absurd again."

He can't respond, he's stuck on the word "us". It wasn't just him, they were an us?

Hearing that gives him courage he had long thought had been most forever.

"I wasn't pretending today. Nothing was fake to me, I meant it all." It's terrifying, unchartered land for them and he waits to see which one of them will chicken out first. It's sure to happen.

"I'm going to kiss you." She says instead of running like he expected and secretly wished for.

And then she's crossing the room and leaning down to grab his face, she watches him giving him a chance to pull away but he does the opposite, this time he meeting her half way. As soon as their lips meet the kiss is already too much, she's sliding into his lap and he wraps his arms around her tugging her closer until their chests are squished together.

He hasn't kissed anyone like this in a long time.

Hasn't been this close to losing control in a longer time.

"You're dangerous." He whispers into her mouth and she giggles at the statement, wiggling in his arms and rolling into him forcing a punched out groan from his lips.

Carefully he lifts her shirt watching her face closely for any signs that she wants to stop but finding nothing but her palpable lust.

Her skin is unbelievably smooth and soft and he can't stop himself from stroking her, rubbing at her back his hands resting right above her butt.

"How long have you felt this way?" She asks softly seductively nipping at his neck and running a hand over his shirt to caress his stomach, he physically aches for her.

"I wanted you the moment I saw you. But I didn't feel this until you convinced grandma to get her implants. That was when it became more for me."

She looks surprised and he is too, that they're speaking so candidly about feelings they've always denied.

"What about you?"

She stops licking at his neck to look him in the eyes. He's nervous to hear her reply.

"I.... don't know."

He tries to hide his disappointment. Maybe she was starting to retreat back into her shell. Maybe he shouldn't have been so honest.

He's about to untangle them when she continues, "It wasn't at first sight but one day I found myself looking for you. Seeing you become the best part of my day, I started to count on you to be there for me. To expect it. Just like this, I've been scared to lean on anyone until I met you."

Now that's a confession.

Impulsively he stands with her still on his lap, forcing her to to latch onto him so she doesn't tumble to the floor. Not that this would ever happen because he would never let her fall.

"I could have fell!" She cries, clinging to his shoulders and wrapping her legs around his waist. Her half naked bra clad body so close to him is causing another biological crisis in his pants.

Walking to the large bed in the middle of the room he falls backwards, enjoying the view of her on top of him a little too much.

It's all probably too soon and they should probably slow down, but his body is strumming and he wants nothing more than to break her apart.

"I'm all sweaty. I should take a shower."

Instantly an image of her wet and naked under the downpour of a shower flashes in his mind and he has to twist away from her.

"Pervert." She accuses but he can hear how satisfied she is with his reaction. Damn tease.

"Do you want to join me?" She teases some more, having fun now that she knows her power over him.

He looks at her helplessly.

"Are you having fun? Remember what I told you before? I'm still a guy. You're sitting here in your bra taunting me, do you think I'm that much of a good guy? Do you think I don't want to throw you down, rip your clothes off and eat you alive? I'm so hard right now just seeing you naked would be enough to push me over the edge. So don't make propositions you can't follow through on."

She looks dizzy from his words, eyes hooded and glossy. He watches her gulp and then stagger off to the bathroom, without a word to him. It's probably for the best, everything is too charged right now.

A shower for her and many glasses of water for him later, she's back and it's almost time for dinner.

"I think they said dinner starts at 6. Should we head down?"

She glances at him, while opening her bag and pulling out skin creams and some fuzzy socks.

"Would you be opposed to ordering room service and staying here?"

It's the best offer he's heard all day, only second to her asking if he wanted to join her in the shower.

"What about your colleagues?" He asks to make certain that she's really okay with this.

"What about them?" She replies with a shrug and he grins picking up the room service menu.

They order too much food and not enough alcohol but neither of them want to forget this night. She tells him stories about her time in dental school and he's happy to get to know her better, chuckling at the funny stories and commiserating at the sad ones.

Before he knows it night has fallen.

And he realizes that they'll be sharing a bed. Unless she wants him to sleep on the couch.

She's wearing a big shirt and loose shorts and he still can't believe he gets to see her like this.

"Are you coming to bed?" She's already getting under the sheet and that answers his question, this is really happening. He starts to follow her lead, getting under the sheets but keeping a respectable distance between them.

"I'm cold." She announces suddenly and he starts to look for a thermostat in the room or an extra blanket, before realizing that she's looking at him over her shoulder, he stares back confused before she lifts an eyebrow and oh, he gets it. Carefully moving closer he feels her warmth surround him as they meet, forth to back.

"Took you long enough." She grumbles, pulling his arm over here body and settling back into him moving until she's comfortable.

She's so close and warm and her smell is all around him and he feels his restraint dissolving and when she presses back into him, her hip rubbing against his crotch he bites down on his bottom lip.

It's too much for him to resist and without warning or preamble, he's turning her to face him and swallowing her moan of surprise eagerly. He grabs her head firmly holding her in place and slips his tongue into her open mouth, her unique taste exploding on his taste buds. He's hungry for more. So he starts to tug down her shorts, heart beat thundering in his groin. She kicks the shorts away, and he groans at the sight of her panties she was trying to kill him, he was certain.

"You're the devil." He chokes out staring at red lace, he'll never be able to see the color again without getting a raging hard on.

"You haven't seen anything yet. Honey." The word drips from her tongue just like the real thing.

Forgetting all reason and logics he lunges at her, devouring her mouth and sticking his hand in her panties. She's so warm and fuck, wet drenching his fingers.

Simultaneously he thrusts his tongue into her mouth and his fingers in her wet folds, groaning as she melts like butter under his touch. There's no resistance, as he plunges two fingers inside her experimentally before picking up his place when she clutches onto him and grinds back on his fingers, begging the whole time.

"More, more, please!"

As if he could ever deny her anything, with one hand he grabs her ass and the other he thrusts into her opening over and over until her voice gets breathy and she starts to stutter, squirming wildly in his arms and he knows exactly what's coming: the beautiful end. So without warning he pulls back the sheet and slithers down her body, throwing her legs around his head and pushing his tongue in to the brim, hungrily drinking at her until she shakes and combusts in his arms. Sweet on his tongue, he swallows it all greedily.

He strokes her as she recovers from her high, climbing back up her body. So much for taking things slow, but he can't even think about regretting it when he sees the blissed out look on her face. He wants to imprint it in his mind. Nobody else will ever get to see this face but him.

"It's your turn." She says sounding loopy like she's drunk and he laughs as she reaches for the tent in his pants but misses his bulge and instead falls into him.

"You're tired. Go to sleep. That was enough for me, seeing you like that fulfilled every fantasy I've had. "

He truly means it. He's a giver. And it's not like he can't tug one out later in the bathroom with her face and moans playing on repeat in his brain.

She starts to argue, but her phone vibrating on the nightstand distracts her. Reaching over she picks it up before chuckling and flopping back into the bed.

"What?" He asks curious, jealous of whoever is making her smile like that.

Ignorant to his inner thoughts, she thrusts her phone into his face. The room is so dark it takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the bright lighting of the phone, but once he can see he reads the message on her phone and starts to laugh too.

"Dusik is missing! Nobody has seen him all day!! We started a search party."

#hometown cha cha cha #sikhye couple #caution 😈 ahead #hong du shik #yoon hye jin #living rent free

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callboxkat · 2 years

Text

Second Chances: Music and Manicures

Author’s note: Merry Christmas!

Summary: Roman gets his nails painted for the first time in a long time. He and Valerie bond a little in the process.

Warnings: mentioned intrusive thought about hurting someone

Word Count: 2053

Second Chances Masterpost!

Writing Masterpost!

...

Roman stood in the upstairs hallway of the house, staring at one of the doors, silently debating.

Eventually deciding it would be worse to be caught simply staring at it than to commit, he finally reached up and knocked on the door.

The quiet music that had been playing within—classic rock, if he had to guess—was silenced, and a second later, the door opened.

Val stood there, her dark hair up in a messy bun, phone in hand. “Oh—hey Roman, what’s up?”

She was already in her pajamas. Roman smiled sheepishly. “Hey. Sorry, were you about to go to bed? I can leave if you’re going to bed.”

“No, you’re fine, I’m just listening to some music. Did you need something?”

“Uh. Well… not really need; I just…” Roman wavered.

Val raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Come on dude, spit it out. We’ll be standing here until dawn.”

Roman let out a breathy laugh, then nodded. “Okay, okay, fair point.” He put his hands in his pockets. “I was wondering if maybe I could borrow some nail polish. I could pay you back,” he added quickly. “If—if you want me to. Just, Patton mentioned you might have some gold polish you don’t use, and I just really like that color, and—sorry, I’m bothering you, I should go—”

Val waved her arms to stop him, looking slightly alarmed, but mostly amused. “Roman, chill. You’re fine.” She opened the door wider and stepped back. “Come on in.”

Roman felt his cheeks color at her amusement, but he nodded and accepted her invitation, hesitantly stepping through the doorway.

Roman hadn’t been in Val’s room before, having really only seen glimpses of her sitting at the desk across from the door. He wasn’t sure what he had expected of the rest of the room, but it seemed to suit her. There was a bed against one wall, with a neat gray comforter patterned with some kind of flower on the skirt. A couple of bookshelves lined another wall, and there was the desk and a comfortable looking chair near the window. A tall potted plant stood at the side of the desk, its large green leaves reaching up towards the windows where they would bask in the light the sheer curtains let in during the day. There was also a vanity with a mirror, with a few shelves to the side where Roman could see some make up arranged, including several bottles of nail polish.

Val waved him towards the chair at the desk, and went over to the vanity. She reached for the bottles of nail polish and pulled out the gold bottle. It looked nearly full.

“I didn’t know you painted your nails,” Val commented, bringing it over.

“Ah… I haven’t for a while now,” Roman admitted.

Val set down the bottle. “So what inspired you?”

“Well, a few nights ago, you know, uh, with Logan….”

Val grimaced. “Yeah, I know.”

Roman hesitated. “Does that kind of thing happen a lot?” He hadn’t noticed anything similar happening while he’d been there, but then again, he might not have known about the latest incident had he not found Patton sleeping on the sofa, where he’d gone after Logan, having had an intrusive thought about Patton getting hurt, had been paranoid about having Patton in the same room as him. Patton had insisted on taking the couch, and on Logan taking the bed.

“More when we were kids,” Val said. “It’s pretty unusual now.”

Roman nodded, remembering how distressed Logan had looked. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, Patton ended up staying in my room, just because it felt weird making him sleep on the couch when I have a bed. And you know him, he wouldn’t let me take the couch.”

Val nodded. “I think he mentioned that. That was nice of you.”

“Yeah. So, uh, we were like, making jokes about it being a slumber party, and we were joking about braiding each other’s hair and stuff, and it came up.”

“When’s the last time you painted them?”

“I used to paint them all the time in high school. I, uh. Haven’t really done it much since then.” Nail polish hadn’t exactly been his top priority in the past few years.

Val nodded awkwardly. “Fair.” She held out a hand. “Let me see.”

Roman grimaced and reluctantly held out one of his hands. Val took it and inspected it, then sighed, and nodded. “About what I expected.” She turned, grabbed the stool from the vanity, and carried it over to the desk where Roman sat. “We have some work to do.”

“We?” Roman echoed, watching Val pick out a bottle of nail polish remover, a nail file, and a couple of other items.

“Yep.” Val settled herself on the stool, picked up the nail file, and held out an expectant hand.

Roman had to admit that he agreed—his nails were rough. So he obediently offered one hand, ignoring the color rising in his face.

As Val started to work on his nails, Roman fished for something to talk about to fill the silence. He really didn’t know all that much about Val, he realized. He mainly hung out with her brother and Patton. Partially because of the awkwardness of their first few interactions, since she hadn’t exactly been keen to have him there at first, but things had gotten better since then. Still, he didn’t know that much about her.

“So… how was your day?” Roman asked.

“It was fine,” she answered. “Some friends and I went out to lunch, but that was really it. Work was as uneventful as ever.”

“What do you do?”

“Honestly, you’d fall asleep before I finished my job description.”

Roman chuckled. “Not your dream job, then?”

“I’m going to say no.”

“What do you want to do then?”

Val made a considering noise. “I’d like to be an artist, I guess. But that’s not realistic. Everybody and their brother wants to be an artist.”

“You draw?”

She nodded, inspecting her work so far. “Yeah, I do ink stuff mainly.” She gestured with her chin at the wall. “I drew those.”

There were a couple of ink drawings in simple black frames. Roman had noticed them but hadn’t paid them much mind until now. One was of a mountainous landscape, while the other was of a sprawling city street, each building carefully sketched.

“They look nice,” Roman said honestly.

“Thanks.” Val moved on to another finger, adjusting her grip on his hand. “I guess other than that… well, I really like architecture, actually. Maybe I could be an architect or something. But I think you have to go to school for that.”

“I think you could, if you wanted to,” Roman said.

Val glanced up at him. “Maybe,” she said.

“Anything else?” Roman asked.

Val considered. “Maybe a Spanish teacher. At a community college or something, though, not middle or high school. Kids can be a nightmare.”

That piqued Roman’s interest. “¿Hablas español?”

Val nodded. “Yeah, I know I’m pretty pale, but I’m part Mexican.”

“I didn’t know Logan had any Latino blood in him,” Roman said thoughtfully.

“He doesn’t. We have different dads.”

“Oh.”

Val shrugged. “There’s no great tragic backstory, it’s just how it is. Logan’s still my baby brother.”

Logan being a baby anything was hard to picture, but this was his older sister talking. “Yeah, of course.”

“What about you? What’s your dream job, if you could do anything?”

Roman hesitated. “I planned to be work in theater,” he said, “but I think I’m just happy with where I am.”

…

Twenty minutes later, Roman’s nails had been neatly filed. Most of them had been broken or otherwise damaged, so they hadn’t been able to preserve much length, but while his nails were short, they looked nice. Now, Val was getting ready to actually paint them.

“Want any designs?” she asked. “Or just the gold?”

“Just gold is fine,” he assured.

“It’s a nice color.”

Roman nodded, watching as she made the first stroke. “Patton said you don’t use it much.”

Val shrugged. “It doesn’t look as good on me. But it looks great on you.”

“Thanks.”

She carefully painted each nail on his right hand, then withdrew. “Take a look—what do you think?”

Roman lifted up his hand. It actually looked like his hand, maybe for the first time in a while. The nails were neatly filed, the edges smooth rather than jagged, and painted in clean strokes. There were a lot more calluses than there used to be, and his fingers were still pretty thin, but it didn’t look like the hand of someone who dug through trash cans for dinner.

Roman blinked hard, offered a sightly wobbly smile, and gave Val his other hand.

…

“You know,” Val said thoughtfully as Roman admired his drying nails, “My nails could use a touch up too. Maybe a new color.”

Roman glanced up. “What are you thinking?”

Val hummed, looking over at her collection. “I have something in mind.” She got to her feet and walked over, her hand hovering until she selected one of the bottles. “Aha.” She showed it to Roman. “Thoughts?”

It was a dark chocolate brown, but with a faint shimmer. Very different from her current periwinkle.

“That’ll look nice,” Roman agreed.

“Okay, we’ll do that, then,” Val said. “Once your nails dry. We can’t mess up my masterpiece.” She turned the music back on on her phone, keeping it at a low but perfectly audible volume. During the first couple of songs, Roman fanned his hands slightly, willing his nails to dry.

The third song was Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody”. Roman found himself mouthing along to the lyrics. Around the time they were singing, “If I'm not back again this time tomorrow, Carry on, carry on”, he realized that Val was humming along.

The guitar solo came, and Roman got more and more into the song. It had been a while since he’d heard it, but he still knew it by heart and deep within his soul.

The solo ended, and as the lyrics resumed, Roman sang, “I see a little silhouetto of a man—”

And broke off, his face immediately flushing red.

Val chuckled, then made a split-second decision and picked it up with “Thunderbolts and lightning, very very frightening, me!”

Roman shelved his astonishment in time to put on a high pitch and sing, “Galileo!”

“Galileo,” Val echoed.

They bounced back and forth like that, with Val putting on a deep voice and Roman a high falsetto, until they rejoined for the “Magnifico-o-o-o!”

“I’m just a poor boy; nobody loves me!” Val sang.

“He’s just a poor boy, with a poor family��spare him his life from this monstrosity!”

Val hummed along with the piano notes, waving one hand as if conducting.

Roman smiled, and they both continued, “Easy come, easy go, will you let me go! / Bismillah—no! We will not let you go!”

“Let him go!” Roman sang

“Bismillah—We will not let you go!”

“Let him go!”

“Bismillah—We will not let you go!

“Let me go!”

“Will not let you go!”

They were both laughing by now, singing along, and then the lyric came,

“Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for meeeee!”

Val sang the last “meeeee!” in a high but normal note, whereas Roman fully committed to the shrill soprano of the song. Val was trying so hard to hold in her laughter that she looked like she was about to cry.

Just as they finished off the song, and the final sound of the gong was fading, there was a brisk knock at the door.

“Uh-oh,” Val said. She glanced at Roman, shrugged, and got to her feet before going to the door.

When she opened it, Logan stood there with a perplexed expression.

“What on Earth are you doing?”

“Painting our nails,” Val responded with a smile. “Roman’s about to do mine. Want to go next?”

“Ah… no. Just… please try to keep the harmonizing to a minimum.”

“Can we sing in unison?”

Logan gave her a dry look. “Good night.”

“Good night. Send Patton over if he wants a manicure!”

Val closed the door and turned to Roman, who was equal parts mortified and highly amused. Fighting back laughter, she asked, “So, are you ready to paint my nails?”

Roman grinned. “Hand over the bottle.”

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #roman sanders #ts valerie #second chances fic #ts roman #patton sanders #ts patton #logan sanders #ts logan #ts fanfic #ts fic #ts #tss #sanders sides fan fiction #fanfiction

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stevenbasic · 3 years

Text

“Hi Dr J, I’m glad we finally get to chat…”

Holy shit.

——

Earlier that day, I’d been told at the front desk that there was a lady from Evolution Pharmaceuticals on the line, and that she’d like to speak with me. Aubrey had always been good about screening out the sales pitches, the irate patients, the people with whom I really never needed to actually talk. So that she was pulling me aside for this call told me that this one might be something I should probably take...

But - ugh. No. I didn’t want to. This had been a long day, a long week so far - and it was only Tuesday! God, the past few months had been more and more exhausting, humiliating and emasculating with each passing hour. And the more I learned, the more it seemed that this company was at the heart of my troubles. Yes, it offered the opportunities of great financial rewards for the practice with this clinical study trial in which we were going to be participating. Since Jeanette, my previous Office Manager, had left, the mismanagement of the business had us in dire straits. Without the money from Evolution’s study and the “Lean In” grant from the women’s advancement group, I’m not sure we’d still be afloat. So, yeah, maybe I should have taken the call.

“I’ll call them later,” I told Aubrey, and grabbed the films I needed for my next patient.

That had been three hours ago, before my little hallway meeting with Melissa. Since then Gianna - some woman who’d wanted to speak to me about the trial - had called two more times. Left messages. Really wanted just fifteen minutes of my afternoon. Needed to speak with me. I refused each call.

Finally done with patients, sitting in my office at the end of the day as darkness crept in from outside, I sighed as Brittni from the desk buzzed me. She said that Gianna was on the line again. “Can I transfer her?”

“No,” I replied on the intercom, noticing that a little green light had blinked to life on the camera I had clipped to my monitor. I hadn’t seen it before, this light. In fact...when did I get a camera on this computer?

“Tell her I'll call tomorrow...” I finished.

I had set back to finishing some patient notes on my desktop when, suddenly, my screen flashed to black. For a quick moment I thought - oh no, a crash - but then a new, unfamiliar window appeared, and my mouse pointer began moving on its own accord. What the…? The window went full screen and next thing I knew I was in a video chat with-

“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were avoiding my calls…” the woman onscreen spoke, laughing casually as she tossed her hair...

“oh, uh…” I was immediately agape. This was who’d been trying to call me all day??

“Anyway...Hi Dr J, I’m glad we finally get to chat…”

Holy shit. This girl was gorgeous. Look at those tits.

As I stared, still shell-shocked and speechless from having my computer hijacked out from under me by a bosomy corporate careerist, she went on to introduce herself as Gianna Albertini, from the clinical trials department at Evolution Pharmaceuticals. She explained how excited she and her team was to get the study off the ground at the practice. Things had been fast tracked at the FDA, they were just waiting for some rubber stamps, and everything looked very promising for their product. She apologized for not being able to meet in person, at least for a while. “I’m on some new retroviral treatment, and they have me quarantined at home,” she explained with surprising nonchalance, “yadda yadda yadda…”

Finally, after a good several minutes of watching her talk - and she held my attention easily, her rack possibly rivaling Melissa’s - she let me get a word in edgewise. I was still confused by how in one moment I was working on my patient charts, and then in the next I was in a video chat. “H-how did you…?”

“Sorry,” Gianna laughed, casually waving away any privacy concerns I was currently about to voice, “I had to remote in, take over your desktop. I really needed to speak with you.” Beyond the blatant intrusions tactics she was obviously willing to employ, there was something in this woman’s eyes, her demeanor, that was making me more and more concerned as the conversation - such as it was - continued. She may have been acting relaxed and friendly, decidedly informal, but there was a seriousness just below the surface that even I could see, even through the screen, and even in the face of those enormous tits. “Plus, maybe it’s actually better we do it this way, rather than on the phone,” she said, as she sat up nice and straight, “So we can see one another’s...smiling faces.”

Gahh...

As she got down to brass tacks, this young woman went on to describe to me some of the details of the new wings in our building into which the office would be expanding, how much more space we and Evolution be acquiring to fulfill the needs of the trial, and when it would all be ready. “Construction is ultra-fast tracked,” she said, “should be done within a few weeks.”

Weeks?? I marveled, silently incredulous. I’d seen the plans; it was a huge project. I’d figured months, if it ever really got done at all. But, the teams did seem motivated, and there were a lot of them, working day-in and day-out, all through the night. Maybe, perhaps? Could they pull it off in weeks?

We also talked about the structure of the trial, what it would involve day-to-day, and the long-term forecast. Evolution seemed ready to set up permanent shop with a clinic in the building, by taking over much of the lease of the new space, with the study just the first step in the door.

“You’ll be listed as the lead investigator,” Gianna explained, continuing on to detail the ins-and-outs of the trial, “but don’t worry. We’ll have plenty of people in place. You really won’t have to do too much, or deal with anyone at the main office. You’ll be reporting just to me...”

“r-reporting to you?” I asked, trying to ignore the impressive bosom which filled the screen, cowed me. That had taken me back a bit...'reporting to her'? I had noticed something in this young woman’s tone, through our chat, that led me to believe that she and I possibly had different views as to the, uh, hierarchy of this whole thing. I was the doctor around this place, and had gotten used to expecting a little respect, being top of the food chain. She, on the other hand, maybe had other ideas.

“That's right,” she said, “we’ll do these chats once a week, more if I feel like we need it. I’ll expect a report from you every day, but again don’t worry. It’s basically something you just have to sign, the girls will do it all. Our other providers will be handling most of the work with the patients in the study, entering data, keeping the FDA happy, blah blah blah. Maybe we’ll ask you to go in and talk to, examine a few of the subjects, just to keep things interesting for you.”

If I hadn’t felt totally emasculated and marginalized, my authority crippled by the horde of women who’d apparently taken over my practice recently, this was the clincher. It would appear that for this study I was going to be not much more than a coddled figurehead, a token man of straw, expected to satisfy the whims of some half-rate pharm company and this woman, at her beck and call. No way!

“I’m going to have to insist on directing care for, uh, the trial subjects,” I asserted, finally getting a moment to exert my will, “they will, technically, be my patients.”

“Oh, of course!” Gianna replied, smiling and throwing her hair over her shoulder, “Allowing for some oversight from the other providers we’ll have in place, you’ll have lots of medical-decision-making to keep yourself busy!”

What did she mean, ‘oversight’?

“They’ll be different than your usual patients, the subjects that we’ll be bringing in for the study, but I think you’ll like them,” she continued, trying to reassure me, “maybe a younger crowd, and of course all female. But in general all you’ll have to do is sit back and watch the money coming in.” She sat, looked into the screen for a moment, in thought. “Though I guess we have some people there handling that for you, too, hm?”

That gave me pause, made me rethink the litany of arguments that were beginning to boil up in my throat. I’d seen some of the paperwork, quickly, as it had moved past my desk for my signatures. It involved a lot of money for the practice. Like, a lot of money. I thought of my bills, my expenses, what I still somehow owed on my student loans. If Sheryl wasn’t going to be there to provide for me, help me pay these things…

If any of it remained, there was obviously some pride I was going to need to swallow.

“S-speaking of money,” I began, “what's my compensation going to look like?“

Something about my question, something about how I was holding myself, made Gianna smile again and then sigh, a sigh that told me she knew something I didn’t, I couldn’t help but think. With that she leaned in, her eyes locked on mine through the camera, and a shiver went up my spine. “Oh don’t worry, Dr. J,” she spoke, “you’ll be well taken care of...“

===================================

Muchos Gracias to long-time friend, supporter of the story and behind-the-scenes ninja Antares for helping me assemble these clips.

Newer posts and other goodies at my Patreon

#growing into the job

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the-last-kenobi · 3 years

Text

I... I wrote a thing... goddamnit...

Based on this post

All credit and love to @latenightsomewhere and @americankimchi for the idea!

(keep in mind this is not canon compliant. I have aged Obi-Wan down to ten, for one thing. I wanted smolbi-wan💕 and dammit, that’s what I wrote.)

___

It was supposed to be a simple mission.

Then again, that was something that could be said after all missions. “It was supposed to be simple,” Jedi would say, shaking their heads ruefully. “Simple.”

They had known they were walking into unpleasant territory.

The Outer Rim was safe for no one — least of all Force-sensitives.

Least of all, Qui-Gon reflected, gripping the hilt of his lightsaber so tightly that he could feel the ridges carving lines into his palms, least of all young Jedi Padawans. Who had training. Who had skills. Who carried kyber in their sabers.

Like Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon hadn’t quite realized what had happened— not at first — not with his head ringing with the force of the blunt instrument someone had slammed against his head during the scuffle. He had dragged himself to his knees, first, heaving for breath, then slowly rose to his feet, breathing deeply to chase away the nausea.

And then he had discovered he was alone.

Completely alone.

The slavers were gone, and so was his ten-year-old apprentice—

They took him, he thought, stunned. They took him right from under me, where he should have been safest. I didn’t leave him alone on the ship for a reason, but they took him—

As he reeled, flashes of memory started to filter back through the confusion.

Obi-Wan had been behind him, shielded — and then they were unexpectedly surrounded, outnumbered by what was clearly more than a roving pack of criminals — Obi-Wan had ignited his saber and fought back — Qui-Gon had dropped with a blow to the head, and he heard — shouting —

— a startled cry, a thin and high-pitched voice — a muffled scream, a child’s scared voice —

“Master!”

And a powerful fury rose up inside Qui-Gon, both focused and wild, and he did not feel inclined to subdue it.

•

“It’s not natural, is it,” complained one of the group, a young nautolan with grey skin. “Look at him.”

“Shut up,” one of the others said, shooting a slightly wary look in the direction the first was gesturing.

“He’s a kid,” a third said dismissively. This was easily the most eye-catching of the group, an enormous burly Besalisk that was even taller than Master Krell. “And he’s drugged. He can’t do anything. Forget him.”

“He’s a fucking menace is what he is,” the first muttered.

Obi-Wan grinned at them, a slightly manic expression. This was not helped by the blood streaked through his ginger-blonde hair, or the gag they had tied tightly around his mouth.

He said something to them, muffled by the cloth.

“What?” the Besalisk suddenly turned from dismissive to angry.

“Leave him, he’s just being—” one of the others began, but the enormous reptilian humanoid shook his head violently, stalking towards their captive.

“I asked what you said,” he repeated.

Obi-Wan actually rolled his eyes, gesturing towards the gag with his bound hands. The nautolan looked gobsmacked at his nerve.

The Besalisk rumbled low in his throat and jerked the cloth roughly out of the boy’s mouth, catching painfully on his lower lip as he did.

Obi-Wan winced and blinked rapidly, shaking his head as if to clear it.

“What did you say?” his antagonist repeated.

“I said,” Obi-Wan answered, staring plaintively up at the much taller creature, “you’re going to be very sorry when my Master catches up with you.”

The Besalisk laughed, but it was not a happy sound. One by one the others all joined in, although some more hesitantly than others.

“Your Master didn’t put up much of a fight,” the kidnapper goaded him. “And even if he could, he’d have to put in a lot of work to find you. I don’t think he’ll bother, do you?” He leered. “He’s a Jedi. He’s got a job on his hands, and you come second.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes flickered.

Then he smiled. “I was wondering something earlier, but you just answered my question for me.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Obi-Wan said, mocking the elder’s drawling accent. “You made it obvious that yes, you are exactly as stupid as you look.”

Several of the slavers gaped.

“Or even stupider,” Obi-Wan added.

There was a bellow of rage, and an enormous fist collided with the boy’s face, leaving grooves up his cheek and forehead that were none too shallow. The gag was forced back into his mouth.

Obi-Wan went back to smiling manically at anyone who looked his way.

•

It took Qui-Gon three and a half standard days to find who had taken his apprentice and where they had gone.

Every minute of those three and half days were spent utterly focused; healthy amounts of sleep were sacrificed in exchange for tracking down information and planning his rescue.

And every minute was also spent with quiet thoughts murmuring in the back of his mind, where not even Jedi calm could quiet them.

They could have moved him again.

They could have had a buyer waiting for the next Force-sensitive they managed to catch.

They’re hurting him. They’re hurting him right now and you’re nowhere near enough to help.

And, perhaps the most quiet, most desperate truth in his heart — If I lose this one, there will be no coming back for me.

•

Obi-Wan bit the hand in front of his face.

The slaver yelped, somehow not expecting the attack despite what Obi-Wan considered fair warning in the form of a venomous glare before the gag had been removed.

“Little brat!” the slaver hissed, shaking his damaged hand that the apprentice was a little pleased to see was bleeding.

“Get him up,” one of the others snapped. “We’re taking him to the deep market tonight, and he needs his attitude fixed first.”

“Not likely,” the ten-year-old said cheerfully. “I was an incorrigible child and my mentor is not exactly—”

He was struck again.

“That’s getting kind of repetitive,” complained Obi-Wan, kicking his bound feet a bit where they hung a foot off the floor, trying to get the blood flowing. “And the same side every time, too. I’m going to get permanent damage and then how much will I be worth?”

“He’s gotta point,” said the newcomer unhelpfully.

The one who had been bitten scowled mightily, then sneered down at his captive, a mean little gleam in his eyes that the boy did not like the look of.

A moment later, a hand closed tight around the boy’s throat, right above the thin collar that had been set there, rigged to blow if he managed to flee.

Obi-Wan choked and began to struggle.

The hand squeezed tighter. “The punishment should fit the crime,” the male mused aloud. “And it’s your back talk that’s going to get you in trouble with your new master, and lower your value on the auction block. Seems fair to get rid of your voice, then.”

The other slaver watched appraisingly. “Just don’t kill ‘im, Frid.”

“Course not,” said the man who was evidently Frid, watching with vindictive pleasure as Obi-Wan writhed weakly, his face turning white and then blue.

Obi-Wan was dropped.

He gasped, his breath rattling in his constricted throat, and kept his head down this time.

This is why Master always says I need to redirect that urge to talk back, he reflected, feeling a little queasy. He’s not going to be happy about my injuries at this rate.

•

Qui-Gon was no stranger to bypassing the local authorities on the planets he visited. He was notorious for it, in fact.

This time, he had chosen to work with the authorities — and then ditched them at the last minute.

Now everything was as legal and tidy as he cared to make it, and the government would be able to arrest and shut down the entire operation, over the course of mere weeks if they were focused about it.

...After Qui-Gon had gone in after his apprentice.

He was quiet and careful about his approach, stealing his way into the underground warehouse that was the gateway to the infamous black market of the planet, a place where spice and banned items were passed from hand to hand — and sentient beings, too.

He could sense his Padawan, albeit barely.

Drugged, most likely.

Sustained exposure to Force suppressants could kill him.

Shaking off the intrusive thoughts, Jinn followed his instincts down several flights of stairs and down a hallway, listening intently.

Bang.

A door flew open to his left, and he melted into the shadows as two figures emerged, one a hulking Besalisk with a permanent scowl and the other a gangly human male with very scruffy hair.

“—not my responsibility,” the human was complaining. “I didn’t sign up for dealing with him. I didn’t even catch him.”

“I did,” the Besalisk grunted. “Little whelp. Squirmed around like a worm on a hook and wouldn’t stop fucking screaming. He would’ve alerted the whole neighborhood just moving him from where we picked him up to the truck.”

“Why didn’t you just gag him?” the human laughed.

“Didn’t have anything to do it with,” the other shrugged. “Tried using my hand and the brat damn near snapped his own neck trying to scream anyways.”

They chuckled a bit.

Qui-Gon held his breath, both wanting and not at all wanting them to be discussing who he thought they were—

“What do the bosses expect us to do, work miracles?” the human went back to complaining. “I hear he’s a spitfire. And they want him ready for sale, in what, three hours?”

The Besalisk grinned. “Three hours is plenty of time. Frid told me that smacking the kid around doesn’t do much good, but he half-strangled him earlier and that shut him up. Jedi whelp.”

And there it was.

It was all the evidence Qui-Gon needed.

The two slavers turned around in alarm when they heard the distinctive hiss-snap of a lightsaber igniting.

All they caught a glimpse of was a towering figure seemingly appearing out of thin air, his expression serene but his eyes blazing, an emerald blade glowing in his hands, and then they were down for the count.

•

Obi-Wan decided that lying facedown on the floor was the better part of valor for the moment.

He was sore and bruised and scratched, and his throat was swollen while his neck chafed against the collar, and he could no longer tell if the nausea was caused by the drugs in his system or from being mistreated.

They had forgone the cloth gag in favor of sealing his lips shut with tape, which Obi-Wan considered a compliment to his ability to annoy them, but it also hindered his ability to breathe.

The slaver standing over him was dusting his hands off rather gleefully.

Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut and wished very very hard, knowing that even without being able to touch it, the Force was with him—

And like a miracle, the door swung open, and there was his wish.

The slaver didn’t stand a chance. He only had time to let out an undignified squawk of surprise before he was flying into the ceiling, smacking into a rafter with undue force and then dropping neatly onto a nearby cot that rattled under his weight.

Obi-Wan sighed and let his eyes drift closed.

The man in the doorway was at his side in an instant.

A warm hand touched his shoulder, then slid upwards to touch his neck, looking for signs of life, examining his damaged throat.

Then, very carefully, the tape was peeled away from his mouth.

Obi-Wan smiled into the cold flooring and forced himself to open his eyes again.

“Hullo, Master,” he murmured.

•

Qui-Gon had thought, for one heart-stopping moment, when he had reached Obi-Wan just in time to watch him close his eyes and go limp—

But he was awake, now, those enormous bright blue eyes twinkling up at him out of a battered face.

“Hullo, Master,” said a very small, hoarse voice.

“Hello, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said softly, running his hand up and down the boy’s back, unnerved by how chilled he was to the touch. “How does a warm shower and some proper sleep sound?”

Obi-Wan pretended to think about it, and Qui-Gon had to fight down a laugh at his antics, even now. “Do I have to see healers first?”

“Yes,” answered the Master. “But I believe I can manage to have them release you quickly. We’re leaving for Coruscant tonight; we can sleep on the ship.”

“Oh, all right,” said Obi-Wan, but he didn’t move.

“Can you stand?” Qui-Gon asked.

“Possibly.”

There was another pause, then: “...not really.”

Without another word, Qui-Gon stood, scooping the boy into his arms as he did, cradling his head against one shoulder. Obi-Wan murmured something that he didn’t quite catch.

They moved out of the room and into the hallway, then began to make their way back out of the warehouse. Qui-Gon was stepping over bodies as he went... most of them merely unconscious.

He spotted the scruffy-haired man who had been laughing about the screaming Jedi whelp, and didn’t begrudge himself for trodding accidentally on the man’s outstretched fingers as he passed.

“I... am sorry, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said heavily. “I should have protected you better.”

The ginger head shifted; the boy murmured something vague into his tunics again and then said softly, “It wasn’t your fault, Master. Besides...” he winced as they crossed beneath a bright light that threw the injuries on his face into glaring relief that made Qui-Gon’s stomach clench with self-recrimination. “...I knew you would come for me.”

And those seven little words did a great deal to ease the rage and guilt still swirling inside the tired Jedi Master.

“Always, Padawan,” he said quietly. “Always.”

Obi-Wan was asleep in his arms by the time they emerged into the twilight, surrounded by the movement of law enforcement as they swarmed upon the compound, and therefore he didn’t know it when Qui-Gon, near-shaking as the adrenaline of the past several, stressful days began to fade, murmured: “Thank the Force for you, little one.” And pressed a soft kiss to the sleeping head.

#star wars #my writing #not my idea #smolbi wan #tiny bean #my baby #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #obi wan and qui gon #star wars au #tw child harm #tw strangulation #dad qui is Not Happy #little obi is just giving vibing and waiting on his dad #i love them your honor #somebody hug him

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shoutogepi · 4 years

Text

“Fuck You!””I Just Might.”

Bakugou Katsuki

word count : 7.1k holy hecc

[ ✘ (nsfw!) ]

themes : nasty nasties hehe.. choking, angry sex, dom bakugou (what’s new lmao), lots of sexy vengeful teasing, & almost being caught (? idk what to call that haha)

bio : You and Ground Zero are far from getting along in almost every aspect… except for getting off perhaps.

author’s note : wow another smut whodathunkit !!! This isn’t super romantic (Happy VDay my sweets!!) but goddamn if u thirstin today drink tf up bc the SALOON IS OPEN AND HERE’S THE SPECIAL ON DA HOUSE

side note: (Y/H/N) = your hero name, also the sidekick is 100% out my ass not real bc I didn’t feel like doing legit research heheh. also, all characters are aged up to long past UA-grad in this (so everyone is 18+!!)

tagging: @lordexplosionsextra per request -- hope you enjoy bb :) happy vday!

also available on AO3 here

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🄰rms crossed, chest puffing in defiance, your gaze shoots daggers into his stupid smirk. “I’m not your fucking sidekick, Boom-Boy, so you can crawl back into the putrid swamp you came from and take your damn paperwork with you!”

“H-hey now,” Bakugou’s sidekick laughs nervously, hands waving in front of him as he shakes off the jab you just took at him inadvertently.

Bakugou laces his gloved fingers over his lap and kicks back in his chair, straightening his legs so his boots rest on the table across from you. “Listen, Princess, you know the rules. Whoever gets the final blow doesn’t have to do the nitty-gritty shit,” he answers, shrugging nonchalantly.

“You only got the finisher in ‘cuz I was busy doing everything else! You pop in at the last second and get all the credit and no busywork? Fuck off,” you fume, hooking your foot around the leg of his chair and ripping it toward you. Bakugou’s eyes widen as he falls backwards, tumbling onto the hard floor. He grimaces at you from the floor, vermillion eyes ablaze.

“It’s not my fault you’re too stupid to strategize! Don’t start shit you can’t fucking finish yourself!” He barks, voice spiking with fury. Ouch, that one stung your pride a little.

“You’re such an asshole,” you snarl, shoving the stack of papers off the table. The pages swirl in the air and scatter onto the tiled floor, some landing on the instigator’s lap. Bakugou’s palms crackle as his breath is stolen at your audacity. Your sidekick lets out a startled noise, jumping at the sudden popping. Bakugou’s sidekick has his hand on his temple, attempting to rub out the headache forming at this mess.

Why did you two have to hate each other so much?

The two sidekicks stand stiffly against the wall as you shove by them, Bakugou glaring at your ass as your hips swing around the doorway, out of his sight.

It’s late, the purple sky littered with the lights of the lively city. The villain you— or Bakugou, you suppose— had taken down earlier had been the last job of the day and you’re tired of the stupid bullshit he always serves you when the two of you work together.

Usually your agency kept the two of you on opposite boundaries of the patrol area, but you had begrudgingly needed help with this last offender of the day. Your quirk didn’t do incredibly well against villains with close-combat styles, but you could still manage. Unfortunately, the guy that had been causing mayhem earlier was beyond powerful up close, and he had landed a hit that knocked the wind out of you and made you slower than usual. It wasn’t a major injury or anything, but you’d probably have a nasty bruise on your torso after you took off this goddamn gimp-suit of a costume. Luckily, you had visited the in-house, agency healer in the infirmary upon arrival from the job, and they had sucked the nasty welt off your skin and redirected it somewhere else as their quirk allowed. The pain subsided mostly, just a bit sore where the bruise would’ve been.

You close the door to your office gently, a heavy sigh releasing as you make your way toward the desk. It was almost quitting time, but you still had to finish up the paperwork from the other case you had dealt with this morning. Clicking on the desk lamp, you breathe in to calm your frayed nerves, eyes closing briefly as you try to find the energy to finish your work.

The door bursts open, slamming almost immediately and tearing you out of your attempt at meditation. Bakugou stands in there, steam practically billowing from his nose and scarlet eyes flashing with agitation.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He snarls, prowling toward you with an accusatory, gloved finger raised.

“Excuse me?” You quip, irritation revitalized almost instantly. “Who do you think you are, storming into my office after the shit you pulled today?”

He stops in front of you, glowering down at you. You turn your face slightly, your eye level meeting his chest and not wanting to look at that. He was kind of muscular up close like this, you’d never noticed because you’d always created the most distance as possible between you two.

“Oh, you mean me saving your ass? Yeah, my bad, woman,” he growls, letting his gaze linger on the way your eyelashes kiss your cheek bones as you scoff, eyes closed in annoyance.

You glare at him, infuriated. “I didn’t need your fucking help! Did I ask you to come?”

He takes his time to reply, stare holding your attention briefly before he licks his lips. “No, but your sidekick did.”

The sentence is like a cold slap to the face, and you push him backwards with newfound anger. “Don’t fucking lie to me Bakugou,” you seethe, hands clenched into fists. “If you’re gonna lie at least come up with something believable!”

“Tch. She did call me, brat, and she begged me to come to your rescue like you were a goddamn damsel in distress,” he grunts, breaking eye contact with you as he hunches slightly, strong hands shoved into his pockets. Bristling at the refreshed anger rippling off of you, he already knows what you’re going to say. “She said that shitty villain got his hands on you, yeah right you had it under control.”

You don’t know what to say. You can’t really refute that the assailant had managed to hurt you, but you still wish Bakugou hadn’t heard that information. The asshole already thinks he’s the hottest shit in the agency, you really don’t want to give him any evidence of your weaknesses. So you sit on the edge of your desk, sighing once again. “I can handle one hit, dipshit,” you mutter. “It’s already healed anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah, you can take care of yourself,” he grumbles, gaze flickering to your grim expression before he looks intently at the picture on your wall.

The silence that ensues is uncomfortable. You had never really talked to Bakugou before-- usually every time the two of you were together you were having a shouting match, throwing insults back and forth relentlessly. You aren’t really sure how to reply, and you absolutely did not want to acknowledge that he had come to your rescue when you actually needed him.

Bakugou is as silent as you are. He wonders where you’d been hit momentarily, before pushing off the thought because god forbid he show emotions. He’d already had his fill of feelings for the day. He sure as hell would never tell a soul, but the second he had seen your sidekick’s name flash across his phone screen this evening, his stomach dropped like he’d been the one to receive the villain's punch, not you. Shoving away the intrusive thought, his trademark scowl surfaces to his face.

“You know, I still haven’t heard a ‘thank you’.”

His irritating voice slices through the tension in the room, and you bristle at his impudence. “Gee, Ground Zero,” he ruffles at his hero name, a frown bending his thin lips,” thanks so much for stealing my job and taking the credit for it too, and really— thank you so much for the paperwork as well. I’m just so grateful.”

“Tch. Don’t be so bitchy, you know I saved your ass today so just fess up and thank me already. You’ll feel better once you spit it out,” he provokes, thick arms crossing over his chest.

“Fuck you,” you hiss, scowling at his smug face. The snarl that breaks his lips is ignored as your eyes turn to slits directed toward him.

He laughs at your malicious look, mouth transforming into a sleazy grin. He can’t stop himself even though he’s a tad hesitant, but his bold and loud nature wins out and he says cooly, “I just might.”

You gape at him, the smile on his mouth escalating your agitation. “W-What?” You choke out meekly, palms pushing you off the desk to stand upright.

He has the gall to grin, taking a step toward you. His heavy boots clunk against the floor, and you move backwards only to bump into the desk again. You cast a futile glare at the desk, and when you look back at him, he’s looming over you. “I think it’s time we acknowledge this thing we have, (Y/H/N).”

Your lips part in surprise, the blush tainting your cheeks slightly. “I have no idea what you’re referring to,” you stammer. Your arms crossing over your chest, he can’t help but notice how your breasts squish upwards, cleavage visible through your skin-tight costume.

“I think you do,” he chuckles with a low voice, gaze regarding the pink pigment gracing your cheeks. He savors it, lips curling into a smirk. His hands meeting the edge of your desk as he leans in, his body brushes against your arms. You rear back, shock evident on your face with lips parted as he tips his head to the side. He cages you in, an unfamiliar look simmering in his crimson irises. “You can feel the tension between us too. I know it, Princess.”

You’re once again at a loss for words. What the hell is happening right now? You think, mind reeling desperately to change the subject. “I hate it when you call me that,” you spit out, looking up to catch his intense stare. It wasn’t dishonest, you hated his pet name for you. Just because you weren’t as careless as him, he’d tacked the snide nickname to you awhile back because he knew it pissed you off. “It’s a stupid name that only your idiot brain could come up with.”

Take the bait, please take the bait.

“The way you treat me like I’m beneath you, what else can I call you?” His breath fans against your cheek and you hate to admit it’s fresh and minty, not at all as nasty and troll-like as you’d convinced yourself it would be. “But I guess that’s ‘cuz you really wouldn’t mind having me under your lap, right?”

You gasp at his crude suggestion, knees smacking together as your thighs clench automatically. “Fuck off, Bakugou,” your voice trembles slightly, your palms hesitantly landing on his chest. Your attempt to push him is less than half-hearted, and he smiles at your crumbling resolve.

His fingers skim along the small of your back, perching his hand on your waist. You can feel its warmth through your costume and his glove, and your body bends into his hold on its own accord, your ass pushing back while your chest grazes his. He exhales harshly, his other hand docking on the top of your stiffened thigh, thumb falling into the curve between your legs. You wish it was higher up, and the recognition of your craving makes your blush a few shades darker.

“What was that?” He snickers, lips brushing your earlobe as his nose pushes away your cascading hair. He didn’t expect you to smell so good after a long day of fighting crime.

Your fingers grab onto his costume, clawing at the material and you’re not sure if it’s in anger or desire. But Bakugou is sure, his fingers rubbing your waist as he glances at your restless hold on his costume. “Oh, bite me,” you spit out, your bottom lip caught between your teeth.

His lips touch your jaw, and you can feel the sneer that rests so prominently there. “Manners, Princess… say please,” he chides, tongue poking out to trace the soft skin there.

A quiet moan escapes you and Bakugou groans loudly in response. He draws his face back to lock eyes with you, stare taught with the tension the two of you have built over all this time.

“You gonna tell me you’ve never thought about us fucking?” He inquires, eyes darting to your lips and returning to your gaze. “All those times we riled each other up, every time we pushed each other’s buttons over and over— you gonna say you never thought about getting me to shut the hell up by any means necessary?”

Your eyes roll in your head, from a combination of lust and disbelief. You cannot believe you're letting him hold you like butter in his hot hands, melting you and licking you up. You glare at him, his lips just close enough to distract you. You weren’t going to let him mould you like putty anymore. “I bet you wanna think that I have, Bakugou,” you whisper, and he looks at you with mild surprise adorning his handsome face. Your blush infects him immediately, a flush spreading over his own cheeks and he’s suddenly very glad his costume has a mask. “You think I haven’t noticed you checking me out every second of the day, Boom-Boy?”

He seems at a loss for words as your wrists wrap around the back of his neck, pulling his face down and level to yours. His brow bursts into a sweat as one of your hand curls around his costume’s throat piece, trailing south and following the delicious line between his pecs down his abs. Your fingernails scraping through his costume, his skin prickles as he gasps. Your lips meet his stubbled jaw, mirroring the action he had performed to you a moment ago. His fingers tighten their hold on you, his body jerking almost invisibly at the contact. “You ogle at me much more, little Miss Priss,” he says cockily even though his voice sounds forced.

It was your turn to curl your lips into a sultry smile, half-lidded eyes regarding his shocked, eager stare. “I thought I told you not to tell your phony lies, Bakugou,” your murmur against his jawline, hand curving around his pelvis and to drag down his outer thigh. “It’s a sin to lie, you know.” Your fingers skim the very ridge of the bulge in his pants, teasingly tracing the outline and watching him close his eyes, his grin seeming strained.

“You know a lot about sins, then?” he pants, sliding his hand down from your waist slowly, fingertips stretching eagerly to push into your plush ass.

You nip at his skin playfully, and he shudders in response. Your raise your head to meet his hungry gaze, your coy smile still beaming. “I might… You want me to demonstrate my knowledge?” Your tongue parts your lips, eyes falling to his slightly agape mouth. Your breath tangles, and his eyelids flutter shut as your lips graze.

The hand on your thigh grips your flesh tighter and you whimper, your mouth tingling at the harder contact of the kiss. His other hand slides south and cups your tailbone, calloused fingers bringing your ass toward him. The sudden movement surprises you, and you grab onto his neck, making his chin dip down as your hips slide into his crotch. You clash into him, your lips colliding as sparks fly through the air.

You both moan into each other’s mouths, the kiss desperate and hot. Your tongue pokes out to probe his bottom lip and he gladly receives your wet muscle with his own. Your legs trapped between his shuffle as you wiggle your hips, savoring his fiery hands gliding over your figure.

Bakugou’s hands are firm but warm, caressing your waist and hips and heating them up. He growls as your hips buck against his, rubbing the tent in his baggy pants. One of his hands slides along the smooth fabric of your hero suit, cupping the swell of your breast in his large palm as his thumb runs over your nipple. You throw your head back, and his lips gladly blaze the trail of your throat with a scorching urgency. Your fingers move to his arm pieces, clamoring at the top of the machinery near his elbows. He gladly slides the gadgets off, placing them in one of the chairs facing your desk while he rips off his black gloves. He hastily throws the neck piece onto the seat as well before he turns and captures your lips once more.

When his fingers return to your hips, you can feel the true heat of his burning palms through your bodysuit, making you arch into him wantonly. His tongue battles yours fiercely, both of you fighting for dominance as his hands glide up to your waist and fumble with your belt. You can feel his rigid muscles through his thin tank top, your hands wandering greedily underneath the right material to touch his smooth skin.

Bakugou smirks as your belt falls onto the desk, hands falling and grabbing onto your ass cheeks eagerly, pulling you closer to his body. You take the chance to shove your tongue into his mouth and he groans at the impact, jaw slackening as he allows your tongue to take control. He grinds into you slowly, making your thighs tremble with apprehension. His mouth detaches from yours, and the string of saliva connecting your tongues is sliced as his shirt flies through the air. You drink in the sight of his naked chest, muscles swelling and flexing, tapering down into a delicious V that disappears underneath his belt.

You grab the belt, yanking his body close to yours again and sighing as your lips meet once more. “You’re really man-handling me Princess,” he comments amusedly into your lips as your fingers grapple with his belt, toying with the latch.

“Shut the fuck up,” you snarl, teeth sinking into his bottom lip and harnessing a moan from him,” and touch me already, pussy.”

His vermillion gaze ignites, mouth crashing onto yours as his fingers slide underneath the swell of your ass. He lifts you like you’re but a paperweight, and you moan as your legs wrap around his hips. His tongue crushing yours, his kisses so intense that your head leans back at the sizzling force. You jump slightly as your ass meets the cushion of your desk chair, eyes opening to see he’d rounded the desk and knelt in front of you. His knees on the ground, he looks up at you haughtily, hands coasting slowly down your legs toward your center. “Is this where you want me?” he feigns innocence and you glare down at him. His thumb hooks the crotch of your leotard, and he shoves the material to the side roughly, making you gasp.

The cool office air greets your cunt, making it throb even more in arousal. “Bakugou,” you whine as he watches your face, shifting your hips in a feeble attempt to catch his attention. He slinks down, lips brushing over your panties softly as he watches you squirm. He grins against the black lace, thumb curling around the skinny part of the thong over your asshole, making you shiver.

“You’re right Princess,” he grumbles, tongue gliding over the wet spot that had leaked through the material, inhaling your scent pervertedly as he closes his eyes in triumph. Your bottom lip is prisoner to your teeth again as you watch his teasing movements, unable to tear your eyes away from him. “Sometimes when you’ve got me all riled up, I jerk off thinking about how good your bratty little ass would look bouncing on my dick.” You can’t help but whimper at his confession, rolling your hips against his mouth in desperation.

He smirks up at you, crimson irises glittering with savory mischief. His hands snake around your thighs, clutching onto the junction they meet your hips with vigor. He pushes your body down into the seat so you can’t wriggle any longer, and he feels your cunt clench against his chin when he nips at your panties, teeth dragging along your clit. You wail his name again lowly, harsh breaths ripping through your lungs.

He growls in response, thumb ripping the lace to the side and exhaling at the sight of your swollen cunt, grin broadening at the excessive glaze that he had caused. “Fuck,” he laments, tongue poking out to graze your clit experimentally. Satisfied with the way your hand flies to cover your mouth, he places a teasing kiss there. “You know,” he murmurs against your slick nerve,” More than once I’ve wondered how hot and sweet your cunt must be, hiding underneath this skimpy little leotard.”

You let out a shaky breath, eyebrows cinching as you glower down at him, meeting his pleased gaze. “Why don’t you find out for yourself then?” you hiss, baring your teeth at his infuriatingly proud smirk.

“Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Princess?” Bakugou’s tongue glides along the side of your slit, making you stiffen and shut your eyes tightly. Of course he’s a fucking tease.

A knock sounds at your door to pull you out of your collapsing mind, and you sit up straight, eyes wide as Bakugou’s sidekick peeks into the room.

Bakugou stills, unsure as to who it is, staying hidden behind your desk and still holding your hips harshly.

“Hey Y/N, have you seen Ground Zero possibly? He’s stormed off as usual and I can’t find him anywhere,” the sidekick says, blinking at you with unsuspecting eyes.

“Oh, H-Hikaru,” you gulp, hesitantly placing your hands on your desk. Bakugou is quiet underneath you but you’re preparing yourself for the little shit to pull something stupid.

And he does.

Bakugou’s tongue slips between your folds suddenly, licking a large stripe from the bottom to the top of your slit, sucking in your clit and rolling his tongue around it brazenly.

“Oh my god!” you yell, hand slapping over your mouth too late. Hikaru looks at you incredulously, regarding your pink cheeks and sweaty forehead. “I can’t believe him! W-what an asshole!” you pant as Bakugou sucks harder, your pussy clenching onto itself. “He probably left so you’d do the paper… mmm, paperwork for h-him.” You abs are flexed so hard, straining in order to restrain the mess of moans that Bakugou is summoning.

Hikaru finds your tone a bit peculiar, but he continues anyway. “Uh, probably… Are you okay Y/N? You look kind of… sick,” he comments, head tilting to the left. “Did you get that jab checked out yet? I can take you to the infirmary if you want. If it’s bad I can drop you off at your place, too.”

Bakugou doesn’t like that suggestion. He doesn’t need to lick his fingers, your drenched core welcomes the digits instantly. Your walls accommodate his middle and ring finger eagerly and he smirks as they sink into you, knuckle-deep.

“Yes!” you shriek, quickly shooting a glare down at the blonde, your hair covering your face from his sidekick. “I mean— yes, I had it checked out and I’m f-fine, thank you for the concern, Hikaru,” you explain, a forced smile on your lips as you silently beg him to leave.

Bakugou stretches his fingers inside you, scissoring them to coat them in your essence before he puts them together again. His wrist strained in the forced position, he flicks the digits back and forth, almost laughing in glee as he recognizes that soft velvety spot deep within you.

Hikaru blinks at you again before he nods half-heartedly. “Okay… Well if you need me, I’ll be in the conference room doing Bakugou’s job,” he laughs, tucking out of the door and closing it finally.

“He wishes he could do my job, fucker,” Bakugou grunts, mouth immediately returning to satiating your needy hole.

You sag into the chair, a quiet moan floating out of you as Bakugou continues to finger you, his lips slurping up your clit once more. Shooting a heated look at him, you bare your teeth at him, and choke out a hiss,” Fuck you!”

Bakugou only chuckles, savoring the way your cunt throbs around his digits. “I didn’t think you were so impatient, brat.” He doesn’t slow his actions though, knuckles ramming against your skin. He enjoys the way you gasp as he moves your thigh over his shoulder, his tidy fingernails pressing into your trembling leg. “You taste pretty good, Y/N. I guess it’s just your personality that’s bitter,” he remarks, smiling against your sex as his fingers slide out of you.

You toss him a pointed look as he wipes his chin with the back of his hand. “Excuse you, Boom-Boy,” you chide,” only my friends get to call me that!”

“Tch, I get to eat your pussy but I can’t call you by your name? You really know how to make a guy work for it,” he scoffs, sounding mock-hurt, and now menacing over you.

You frown in response but it quickly melts into a smirk. “Don’t worry, Katsuki,” you observe how he closes his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching as his hand turns into a fist,” I’ll return the favor.” You tentatively place your hands on his belt, undoing the clasp and resting the heel of your palm against his clothed, hard cock. You gently undo the fastenings around his thick thighs, placing the belt with his grenades onto your desk cautiously. You weren’t trying to be blown up just for some dick.

He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of both his black pants and underwear, annoyed with you taking your sweet ass time. His bare cock springs free, greeting your hungry gaze with an inviting sheen of sticky precum trailing down his hard length. You gawk at the sight, genuinely surprised to find he was so… well equipped.

“So this is why you’re so cocky, huh?” you state, eyes following the protruding vein running the entirety of his full, flushed member.

He barks out a laugh which dies in his throat as you press a chaste kiss to his weeping pink tip. Your tongue flat against your bottom lip, you slide his cock into your mouth and moan at the salty, provocative taste of him. His length almost as thick as your throat itself, you gag gently as you take him whole into your mouth before quickly pulling back. You place your hand around the base of his now-slick cock, your mouth sucking and bobbing on the top half of him as you jerk your fist at the same tempo.

Bakugou is much louder than you expected him to be, and the way his erotic, serrated breath is tearing from his lungs makes your pussy clench in desire. His chest heaves, the bulging muscles on his torso tense underneath his surprisingly smooth skin. Your other hand wanders up his abs, enjoying the way the ridges between them are so defined. He growls as your finger rubs over his nipple, his hand catching your wrist in a tight grasp but not doing anything to stop the action.

You purr on his cock, slippery hand leaving the base to cup his balls, eliciting a hiss from him as he sucks air in between his gnashing teeth. Confidence torrenting through your veins at his reaction, your jaw drops as wide as you can muster, your mouth gliding further down his length.

Bakugou’s empty hand collects the hair falling around your face, holding it for you as you weave back and forth. His jaw falls slack as the head of his dick rubs the back of your throat, summoning a soft gag that makes your mouth vibrate around him. Your wrist hurts a little from his tight grasp, but the way his fingernails dig into your skin makes your core shiver in delight. “Shit, Y/N.”

You don’t bother to correct him this time, thumb running over his balls just hard enough to make him shake a bit, savoring the way he is panting and quaking before you. The hand grasping your hair nimbly shimmies closer to your skull, his fingers twisting almost too tightly onto the roots of your hair. You allow him to coax your mouth closer, his arm guiding your face to take his length deeply. A low growl tears from the bottom of his lungs as you lock eyes with his impassioned stare. His hips nudge smally against your lips, his tongue poking out to run over his lip as he pulls back and glides back inside your sweltering throat.

You moan forcefully, savoring the the strangled noise that slithers from his now gaping mouth. Taking initiative once more, you begin to jerk your neck back and forth quickly, wincing as his grip tightens on your wrist. Bakugou tries his best to repress his moans but the way your bratty throat welcomes his hard cock makes him see tiny, fizzling explosions when he closes his eyes.

His hips rear back, and you almost fall off the chair as you lean in to close the distance. He catches you easily, hot hands landing on your shoulders as his gaze locks with yours, inexplicable desire sizzling between the two of you. His hands fly down to collect your ass cheeks, and he picks you up just to place the apple of your cheeks on the desk behind him. Teetering on the edge of the wooden furniture, your legs wrap around his waist, and his lips slam onto yours again. His fingers frantically running over your super suit, he snarls in frustration when he can’t find the zipper.

You laugh at him mockingly, catching his eye as you pinch the zipper on the side of your neck, the material shrinking away immediately with elasticity. He watches as your breasts pop out of the silky, neoprene-like fabric, bouncing with hardened, pink nipples standing perkily to greet him.

“No bra?” He reprimands but his time sounds more turned on than accusatory. “Princess, you’re so naughty.” His hands fly to your tits, groping the soft and supple flesh with fervor. You unzip the rest of your side, pulling your arms out of the sleeves and carefully angling your hips so you can slide the suit off into a crumpled pile on the ground. In just your tiny little thong now, Bakugou closes the gap, pressing flush against your clothed center and grinding his wet cock against your damp underwear.

Your head tilts back and you whine, gasping as his mouth slides along your throat, hot tongue caressing the tender skin. “Please, Bakugou,” you wail, his thumbs rubbing your sensitive nipples hastily.

“God, you must be tight if you’re this high-strung,” he purrs next to your ear, enjoying the way your cunt clenches noticeably underneath your panties. Speaking of those… his fingers snatch the delicate lace to the side, his other hand grabbing his dick and running his swollen tip over your slit. He dips the head into your hole but recedes instantly, brushing it over your glistening trove before repeating the action. The teasing has your head spinning, harsh pants falling from you both and mingling in the thin divide between you. He can’t take it any longer, his hips snapping into yours as his dick easily disappears halfway into your steamy, aching cunt. “I fucking knew it,” he grunts, jaw clenching as your velvety walls embrace his girth, your cry of pleasure music to his ears. “Your cunt is so snug around my cock.”

His hips push into your thighs further, only stopping once he’s balls-deep, sunk completely in your flittering sex. Hand leaving your thong to the side of your cunt, he grabs your hip and pulls your ass close. You groan at his cock nestling even deeper into your sopping hole, and your hips jerk against his as his hand curls around your lower back, securing itself so his fingers coil snugly around your waist. You choke on a sob as he thrusts into you again, his thick member prodding you in a very private place.

“You better fuck me already,” you growl at his pace that was testing your nerves, ready to be fucked into submission. Not that you were going to go down without a fight.

He chuckles cockily, a sly grin on his lips. “Your wish is my command.” His hips slam against yours and your teeth sink into his shoulder, muffling a scream of desire. He ruts into you with ease, your arousal making it almost effortless for his cock to spread the tense walls of your desperate pussy. His free hand claps against the swell of your ass, the noise slicing through the air and you scowl at him. It’s like he wants to be caught.

Ragged breaths tumble from the both of you, your saliva trickling down his chest as your teeth are still fastened into his broad shoulder. “F-Fuck, Bakugou,” you keen, each time his pelvis pressing against you tightly forcing your vision to shake.

“Katsuki,” he huffs, his left hand pushing your chin up to capture your half-lidded gaze. “Say it, Princess— fuck, tell me who’s making you feel so good,” he demands, eager to hear his name leave your lips in such an intimate way once more. His hips change tempo from his fast and hard pace to a slower, more sensual rolling motion, milking the desired reaction out of you.

The novel movement pressing deliciously against your clit, your unabashed whimpers fall onto his eager ears. Your fingers raise to pinch the top of his black eye mask, pushing the material up over his forehead so it tucks his ash blonde hair back. Looking into his eyes and admiring his uncovered, handsome features, you shoot him a sinful pout. “Ka— ah! Oh, Katsuki,” you gasp, your hands flying up to claw desperately at his muscular back.

Bakugou relishes in your lewd reply, eyes rolling back into his skull in delight. He lets out a gravely groan, increasing the tempo to a needy, impatient pace. The extra stimulation on your clit makes your legs shiver around him, your heels digging into the plush top of his ass. His hand slides back to grip around the back of your neck, leaning in to take the side of your ear between his teeth. His fingers on your throat press into your skin, his thumb pushed into your racing pulse. Hand squeezing just the right amount, it becomes pleasurably harder to breathe and you pant, tongue poking out as you wanton gaze meets his. “I’m gonna make you cum so hard Y/N,” he growls, almost snarling at you as your body bounces against his, watching your hair dance and shake around the erotic expression on your face.

“Eat shit,” your nose twitches in annoyance,” You’re gonna burst any minute now.” Your cheeks are dusted in a telling flush, your body feeling heat spread throughout. His hand tightens on your throat and you moan, loving the way your breath tears slightly.

“You’ve been clenched down on me this whole time,” he reasons, lips close enough so you can feel his ragged breath. “You can’t deny how your body reacts to me, even if you don’t want it to.”

You roll your eyes. Even buried between your legs at a time like this, he insists on pushing your buttons. “Oh, you want me to clench, Katsuki?” you inquire, tone confident in contrast to the wanton shake of your body.

He shivers as his name leaves your sinful lips, and the breath in his lungs is sucked out of him as you clamp your pussy as tight as you can around him. His hips stutter and you revel in the lustful way his face contorts, his eyes screwing shut temporarily.

When his vermillion eyes open again, his predatory gaze adding wood to the fire between your legs. “Bad girl,” he admonishes, an unruly grin lifting the corners of his mouth. His hips slam against yours, railing into you at an unimaginable speed and harshness. “That’s a cute try, Princess, but you’re gonna cum before me no matter what.”

You can’t even respond as he thrusts into you, your pants ripping through the air and mingling with the quick slapping noise echoing through the room. You hate to let him win but you can’t hold yourself off from your impending orgasm, the pressure in your core multiplying at an alarming rate as each thrust deliciously stimulates your deepest, most secret place.

“Katsuki,” you whimper, your spine arching into his touch while his hand keeps its hold on your throat. “I’m so close, please,” you beg, your toes curling forcefully as your eyes roll back.

Bakugou smiles at your submissive tone, purring out, “That’s better.” His hand leaving your throat to rub his finger on your clit, your body trembles in his hands. He leans into you and his lips conquer yours passionately, tongue darting in between your lips to caress with yours. His tongue pulls back as he takes your bottom lip between his teeth, his wolfish stare daring you to follow his ensuing command. “Cum for me, Y/N.”

Your body tenses as you reach your climax, but Bakugou continues to assault your g-spot mercilessly. Your arms shake in euphoria, nails pressing in to form desperate scratches on his skin. It feels like he is snapping you in two, and you absolutely love it. Tears prick the corner of your eyes as you wail out, relief washing over your limbs feeling like ice cold lemonade on a torrid summer day.

Pussy fluttering around his cock so deliciously, Bakugou moans at the new intensity. He swears as he keeps going, despite his own orgasm approaching. The image of you squirming in ecstasy underneath him makes him gasp immodestly. His hands clasp down on your hips roughly, making it even easier for him to pound into your soaked cunt as his teeth release your reddened lip. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight,” he huffs, sweat glistening on his built chest as he thrusts into you particularly hard. “So much better than I could’ve ever imagined, holy shit, Princess.” He moans a little loudly, not holding anything back anymore. He is so fucking close.

“Katsuki, please,” you sob, your g-spot still being pummeled relentlessly, never getting a break from his assault and dragging your orgasm out longer than you thought possible. “I want your cum on me so bad!”

Bakugou throws his chin into the air, harsh breaths floating out as the flesh of your hips turns white under his oppressive grip. He grunts as he pulls out, his searing streaks of cum spurting out forcefully, shooting up to lace over your tits and down your stomach. His thighs tremble as he snarls, his first immediately jerking his cock as more of his cum gushes out of the tip. He gasps for breath, and he groans as your lips press to his captivatingly. He leans into your kiss, savoring the feeling of your sweet lips against his.

You shift in his hands, the once-rough palms now sliding over your skin carefully, fondling your body as his lips nibble at your own. You entertain it for a moment, nails trailing down his chest, thumbs rubbing into the ample muscles beneath his skin.

He pulls back, a lazy grin and satisfied eyes regarding you. “Well, that was hot,” he admits, eyebrow quirking upwards as he tries to even his choppy breath. You pull a handful of tissues out of the box on the corner of your desk, handing him a few which he gladly wipes over his drenched member. You sigh in content, head leaning back as you regulate your own breathing.

Bakugou makes you jump in surprise as he runs a new tissue along your torso, cleaning up his mess. You eye him playfully, secretly relishing in the way he is so considerate. He shuffles back a step like he can feel you appreciating his uncharacteristically caring actions, tugging up his underwear and tucking himself in with a smug grin on his lips.

“It was pretty good,” you say casually, sliding off the desk and pausing as your still-tingling core shifts, making you realize how tender you already are.

Bakugou rolls his eyes, handing you your costume from the floor. You snatch it out of his grasp condescendingly, glaring at him as you step into the leotard with quivering legs. “Pretty good?” he barks, eyeing your slow movements. “You’re still shaking, Princess.”

You shoot a glare at him, arms slipping into your costume and tucking your breasts away from his lingering eyes. “Fuck you.”

“You just did.” He replies smugly, and you ponder relieving the sudden urge you have to slap the look off his face.

“Whatever, Boom-Boy,” you quip, zipping up the side of your suit.

Bakugou chortles as he pulls on his shirt, fastening the loops around his thighs. “By the way,” he looks sideways at you with a smirk. “You came first, so I won.”

“You were, like, ten seconds behind me,” you scoff.

“After you, nonetheless,” he almost chirps, savoring in the irritation visibly building in you. He slips on his gloves, sliding his arms into his grenade-looking arm pieces. “Do I get a prize, Princess?”

You glance at his suggestive crimson eyes, pondering the idea of it. “You can choose the place next time,” you wink at him, clipping the belt on your waist with finality.

He seems pleased with the answer, his smirk widening as he steps closer to you. Your fingers pinch the bottom of his mask, dragging the material down to its correct location over his eyes. He shamelessly allows his gaze to rove over your body, recalling how tight and needy you’d been just minutes ago.

“Next time, I’m gonna make you beg,” he warns, opening the door and slipping through, seductive gaze locking with yours. “Can’t wait ‘til then, Y/H/N.”

And after that, working together became a whole lot easier.

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

make sure to shoot me a comment/ask/reblog if you enjoyed ♥︎ I’d love to receive any feedback!!!

thank you so much for reading!! Happy Valentine’s Day sweethearts :)

➥ masterlist

#whewwwww #somebody call the fire departmentttt lawd #lmao not to toot my own horn but this was hot #i finished this ln when i was lit af and was so pleased to find this morning when editing minimal errors and i managed to stay on track woo #ok ok ill get over myself now #bakugou fic #bnha fic #mha fic #ground zero fic #bakugou katsuki fic #bakugou smut #bnha smut #mha smut #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugo smut #my fics #my fics katsuki

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please-buckme · 4 years

Note

Are you open to writing a threesome for Hayden and Ewan and the reader? The reader meets Hayden and Ewan at a hotel bar. They are in town for a SW con and are looking to “unwind” 😜

You, Me and Ewan Makes Three. Hayden Christensen x Ewan McGregor x reader

Warnings⚠️: SMUT. Threesome, dick sucking, puss eating, ball fondling, ✨smut✨

4361 words

Authors note: I’m sorry.

After a long day of walking around and seeing thousands of people dressed up as their favorite Star Wars characters, you finally pulled yourself away to go back to your hotel. The Star Wars Convention was like a home away from home to you and you can’t believe it’s over. You’ve been going to this convention every year for the past 4 years. You’d met quite a few stars along the way but the only ones you care to meet are; Obi-Wan and Anakin. You would’ve met them by now but everytime you go to buy tickets they are the ones that are always sold out.

For this trip it was the same thing, so you came up with a plan. Through someone on one of your social media pages you found out that Ewan McGregor and Hayden Christensen would be staying at the same hotel. The hotel was of course beautiful and very expensive. It didn’t matter though. You’d waited basically your whole life to meet them and you seized this opportunity. You didn’t want to be intrusive and look up their room numbers or anything so you had to think of a way for them to be in the same place as you and it not be weird, the bar. The hotel had a beautiful bar connected to the lobby and it was for hotel guests only. This means it would be more private for them so why wouldn’t they eventually come down? You’d gotten yourself all dolled up every night for them to never show up, unfortunately. But tonight was the last night of your stay and you were certain that tonight was the night.

Once you got back to your hotel room you rushed to the shower to wash off the day. You did everything routinely as you’d done this for 3 days now. The only thing you did differently every time was your hair and outfit. Tonight you were going all out. After you showered you blow dried your hair, then curled it. You penned one side of it back with a barrette that had burgundy jewels on it. To match the barrette you wear a skin tight burgundy, velvet dress. Around your neck was a black, velvet choker to match with your matte balck Stilettos. For your makeup you put on very little. You did some mascara followed by a little bit of eyeliner and dark lipstick to finish it off.

When you finished getting ready you headed down to the bar, elegantly. Some employees started to recognize you, saying hello and asking how your day had been. Even when you got to the bar the bartender had your drink ready before you even sat down. “You look lovely tonight, Miss.” The bartender complimented. You give him a weak smile in response. You were truly very shy, if you weren’t so determined to meet them you’d be up in your hotel room eating pizza while binge watching The Office for the millionth time. Just for them though you put on a tight dress instead of loose pants.

You’d been down at the bar for almost an hour and half, only having two drinks. You didn’t want to be drunk the first time you met them or else you’d truly be a huge, sloppy mess.

The time on your phone said 12:00am. Everyone who’d been there when you showed up had left, leaving you and a few other people including the bartender. He asked if you’d like another drink and you decline his offer but tell him thank you anyway. You sat there slouched over the bar, one hand stirring your drink with a tini cocktail straw and the other held up your head. You were disappointed, not necessary at them, but in yourself. Had you really wasted hours of your night sitting here alone at a bar full of strangers? It had gotten to the point where you almost left until, “Is this seat taken?” It was Ewan.

“Uh,uh no. Please sit.” You say straightening your posture from the very sloppy slutch, to now a more confident, upright position, you hoped. You did your best not to fiddle with anything. To Ewan you were just another person and that’s how you wanted to treat him. You sit staring straight ahead wishing you’d said yes to that drink now.

“Are you waiting for someone?” He asked politely. Not trusting your voice at the moment you just shook your head no in response. You did look at him now, however, you were surprised by his ensemble. Ewan wore a white, skinny suit with a beautifully, patterned undershirt. He must have been waiting for someone you thought. You took this time to ask a very delayed question.

“Are you waiting for someone?” He laughed softly, you’re guessing at your clear shyness.

“Yes, just a buddy of mine. If i’m bothering you I can-” You cut him off.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come off so impolite.” you out your head down looking at your lap. You definitely screwed this up, you thought. How is it that you waited for this man for three nights now and never thought of what to say? You see him, out of the corner of your eye, duck his head down to look at you.

“You haven’t been impolite at all, Darling.” You lift your head up a bit to look at him. He had a friendly kind of smirk spread across his face. “Shall I buy you a drink?” He asked. You of course said yes, now in dire need of alcohol. He waves the bartender over and orders your drinks. You make small talk before your drinks come out, mostly him talking though. He’d ask you simple questions like; are you from, were you a guest at the hotel, and what brought you to town. You didn’t lie to him on the last question. You simply just told him that you came in for the convention. You did not tell him it was to finally have a chance to meet him, that wasn’t information you thought he needed.

A few minutes had gone by. You’d become a little more comfortable talking to him, he just had that way about him. You were so focused on him though that you hadn’t realized someone had sat down on the other side of you. “Ah, Hayden, meet my new friend.” Ewan gestured behind you. You froze briefly but then turned around as calm as possible, trying to blow your cover.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You said in almost a whisper. Being sandwiched between Obi-Wan and Anakin is more than you ever could have asked for. After greeting Hayden you stared straight again not knowing what to do with yourself. They started talking over you to each other. You just waited till one of them said something before looking at either one of them.

“So, what brought you to the convention?” Hayden asked.

“What?” You asked him just snapping out of your staring-intently-at-a-wall trance.

“Ewan was just telling me you were in town for the convention. What brought you here?” He reiterated. He’d ordered a drink at some point. You watched as he took a sip. Hayden was beautiful. His outfit wasn’t as fancy as Ewan but it was him. Hayden decided to wear a nice grey fitted suit, one you’d seen before. Recognizing the outfit made you smile, relaxing your nerves a little.

“It’s just something I do every year.” You’re still not lying.

“You a fan?” Hayden asked bluntly.

“Well, yeah. Why would I go if I weren’t?” You asked sarcastically. He hummed at your response.

“You’re very calm for a fan or calmer than most.” If only he knew just how much you were losing your shit on the inside. You were much more relaxed with both of them now. You listened as they talked and told jokes to one another. Ewan bought you many more drinks than you’d anticipated on drinking, making you nice and drunk. That helped you join in on conservations with them, letting them really get to know you. They really seemed like they were enjoying your company.

“So what brought you guys down to the bar tonight?” You asked in an involuntary, drunken laugh. All of a sudden that went silent. They looked at each other almost anxiously. “What?” You asked again.

“There’s just a tradition we uphold every year at this event.” Ewan started to explain. He leaned down closer to you, moving the hair from off your shoulder and tucking it behind your ear. You could feel his breathe on your neck as he whispered, “We like to find a beautiful woman like yourself, take her to our room and fuck her till morning. Would you be interested in getting fucked, Darling.” With that he takes your earlobe between his teeth. You gasp at the sensation. Hayden just sits watching you, palming himself.

“O-okay. Both of you together, though?” Hayden nodes yes. “Whose room?” Ewan removes himself from your earlobe and grabs your hand leading you out of the bar with Hayden right behind you.

Once you got to the elevators you could feel Hayden towering over you as he unexpectedly grabbed your ass. You moan at his touch turning around to look into his lust filled eyes. When the elevator doors opened Ewan pulled you in. Hayden took no time in slamming you up against the back wall, crashing your lips together. The kiss was rough, immediately making your lips swell. He pulled away a moment sticking his middle finger down your throat before pulling it out and replacing his lips to yours. He didn’t leave you wondering for a second when you felt his finger go under your dress. He groaned when he noticed you weren’t wearing any underwear. He toyed with your clit making you moan into his mouth uncontrollably. They didn’t seem to care how loud you’d get which you loved, it made the night's events even more intriguing.

The elevator doors opened once you reached the 24th floor. You felt Ewan pull you from Hayden’s grasp on you. By Hayden’s reaction you could tell that pissed him off. You smirked at him in response, egging him on. He practically ran after you and Ewan. You reached your other hand out for him and he took it. You could still feel your slick still on your fingers, making you bite your lip. The thought of you on Hayden Christensen’s fingers had always been a fantasy of yours. Knowing your fantasies were becoming reality overwhelmed your senses with excitement. Ewan let go of your hand to get the key out to open his hotel room door. Hayden ground his hard member into your backside as you waited to go in. You took this moment to thank yourself for booking this hotel and coming up with such a dumb idea that somehoe worked.

When Ewan finally got the door open they let you walk in yourself. Sauntering through the door you took your time making your way to the bed. When you did get to the bed you bent down to take your heels off when Ewan stopped you, “Leave those on, yes?” You smirked at him and nodded in agreement. “I can help you out of this though.” He says gesturing to your dress. You stand up and turn around for him to unzip it for you. He takes the zipper down slowly, chancing with his other hand that trailed down the newly exposed skin.

Once the dress was off, you sat back down on the bed. You were now face-to-face with Ewans belt. Hayden was sat across from you in a chair waiting for his turn with you. You grabbed at Ewan’s belt, undoing it slowly. With your other hand you palmed at the bulge that was outlined by his tight, white pants. He groaned at the feel of your palm pressing harder into his member, so you did it again. Ewan was holding back the urge to shove you down and take you right then and you could tell, so you undid his zipper a little faster than you had with the belt.

You watched as Ewan through his shoes off and pulled his legs completely out of his pants. He still had on his boxer which frustrated you. When he made his way back to face you you wasted no time in freeing him. His member sprung out, hitting you in the face, this made you giggle for a moment. Immediately you took Ewan into your mouth, massaging the veins of his cock with your tongue. “That’s it, Darling. Nice and steady.” You bobbed your at a steady pace, savoring every inch of him in your mouth, while your hands started to undo his beautifully designed under shirt. When his shirt came off he was now as bare as you, making you feel more at ease.

You’d been going your steady pace on Ewan until he decided to fuck your mouth rigorously. You gagged as tears began to form at your eyelash. He took you all the way down his shaft holding you there. He groaned thunderously at the feeling of your throat closing in around him. When he released you, he pulled all the way out. You gasped for air as tears and saliva soaked your face. You watched him massage himself as Hayden, now only in his boxers, came up to you. Hayden liked being more personal with you. He took his time kissing at your neck, softly at that. He then looked over your face planting gentle kisses to your cheeks and forehead before crashing his lips to yours. It was a welcomed needy kiss, like he’d been waiting all day to kiss you. You bright one of your hands up to his hair, fisting at it softly. He moaned into your mouth as you pulled at his hair, making you smirk against his lips.

You could feel Hayden’s hands exploring your body, mostly your thighs. He detached from your lips and started his trail of love bites down your body. You gasped at every sensation his bites sent through your body. He definitely knew what he was doing to you as you felt him grin against your skin. He traveled all the way down between your legs biting harder as he got closer to your cunt. “Hayden!” You screamed but you couldn’t figure out if it were from pleasure or pain or both. He smiled up at you, smoothing his thumb over the lost spot he had bitten. He placed an apologetic kiss just beneath your belly button as he ascended down once again.

You could feel breath as he reached your folds. You grabbed at your inner thighs, pushing them down slowly while still kissing at the skin just above your clit. You were breathing heavily with anticipation. “Are you ready?” He asked in a low rasp. You looked down between your legs to see he positioned right over your warmth. You can’t even think of how many times you’d imagined Hayden between your legs, so you looked at him for a second or two, bringing your hand down to play with his hair before saying yes and lowering him down to you. He starts off by placing a kiss to your clit. You didn’t even have time to react when he started his tongues assault on your pussy. He groaned against you as he played with your clit, licking and sucking while adding his middle and ring fingers to your entrance. You still had your hand in his hair tugging him deeper into you. He pumped his fingers rapidly into you making you squirm beneath him.

“Oh god, Hayden. You’re gonna make me cum.” After saying that Hayden switched his fingers to your clit and his tongue to your entrance. You were definitely screaming as he brought you closer to your climax.

All of a sudden, though, he was off you completely. You look down to see that had pushed him out of the way. “Let me show you how a Master does it.” He said to Hayden, making you giggle. Ewan spread your legs to look at your now dripping pussy. “Hello there.” He says directly to your pussy, leaning himself down into it. He takes you as Hayden had, soft, gentle kiss before the spine tingling sensation of your clit being totally worked work his tongue and lips. They felt almost the same besides Ewans facial hair adding that little extra amount of pleasure. Every time you moaned Ewans name he increased the pace of his tongue. You came very quickly, already being close with Hayden had made your orgasm ten minutes more intense. You tried to pull Ewan off as your orgasm made your sensitive clit even more sensitive. Your legs were shaking and your body was jolting as you begged Ewan to stop, he wouldn’t though. Being in such a sensitive state made you cum on his tongue again. You couldn’t believe how amazing this orgasm had felt. You blacked out momentarily as your body went limp around his face.

When you finally came down from your high, you looked between your legs to see Ewan massaging your thighs gently. “So sorry, my dear. I guess I couldn’t help myself. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” He asked. You don’t know if you were still a little delirious or just felt like having fun when you made your request. When you did though Ewan stopped rubbing your legs and glanced at you in shock. You look over to Hayden with a grin on your face as he also seemed to be in a bit of shock. “As you wish.” Ewan said.

You say up from your lying position and say crisscross. Hayden released his thick member from the boxer he’d been wearing, making you almost drool at the sight. Ewan and Hayden then joined you on the bed asking again if this was what you wanted. You nodded, still grinning. Ewan propped himself on his knees to be level with Hayden. He put both hands on Hayden’s shoulders before leaning in to kiss him. Your request had simply been to watch them with each other. The second their lips met you could feel a throb between your legs. They deepened the kiss as Hayden laid back. You hear Hayden moan as Ewan plays with his balls, gently. They continue on like this for several minutes before you can’t stand it anymore.

You tap on Ewan’s shoulder. He looks up at you from Hayden and you plead with your face to join them, they accept. Ewan lifts himself up as you snake in between them, now facing Hayden. “Hi.” You say giggling.

“Hello.” He responds before you lower your face down to kiss him. You taste so much in this kiss; alcohol, your juice and, you’re guessing, the taste of Ewan’s lips along with Hayden’s. You smile into the kiss while playing with his hair again. You feel him smile back at you and bring his hand down to your clit. “Are you ready?” He asked again. You weren’t sure what for this time but you said yes anyway. You still felt Ewan above you but now you felt his member begging for entry at your cunt. You look up at him with a nod before he slides into painfully slow. You inhale sharply as he fills you up. Hayden, still under you, plays with your hair while soothing you. “Does it hurt?” Hayden asks. You nod yes. “Wait till I fuck you then.” You moan at both the pleasurable pain in your core and the filthy things Hayden whispers in your ear. “Are you going to be a good girl and cum all over his cock?” You answer him incoherently as Ewan slams into you vigorously. “And when he’s done I’m going to wreck you myself, would you like that?” He hums.

“Yes, oh god yes. I-I want to come all over your cock.” You hear you groan above you as he pulls your hair making you join him in an upright position. The new angle makes you moan out almost into a scream. Hayden repositions himself under you as he aliens his cock perfectly were your face would come down to meet him.

Ewan grunts in your, “Does my cockiness feel good, love?” You moan in response. He slams into you harder. “Answer me, love.” He demands.

“Yes so good, so fucking good, Ewan.”

“Good, now be a good girl and suck his cock.” Ewan says shoving you back down onto Hayden’s member this time. Having already had Ewan in your mouth, your throat was nice and ready to slide Hayden in the way down gagging around him slightly. Hayden bucked his hips at the feeling of your warm mouth around him. He could tell this didn’t bother you so he took your hair into his fist as he fucked your mouth. No other men would ever make you this full and this happy again in your life. You heard you shout from above ‘I HAVE THE HIGHER GROUND’ which actually made you choke around Hayden. Hayden lifted you up from him thinking he’d hurt you but you were a gasping, laughing mess. You loved them. Before now you didn’t think you could love them anymore but every second you’d spent with them just increased your love for them.

Ewan had tired out behind you after a while and switched with Hayden, this time though you weren’t lying down. Hayden propped you up on your hands and knees. He began again, as he did on your front, by kissing down your spine, while fondling your breasts. “Can I keep you?” You whispered up at him. He smiled against your skin, making you giggle.

You became impatient waiting for him to fill you up, so you reached for his cock and massaged the tip ever so slightly as he hummed against you. Taking the hint he backed away from you just enough to position himself at your entrance. “This is where the fun begins.” He whispered in your ear, a hint of laughter in his voice. You nod again laughing briefly as he slowly takes you with his cock. He stretched you out like no one ever had. Ewan was big, of course, but Hayden’s was.. different. Hayden’s fit you like a tight glove he was almost too big for. He couldn’t fill you up at first, because you begged him not to. He got just passed the tip before pulling back out. “It’s okay. Take your time.” He told you as he pushed back in. This time felt a little better as he brought himself a little deeper inside you. You both groaned in unison once he’d filled you completely.

Your legs were shaking as he held you up. You’d honestly never felt so weak before now, but you didn’t care. Hayden felt so good gliding in and out of you slowly, letting you adjust to his size, still. You watched Ewan saunter up to you while pumping himself. You lick your lips as he brings his cock right up to your face. You lick the underneath of his cock, lacking up your own juice from him. You kiss the tip before taking him fully into your mouth. He groaned at the contact. You bobbed you’re head in sync with Hayden’s thrusts making Ewan twitch in your mouth. “Cum in my mouth please.” You beg him. He groans again as you holo out your cheeks around him. He takes your head inbetween his hands and fucks your mouth in sloppy thrusts. You feel him twitch just before releasing his seed into your mouth. You hum around him as he comes down from his high. He pets your head before releasing himself from your mouth with a pop.

Hayden lifts you up by your hair as Ewan had. You cry out his name, feeling him slide even deeper into. “Are you gonna cum around my cock?” He asked now bring a hand down to toy with your clit.

“Yes, oh fuck. Yes I’m gonna cum.” He increased his rhythm on your clit as he smashed into your g spot like it was there just for him. He thrust into you a couple more times before sending you over the edge. As your pussy tightened around him with your climax, he followed in his shortly after yours. You could feel him release into, both of your excitement mixing together inside you.

Hayden kisses at the top of your spine before exiting you. Your whole body collapsed when he went you go. All three of you sat for a moment, breathing heavily on top of each other’s sweaty bodies. You broke the silence by saying, “Um, I don’t think I can move.” The room filled with their laughter.

“Then I guess we did our jobs right, huh lad?” Ewan said, hitting Hayden on the shoulder. Hayden laughed before getting up. You watched as he dressed himself before picking up your dress and walking over to you.

He slipped the dress out to your hips. “Can you lift your hips for me.” He asked, trying to pull your dress up your body. You managed to do so. He flipped you over on your side to zip up the back.

Ewan leaned over to look at you, “That was great fun, love. Till next year!” He said planting a kiss to your cheek. You blush before you feel Hayden’s arms pick you up from the bed to carry you out of the room. You giggle as your legs still shook in Hayden’s arms. He smiled back down at you, also planting a kiss to your cheek.

“What time do you leave tomorrow?” He asked. Exiting Ewan’s room.

“Not till 3. Why?” You asked out of curiosity.

“I’m not quite done with you.” Hayden smirks as he carries you back to his room.

xMasterlist.x

#hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #fanfic #star wars #anakin skywalker x reader #lust #smut #ewan mcgregor #obi wan x reader #obi wan star wars #obi wan kenobi #obi wan smut #obi wan kenobi smut #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker smut #hayden christensen imagines #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen smut

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malachi-walker · 3 years

Note

Happy birthday, Mal! I love your fics, they evoke so much emotion in me and have made me cry many a time. I don't often reread fics, but i've reread multiple chapters of Rhythm and Blues because they're stuck with me so much. You capture the emotional pain of their trauma and the catharsis that comes with their growth so beautifully. You also write some brilliant meta and just consistently post some fantastic thoughts. Also your love for swords is very appreciated. <3 have a lovely day!

First of all, my apologies for not replying sooner. I was making my mind up about something that would definitely require the use of a read more and thus necessitate dragging myself to desktop (which I hate because my laptop predates the dinosaurs.)

But seriously. Thank you so much. This is honestly one of the sweetest comments I've ever gotten and definitely made my already pretty sweet bday even better.

So about that read more. In honor of you, @metalesbo, my friends @n7punk and @jem-jarrett and everyone else who sent me well wishes or just really loves my work... Here's the opening section of the next chapter of R&B. Enjoy. It's a long one.

Adora Eternia is about two months shy of her fourteenth birthday when she first realizes she's in love with her best friend.

Though--if asked--she would hasten to explain that it wasn't when she fell in love. But trying to pinpoint the exact moment is an exercise in catching mist: the more she tries to grasp it in her hands the more it spreads out and covers everything. It just is: pure and simple and very, very complicated.

It's the beginning of December and the whole town is covered in a thick blanket of snow. Winterfest will be here in a few weeks, so to help out the kids who want to get gifts for their friends the Right Zone administration has shuffled around the groups that usually take their monthly trips on the third and fourth Sundays of the month to double up with the other two. As part of group three, she and Catra got the first week (the other three members of their crew are week two folks anyway and thus outside the reorganization.)

It's still kinda weird to think that: their crew. For so long, it was just Catra and Adora. Adora and Catra. One unit bound together, just them against the world. But there's also something nice about being part of a small cluster, their "scrappy little lone wolf pack" as Catra had once put it with a wry grin before Lonnie shoved her over with an, "Excuse you, I'm a great people person when I'm not busy making sure you idiots haven't set yourselves on fire!"

They all got a good laugh out of that one.

But regardless, the holidays are coming up and this is the first year that any of their group has felt like actually doing anything for it, aside from wrangling together a sleepover and seeing if they can convince the kitchen staff to slip them some leftover eggnog.

They made each other promise not to go too extravagant and keep each person's gift to ten dollars or lower. Even though their quarterly stipend has increased from three hundred to four hundred to match with inflation over the past eight years, it still isn't a whole lot for three month's worth of expenses, especially when they also have to budget regularly for clothes to keep up with the seemingly endless growth spurts.

There's also the usual budgetary concern of keeping her and Catra's first aid kit well supplied...

Adora shakes her head to dislodge the intrusive thought and continues marching onward through the snow. This trip is a good thing. She won't let all the awful realities of their life taint it.

With so many kids running around and wanting to shop on their own to surprise their giftees, Right Zone had to negotiate with both the local police and whatever other civic authorities they could get ahold of to come out en masse and keep an eye on them all. The kids had still come with their usual teachers, of course, but doubling the load and also splitting up was a logistical nightmare. Which is just a convoluted way to say the town is positively crawling with uniformed officers, off duty members of the fire brigade, emergency personnel, and other such authority figures quietly keeping watch and making sure no one tries anything.

Adora knows that somewhere in the press of bodies, Grizzlor's busy wrangling two new "brats" (seven and nine, respectively, and definitely not friends.) Somewhere, a certain Magicat is probably grumbling over the indignity of being forced to wear shoes and kicking every snowpile she can, like she can send a direct message to whatever cosmic force is responsible for her current frustration.

On an ordinary month she and Catra--being old enough to be allowed a bit more freedom to do what they want--would buddy up to watch each other's backs while they did their shopping. But this isn't an ordinary month, so once they'd each gotten gifts for the other three they'd split up on opposite ends of Main Street with an agreement to move clockwise to avoid running into each other. Afterwards, the entire group would rendezvous at the small clock tower in the park a block over before heading back to Right Zone.

Ten dollars wasn't a lot to work with, but Adora had done her best: a new stress ball for Kyle, some moisturizing oil for Rogelio since the early winter shed had wiped out his supply and he'd been too busy to pick up some more, a twelve pound kettle weight for Lonnie now that their shared exercise routine was getting a bit too easy for her... Utilitarian choices, to be sure, but she's been paying attention and that has to count for something.

Catra's the difficult one, of course. Partly because Adora doesn't want to just get her something practical, but also because they share nearly everything between them already. About the only thing that is definitively off limits is Catra's guitar, and she's told Adora enough about her time with Tao over the years that Adora wouldn't even ask. Beyond that... Well, there's a reason why most of Adora's day off hoodies have small strands of orange fur stuck to them.

Still. I want to get her something that's hers. Something she'll like. Something she doesn't have to share with anyone, not even me.

In the end, she nearly walks past it. In one of the artisanal shops that dot small towns like liver spots, she finds a display of hand stamped necklace pendants, with a design sheet beside it. There are a lot of the usual nature designs and such, but the one that catches her eye is a treble clef with the five staff lines bleeding out from it. They ring the edge of the pendant in a half circle, and scattered haphazardly along the lines are the other music notes.

The lack of proper order would drive Adora insane. She understands that it's just meant to look pretty, not be an accurate representation of musical notation, but still... She knows her own (broken) brain well enough to know that.

It suits Catra, though.

"Hey," Mismatched eyes looked down at Adora as her head draped backwards over the back of their desk chair, the throbbing behind her left eye threatening to escalate into a migraine. "Guess I don't have to ask how the composing's going."

"It sucks," Adora groused back, sitting up and gesturing Catra over. She jabbed at two particular spots with the half chewed off eraser end of her pencil, two hard jabs each, like she was filing a complaint. "Most of it is just what I'm going for, but these two places here... They aren't sounding right. I've been going back and forth over structure all afternoon, but nothing I do helps."

"Hmmm..." Catra stroked her chin and nudged Adora over so she could sit on the arm of the chair (they'd never gotten around to requesting a second, mostly because Adora didn't want to risk Shadow Weaver suspecting they were getting too chummy.) "Got any scratch paper?"

Adora pointed to the pile of half crumpled notebook paper she used when making adjustments and Catra snorted. "Ok, dumb question. Just let me see here..."

Grabbing a pen, she quickly inked a fresh set of staff lines and copied the notes Adora had already put down, making sure to leave space to work. Glancing between the two, she drummed her fingers on the desk, playing along in her head.

"Hmm..." Catra murmured, worrying at her lower lip with a fang in a manner that was... Oddly distracting. "Ok, how 'bout this?"

Adora jolted, tearing her gaze from Catra's face to look at the sequence of notes scribbled onto the scratch paper. She paused, brow furrowing as she played them over in her mind's eye. It was a little unorthodox, veering away from the path she had carefully laid out... But also blending well with the next part. Almost like the notes took a quick detour and then lead the listener back to where she wanted them.

"Yeah..." Adora replied thoughtfully, the tension all over her body starting to smooth out. "Yeah, that could work."

"Awesome. Let's take a look at the next part."

They ultimately ended up spending several hours going over the entire piece, sussing out every place where Adora was having even the slightest niggle of unease. She didn't accept all of Catra's changes and Catra didn't push the matter, but the ones she did...

They felt right. More right than they had ever felt when it was just Adora running circles around herself.

When they finally finished up she looked over at Catra, tail waving sedately in that way it got when she was simultaneously engaged but relaxed, and asked, "Umm... Do you want to learn with me? I like doing this."

'I like making music with you.'

Catra paused, looking over at Adora searchingly, almost like she couldn't believe the question had come up. No matter how many years had passed between them, that look never really went away, and every time she saw it Adora's chest ached in a way that was hard for her to process.

"I'd like that."

Catra's composing style is very different from Adora's. More wild, more willing to bend and break the rules if it means maintaining audience engagement, but there's always an underlying order to the chaos. To her surprise and pleasure, Adora found herself learning just as much from Catra as Catra was learning from her. Their styles brought out the best in each other.

The jingle of a bell kicks her out of the memory. Mind made up even though it's nearly double her budget, Adora scans the stand of necklaces for the one with the treble clef pattern.

It isn't there. Adora swallows down the disappointment, though she can't help the sigh. Of course. The town was well aware of the large population of music students a short drive away and catered to them accordingly. But there are also dozens of kids out on the street tonight. It isn't that big of a surprise that the design sold out.

Not surprising, but disheartening nonetheless.

She's just begun to turn away when a voice calls from the back. "Hang on a sec there, little miss."

Adora jumps, but remains where she is as a large Taurian man with a massive snow white beard trundles out from a door behind the counter, wiping his hands on his apron. "Was there a particular design you were interested in?"

Adora points at the treble clef, hope rising. "This one. But it looks like it's already sold out."

"Hmm..." The man scratchs at his chin. "Well with Winterfest coming up, I'm out of blank pendants-"

Adora's shoulders slump.

"-But," The man continues with a smile. "I can double stamp it onto the back of another. Ordinarily I'd charge extra for that, but it's my fault for not ordering enough blanks. Rookie move. Besides, it's the holidays. Now would that be all right by you?"

Nodding frantically in case he changes his mind, Adora scans the other designs, quickly alighting on one in particular. "That one!"

"The claw marks? Bit of an odd combination, but the customer is always right," The old man winked as he reached out to take the necklace from her. "My jig and press is in the corner over here if you wanna watch."

Adora was glad he specified, because as nice as the man seemed there was no way in hell she was going into a back room with a stranger. But she stood next to the window beside a display of miscellaneous knick knacks and puzzles, watching him carefully place the pendant in a cushioned stand to avoid damaging the already printed side and tighten it into place before moving beside the machine.

"You're gonna want to cover your ears," He tells her, patting the machine with one massive hand. "Had to switch to a steam press when the arthritis caught up to me. Used to do it all by hammer. This boy's okay, but he gets loud."

Adora nods, glad for the warning when he bellows "Clear!" and the machine's hammer comes down once, twice, three times with a sound like the ringing of an enormous bell. Once the machine is stopped and carefully turned off, the old man removes the pendant from the press and hands it over to Adora for inspection. "What do you think? Does it pass muster?"

Adora runs her fingertips over the impressions in the metal, memorizing the feel of it, the leftover warmth of the impact. "Perfect."

"Good. Now let's get you rung up."

Counting the five dollars she attempted to surreptitiously slip into the tip jar (the old man winked as he turned back around, so stealth fail) Adora went very over budget, but the others would have to put a gun to her head for her to admit it.

Besides, it's Catra. They already know she's the sole exception to all of Adora's carefully maintained rules.

With everything finished, she continues trudging through the snow toward the park, breathing a sign of relief as she moves away from the shopping district and the people thin out; no one wanting to go to the park in the middle of such bleak weather. Angling around a clustered group of bare trees, she spots the small clock tower in the distance, as well as the figure already standing beside it. Grinning, Adora picks up the pace a bit until she can see Catra clearly and--

Her breath catches.

Since her only experience with this kind of thing has been through books, Adora always expected this moment would be more dramatic. Like back to back in the middle of a fight, or eyes locking from up on stage. Something spectacular, like fireworks, lime explosions, like the feeling of playing a song without a single mistake for the first time. It's always seemed like such a big deal in the stories, and in a way, it is.

Because there's Catra, lost in her own world as she gazes up at the streetlight that's just come on, her left hand extended to let the snowflakes fall into her palm and the light catches the orange of her fur just right to make a blaze of color against the black of her coat. She looks so small, standing in that space all alone on a cold winter's night, but Adora knows deep down that she could never be that small, not when she's Catra, not when she means so much...

Pretty much everything about the past hour--about her entire life since they met if she's being honest--snaps into crystal clear focus.

Oh. I get it now. I'm in love with you.

It's a bad idea. Adora knows that. Shadow Weaver is enough of a menace while believing Catra is simply her roommate, her sometime tool--and Catra had ended up being all too right about the torture not stopping, even after years of Adora trying to direct Weaver's attentions away from her. If the evil old bitch figures out Adora's feelings run deeper, so much deeper...

Her heart beats double time. This whole thing is an unmitigated disaster.

But it's still the best worst thing that's ever happened to her.

She must make a noise, because Catra's ear twitches in her direction, snapping her out of that distant contemplation. She turns her head and looks at Adora, lips curling in a lopsided grin. "Hey, Adora. Wow, you look like you've seen a ghost."

Adora blinks, coming back to herself and mumbling the first excuse that springs to mind. "... Just cold."

"Well no shit. C'mere."

When she closes the distance Catra glances around warily, making sure they're the only ones around, before reaching up and retying the scarf around Adora's neck, patting it once when she's done. "There. I know I make it look good, but you don't have the advantage of fur like me."

Adora looks down at the thin AC/DC t-shirt that Catra's wearing beneath her half open coat, the line of her collarbones and neck, and makes a snap decision. "Is it okay if I give you your present now?"

Catra blinks, a little thrown by the non sequitur. "I mean... Sure? Do you want me to give you yours?"

"I'm good with either," Adora shrugs, trying to ignore how fast her heart is beating, how much she wants to do this before this moment slips away. "I just want to."

There's a long moment of silence as they each examine the other, equally searching. What Catra's looking for, Adora doesn't know. She isn't sure she wants to know.

"Okay."

Breathing deep, Adora reaches into her pocket and pulls out the necklace on its leather cord. Careful to keep the pendant hidden in her hand, she passes it over, fingertips sparking as it's taken. Catra brings it close to her face, running her fingers over the four parallel slashes on the side facing her.

"Why the claw marks?"

Adora laughs, nervous butterflies positively rioting in her stomach. "Because you're a badass. Duh."

"True," Catra smirks, flipping it over and squinting at the other side. "And this?"

"Badass, loves music with all your heart. Not mutually exclusive concepts," Adora says, trying not to give away how much she thinks about this, how much she wants to take that hand in hers. She settles for a playful shoulder bump instead. "Plus we all know you're secretly a big softie."

"Excuse you, I am all sharp edges," Catra giggles, lightly elbowing her before transitioning into a soft little smile. "... Just not with everyone."

Oh God oh God oh God. That smile will absolutely be the death of her.

Swallowing past her horrible awareness of that softness, Adora asks, "So you like it?"

"I love it. Good luck ever getting me to take it off," Catra laughs, then frowns, flexing her fingers. "Hands have gone a little numb, though. Help me put it on?"

Adora.exe promptly crashes to desktop. But she still somehow manages to move, helping Catra hold back her mane so she can slip the leather cord over her head and tuck it beneath her hair. If she hesitates a moment too long in letting go, at least Catra only shoots her an amused glance. "How's it look?"

"Great," Adora manages to croak out, trying to swallow past the sudden dryness in her throat. "You look great. Umm... Happy early Winterfest, I guess?"

"Well, I'm gonna hold onto yours a little longer," Catra laughs, playfully sticking out her tongue before reaching out. "C'mere, you big dork."

Adora shuffles closer, mind and heart both screaming as Catra draws her into a hug, nuzzling her head against the side of her neck. A little whisper. "Thank you."

Adora swallows again, even harder. "You're welcome."

Between them, the necklace rests, the music side pressed right up against Catra's heart.

----------

Fun fact: the shopkeep is based off a cool old dude selling machine pressed necklaces I ran into at a Scottish festival when I was 13, and he made such an impression I never forgot him. Anyway, happy Valentine's! Have a Big Gay Realization!

#answers #rhythm & blues #the catradora rockstar au #featuring adora's big gay realization #and also fantasy christmas

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kasienda · 3 years

Text

The Five Minute Adventures of Snake Noir: Ch 8 - Confrontation

Chapter 1: I Want It To Be You

Chapter 2: Best Friends

Chapter 3: Best Laid Plans

Chapter 4: A Thank You

Chapter 5: Unwanted Revelations

Chapter 6: Miraculous Abuse

Chapter 7: Five Minute Adventures of Ananta

Chapter 8: Confrontation

Adrien started at the sudden thud on his bedroom floor. He looked up. Ananta was breathing heavily and his expression was solemn. His best friend definitely didn’t look like he was just there to continue his day of goofing off and having a ridiculous time.

“What’s wrong?” Adrien asked.

“Your old man is a serious piece of work!”

“Did you punch him?” Adrien asked.

Nino threw his hands up. “No! And I definitely should have! I have serious regrets! He fucking shattered my knee cap and tried to take the snake!“

Adrien dropped his stylus, and turned his full attention towards his guest. “Umm… maybe you should start from the beginning.”

Read on Ao3

Nino sighed, and let himself flop backwards onto Adrien’s bed.

“I was just continuing to live out my reckless fantasies. I just confronted him! I yelled at him about how awful of a father he was, and the bastard barely reacted!” Nino complained. “Then I told him you were Chat Noir, and it was like he flipped a switch.”

“You told him I was Chat Noir?” Adrien asked, his voice small.

“It never happened now! You don’t need to worry.”

Adrien shook his head. “I wasn’t… Uh… I mean, how did he react?” Adrien asked softly, his throat had dropped into his gut.

Nino wasn’t even looking at him - his friend was staring at the ceiling, fidgeting in clear agitation. “He went scary silent! He called Nathalie in. Apparently, they’ve suspected you were Chat Noir before, and thought they had ruled it out during Gorizilla.”

“Did he say anything else?” Adrien asked.

“Umm… he said barely anything the whole time I was there. I was the one talking. I told him how amazing you are, and how much of a jerk he is, but he didn’t react.”

“He said nothing else?” Adrien asked again, gripping the side of his chair, trying to disguise the urgency with which he needed to know.

“He mostly just said his parenting choices were none of my business. But… he did say something melodramatic like, ‘my own son, this entire time,’” Nino said, dropping his voice into his lower register in a mock impersonation of Adrien’s father. “Like you being a superhero was a personal affront to him!”

“He was disappointed then?” Adrien asked.

Nino bolted into a sitting position, his expression horrified as he finally caught Adrien’s train of thought. “Dude! I’m sorry! I didn’t think! I didn’t even consider that! Of course it would matter to you what he thought of your dual identity. I definitely didn’t mean to hit you with all this like a train. I’m so sorry!”

“It’s…” Adrien trailed off. It wasn’t exactly okay, but Adrien wanted it to be okay. He definitely knew Nino hadn’t been trying to hurt him, but Nino had also known that Adrien was avoiding talking to his father with the snake. “It doesn’t matter,” Adrien said instead. “Just… tell me what he thought of the whole thing.”

“I… I don’t know, dude. He was definitely super creepy. But… I think he was holding back everything he was thinking. I don’t know what he thinks. Do you want me to go in there and try and find out?”

Adrien shook his head rapidly. “No… it’s better if we keep your knees intact, and make sure he doesn’t have access to the snake. Maybe, you shouldn’t be here at all.”

“Dude, are you okay?”

“He really attacked you?”

Nino nodded. “When my miraculous beeped its first warning, he looked right at it and then lunged forward. And dude! He was super capable! He knew exactly how and where to strike to incapacitate me.”

“Did he know who you were?” Adrien asked softly.

Nino winced. “Yeah, he figured it out. It probably wasn’t hard based on what I was screaming at him.”

Adrien wilted.

“It’s okay!” Nino insisted. “I reset. I’m fine.”

Adrien disagreed. It wasn’t okay that his father was willing to attack a miraculous holder, but especially wasn’t okay that his father was willing to attack his friends.

What would motivate him to do that?

“He actually tried to take your miraculous?”

“Dude! He almost nabbed it. If it hadn’t been for yesterday where I had so much practice hitting that reset without thought, he might’ve been successful.”

Adrien fell quiet, but his mind was whirling, and he wasn’t happy with where it was going, but he couldn’t not consider it.

“Dude, what are you thinking?”

“Nino, what if my father is Hawkmoth?” Adrien was amazed at how steady his voice was. Maybe it was because he had heard it before. Or maybe, it was just starting to make too much sense.

“Dude! That’s a big leap. The guy is awful and honestly, I wouldn’t be that surprised, but surely there are other explanations for him being a jerk and a good fighter?”

“Ladybug suspected him once before. She had actual evidence.”

Nino’s eyes widened. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” Adrien said on an exhale.

“What was the evidence?” Nino asked quietly.

Adrien shook his head. “I don’t know. I got really defensive and snapped at her. And then he was akumatized, and she crossed him off the suspect list. I never thought about it. I didn’t want to think about it.”

Nino nodded. “Understandable. But what does he get out of being Hawkmoth? He already has pretty much everything!”

“To bring back maman.”

And it fit. The second the words were out of his mouth, Adrien wanted to throw up. He could see it. His father was used to getting what he wanted either through intimidation or money, but bringing back his mother was something he was denied. Instead of accepting that, grieving and moving on like a normal person, would his father have turned to magic?

“Nathalie would have to be in on it,” he thought out loud. Maybe that’s why she had been so horrified by his identity and insistent that she and his father couldn’t know his.

“I’m going to need the snake back, Nino,” Adrien announced, his voice monotone, but steady.

“What are you going to do?” Nino asked.

“I’m going to find out for sure if my father is Hawkmoth,” Adrien said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Will you be okay, alone? Shouldn’t we call Ladybug, maybe bring in some reinforcements?”

Adrien shook his head. “Time loops are easier when you don’t have to explain everything you’ve learned to a team...” he trailed off, considering. “And honestly, I… I would prefer to know first. If we’re right, I will tell her. But I’ll set the time loop outside the mansion. If he makes any kind of move, I will reset immediately. It’ll be fine.”

“But… will you be? If it turns out that he is?”

“I… I don’t know. But it’s like you said, Nino. I have to know.”

“I’ll be here.”

“No,” Adrien disagreed.

“No? Dude! If you’re right about all of this, I don’t want you here in this mansion alone!”

Adrien shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t want to face this alone either, but… if Ladybug has taught me anything, it’s that we have to be smart about this. If you almost lost the snake… I might lose it, too. I might get captured or incapicated or worse. I need someone to know, who’s not here! If you don’t see me by tomorrow, you go straight to Alya with our suspicions, okay?”

Nino looked so torn, but in the end he nodded. “Okay. But can I give you the snake back after I’ve gone back home?”

“What? You don’t want to be carried over the threshold bridal style by your superhero crush?” Adrien teased, but if Nino’s somber face was anything to go by, the joke fell flat.

“I don’t want you to be tired right before you go and confront your father.”

…

Adrien took one slow deep breath with his eyes closed. Then he activated the snake and launched himself through the open window in his father’s office.

“You are trespassing on private property. I demand that you leave,” Gabriel barked instantly, rising to his feet at Snake Noir’s intrusion.

“Is that anyway to greet your friendly neighborhood superhero?” Snake Noir joked the way Adrien Agreste never would.

“You are a teenager in possession of a power you do not understand. Using a miraculous that you just randomly found is hardly an accomplishment worthy of respect. Especially if you are using it to break into private residences.”

“I would think not having lost once to Hawkmoth, and having personally saved you on two separate occasions would be its own resume,” Adrien countered.

“Or perhaps, if you had given it up to him in that very first encounter, the city would already be free of his influence and I never would have needed rescue.”

“Are you seriously suggesting I should have handed over the power of destruction to a terrorist.”

“Yes.”

“You’re a real piece of work,” Adrien snapped.

Gabriel picked up his phone. No doubt to call the authorities.

Adrien reset with a sigh.

“You are trespassing on private property. I demand that you leave.”

“Actually, I happen to live here.”

Gabriel froze, his grey eyes rising to Snake Noir’s masked eyes.

“Adrien?”

“I realize you likely don’t approve.”

“Of my son gallivanting around the city in that ridiculous cat suit while putting his life in mortal peril?” Gabriel barked. “No, I don’t approve.”

“And here I was hoping that some part of you would be proud of me,” Adrien admitted softly.

“Adrien, I forbid you from continuing as a superhero. It is far too dangerous.”

“You’re not going to remember this conversation in three minutes, father. You’re not in a position to make demands.”

Gabriel held out his hand. “Give me your ring and I will take care of it.”

Adrien backed away, knowing if what Nino had said was true, his father was more than capable of an effective strike. “I’m not going to give you my miraculous. Not either of them.”

“Then what did you want to tell me?”

“I’ve come to ask if you’re Hawkmoth.”

“You would accuse me? Your own father? Of being a domestic terrorist?”

“Would you cut it out and just answer the question?”

“Watch your tone!”

“You’re worried about my tone?!”

“I see no reason to entertain your insolence and disrespect with a response.”

Adrien’s gut twisted. It wasn’t a denial. But it wasn’t a confirmation either. His father was not acting like an innocent man. And while Adrien was more convinced than ever that he was onto something, he wasn’t leaving until he was absolutely sure one way or the other.

“Father, I’m sorry.” He wasn’t actually sorry, but Adrien knew that an apology was often one of the only tools he had to calm his raging father. “I just… Ladybug suspected you. And I had to prove her wrong. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

His father’s face gave away nothing. There was no change in his expression or posture.

“I’m just worried about you, Adrien,” his father said. “You’re a child. You shouldn’t be risking yourself. This isn’t your fight. Nor your responsibility.”

“It’s not that big of a risk,” Adrien countered. “Ladybug always brings me back.” Adrien watched his father’s face carefully.

And sure enough, his lips pressed together into a thin line.

“You don’t have a say,” Adrien pressed further.

“I’m your father!” Gabriel insisted.

“That doesn’t mean you get to make every decision about my life!” Adrien shouted back. He knew that he’d never have had the gall to say that if his father was going to remember his defiance, but it felt freeing to say. Maybe Nino had been right and he should have confronted his father with the snake weeks ago.

“You are still a child! Until you’re an adult, it is my right to see to your safety and affairs.”

Adrien bristled at his father’s choice of words. His right?! Didn’t he mean responsibility?

But that was just it. His father probably didn’t see caring for him as a responsibility. Nathalie saw to his affairs, and his bodyguard saw to his safety. What did his father ever do other than try to control him?

“I haven’t been a child since mother left! And I think I finally understand why she did! To get away from you controlling every part of her life!”

“How dare you?!”

“How dare I?” Adrien repeated. “You’re the one that drove her away!”

Gabriel shoved his computer monitor off his desk. It fell to the ground with a shattered crash. Then Gabriel flipped the desk itself.

Adrien took a step back, every muscle tense and ready to spring into retreat. He had never seen his father lose control like this.

Gabriel stalked forward, over the debris, his breath suddenly heaving in his chest.

“Get out of my house!” he screamed, spit droplets flying from his mouth.

Adrien didn’t need to be told twice. He reset.

He stood once again on the mansion’s tiled roof. The sun was shining, the sky a perfect blue. Birds chirped in the garden and a car drove past the outer gates.

There was no evidence that he and his father had been screaming at each other seconds prior.

Because they hadn’t been.

He drew in a shaky breath and sat down, burying his head in his hands and knees. The event now only existed as a figment in Adrien’s memory.

His father hadn’t just lost control. He hadn’t just kicked Adrien out of his childhood home.

And yet his hands were trembling and his heartbeat was roaring in his ears.

Adrien was more convinced than ever that his father was the villain Ladybug had suspected he was. But what would get his father to come clean? Just asking hadn’t worked. Challenging his authority always made things worse. As apparently did direct confrontations.

Adrien stood up.

He knew what he had to say.

He reset, and then dove back down into his father’s office for the fourth time.

“You are trespassing on private property. I demand that you leave.”

“Hello father,” Adrien greeted formally.

Gabriel’s eyes widened, focused on his transformed suit. “Adrien?”

“I’ve come to apologize to you. I’ve been fighting as Chat Noir this entire time to protect Paris. But that was before I realized what Hawkmoth was fighting for.”

Adrien could already see the anticipation gleaming in his father’s eyes as he leaned eagerly forward.

“And what is Shadowmoth fighting for?” Gabriel asked.

Did he seriously just correct the villain’s name to Shadowmoth?

“You’re fighting to bring back mom,” Adrien told him. “And I want to help you. Ladybug…” and he had beat back a sob for even uttering these words. “Ladybug… she trusts me. I can… I can get you the miraculous of creation and I already have destruction,” he said, holding up his hand putting the ring on display.

“And you are willing to support Shadowmoth against the partner you’ve fought beside and defended for two years?”

“Family should come first, don’t you think?” Adrien said.

His father was silent, considering him stoically.

“I would do anything for Maman,” Adrien whispered. “To hear her voice again? To see her smile? Wouldn’t you?” It was what his father would have said to him had the identity reveal had played out in the reverse direction.

Gabriel smiled as he rose to his feet. “I should have trusted you with this ages ago, Adrien. I am sorry. I doubted you. I wasn’t certain that you had the stomach to do what needed to be done. To think, you were the key to victory the entire time. I should have had more faith.”

Adrien’s whole world shattered at the unequivocal confirmation. And yet, he remained standing, his eyes were dry, and his hands remained steady. Some part of him wondered at his ability to take the revelation without flinching. He knew if he had learned this a year ago, he would be a puddle on the floor balling, barely able to function.

But a lot had changed in the last year. A lot had changed in just the last few weeks. Adrien suddenly had a lot of practice at dealing with world-ending revelations and the accompanying grief. A lot of practice at saying good-bye to people that he loved.

“I miss her so much,” Adrien said, his voice cracking. And this time he did nothing to suppress the tears that wanted to fall. Because in this much, he was being honest. He missed her.

So much.

His father came around the desk, and swept Adrien up in a hug. For one weak moment, Adrien allowed himself to melt into the awkward embrace.

And then, the snake miraculous beeped, and his father jerked away violently, his eyes blazing with unbridled rage.

“You’re in a time loop?!” his father roared.

Adrien didn’t give him another second to react.

He reset. And he was back on the mansion’s rooftop. He dropped like a lead weight to the roof tiles.

He had just done something he had never done before.

He had earned his father’s admiration and respect.

His love.

The tears came fast and hard, and Adrien just let himself heave and sob because he knew he couldn’t keep his father’s love.

It came at a price Adrien was unwilling to pay.

And now, given what he knew he had to do, he knew without any doubt he would never have his father’s love.

Not for the rest of his life.

…

It only took two more loops to stop crying. And then his experience as a superhero who always had to act, to strike, to make decisions in life or death situations took over. Because he was a professional with a job to do.

But before that, he would give his father a chance to surrender. Adrien knew that his father wouldn’t take it, but he had to try anyway if only for his own peace of mind years from this moment.

“You are trespassing on private property. I demand that you leave.”

God, Adrien was really getting sick of that line.

“Gabriel Agreste, hand over the butterfly and peacock miraculouses without a fight, and I won’t tell a soul who you are.”

Adrien held out his hand, hoping with every fiber of his being that his father would just surrender.

Gabriel glared at him, but didn’t say anything for several seconds. Was his father considering his escape options? Or was he actually considering surrendering the miraculouses?

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he eventually said stoically.

Snake Noir snorted. “This is my ninth loop. I’ve already confirmed you’re Hawkmoth. If you give it up, you can continue to live your life of privilege with your family. The city never need know who you are.”

“That’s quite the generous offer coming from you,” Gabriel said.

Gabriel was wrong. It was a selfish offer. Please father, please just take it.

Snake Noir glanced at the portrait of his mother that hung behind Gabriel “You’re not the only one who has lost someone you know.”

Gabriel launched to his feet, snarling. “What do you know of loss?”

“I lost my mother about three years ago, and I think I’m about to lose my father,” Adrien confessed calmly.

His father froze, his eyes widened. “Adrien?”

“Please father, give it up,” Adrien entreated. “Give it up and we can be a family.”

“Adrien, we can be a family. A whole and complete family with your mother here with us again. Please, just help me. With Chat Noir on our side, our victory is certain.”

Adrien squeezed his eyes shut against his father’s pleas.

“I will forgive all the years you fought against me. Join me now, and we can bring her back.”

“We can’t,” Adrien sobbed.

“We can,” his father insisted. “The ladybug and black cat will grant any wish.”

“The cost is too high.”

Gabriel snarled at him. “How can you be against me?! I did this all for you!”

“For me?! Are you serious, right now?! This was always for yourself!”

“For both of us!”

Adrien shook his head in agitation.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Adrien,” his father said, his voice contained an actual note of desperation.

Adrien’s eyes shot to his father’s and considered him.

His father might now want to hurt him. But he would. If that’s what it took.

Hot tears spilled down his face.

“So be it, father.”

“Adrien!”

Adrien didn’t give him the chance to say anything else.

…

On his next loop, he came through the front doors rather than through the window. His focus was on Nathalie.

If his father deserved a chance, so did she. And he was far less certain what she would choose.

Nathalie jumped to her feet instantly at his unexpected presence.

“Don’t stand on my account,” he told her. “I know you still haven’t been feeling well.”

“What can I do for you, M. Noir?” she said with as much dignity and professionalism as ever. Like his presence wasn’t abnormal at all.

“Where does he keep it, Nathalie?” he asked.

“Where does who keep what?” she asked, but it was clear to him that she was stalling when she glanced toward the doors to his father’s office.

“My father?” he clarified, following her gaze. “Where does he keep the butterfly miraculous?”

She stared at him, her expression almost unchanged except her pupils had dilated. It was good to know some things were capable of throwing Nathalie off her unshakeable foundation - that she was human.

She pushed the glasses up her nose. “I wouldn’t presume to know who your father is.”

“Nathalie, you’ve already figured out that I’m Adrien, and you’ve clearly known about him for far longer if you were using the peacock.”

She flinched.

He walked right up to her, his eyes looking down at her.

When had he grown taller than Nathalie?

“I’m not going to tell you anything,” she said.

His chest tightened painfully. He knew he had no claim to Nathalie’s affections, but he didn’t want to lose her, too. “Nathalie, please. Help me end this somewhat peacefully before one of us winds up killing the other. Please!”

“He’s doing this to bring your mother back,” she confessed.

He nodded. “Yeah, I got that. But I think maman might’ve had a good reason to leave. He has no right to force her back to a life she clearly didn’t want.”

Nathalie shook her head. “She didn’t leave. She’s still here. She’s just in a magically induced coma.”

He lost the ability to breathe.

His mother was here? The whole time? They had let him believe she was gone, that she had left him? Or that she had died? When she was here the whole time?!

His grip tightened around his baton, and his eyes burned.

“Did either of you ever consider telling me?” he choked out.

“He tried once, but you gave him your blessing to move on, and he decided you weren’t dedicated enough.”

He shook his head. Of course he did. “I gave him my blessing to move on with you,” he snapped back.

She glanced past him and adjusted her glasses. “Be that as it may,” she said softly.

“I don’t understand you. You’re willing to die for him?”

She turned back to him, her eyes suddenly intense. “For all of you! To heal your family!”

He took a step back. He wasn’t certain he wanted to be a part of this family.

“So you won’t help me?” he concluded.

“I won’t betray your father, Adrien. I can’t. I hate that it was you that we were fighting. And I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too, Nathalie.”

He reset the snake.

…

It only took thirteen loops to figure out how to get to the super secret supervillain lair underneath the mansion.

And there she was, preserved perfectly. She was exactly as he remembered - beautiful and soft. She could have just been sleeping if she hadn’t been lying in a glass coffin like some fairy tale princess waiting for a kiss of true love.

“Hi maman,” he whispered, his claws tracing out the curve of her face on the glass. “It’s… good to see you,” he managed before his throat lodged itself closed. He leaned his forehead against the smooth surface and he shook as silent sobs overtook him.

He fought to gain his breath back under control. He had so much he wanted to say to her. “So much has changed since you left us,” he whispered. “I wish I could tell you about all of it.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he sobbed.

“How did you get down here?!”

Adrien whirled, and found himself face to face with Shadowmoth.

“It wasn’t hard,” Snake Noir said, before pointing to the window. “That’s a very big window.”

“What are you doing down here?” the villain demanded.

“Saying good-bye to my mother,” Adrien said.

Whatever his father had expected him to say that was not it. He literally stopped in his tracks, his eyes going wide as if Adrien had just struck him. Which in a way, he supposed he had. “Adrien?”

“Yes father?”

THe older man smiled. He actually smiled. “This is perfect.”

Adrien had never disagreed with his father more in his life. This was about as far from perfect as they could get.

“You can help me,” he was saying. “Help your mother. You have what we need! And I’m sure if Ladybug knows it’s for your mother, she’ll be willing to help as well.”

Snake Noir shook his head, tears trailing over his mask. “We can’t revive her,” he whispered.

“We can!”

“The price is too high.”

“I will pay any price!” his father screamed.

“And that’s exactly why you can’t revive her! Did you know there was another timeline out there? One where you akumatized me! And the whole fucking world was destroyed! Is that a price you’re willing to pay?”

“If you help me, there would be no reason to akumatize you.”

“I can’t believe you! There’s no way I can convince you to give it up, is there?”

Gabriel ignored him, stalking closer. “Give me your miraculous!”

“I won’t!”

“This isn’t your battle to fight!” Gabriel snarled. “You are a child!”

“I stopped being a child the day mother disappeared! Because you disappeared the same day she did! I thought…” Adrien broke off momentarily overwhelmed with his tears. “I thought you were grieving! Turns out you were terrorizing the whole city!”

“For you!”

“That’s a load of bull shit!” Adrien screamed back.

Shadowmoth surged forward, snarling. And Adrien had run out of walkway. “Is your mother not worth it? You would betray me? Betray your own mother? For what? Some girl you barely even know?”

Adrien laughed bitterly. At this point he knew Marinette far better than either of his parents. If only she knew that.

“You would make me choose between two women that I love?!” Adrien countered.

“It shouldn’t be that hard. There are millions of women for you to fall in love with. You only have one mother.”

“I could say the same to you,” Adrien said. “You could fall in love again. You only have one son.”

Shadowmoth lunged forward, striking with his cane. Adrien parried the blow with his staff, and dodged to the side. “Maman wouldn’t want you to do this!” he yelled.

His father laughed. “This was her plan!”

Adrien stumbled, and lost his form. Shadowmoth struck again through the lapse in his defenses.

Snake Noir took the strike to the shoulder, and fell backwards. “Then she doesn’t deserve to be revived!”

Gabriel sneered. “I failed in raising you.”

“You didn’t raise me at all! And I’m likely better for it!”

Shadowmoth struck downwards, but Adrien just flicked the snake miraculous before the cane could make contact again, and he was back on the mansion’s tiled roof overlooking his mother’s gardens.

“Sass, scales rest.” The snake slipped away, but he was still Chat Noir. He vaulted blindly away needing to be anywhere else.

Once he had put half a mile between himself and his former home, he collapsed to the ground, and pulled open the communicator.

“M’lady, I figured out who Shadowmoth is. And I took the liberty of doing some reconnaissance with the snake.” He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. “And I-I… have a plan. Let’s meet on your balcony; I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Please invite Rena and Carapace. And don’t worry about costumes. I already know who all of you are and I think both the others know who you are, too. See you soon, princess.”

He ended the call, buried his head into his knees, curled up, and cried.

…

Chapter 9: Family

#miraculous ladybug fanfiction #adrien agreste #gabriel agreste #confrontation #lots of yelling #manipulation #TW: child abuse #adrien is resilient #adrien cries a lot #he needs more hugs #he will get them next chapter #not this one #this one just hurts #time loops #identity reveal #the five minute adventures of snake noir #my own content #write just the fun part project #happy reading

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