#honestly i was expecting them to fuck up his brows for the live action
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Three squeezes means 'I love you' ✧*。
Cherri: RE!Cherri
Tags: Fluff, 1 (one) mention of angst at the end, one implication of smut at the end, Leon being emotionally distant (as he is)
Words: ~735
It's been around three and a half months now, or so Cherri thinks, since the incident that kicked off her and Leon's unconventional "relationship". Relationship being in quotation marks because, technically, it wasn't official. Only technically.
Despite that, Cherri loved calling him her boyfriend in her mind, even though getting all giddy over something like that was more fitting for a highschool girl with a crush, and not a grown woman, ex-mercenary-hitman and currently Strategic Command field agent. She had to live up to those big, complicated titles.
So, she never brought it up. Neither did he. She still called him Lee and baby and honey, and she was still met with doll and angel and sweetheart, and sure, they kissed, they fucked, they've been practically living together-
But never an I love you.
Not from him, at the very least.
On the other hand, she didn't know what exactly she expected from a man like him. Obviously he wouldn't go around declaring his love after the first few moments of being "together" and honestly, it didn't bother her that much. He made up for it in actions, that's for sure. Still, there was a little sting in her heart, a barely-audible little voice in her head that said maybe, maybe-
So Cherri changed her tactic.
"Lee," she called for his attention, almost throwing herself onto the couch right next to him, "y'know what I saw on the internet today?"
Leon hummed inquiringly, glancing at her from the side, at least partially showing he's listening.
"One of my friends said she and her boyfriend, instead of verbally saying 'I love you' used three squeezes, like some kind of secret code," Cherri looked away from him to feign indifference, like she really was just sharing an interesting fun fact, “cool, right?"
From quick glances she noticed Leon's brows slightly furrowing, as if he was processing what exactly she just said.
"Like what?"
"Like this,"
She leaned over and reached for the hand that was resting on his thigh, clasping it in hers and giving three short, yet significant squeezes.
Leon had a pensive, but curious expression on his face, staring at their intertwined hands before hesitantly, but unmistakably returning the motion.
Three squeezes.
Three firm, yet gentle squeezes around her soft hands, with no room for maybes or perhapses.
Three squeezes that meant exactly what she hoped it meant.
I love you.
Cherri's grip loosened for a second, her eyes darting across his face, looking for even the slightest hint that he'll just laugh it off or give her an unserious grin, but finding nothing of the sort.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
The words rang through her head despite never having been spoken, the clarity of every syllable bouncing from one ear to the other like the toll of a bell, almost deafening. Even though thoughts can't deafen.
I love you.
Cherri finally shook out of her thoughts and went back to focusing on the man in front of her. Her hand squeezed his four more times.
"Oh? And what's four mean?" Leon smiled and started passively stroking his thumb across the top of her palm.
"Means I love you more," she snickered and rested her other hand on her cheek, leaning on it against the backrest of the couch.
"Idiot," he muttered as he brought her palm up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to it, so light it almost felt like it wasn't there.
Since then, Cherri has been feeling his I love you's everywhere, all the time.
Three squeezes on her waist in the middle of the night, when there was so much tension in the air before
Three squeezes on her thigh in the middle of a meaningless, boring government meeting that she knew damn well neither of them were listening to.
Three squeezes on her knee under the table at the slightly rundown diner they were meeting Claire and Chris at.
Three squeezes on her arm at a particularly peaceful part of a mission together, when he knows at any moment this could be the last I love you he “says” to her.
Three squeezes on her chest when she feels the most vulnerable before him, that she barely notices amidst all the other intimate touches and strokes, but it’s there.
And before she even notices, Cherri hears I love you more than she’s ever said it before.
A/N: Thought of this because of that one Tweet from quite a while ago, reminded me of the scrunklies 🫡 RE!Cherri character sheet coming soon btw!! Working on the biography part :3
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𝙎𝙐𝘾𝙆 & 𝘽𝙇𝙊𝙒 ☆ 𝙨𝙖𝙥𝙣𝙖𝙥 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩
∘ request:
goddamn your writing is so good 🥵 any chance you’d be able to write something with sapnap where you’re both at a party and know each other through friends but not well and you’re both a bit tipsy and he just can’t control himself and drags you into a bathroom? kinda fluffy where there’s lots of kissing but also desperate and accidentally rough (because the idea of someone wanting me so much that they lose control is a major thing of mine)
∘ pairing: sapnap x fm!reader
∘ warnings: nsfw (18+), party scene, drinking, crude language
∘ links: ao3
∘ word count: ~2000
a/n: Thank you so much for the request! I literally have the exact same thing so i think we’re soulmates or something. I hope you enjoy!
For the duration of the day, you’d been waiting for this moment. Your hair tangling amongst itself as you danced to the music with a group of your friends was almost a baptism for you. No longer were you restricted into your business casual attire and socially acceptable behavior. Now you were free to forget your name and responsibilities as mashups of different genres of heavily bass boosted music pulsed in your ears.
The large house was swelling with people, melding together as if their lives depended on the superficial human connection the beat could bring them. Many of them you recognized from some of your lectures; it had been a day where your classmates had planned a party for someone’s birthday. You hated to admit it, but you didn’t know or care whose party it was, you were just happy to have an excuse not to study.
You’d already lost one of your rings and your clothes were sticking to your body from the layer of sweat glistening against your skin, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything. As cliché as it sounded, going to random college parties had equated to your own kind of religion. These senseless addresses were homes to a different kind of worship, but one you had quickly become devoted to. The smell of another girl’s perfume rubbing off on you and the nameless identity of the boy that offered you hard liquor were your new sacraments.
As the song died out, beginning a new string of beats to thunder around the room, you found yourself out of breath. You gestured to your friends that you were refilling your drink, but really you were in search of air that was a bit fresher. You wove through the heavy crowd, ending up in the kitchen and beelining for the fridge. There was a small group of boys standing around the keg, one of them filling his cup as they discussed something a few of them were getting heated about.
You tucked a cold water bottle against your side and grabbed a clean solo cup. As you got closer, you would hear what they were talking about. “I don’t know how you don’t remember that. It was like a big thing a few years ago?” One of them grumbled as his eyes narrowed at the liquid streaming into his cup.
“Sorry, Nick. I forgot they were selling kids on eBay. I honestly don’t see-” They continued on into overlapping ramblings that you couldn’t help but laugh at. One of them, that had been referred to as Nick, looked almost too familiar to you. Yet as you stood there, you couldn’t remember even if your life depended on it.
Nick’s eyes drifted to you as if just realizing you were standing there. “Sorry, do you refill?” He asked, mustering a somewhat shy smile. You snapped out of your train of thought, handing your cup to him.
“I didn’t mean to seem like a creepy, sorry,” you stated, sending him an awkward laugh. His lips parted in a smile. His dark hair was slightly ruffled, probably just from the weather earlier in the day. You weren’t sure if it was your slight buzz or the close proximity, but God, he looked good to you.
“No, I was hogging. It was my bad,” he answered. You brushed your hair off of your warm forehead and he looked up at you from what he was doing, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. “I think I know you from somewhere,” he mumbled before something clicked behind his eyes as he handed you your cup back. “Oh, you’re Clay’s friend, right? I’m his roommate, Nick.” At his words, your brain clouded with embarrassment as memories of him finally fled your brain.
You smirked slightly. “Oh! Yeah, sorry I didn’t recognize you. You look…” You paused for a second. Where were you going with this statement? Hotter? “Grown-up,” you wheezed, making him chuckle again. “- I mean, since freshman year English, I guess.”
He chewed the inside of his cheek, attempting not to grin wider. “Yeah, you look… grown-up too,” he offered, sending you a slight smirk. “It’s weird how close you and Dream are and I never see you around anymore,” he continued.
You chuckled a bit, wetting your lips. “Yeah, I told Clay I had a crush on you and he kicked me out,” you joshed, making him laugh. For as quiet as you remembered him being, you were shocked he was engaging with you in the way he was. Maybe it was just the atmosphere and the alcohol that had him loosened up. Whatever it was, you found yourself partnering with him in beer pong and spending most of the night at each other's side.
You sat closely to him on a couch in one of the several living rooms, your heads set close together as you listened to what he was saying over the music. “Hey, you too found each other,” a deep voice bounded, making you jump slightly, almost spilling your drink on Nick. Clay plopped down on the other side of you, wrapping his arm around the back of your section of couch to tug on Nick’s ear.
“Why didn’t you tell me Nick was a stud now?” you joked, slightly cringing about how bold you sounded. Nick chuckled at your words, swatting Clay’s hand away from him and taking another sip from his cup.
Clay setted further into the spot beside you. “You guys wanna play ‘suck and blow’?” He stated, more to the group of people around you guys. You furrowed your brows at him, almost wanting to roll your eyes at Clay’s blatant mission to set you and Nick up together. But who were you to avoid his attempts.
The card was passed successfully around the group, until it got to Clay, whose breath you could practically feel on the other side of the thick paper. You turned to give it to Nick but dropped it at the last second, making his lips press against yours. It was almost like he was expecting it because he was utterly calm at your action, nearing leaning in on his own accord. There were cat-calling noises made from the group as the kiss ended briefly. “Ope, looks like you guys are gonna have to leave the circle,” Clay stated with an almost sing-song tone in his voice. You were thankful that you had turned towards Clay enough that Nick couldn’t see your jokingly scornful look.
“Well, that’s just too bad. We were so good at this,” Nick chided as the two of you stood to leave. You ruffled Clay’s hair as the two of you left, following Nick into another room. “Would you want to… go somewhere quiet?” Nick asked, his eyes flashing to yours. Your eyebrow perked in his direction before you wordlessly slipped your hand into his.
You found yourself in the bathroom, Nick's hands settling on your hips as he pressed his lips against yours. You let out a sharp moan as he ground his hips against yours, yearning for more friction. Your fingers dug into his hair as his tongue slipped into your mouth, hungry for your taste. His breath was like a drug for you as he groaned into your mouth, moving against you.
His lips left your mouth but only to caress your jaw before settling against your neck, sucking on the skin with a slight sting. You tilted your head back, giving him more access to you before wrapping a leg around him, begging him to go further with you. He chuckled at your neediness, his warm breath fanning over your neck. He tugged the strap of your dress down your arm, pressing his lips against the newly exposed skin, grinding against you. The taste of cheap beer passed between the two of you.
One of his hands slipped beneath your dress to squeeze your ass, pulling you tighter against his jeans, encouraging you to ride his thigh. "I want you," he moaned unevenly in your ear, sending heat straight to your core. You wanted him to completely ruin you, to show you what was hiding beneath the surface of his reserved nice guy barrier.
You answered his words by attending to his zipper, slipping your hands into his jeans and stroking him against his boxers. A moan broke through his teeth, his lips crashing against yours as you egged him on. His erection grew stronger with each of your movements. You could tell he was becoming desperate to ravage you with each of his restrained breaths.
Your teeth dug into his bottom lip, your fingers pushing his pants to the ground as he pressed himself against you. He pushed your underwear aside, answering your silent pleas. Pressing his lips against your neck again, he drove himself into you, earning a blissed out moan from you. A breath of pleasure and relief escaped his chest at the feeling of you instantly tightening around him.
He thrusted into you, as if testing the waters as you moaned his name against his skin. One of your arms tightened around his shoulder as he held you in place, setting his pace. The mix of alcohol and pleasure you were feeling with each snap of his hips was sending your head reeling. He pushed his tongue into your mouth, fingers digging into your skin. You moaned against his lips, sending him to speed up his movements. A sense of roughness came out in him as he pounded into you harder, and you were eating it up. You fingers dug into his hair, pulling tightly to earn a groan from him.
Your hands slipped beneath his shirt, raking against his back, urging him to use you like a flashlight. "Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, voice husky with some type of forced restraint as if he wouldn't let it come out evenly. You tightened around him, moving in what little space he'd given you to grind against him.
With that, he began to thrust into you harder, as if he was finally giving into whatever he was attempting to hold back. His teeth dug into your shoulder with each pulsing movement, driving himself deeper into you. Ungodly moans left your lips, only confirming his actions as he hungrily chased his high, dragging you with him.
His paces became less rhythmic and more sloppy as he gripped onto you, your fingers digging into his skin as you felt your orgasm was just within reach. You tightened your leg around him, your head swimming as he began to hit your sweet spot repeatedly. With a nearly choked out moan of his name, your body flushed with relief, your climax ripping through you. Nick succumbed to his own as if he'd been waiting for you, the two of you leaning against each other for support as you rode out your highs.
After you caught your breath, you reapplied a layer of lipstick, eyeing Nick through the reflection of the mirror as he stood behind you, straightened his clothes. "Let's not tell Clay about this, purely because he'll make it weird," you stated, turning and evening out his hoodie strings.
He chuckled slightly. "Oh, I agree completely. Don't tell Clay." His sly smirk nearly drew you in as you pressed your lips against his again, a promise that you'd definitely be seeing each other again.
#sapnap x reader#sapnap imagine#sapnap x y/n#sapnap smut#sapnap fanfic#mcyt imagine#mcyt fanfiction#mcyt x reader#mcyt smut
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Infatuation
Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)
Warnings: Swearing
Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)
Summary: It’s not a secret that Corpse prefers taking care of his hair himself rather than going to a hair salon to get it trimmed and/or tampered. However, he only has so much knowledge of how to properly do it without having to obliterate his budget. Luckily, his girlfriend comes to his rescue.
Requested by Anon. Hi lovely! Thank you so much for the incredibly fluffy request! I’ve been very pumped to write it and now here it finally is - so sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post it but I still hope you come across it and give it a read! Love, Vy ❤
“Um, what are you doing?“
I just walked into Corpse’s apartment to find him barricaded in the bathroom, giving himself a hair appointment. We were supposed to have a chill night in watching movies, but it seems to me like those plans will either have to be delayed or canceled, given the chaotic state both Corpse and his bathroom are in. I mean, how dumb was I to expect he was actually doing his hair justice when he told me he styled it himself? Why didn’t that immediately raise an army of red flags in my head and lead me to question his methods?
I’m honestly quite jealous of Corpse’s hair. It’s always so soft and silky and no matter how much or how little effort he’s put in it, it always looks good: either evidently carefully styled or boyishly messy, it leaves me with heart-eyes regardless. But to see him massacre it like this, it makes me wish I could report it as a crime.
“Ain’t obvious?“ He sounds rather frustrated and I feel at least slightly better due to this fact. He deserves to be as frustrated as I am by the sight of the crap he’s doing. “Sorry, you’re gonna have to wait for me for...a little while. I just need to get this under control and, um, clean the mess. Sorry for ruining your night like this, babe. I-I really wasn’t planning on it to take this long but I forgot to buy one of the products and I thought I could wing it without it but...I very clearly can’t so...“
“Please, stop talking. I don’t need to know what sins you’ve committed - if I do I’ll probably have to give you the silent treatment for like a week or so.“ I call out to him as I quickly skip over to the kitchen to leave the food I bought on my way over before returning to the bathroom and carefully taking a step inside, mindful of where there are hair strands on the tiles. Even severed, his hair is beautiful and I have a ton of respect for it - ok fine, I adore it. Corpse definitely doesn’t appreciate it properly. I walk over to the shower, reaching out to the two shelves inside which are lined with different types of hair products. “Oh fuck...“ I let out the whisper without even realizing it because I’m so stunned by the brands I see on those shelves. “Corpse, um, what the actual fuck?”
He turns to me, eyes wide and terrified because of my menacing tone. “What? What is it?” His gaze searches the spot where mine was just pointed at, looking for anything that could’ve provoked such a reaction from me. Seeing nothing but the hair products, he meets my deadly glare yet again, “What’s wrong?”
Alright, this man-child needs some serious help
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong.“ I say, stomping towards the exit of the bathroom, “You’re gonna stay here and wait for me to come back and don’t you DARE, even touch your hair, let alone bring a pair of scissors or any chemical near it. Copy?“
“Copied and pasted, ma’am.“ He salutes me, knowing better than to ask questions when I enter my commander role. There are quite a few things that set me off into this bossy-ass persona, and hair mistreatment is most definitely one of them. Thing is, Corpse doesn’t know that. Well, he didn’t know that, pretty sure he’s guessed it by now.
Feeling myself soften at his obedience and trust, I give him a smile and a wink over my shoulder as I go to grab my bag and leave the apartment to complete my mission, “Good boy.”
* * *
“Isn’t that a lot better?“ I ask, gently running my fingers through Corpse’s freshly cut, washed and dried hair. I’ve spent a good five minutes just smoothing through it with my fingers. I bet he’s expecting me to say ‘my precious‘ at any moment now, and trust me it’s tempting, but I still don’t, I won’t give him the pleasure of predicting my actions. Wow, we’ve really reached that level of being familiar with one another that I predict that he’s predicting what I’m gonna do next. While I’m a guessing game for him, I tend to think of myself as more of an open book. You just gotta be fluent in the language it’s written in to understand it.
I’ve gone off-topic, my bad.
“Yeah, you’re a lot less scary now.“ He tells me, his hand finding mine in his hair and taking it to his lips to place a kiss on my knuckles.
We’re positioned so that we’re in front of the bathroom mirror with Corpse seated in a chair in front of me and I’m for once in my life towering over him from behind. Our height difference was threatening to be a hinderance in my work on his hair, but we easily figured it out.
I can’t help but laugh, “You know what I meant.“ I curl one of his already curly strands around the pointer finger of the hand that’s still wandering around the soft dark curls while the other remains in his gentle hold, resting on his shoulder.
“And you know what I meant.“ He shifts in his seat to look at me directly, not via the mirror, “Since when do you have a hair infatuation?“
I roll my eyes and retract my hands, defensively folding my arms over my chest, “It’s not an infatuation with hair, dummy. It’s an infatuation with your hair.” I correct him, doing quick work of styling the stray strands that fall over his forehead and eyes. “I really like your hair, you already know that. I can’t handle the thought you’re doing such a shitty job taking care of it.”
He shrugs, furrowing his brows, “Hey, I was buying top-shelf products, cost me a fortune every month, my hair was being treated like royalty.”
I roll my eyes once again, “High price doesn’t always equal high quality, Corpse. Did you ever stop to read what was in those products?” I don’t let him answer, I don’t need him to confirm what I already know. “Even if you did - which you didn’t - you wouldn’t know what each of those ingredients do to your hair. You see, taking care of hair, especially hair like yours, takes patience and knowledge. It’s practically an art form. It’s not like you can just buy any product that has ‘suitable for curly hair’ on it. There’s a lot more to that.”
It’s only after I finish my monologue that I realize he’s looking at me with amazed amusement in his gaze, almost like a parent listening to their kid talk about their wish of becoming an astronaut. “Since when do you know so much about hair? You’ve been using the same shampoo and conditioner since I know you and now you wanna lecture me on hair care?”
I raise an eyebrow at him, exasperated by his stubbornness on the matter, “Who said being consistent with your hair products is a bad thing? You know, frequent changing of brands has the potential of being damaging as much as aiding.” I explain with the most amount of patience I can muster, now taking over the parent role myself, “And as for your previous question, I know so much because my mother is a hairdresser.”
His eyes widen in surprise. I can practically see the gears in his brain turning as he tries to recall if I’ve ever told him this before.
“How come I don’t know that?“ He asks finally after a long moment of silence. “Why haven’t you told me?”
“You ask that as though I just tell you things like that on the regular. Did you also want me to drop the info that my dad’s a mechanic in passing conversation about video games? Cause that’s a little hard to shoehorn in....“ He cuts off my sarcastic rambling with a brief peck to the lips. He’s the only person allowed to shut me up, and only like that. Anything else will earn him either an earful or a silent treatment.
Just kidding....unless...
“So, does that mean you’re continuing the family business?“ he asks when he pulls away, “I mean, you’re technically my personal hairdresser now.“
I furrow my brows playfully, “Wait, what? Since when?”
“Since I hired you approximately an hour ago.“ He beams up at me, satisfied that I’ve fallen in his trap.
“And what about my payment?“ I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.
He looks to be contemplating for a second before he stands up from the chair, taking my hand in his leading me out of the bathroom, “Well, each appointment you’ll give me a different price, Miss Y/L/N. But, considering today was your first day, I choose to pay you with dinner.“ He sends a wink my way, laughing when he’s met with an unamused expression on my part as I stop in my tracks, causing him to halt his movements as well.
“You really plan on paying me with the dinner I bought?“ I raise an eyebrow at him, freeing my hand from his so I can put both my hands on my hips for the complete 'I’m far from impressed’ look.
“Yeah...? Problem?“ He asks, faking nervousness and guilt as he closes the distance between us, once again returning to the default of towering over me instead of it being the other way around.
“Several actually. First of all...“ I raise my finger in the air accusingly, ready to go off but the arm that wraps around my waist and lifts me off the ground causes my words to die down, evaporating in a frightened squeal, “Corpse no!! Put me down!“
Of course, he ignores me, carrying me into the living room while I don’t know whether to thrash or stay as still as possible.
Tsk, so much for gratitude
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All Men Have Limits - III
Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne
Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.
Word Count: 3,500+
Previously on…
Bruce was having yet another night without sleep. It happened often. And similar to the rest of the family, he just learned to function on very few hours of sleep.
So, he decided to make his way down to the kitchen.
But as he walked down the long hallway of bedrooms, he noticed that Y/N’s door was open. He glanced inside to see that it was empty and her bed was still neatly made from this morning.
He looked down at this watch to see that it was almost 5AM.
A part of Bruce expected to find Y/N snacking or drinking coffee. But she wasn’t in the kitchen either.
Bruce sighed, realizing where she’d be and made his way down to the cave.
He expected to find Y/N with her eyes bloodshot and shoulders hunched over at the computers.
What he didn’t expect was to find Y/N passed out, slouched in the chair, knees in her chest and head balanced on the palm of her hand. How her elbow stayed propped up on the arm of the chair was beyond Bruce.
He smirked at the sight.
Perhaps she’d been spending too much time around the Wayne family. She was starting to adopt their bad habit of exhausting themselves.
Bruce knew she would be irritated if he moved her. But, honestly, he didn’t really care.
Carefully, Bruce slipped his arms behind her back – separating her from the chair – and then behind her knees, slowly lifting her into his arms.
Even though the movement was extremely smooth, Y/N still stirred.
“I was just taking a cat nap,” Y/N mumbled, but couldn’t even open her eyes to make the argument compelling. “I’m still working.”
“No, you’re not. Time to get some sleep.”
“Mmmm. Fine,” she slurred and tucked her head into his neck.
Bruce wasn’t sure if her mind even put together that it was him carrying her.
But he savored the closeness as he carried her out of the cave and up the stairs to the second floor of the manor.
When they got to her bedroom, Bruce put her down on the bed so softly, that she didn’t even feel it. Then he bent down to take off her shoes and unfolded the covers to tuck her in.
Just as Bruce reached the door.
Y/N woke up slightly and muttered, “Night, Bruce.”
His hand froze on the doorknob. It was so quiet that he wasn’t even sure if he had imagined it. But he couldn’t find the courage to turn and face her.
So he shut the door and let her sleep.
————
“Where’s Y/L/N?” Damian asked the table.
She usually ate breakfast with them.
“Still sleeping,” Bruce answered without looking up from the newspaper. “No one bother her today. She needs to rest,” that made him look up and give a warning look to Tim, Damian, and Dick.
Then Jason came stomping into the kitchen.
He grabbed a pastry and ate it standing up, getting crumbs all over the floor.
“Where’s ladylove?” He asked with his mouth so full that he looked like a chipmunk.
Bruce ignored him and looked back down at the paper.
But Dick frowned at him. “Don’t call her that.”
“What do you care?” Jason laughed.
Dick didn’t dignify the question with an answer. He just thrust his chair back and shoved Jason’s shoulder as he stormed past him.
“What’s his fucking deal?” Jason asked once he was out of ear shot.
“Watch your language,” Bruce warned with a glare from behind his paper.
Jason exhaled a laugh. “I’m not a kid. I also don’t live under your roof anymore.”
“And I consider that a gift,” Damian muttered loud enough for everyone to hear.
Jason smacked the back of his head.
Damian flew out of his seat and lunged for him. “I will end you, Todd!”
“Maybe when you hit puberty, demon spawn.”
“Damian!” Bruce shouted to get his son’s attention. His son snapped to attention. But then Bruce’s tone was eerily calm when he continued with, “Control your anger.”
It was something they’d been working on since Damian arrived at the manor. Bruce guessed that Damian would always have a temper. But he needed to learn how to control it. Through time and practice, he got better.
Damian took in a deep breath, but still looked like he wanted to murder Jason.
“I will be training,” Damian announced through an irritated sigh before leaving.
Bruce glared at Jason. “Don’t push him.”
“He started it.”
“You claim you’re not a kid, so don’t act like one.”
“Speaking of kids…” Jason started with a smile.
Bruce swiftly stood up. “Don’t even try.”
Then he was gone as well, leaving just Jason and Tim.
“Well, it appears everyone is in a rather bad mood this morning,” Jason joked.
But there was no response from Tim.
“Are you sleeping with your eyes open?!?” Jason yelled.
That woke up Tim and he jumped. “Huh? What?”
————
Y/N would’ve slept the whole day if she hadn’t smelled the coffee and breakfast.
She winced as she woke up to see if her mind was playing tricks on her.
But on top of her nightstand sat a beautiful, antique tray with a full American breakfast on it, a cup of water, a giant mug of coffee, and a little vase with a tiny flower in it – a single, pink peonie.
Y/N rubbed her eyes awake with a shy smile.
Alfred was way sneakier than she realized if he could bring in a full tray like this and not even wake her up. She must be far more exhausted than she originally thought.
But then a piece of paper caught her eye. A note.
Y/N reached for it.
In the neatest handwriting Y/N had ever seen, she read:
“Perhaps you should take the day to relax. I apologize for my behavior last night.”
Y/N snorted at the word ‘behavior.’ Everything he had done last night was passive. It was more of an energy and tension than actual behavior. But Y/N had to give him credit for being aware of it. He had annoyed her last night, especially when Dick somehow took the fall for her own actions regarding her own life.
She ate the food at a disturbingly fast rate, not realizing how starved she’d felt until taking the first bite.
She would definitely miss Alfred’s cooking when she finally left Wayne Manor… whenever the hell that would be.
Y/N hoped it was sooner rather than later.
‘No, you don’t. Liar.’ A voice said inside her head.
Once Y/N had finished eating at light speed, she threw on a pair of baggy jeans and a cropped sweatshirt. She grabbed her coffee and carried it through the hallway.
She heard typing coming from Bruce’s office. He hadn’t used the room since she starting stay at the manor. So, her curiosity got the best of her and she leaned into the doorframe.
Bruce was wearing a navy polo that fit tight on his toned body. He was behind the desk, typing on the computer with his brow folded in concentration.
He immediately noticed her presence and looked up from his work.
“Hi,” she said shyly before she leaned her back into the doorframe and took a sip of coffee.
“Hi,” he smiled back.
“Thank you for the breakfast.”
Bruce leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. “I can’t take credit for the actual cooking,” he admitted with a smirk.
“Oh, I know.” Then she looked around the study. “I was on my way to the cave when I heard you in here.”
Bruce frowned at that. “I thought you were going to take the day off.”
“I think you thought I was taking the day off.” Then she raised an eyebrow and glanced at all the work spread out on his desk. “Maybe you should take a break.”
“This is Wayne Enterprises, not my…nighttime…activities.”
Y/N shrugged and sipped more coffee. “Still work.”
Bruce rubbed his face. “Guess so.”
“I’ll make you a deal,” Y/N walked into the room and didn’t break eye contact. “If you take the day off, so will I.”
She expected Bruce to immediately shoot down her offer.
But he was smirking as he considered her proposition.
“Deal,” he told her before standing up and walking out from behind the desk.
He got unnecessarily close, invading her space.
Bruce held out his hand.
Y/N grinned at the formal gesture, but shook his hand.
But when their hands gripped together, the gesture no longer felt formal. It felt intimate. Y/N’s grin fell when she acknowledged it.
“What did you have in mind?” Bruce asked. He put his hands in the pockets of his slacks.
If he felt the same intimacy as she had, he didn’t show it.
Y/N cleared her throat. “How about something simple? Maybe a walk?”
Bruce nodded slowly. “A walk sounds good.”
“Well, then what are we waiting for?” Y/N sassed.
He shook his head and almost rolled his eyes before gesturing to the door, silently telling her to go first.
Next thing Y/N knew, she was getting an informal tour of the grounds at Wayne Manor from the owner himself.
Y/N listened closely, genuinely finding all the history interesting. Bruce was surprisingly a good storyteller – even if he was more informative than colorful.
“I know you had a hard childhood. But it still must’ve been nice growing up in a place like this,” Y/N tried to tell him.
“I suppose so.”
He glanced at Y/N and found her giving him an encouraging look, as if she was silently begging him to say more, to share more.
But he left it at that.
“Damian is rather fond of animals. That’s why we updated the old outbuilding. He keeps his horses there…amongst other things.”
Y/N chuckled and nodded, “He was telling me about Batcow the other day.”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate me telling you this, but I think Damian has enjoyed having you around – all the boys have.”
Y/N hummed and turned to fully face Bruce. “And what about you? Have you enjoyed having me around?”
“Wayne Manor is the safest place for you right now.”
“That’s not what I asked, Bruce.”
But he already knew that.
Y/N waited. Because she wasn’t going to let him ignore her question.
“Dick has taken quite a liking to you,” Bruce said quietly.
“Don’t change the subject,” Y/N snapped.
He opened his mouth to continue, but she cut him off.
“We’re not talking about me and Dick. We’re talking about me and you.”
Bruce’s jaw tightened.
Y/n took a step closer to him. “Why did you kiss me the other night?”
He tilted his head to the side. “Did you not want me to?”
“What does it matter?” Y/N sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “I want to know what you’re thinking. I thought I put up walls. But you give me nothing, Bruce. Absolutely nothing. One second I think you see me as a nuisance, then the next you’re fucking kissing me.”
“You’re not a nuisance.”
“Oh, he speaks!” Y/N threw up her arms.
“What do you want me to say, Y/N?” He asked evenly.
Always calm and collected. Overly polite. Controlled. Closed off.
“Forget it,” Y/N breathed and started walking back to the manor.
But after she was a few yards away, she realized she wanted to say one last thing and turned back around.
“Not that it matters. But I did. I did want you to kiss me.”
“Then why did you run away?” Bruce asked.
“Because I knew you would do it eventually. And I was trying to protect myself.”
-
So much for a “day off.” When Y/N was upset, she turned to her work to take her mind off of things. Was it denial? Was it displacement? She didn’t like to dwell on it. And most of the time, there was no one in her life to call her out for it.
Y/N thought she was emotionally distant, but Bruce won that race by a landslide. And she found it infuriating.
It was interactions like the one she just had that made Y/N think everything Dick tried to tell her about how Bruce saw her was utter bullshit.
Y/N arrived to the cave with an energy she was definitely not expecting.
Damian and Dick were training on the lower level while Tim and Jason observed from the sides.
Y/N had seen footage of each of them fighting before. It was one of the research pieces she’d watched while investigating them before figuring out their identities. But seeing it in person was a completely different experience.
Dick was using his escrima sticks, while Damian had his katana.
Jason noticed her arrival and made his way over with a smirk.
“Was wondering when you’d wake up,” he greeted.
“Please tell me that’s a sword for training and not an actual blade,” Y/N asked nervously while her eyes followed the two dancing around each other. She could even hear the blade slicing through the air.
“Don’t worry. They won’t seriously hurt each other.” He had a little side smirk. “Especially since Dick is Damian’s favorite.”
Y/N looked at Jason. “I always assumed Bruce was his favorite.”
He shrugged. “Dick’s been a father to Damian far more than Bruce ever has.”
She didn’t have anything to say to that. It caught her by surprise a bit.
“Can you fight?” Jason asked her.
Her eyes widened. “No. I don’t know how to do…anything. I did one of those boxing workout classes. I hated it. All the instructors are male models, and that’s their side hustle.”
“I can assure you that was not boxing,” Jason laughed. “Why haven’t asked one of us?”
Y/N shrugged. “Seems like a waste of your time.”
“No, it sounds like a fun time,” Jason corrected.
She laughed at that.
They both watched the two again.
A few moments went by before Y/N quietly added, “I have a gun. I don’t really know how to use it. But I thought it was necessary with my…line of work.”
Jason nodded slowly. “These pansies have a certain aversion to guns.” He looked down at her. “If you need me to show you a few basics, let me know.”
Y/N quickly looked at him. “T-Thank you.”
He laughed. “Don’t look so surprised.”
Jason Todd may have been labeled an anti-hero or even a criminal at one point. But deep down, he was still a Wayne. And even though he had the reputation of the bad boy, they all knew he was a sweetheart deep down. However, Y/N was now just seeing it.
Y/N jumped when Damian was slammed to the ground.
“Jesus,” she hissed.
“He’s fine,” Jason insisted.
But then he leaned closer and started pointing out certain moves to her.
“With Dick’s gymnastics background, he incorporates a lot more acrobatics and moves that require more flexibility. He’s good at improvisation. He also leans more toward taekwondo. But with his escrima sticks, he also uses arnis.”
He looked down to make sure he wasn’t boring Y/N before he continued.
“He almost moves like a dancer,” she thought aloud, proving she was interested and engaged.
“Exactly,” he nodded. “Whereas Damian is still a kid. It’s less about power and more about agility. Before he got here, he was trained to kill. He’s mastered the sword better than any of us – but don’t tell him I said that. Damian’s had to adjust his technique and turn it non-lethal.” He smirked, “Just think devil ninja and that pretty much sums it up.”
Y/N laughed.
“And Tim?” She asked.
“Tim leans towards Kobudo, which is an ancient style developed by the Japanese. He prefers to use a battle staff. He’s smaller, so his technique is very calculated and controlled. Every move he makes counts for something. He’s extremely observant and can read his opponents like a book. Dick tries to create his openings, while Tim waits for the exact right moment.”
“Smart,” Y/N commented.
Jason nodded in agreement.
She turned back to him. “And you? What’s your style?”
“Brutal,” a voice said behind them.
Y/N whipped around to see Bruce standing behind them with his arms crossed. He’d changed, and was now wearing a tank top and sweatpants. Clearly he came down with the intention to train as well.
Jason didn’t seem surprised nor did he acknowledge him, meaning he probably knew the moment Bruce had arrived. He just didn’t care to notice him outwardly.
“Wing chun. Heavy-weight boxing. Krav Maga,” Bruce continued as if he was just listing of stats. “Angry…” he shrugged, “sometimes reckless.”
Jason scoffed at that.
“And he can’t seem to get over his complex for guns,” Bruce finished.
Jason turned to him. He was just an inch or so taller than Bruce. But he looked like he was twice the width and his muscles were somehow even bigger.
“Should we give her a show, B?” Jason offered with amusement.
“We’re not a spectacle, Jason.”
Jason looked down to Y/N. “Such a party pooper this one.”
She smirked at his sass. Bruce was not in her good graces right now, so she would support any and all mocking of him.
Y/N hadn’t even looked at Bruce since he arrived. And now she was choosing it as a perfect time to finally make her way to her computers and away from him.
Jason didn’t miss the cold shoulder. “What did you do to piss off yet another woman?”
Bruce glared at him, and walked down to the training area with the boys.
Jason followed after him.
He looked back and forth between Bruce and up at Y/N, a plan developing in his head.
“$100 bucks Bruce can lay out Dick in two minutes,” Jason said loud enough that Y/N could hear him.
Tim and Damian shared a smirk.
Bruce and Dick glared at him.
“I’m not betting against that,” Damian announced.
Tim smiled. “But I will.”
Dick shook his head in submission, “Fine.”
Bruce needed the practice, even though he was aware Jason had ulterior motives with his request. So he just gave Dick a look of consent.
Y/N tried to ignore what was happening, even though Jason made it very clear for her. She heard the sound of fists and feet hitting skin. He heard their grunts of pain and exertion.
It wasn’t until she heard Dick torment Bruce with, “Come on, old man,” that Y/N couldn’t help but turn to watch them below the platform she worked on.
Dick’s teasing worked, but not in his favor.
Bruce no longer took it easy on him. Maybe that’s what Dick wanted, but he was now on the defense.
They were fighting hand to hand. No escrima sticks or gadgets. Just hand-to-hand combat.
Y/N could tell the that Dick was starting to get frustrated.
Bruce, however, seemed completely calm. He knew all of the boys’ fighting styles and taught them the majority of what they knew. There was a part of Bruce in all of them. It almost made for an unfair fight.
Their movements got faster and faster. Y/N was struggling to figure out what was even happening anymore.
But just when she was about to give up her observing and get back to work, Bruce managed to get a proper grip on Dick and flipped him over his shoulder.
Dick landed on his back hard. So hard, that Y/N heard the smack and the sound alone made her feel sick.
Y/N gasped, and put a hand in her mouth when the sound came out louder than she expected.
Jason, Tim, Damian, and even Dick glanced up at her.
But Bruce was staring down at his opponent.
“Your weight placement was off and you know how to get out of that hold,” Bruce lectured. “You know better.”
Dick glared up at him.
Bruce offered him a hand up, but Dick ignored it.
“I know,” Dick growled as he got to his feet.
“You’re letting yourself get frustrated. It’s causing your mistakes.”
“I said I know,” Dick snapped louder this time.
Before an argument could really start, Alfred made his presence known by clearing his throat.
All the boys looked up at him, as well.
“What is it?” Bruce asked.
“I was rather certain you’d forgotten. Seems I was right.” Alfred cleared his throat. “I came to remind you all that the annual gala for the Martha Foundation is tomorrow night at the manor.”
“Can’t we reschedule it,” Damian whined.
Bruce shook his head. “The Court of Owls is made of Gotham’s elite – many of who are invited. If we cancel, it will cause suspicion.”
“You can’t honestly think we should risk that with Y/N being here,” Dick called out, gesturing up towards Y/N.
Bruce and Dick had a silent conversation.
Y/N knew it was about her, so she did not appreciate being excluded.
“Oh, wow. Looks like one of my safe houses is finally more secure than this place,” Y/N spoke up melodramatically.
But she should’ve known it wasn’t going to be that easy to escape.
--------------------------------------
Next chapter is gonna be fun, guys. 😈
But let me know what you thought of this one.
#all men have limits#all men have limits part 3#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson reader insert#nightwing#nightwing x reader#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne reader insert#batman#batman x reader#batfam#batboys#dick grayson x reader x bruce wayne#bruce wayne x reader x dick grayson
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hiss│tommyinnit
summary: tommy comes across an injured, unknown being and tries to help; he’s intrigued, to say the least, about you
warnings: injury and blood descriptions, slight spoiler for dsmp, small angst to fluff (?)
pairing: (requested) in-game c!tommyinnit
a/n: this was honestly a challenging ask, so i tried to keep it as vague as possible as to leave more room for imagination. pls give feedback and any friendly criticism!
also i wrote this as gn! to be more inclusive since undisclosed :)
wc: (1.2k) - m.list
“H-hello?”
It had been a nice day out, the sun shining above to cast over the growing landscape. In spite of the devastation of the war that raged on mere days ago, slowly but surely, time began to move on once more.
Searching through the wreckage of what L’manberg once was, Tommy had been dragging his most recent salvage when he found a trail of what looked to be a dark liquid. The glistening pool was a deep shade of purple, its hue practically glowing in its separate droplets scattered on the ground, over the prime path.
He had become easily distracted and attempted to follow its path, finding its course to become thicker in its steady amount until winding himself in near the edge of the dark woods forest. As he approached what looked to be a handprint stain against an old trunk, a branch snapped from above him.
Squinting to spot anything through the heavy shading of the over branching leaves, Tommy called out to them once more, his curiosity getting the better of him.
A sudden twig fell, and with that an entire person.
Groaning, you were pathetically sprawled out on the soft, green grass with your head bowed down, your back arched as if you were in pain.
Tommy had jumped back when you initially fell, but by your expression, you seemed defenseless and were in no state to attack. He cautiously stepped forward towards you with his hands out, reluctant to help.
“Are you alright?”
Snapping your head up, Tommy shrieked in surprise when you hissed at him, your eyes an eccentric white that were both pale yet striking. While he lived in a world were hybrids existed, he was shocked to see the different pigments that colored your skin, something he had never seen before.
Like scales that radiated in the sunlight, the light markings delicately bordered your eyes and features, outreaching from the hairline and encompassing your face angelically. Beyond that, he quickly noted how young you seemed, your characteristics youthful and seemingly younger than him.
To say the least, Tommy was in awe of observing your attributes and struggled to say something for once.
He was close to stating how he was no longer the youngest on the smp, but lost his voice once seeing your clear injury, hand hovering over the stain that tore through your outer layer coat. The trail he was following was your blood, he realized.
“Shit.”
You tilted your head, intrigued by his language, but continued to glare at him defensively and started to crawl a distance away from him, eyes trained on him. Tommy reacted quickly to your scooting, fearful for your own sake that you could injure yourself more.
“Wait! Fuck, don’t- don’t do that.”
Freezing from his yell, you paused with wide eyes from his unexpected outburst, and closed in on yourself further with narrowed eyes. Sighing with a rub to his head, Tommy glanced around him for something he could do.
“Just- just, here,” Tommy stammered. Slowly, he crouched in front of you with his hands held outward, steady eye contact to gain your trust. Although you hissed when he attempted to approach, you did not move when he continued to come closer.
By the time he sat barely a few feet away from you, you were calmer and didn’t react harshly as he pointed to the clear injury on your lower abdomen.
“Can I…?”
Hesitantly, he gently pulled your hands away, grasping your wrists when allowing him to inspect the wound. By the looks of it, you clothes looked burned in the surrounding area as the gash itself was caused by something puncturing your skin.
He winced when coming to the conclusion you were affected the most recent doomsday, and that a heated projectile must have stabbed you during the explosions. With the amount of ‘blood’ and how large the cut seemed, he also figured you must have pulled the object out on your own.
In all honestly, he was perplexed on how you could survive such damage for days on end considering how fresh the wound still seemed to present itself. Moving to cover it with your coat, he pulled his satchel forward to find something to help.
Your eyes widened from his unanticipated actions, and Tommy immediately noticed and tried to reassure you as you reacted.
“Hey, hey hey hey, stop.” Freezing once more to his fast words, he breathed out to gather himself. “I’m not going to hurt you, I want to try and help.”
More slowly, he brought the bag in your vantage point and dug through it while continuous looking up at you, internally cheering when he found what he needed.
With one of the last golden apples he was able to steal retrieve from Technoblade, he offered it to you with a small vial of his regeneration potion in his other hand. You looked between the two items, before staring at him.
Like am encountered hurt animal, your defense facade faded as your true vulnerability and fear came through; you were weak and could only do so much against him injured.
Tommy chewed the inner side of his cheek and sighed again, pushing them closer to you considering your resistance.
“I’m only trynna help. Please, just take it.”
He nodded at you when you lifted your hands out to take it, and was patient with your measured speed before you snatched it out of his hands briskly.
Sniffing the enhanced fruit, you bit into it swiftly and began to devour it while simultaneously drinking from the potion still in hand. He chuckled from your assumed hunger, and rubbed the back of his head in relief at knowing you knew what to do with the potion at least.
“You have a name?” he asked. You continued to eat as if you didn’t hear him, and Tommy crossed his legs and plopped down with his palm against his cheek in thought. “Can you even understand me?” he murmured.
You paused abruptly, and turned your head to him with a most neutral expression he’d seen so far. Least it was better than your hissing.
Staring at him for a few stand alone moments, he shifted his eyes when he could no longer match your intense gaze, almost missing your quiet voice.
“Y/n.”
It was his turn to snap his head up in surprise as he didn’t expect you to suddenly talk, no matter if he could understand it or not. Unconsciously leaning forward in expectation, he furrowed his eye brows in question.
“What?”
“Y/n,” you restated. Pointing to yourself, you continued your stare without breaking eye contact in the slightest, your eyes almost enamored with the sight of him.
“I am Y/n.” Tommy grinned brightly from your introduction, raising his hand to shake without thinking of whether or not you understood. You instead grabbed one of his fingers with your entire hand, holding it tightly in an affectionate response.
He laughed loudly from your endearing cluelessness.
“Hello y/n. I’m Tommy.”
#tommyinnit x reader#tommyinnit x you#mcyt x reader#mcyt x you#dsmp x reader#dream smp x reader#dream smp x you#tommyinnit fanfic#mcyt fanfiction
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my someplace is here [AO3]
Five times Alec gay panics at a bus stop (ft. umbrellas, jackets, and a bus driver who really isn't paid enough for this).
rated: T
for @rainyhuman and @peachygos (ily!)
This is so cliché and over the top and I have absolutely no regrets <3. Sometimes (always) Alec is a himbo who is in love and his actions reflect this entirely. I don't control these things.
One.
Alec Lightwood doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but the man across the bus stop is absolutely gorgeous, and he’s twirling in the rain like a goddamn movie cliché, and Alec’s first thought is holy shit, so maybe Alec Lightwood is an idiot, and love at first sight is definitely a Thing.
Alec’s second thought is that the man is an absolute maniac— because really, the dude doesn’t even have a coat on— but Alec’s the one with an insane urge to kiss a stranger in the middle of the street, so, whatever; They’re probably both maniacs.
Alec’s third thought is that he’s about to miss his bus. Shit.
—
Two.
For the record, Alec does not usually walk into bus stop poles while staring at his phone, nor does he usually yell out “Ow, shit — !” if the aforementioned event does happen to occur. He does, however, end up doing both of these things at once a week later, and the stifled laughter behind him informs him that someone at the stop has definitely seen him, and he’s never going to live this down, ever.
“I’ve personally found that walking around an obstacle tends to be much more effective, darling,” the someone says, and Alec supposes that was called for, but hey, rude. He looks up to face the speaker, preparing himself to be offended, and—
Oh.
It’s the beautiful stranger from last time.
The man smirks at him from the bench, drenched again, and God, he’s even prettier up close. Brown eyes, smudged eyeliner, water trickling down his neck, with a tunic open down to his navel and pants that look painted on— Alec’s brain is short-circuiting.
“Hit your head a little hard there? Or do you just see something you like?”
“Huh?” Alec glances up from where he’s been staring at the man’s collarbones.
“I asked if you saw something you liked, pretty boy,” the man repeats.
Alec opens his mouth, presumably to say something that would be considered appropriate and normal in this situation, but he somehow misses his own memo and instead stammers out: “I, uh, I have an umbrella.”
He prays the rain will have mercy and just drown him on the spot.
The man’s brow quirks upwards in amusement. “Excuse me?”
Alec, unfortunately, is still alive, so he must now suffer the embarrassment he’s managed to cause himself and find a way to explain whatever has just come out of his mouth. He ducks his head, trying to avoid eye contact as he speaks. “If you want it,” he elaborates, “I have an umbrella I can give you.”
The stranger just looks at him for a moment. Alec’s sure he’s going to be told to fuck off (which would be a perfectly understandable reaction and probably have been his own in this situation) but after another second, the man defies all of his expectations and grins, so wide that it steals a little of Alec’s breath away.
“Handsome and chivalrous, I see. Do you make a habit of offering your belongings to strangers?” the guy asks. “Besides, I’m sure you’ll need it later. Perhaps you should rescind your offer, I promise I won’t harbor any grudges.”
“I have a coat,” Alec insists, “and you’re. . .” —incredibly attractive, doing things to my brain function— “more in need of its services.”
He’s not really sure why he’s so adamant about this, especially since the man is right: he will be needing the umbrella later, but his pride’s involved now, and he hasn’t really been thinking things through for the past ten minutes anyway. He might as well argue about his dumb umbrella with a beautiful man at a bus stop.
“I suppose you’re right,” comes the man’s response. He taps painted nails against his chin as he hums. “I’m not in much of a position to refuse, now, am I? Though, I doubt I’d refuse any position with you involved,” he winks. “But, yes, if you’re being serious, I shall gladly accept your umbrella.”
Alec blinks. He honestly did not think that argument would’ve worked. (He chooses to ignore the blatant innuendo to preserve his sanity for now.)
“Well?” the man prompts.
“Oh! Yeah, sure.” Really, the whole zoning-out-while-staring-at-the-hot-guy thing is going to become a problem very fast if Alec keeps doing it every two minutes. He gathers his thoughts enough to fumble with the umbrella in his hand and give it to the man, who accepts it with a graceful flourish.
“I’m Magnus Bane, by the way,” the man offers. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”
“I’m Alec. Lightwood. My name’s Alec Lightwood.”
Magnus holds out a ring-covered hand from where he’s sitting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alec. Short for Alexander, I presume?”
“Yeah,” Alec nods. He reaches out to shake Magnus’s hand, adding, “but no one really calls me that.”
Magnus’s smile turns into something incredibly flirty, and Alec can feel his cheeks heating up. “I like to be special, Alexander,” the other says, “and it suits you far better.”
Alec’s not really sure how to respond to that, because the way Magnus says his name is doing things to him, and that, combined with the fact that he’s still clutching Magnus’s soft hand in his own, is probably going to give him a heart attack. He’s about to say something decidedly stupid about Magnus already being special and perfect and amazing when the bus saves him from humiliation and pulls up next to them.
Alec releases Magnus’s grip to awkwardly gesture at the vehicle. “I should really. . . you know,” he trails off, and Magnus blinks at him for a second, surprised.
“Oh, right! You should get going, places to be and all that.” He waves his hand through the air dismissively. “I’ll return your umbrella to you next week, same time?”
Alec smiles dopily as he nods. “That sounds great.” He takes a step back. “I’ll see you soon, then?”
“Of course.” Magnus gives him a little wave. “It was lovely to meet you, Alexander. Safe travels.”
“Thanks, uh, you too.”
Having to walk home in the rain is so worth it.
—
Three.
Izzy laughs at Alec for the entire week when she finds out why his umbrella’s been missing, then makes it worse by telling Jace, who gives Alec an incredibly long-winded speech about umbrellas as metaphors for protection during sex or something. He also deigns to throw a condom at Alec’s face when he leaves to get the bus, which sends Izzy into another bout of cackling laughter.
They’re both assholes, and Alec is never going to cover for them at family dinners ever again.
So he’s scrolling through his phone at the bus stop, trying his best to ignore the increasingly obscene texts his siblings are sending him, when Magnus shows up, bright and beaming and decidedly dry this time, though he’s still not wearing a jacket despite the cold.
And dear lord. If Alec thought Magnus looked gorgeous while soaked in rainwater, this is something else entirely. Gold-streaked hair, unbuttoned shirt, immaculate matching eyeshadow— fuck.
“Alexander!” Magnus greets. He sits down beside Alec on the bench, and grins as he hands over Alec’s umbrella. “Finally a little dry, hm? Though I might’ve underestimated the cold and left my coat back home.”
“Yeah,” Alec says. “Not that you were wearing one when it was raining.” He’s trying his best not to stare at Magnus’s mouth, but the man is very close to Alec’s face right now, and he cannot be blamed if his gaze slips a few times, okay? He’s only human.
Magnus shrugs, drawing Alec’s sight to his shoulders instead. “Coats are irrelevant, anyway. I haven’t worn mine all week, so I might as well continue the trend,” he remarks, and Alec snorts.
“I don’t think that’s as impressive as you think it is. You sound like a petulant toddler. How have you not had, like, five colds by now?” he says. Magnus feigns a pout in response, and Alec stifles a laugh.
“Such cruelty, Alexander!” Magnus replies, “Ah, I suppose I’ll just have to suffer the elements until I’m finally back home again, since no one seems to harbor any sympathy for me. Woe is me, and all that.” He tightens his hands around his biceps, rubbing up and down to warm himself up while sighing dramatically, and Alec, well,
Alec gets a really stupid idea.
“Do you want my jacket?” he asks. “I won’t be out in the cold for that long, and I’m wearing a much warmer shirt than you are.”
Magnus’s lips part in surprise as something conflicted flashes behind his eyes. “I—” he starts, then clears his throat. “I wasn’t being serious, darling. That’s your jacket.”
“Is that a no?”
There’s a moment of silence before Magnus shakes his head. “No, it’s not. I, uh, I’d love that.”
Alec beams, and Magnus clears his throat again. “You’re horribly trusting of someone you’ve only met twice,” he says, voice a little strangled, but Alec just shrugs as he begins to wrestle the black fabric off of his shoulders.
“It’s just a jacket,” he explains, leaning closer to drape it over Magnus, “Even if I never got it back, at least you wouldn’t freeze to death on your way to wherever you’re headed.” He fixes the lapels dutifully, and smiles to himself. “Besides, you’ve already given me my umbrella. I trust you.”
“Is that so,” Magnus answers weakly, which prompts Alec to look up from his fiddling, and oh wow, their mouths are so close to each other’s.
If Magnus inches in just a little bit closer, then they’d—
They’d—
“Um!” Alec jerks backwards, face flushing, “Yes, uh,” he stammers, trying not to look overwhelmed. It’s not going great, because moving back means that he’s now being treated to the sight of Magnus in Alec’s jacket, and he’s having some issues thinking properly right now. It swallows Magnus’s wrists almost entirely and looks far too plain for his expensive printed shirt, but fuck. It’s possible that Alec didn’t think this through.
Magnus opens his mouth, hopefully to tell Alec to kiss him but also probably to tell him to fuck completely off for whatever move they almost pulled, but the bus suddenly turns the corner and pulls into view, cutting him off.
Alec’s not sure whether he’s relieved or furious about this.
“Next week, then,” he ventures. Magnus blinks at him slowly, then nods.
“Yes, of course,” he smiles softly. “Next week.”
—
Four.
“Remind me again, why your presence is necessary today?” Alec grits through his teeth, tightly gripping his umbrella as the rain pours down on them. Izzy punches his arm, not even looking up from her phone as she does so, where she is no doubt giving Jace a play-by-play of Alec’s every action as they walk towards the bus stop.
“Because I’m never one to miss out on good blackmail content,” she replies, which is true. She’s got about four folder’s worth of content of “embarrassing shit Alec has done” on her phone, most of it consisting of his painful attempts at being straight in high school, and Alec’s pretty sure she’s started a fifth, probably titled “Alec’s horrible attempts at flirting with men,” which isn’t that much better than the straight one. Alec is debating turning around and just walking to his destination so that his sister won’t be able to gain more content for her virtual blackmail folders, which is exactly when Magnus comes into Alec’s field of vision.
Alec freezes in his tracks. Holy shit.
Magnus is standing in the center of the street again, drenched from head to toe with his head thrown back . The streetlights illuminate him from above, highlighting the curve of his neck and the colored streaks in his hair as he laughs to himself, staring up at the stars.
He looks ethereal. Alec’s never been one for the romantics, but he’s pretty sure this is what poets mean when they talk about true love and angels and immortal moments in time.
“Oh, he’s hot,” Izzy whispers approvingly. Alec agrees, because, obviously, but he pretends he’s unaffected and straightens his face.
“He’s probably freezing,” he says instead. Izzy rolls her eyes— she gets that from him, he really should stop doing that— and then, before Alec can stop her, calls out.
“Hey! Hot Umbrella Guy!”
What the fuck.
“Are you insane?” Alec hisses. He was trying to look nonchalant and not like the totally lovestruck idiot he is, but now Izzy is waving at Magnus like a maniac and Magnus has noticed them and is walking towards them and Alec is going to die. He’s going to write Izzy out of his will and then he is going to collapse into a heap of embarrassment and gay panic right here, and it’s going to be his sister’s fault.
“Relax a little, hermano,” Izzy replies, and before Alec can provide her with an alphabetized list for every reason he cannot relax, Magnus is already standing before them, smiling as water trickles from his hair.
God, he’s beautiful.
“Hello, hello!” he greets. Alec suddenly notices that Magnus is wearing Alec’s jacket, which is, well. Something. (Izzy is never going to let him live this down, and also Alec is having a very hard time thinking any thoughts.)
Magnus seems to notice Alec’s wandering line of sight, following it and glancing down, eyes widening. “Oh my god, I was fully intending to return this to you, I’m so sorry. I got a little distracted. I’ll have it cleaned and returned to you next time, I promise,” he explains. Alec shakes his head.
“No worries,” he manages, cutting himself off before he says something even stupider like “it’s yours forever” or “marry me” or something, and Izzy snorts from beside him. Alec hates her.
“Thank you,” Magnus says, then turns to face Izzy, “And what may I call you, dear?”
“I like him,” Izzy declares, in what Alec assumes is meant to be a reassuring whisper but instead ends up being incredibly loud, “I’m Izzy, Alec’s sister. And I assume you’re the elusive Magnus I’ve heard so much about?”
“Izzy,” Alec warns. Magnus smirks and shakes her hand.
“The one and only,” he confirms. There’s a mischievous sort of glint in his eye as he glances back up at Alec, and Alec’s not sure how he feels about Magnus and his sister already getting along so well, but he’s sure it can’t lead anywhere good.
“Well, Isabelle,” Magnus says, “If I asked him, do you think your brother would join me for a dance?”
Alec chokes. “What?” he splutters. Magnus turns his grin to face him.
“If I asked, Alexander, would you join me for a dance?”
“I—” Alec starts, staring down at the hand Magnus has outstretched in front of him. There are so many reasons he should say no, and so many reasons this is a bad idea, but also the most beautiful man Alec has ever seen is holding his hand out for him to take, and what else is he supposed to do? “Yeah,” he says. “Sure.”
The first thing Alec notices is how soft Magnus’s hand is in his as he pulls him out into the rain, laughing as it hits his face again, and Alec can’t help but laugh along even as water soaks into his shoes and drenches into his socks. There’s something so childish about it; giggling and spinning in an empty street without any music, holding hands like toddlers, and Alec wouldn’t have it any other way.
“You’re thinking too much,” Magnus murmurs, then he tilts his head back and closes his eyes. “It’s about being in the moment.”
Alec smiles. If only he knew, all he’s thinking about is this moment: how the water catches in Magnus’s lashes, how he’s humming something entirely off-key under his breath, the way he presses against Alec’s chest. Fuck. Alec’s known this man for three days, and he’s halfway in love already.
He closes his eyes against the rain, too, and smiles at the thought: loving a man like Magnus Bane.
Yeah, he could get used to that.
—
Five.
When Alec reaches the bus stop today, Magnus is nowhere to be seen and Alec’s jacket is sitting in a bag at the bus stop with a little post it signed with the letter “M.”
It’s fine, Alec tells himself. Magnus is probably just busy with something else, and this has nothing to do with the fact that Alec froze up awkwardly when Magnus kissed him on the cheek last week, to the point where Magnus had to nervously laugh it off because Alec was too busy panicking.
It’s a flimsy argument, but it keeps Alec from losing his mind for about fifteen minutes until the bus pulls up early and Alec realizes that this is it. He’s not going to see Magnus this week— maybe not ever again, if Magnus has decided that Alec’s gay panic is not worth his time, and Alec wouldn’t even blame him.
God, he feels so stupid. If he hadn’t acted like a complete idiot last time, then he would’ve at least had some closure.
“Sir, are you getting on or are you waiting for another bus?”
Alec blinks, glancing up to see the bus driver raising her eyebrow at him. “Right, sorry, give me just a mo—”
“Alec!”
It can’t be.
“Alexander!”
Alec spins on his heel, turning to face whoever called his name, and oh my god, it’s Magnus. He’s running up to the bus stop, waving frantically, and Alec is overcome with such a large wave of relief that he forgets that the bus driver’s been waiting for him for like five minutes now and he climbs off and runs towards Magnus, only vaguely registering the sound of the bus leaving without him. He doesn’t even care; Magnus is standing right in front of him, panting heavily but still so beautiful and perfect, and Alec would walk home everyday if he got to see Magnus because of it.
“Alexander,” Magnus huffs, gathering his breath. He absentmindedly reaches out to grab Alec’s shoulder, and Alec immediately wraps his arms around his waist to stabilize him. “Oh lord, one second, I ran all the way here.”
“I thought you were gone,” Alec says, still holding onto him. “You left the jacket and I thought—” he trails off.
Magnus frowns. “I’m so sorry,” he says. “I thought I’d made you uncomfortable last week and didn’t want to make it worse, but I didn’t realize how rude not showing up would be. I know you probably don’t feel the same way but perhaps we can still be friends? I can be completely professional about it, though you seem to have just missed your bus—”
Alec grabs Magnus’s tunic (because he’s still not wearing a jacket, Jesus Christ) and kisses him.
Magnus blinks at him when they pull away. “Oh,” he says, a little breathless, and Alec smiles.
“I don’t want to be professional about it,” he admits.
“Oh. . .”
Magnus still seems shell-shocked, so Alec makes a move to let go of him, shifting his arm away from Magnus’s waist, but then Magnus leans back in and presses his mouth back to Alec’s and oh, nevermind then.
Alec’s not sure how long they spend there, kissing like handsy teenagers under the roof of the bus stop, but he’s aware of a few cars passing (and possibly another bus), so he’s not ignorant of the fact that it’s definitely been a while when they finally pull away for more than a second. Magnus is staring at his mouth when they part, though, which is not helping Alec’s resolve to actually have a conversation about this.
“We should talk,” he manages, and Magnus nods, still staring at his mouth.
“Right,” he agrees. “That would be a wise course of action.” His eyes flick upwards for just a moment, and something flickers behind them before he beams. “My place is two stops away, if you’d like to talk there. Perhaps we can wait for the next bus together, since we seemed to have missed the one I usually take? It might take a while, though.”
Ah. Alec swallows back a grin of his own. “Of course,” he replies, “I don’t suppose you know any way to keep us busy till then?”
“I’m sure I could think of something.”
(The bus comes late, and they still somehow almost miss it. Alec refuses to take any blame for this.)
—
+ One.
Alec Lightwood didn’t believe in love at first sight, but the man standing at the bus stop is smiling softly at him as he approaches, twirling an umbrella between his hands as he waits, and Alec’s first thought is holy shit, so maybe Alec Lightwood was an idiot, because what else could it have been?
“Hello, stranger,” the man says when Alec finally reaches the stop. He glances down, taking in Alec’s rain-soaked button down and slacks, and grins. “Forget your umbrella back home?”
Alec laughs. “My coat, too,” he agrees. “I got distracted this morning.”
Magnus hums, leaning in to kiss the rain off of Alec’s mouth, and Alec smiles into it, tasting the faint wax of lipstick and the salt of the rain. “Must’ve been a pretty good distraction.”
“Yeah,” Alec says. He leans in again, because he can. They have time. “He is.”
Magnus’s lips have got a lovely little tilt to them by the time they pull away, tint slightly smudged from Alec’s attention, and he’s never looked more beautiful, even with the dingy lighting of the shitty bus stop they’re standing under.
God, Alec loves him. He feels a little stupid with the feeling, and he can’t help but step back out onto the rain, holding out his hand.
“Hey,” he murmurs. Magnus’s eyes light up with understanding. “Care to join me for a dance?” And sure, Alec’s shit at dancing, and sure, they have to get on the bus sopping wet minutes later, but they’re both giggling like idiots and clutching the umbrella together between their intertwined hands and Alec’s got a little ring box in his pocket just waiting for the right moment, so what else matters?
They’ll probably have to invite the bus driver to the wedding, though. It’s only fair.
#my writing#malec#malec fic#magnus bane#alec lightwood#i totally forgot to post this here but its fineeeee#also if ur that anon that @'d me ab the phrase gay panic im literally gay <3 thank u
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locked lips
pairing: Pro Hero! Izuku Midoriya x fem! reader
ratings/warnings: NSFW 18+ MINORS DNI [please im literally begging you], swearing, legal consumption of alcohol, slight praise, fingering, use of the name ‘baby’, deku being a little bit of a cocky jerk, unprotected intercourse, make-up sex
genre: ex’s to lovers, smut, aged up characters, fluff/angst (?)
word count: ~2.2k words
synopsis: You broke up with him on impulse. That doesn’t mean you stopped loving him. Now you’re back at his place, at a party you planned, with him looking just so desirable. What else were you to do?
a/n: hi hi! alright friends, this being my first nsfw post i cannot stress enough how important it is that minors don’t interact. if i catch any minors interacting with this post, ill delete this post and block them, which i obviously don’t want to have to do. just please respect these rules :)) anyway, reblogs are greatly appreciated and enjoy xx
You scrolled through your phone, mindlessly. You tried your best not to double tap on any of the pictures on your screen. The last thing you needed was for him to know you were stalking his page.
“You should start getting ready,” said Uraraka. You looked over at her, cocking a brow.
“Uh I'm not going?” you huffed. Uraraka sat down beside you.
“Don’t be like that Y/N. You still have to go tonight, regardless of Deku.”
“The party is at Deku’s house. I’d look like a total idiot showing my face there after we broke up.”
You sat up and crossed your arms. Ochaco sighed. She grabbed your shoulders.
“Y/N, you are gonna go to the party and make Deku regret his entire life. Anyway, I’m bringing you as my plus one, so you have to come!”
You sighed. “Fine, but I’m staying with you the whole night.”
Ochaco smiled and gave you a quick hug. She got up and began scanning through her closet again.
You had been staying with Uraraka since you and Izuku had broken up. It was a blow out fight. You yelled at him for caring about work more than you. He shouted at you for not being understanding of his career. The words you meant mixed with the words you didn’t, and chaos erupted between you and him. So, you packed a bag and left. You didn’t want to, but you were done.
While you and Deku were still together, you helped him plan an event for him and his fellow Pro Heroes, as an opportunity for them all to get together. Now, you would be attending that same event. Only, not with him.
“Who would’ve thought there’d be a day where I’d have too many clothes to choose from,” laughed Ochaco. You smiled.
“You should wear that pink dress Iida bought you for your birthday. I don’t think you’ve worn it out yet.”
“You think? It’s not too much…”
“Of course not! You’ll look hot,” you teased. Ochaco smiled.
“Alright alright I’ll wear it. But then you have to wear this!” She pulled out a bag from her closet and handed it to you.
“Please don’t tell me you bought me something…”
“I had to! All your clothes are still at his place...and I wanted to make sure you felt good tonight.”
You gave Ochaco a nudge and pulled out the tissue paper. You felt the soft material in between your fingertips, pulling it out from the bag.
“Uraraka...”
“No need to thank me. You’ve been through hell and back these last few weeks, the least I could do is get you a pretty dress.”
You jumped towards your friend, engulfing her in a hug.
“Thank you.”
“Hey now, let’s get ready! The limousine will be here in just a few hours!”
~
You sat in the back of the limo with Ochaco as you were on your way to Deku’s party. You looked like a million bucks. A little part of you hoped someone would take notice.
The estate where Izuku lived was gated off. Once you were let inside, you could see the beaming lights from the top of the hill. You felt your stomach clench, nerves building inside of you. You wanted to see him, but you also didn’t want to see him doing better without you. You haven’t even been apart that long. A month maybe? Certainly not long enough for him to be over you, because you certainly weren’t over him.
“Oh wow, Deku went all out!” cheered Ochaco. You looked to see the endless decorations and glamor that surrounded you.
“Yeah, these were my ideas,” you mumbled. Ochaco placed a hand on your shoulder.
“Don’t stress about it. Let’s just have fun, okay?”
You exited the vehicle and began to make your way inside. Champagne fountains and blasting music greeting you. His house was just as extraordinary as you remembered it. Nothing less than perfect for the No. 1 Hero.
“Uravity! Y/N!”
You turned to see your friend Iida, plus others from your old days at UA.
“You two are looking stunning tonight!” smiled Kirishima.
“Why thank you, it’s all thanks to this one,” you chuckled, giving Ochaco a nudge.
“I honestly didn’t expect to see you here tonight Y/N,” said Shoto. You shrugged.
“Well, I was invited after all. So Mr. Number One Hero can deal with it,” you huffed.
“Sounds like you could use a drink.”
Kaminari handed you a glass of champagne, which you took happily. You clinked glasses with your friends before dousing the beverage down.
“It’s gonna be a long night,” you mumbled to yourself.
You found yourself on the living room couch of Izuku’s large complex. You watched as Pro Heroes danced mindlessly with far too many drinks in their systems. You chuckled. At least they’re having fun.
You hadn’t seen Izuku all night, which was strange considering this was his party. You looked over to the glass staircase, knowing more than well that his bedroom was upstairs. You knew the layout like the back of your hand, after all, you lived here for a year.
You knew all your stuff had to be upstairs. You only had time to pack a small bag the day you left. Surely he wasn’t awful enough to throw your things away. You got up from the couch and quietly made your way up the stairs, hoping no one saw you sneak away from the action of the party.
His bedroom was at the end of the hallway. The doors were closed. You placed your shaky hand on the doorknob and turned it slowly. It was unlocked.
You stepped inside. The smell of his cologne filled your senses, causing memories to flood in as well. His room was neat, as if no one had been sleeping in it. You turned to the closet. All your clothing should be on the right side.
“Sneaking around?”
You jumped, removing your hand from the closet handle. You turned around slowly.
“Just wanted to make sure you didn’t burn my shit,” you huffed. Izuku chuckled. He took a few steps towards you, opening the closet.
“Don’t paint me as a villain Y/N. All your things are safe and sound.”
Your side of the closet was just as you left it. Exactly how you left it. You looked back to Izuku.
“Perfect. Then I’ll be taking it with me when I leave-”
“I’m surprised you came at all. I figured you’d want to be as far away from here as possible.”
“I didn’t come for you, I came for Ochaco.”
“Oh right.”
Deku took a step back, placing his hands in his pockets. That devilish smile stared you down, causing your face to burn. You could see the outline of his muscles through his white button down.
“You look incredible by the way. New dress?” he smirked. You rolled your eyes.
“Well since all my clothes were here, yes.”
“Well serves you right for leaving out of nowhere.”
Your eyes widened and you clenched your fists.
“I didn’t leave out of nowhere, I left because you cared more about your job than me!”
“That’s not true-”
“To hell it is! I was tired of being second to everything so I left!”
Izuku took a deep breath and stepped closer to you. He placed his hand under your chin, having you look at him.
“I didn’t want to break up.”
Your breathing got heavier without you even realizing it. You also didn’t realize that Midoriya had you pressed against the closet door.
“I-I didn’t want to either…” you whispered. Izuku smiled.
“Then tell me baby, why did we?”
“B-Because I didn’t know what else to do…”
Izuku brushed his thumb against your cheek, then took a step back.
“Look, I’m sorry. The last thing I wanted was to make you feel under-appreciated...but-”
Izuku moved closer to you again, pinning your arms to your sides and pressing his torso against you all in a swift motion.
“-I can think of a better way to prove it to you.”
You tried to catch your breath. All you wanted was him at this exact moment. Was that a good thing? Of course not. Did you care? Of course not.
“Then prove it to me.”
Izuku wasted little time in moving you onto his California-king. He pinned you down onto the mattress and instantly kissed you. You felt the rush of butterflies swarm your stomach. You hated how much you had missed this.
Deku let go of your wrists and you began to unbutton his shirt. With little patience, he helped you from out of your dress. He dived back down, locking lips with you once more. You dragged your nails down his back, listening as soft groans escaped his lips. He moved down to kiss and suck on your neck.
“Fuck~” was all you were able to get out. Izuku’s hands grazed your burning body, feeling the skin that he had been craving since the day you left. He snaked his hand to your back, unbuckling your bra easily.
“I’ve still got it…” he teased. He threw the bra to the floor and gave you little time to breathe before kissing you again. You ran your fingers through his fluffy hair, pulling him impossibly closer.
“Izuku...please…”
His puppy dog eyes stared back at you.
“What is it?”
You panted heavily, wrapping your arms around his neck.
“I need you.”
A smirk creeped onto his face. Izuku kissed your cheek.
“I promised I was gonna prove it to you, wasn’t I?”
Izuku sat up, unbuckling his belt. He slid off his pants and boxers. You caught a glimpse of him, causing your body to feel on fire. Midoriya placed his head in between your legs. He teasingly kissed your inner thighs, keeping his hands glued onto them. The anticipation was practically killing you.
“Izuku-”
“Patience baby...I’m in no rush…”
He moved up to your underwear, biting onto one of the strings and pulling it down. They were practically soaked already. Same with your bra, he tossed them to the floor.
He continued to kiss and nip at your thighs, inching impossibly closer to you. You couldn’t take it anymore.
You grabbed Izuku up and kissed him feverishly.
“So eager baby~”
“Please just fuck me,” you whispered. Izuku chuckled. He licked his lips.
“As you wish.”
Izuku spread your legs apart, dipping one of his fingers inside of you with ease. You arched your back, letting out a moan, and gripping onto his arm tightly.
“That’s it baby~”
Midoriya slipped another finger in, stretching you out even more. You clenched around him as he added more pressure.
He removed his fingers and better adjusted himself above you. He held his cock in his hand before slowly pushing it inside of you.
You didn’t remember him ever feeling this good.
Izuku began to thrust into you, slow at first before building in speed. You could feel yourself clenching around him, sweat forming on your skin. Midoriya groaned with each movement as he pushed even deeper. He kissed you as he fucked you, though you were such a mess you could barely keep up.
He knew exactly how to get you worked up.
“Oh god...I’m c-close,” you mumbled.
“Not yet…”
Midoriya moved his hand down, taking his thumb and rubbing your needy clit. You gripped onto him even harder, digging your nails into his skin as he pushed you over the edge.
“Oh fuck-fuck-”
“Fuck baby, I-I love you-I’m sorry-” he stuttered out.
“I-I love you t-too. Fuck Izuku- I’m gonna cum-”
“Cum with me baby-”
Izuku went even harder as he reached his climax, following you. You let out a pleasure filled scream as you let go. Izuku laid on top of you, catching his breath as your body shook below him.
He looked up at you, brushing his hair back.
“I love you,” he repeated, in case you didn’t believe him the first time. You smiled.
“I love you too.”
~
You had forgotten all about the party that was occurring below you. As you got redressed to head back down to meet Ochaco, you felt Izuku grab your hand.
“What is it?” you asked him. Midoriya took your other hand as he stood before you.
“I really am sorry. I don’t want you to leave again,” he explained. You sighed. You ran your fingers through his hair, kissing his cheek.
“It’s okay, I won’t.”
You walked downstairs with Izuku, his hand interlocked with yours. You watched as Ochaco’s jaw dropped at the sight of you.
“Oh so that’s where you were for the last hour and a half?” she huffed. You chuckled nervously.
“Yeah sorry…”
“Well the limo is here to take us back home, or are you staying here?” she asked. You looked up at Midoriya.
“I’m staying.”
Soon the Midoriya residence was quiet, just you and him remained. You curled up with him on the couch, his arms holding you tightly as he kissed your head.
“You wanna know why I didn’t get rid of any of your things?” he said. You laughed.
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because I knew you’d be back.”
•
reblogs are greatly appreciated <3
#willow.🌸#cheeky cherry blossoms.🌸#mha#bnha#my hero academia#my hero academia blurb#my hero academia one shot#mha smut#bnha smut#izuku midoriya x reader#bnha izuku#mha izuku#izuku midoriya x you#midoriya izuku#izuku midoriya x y/n#midoriya x reader#deku x female reader#deku x y/n#deku x you#deku x reader#deku smut#izuku smut#midoriya smut
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How Drunk Are You? (Stiles Stilinski x Reader)
Summary: You and your best friend, Stiles, can’t decide who’s more drunk after a night out with the pack. It doesn’t take long for your little competition to get out of hand.
Word count: 4,752
Warnings: drunk (but consensual) sexy times
Notes: I got this idea while drunk and may have gotten a little carried away but this one really just spoke to me so here ya go 😅
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You tumble out of the Uber, nearly falling flat on your face before a firm hand juts out of the car to steady you.
“Jesus Christ, Y/N.” Stiles chuckles from behind you as he steps out onto the sidewalk. “You’re way more fucked up than I thought.”
You twirl around to face him, nearly losing your balance for the second time. You furrow your brows and poke a finger into his chest harshly.
“You, sir, are wrong. I’m completely sober.” You wobble a bit in your heels, and he just rolls his eyes before slamming the car door shut and waving off your driver.
He takes only one step forward before his knees buckle, almost sending him crumpling to the ground beside you. He puts a hand on your shoulder to steady himself, breaking into a fit of giggles at his own intoxicated state. He’s trying to be the responsible one but honestly, he may be more gone than you.
You can’t help but laugh along with him as you help each other to your front door. Once there, you try turning the knob before realizing with a huff that you have to unlock it first. You let go of Stiles, who nearly loses his balance again, to rummage through your purse for the keys.
The bag suddenly seems endless as you shove receipts, sticks of gum, lip gloss, and other random shit out of the way to find your keychain. Finally, after what feels like several minutes to your drunk brain, you find them.
“Ah ha!” You call triumphantly and hold them up against your dim porch light.
“Hey. I’ll prove I’m more sober.” Stiles perks up with an idea, his caramel eyes dancing with amusement. “I bet I can unlock the door without looking.”
A laugh bubbles in your chest at the image of him doing that, and you instantly hand him the keys. You don’t think he’s actually coherent enough to succeed, but you know it’ll be entertaining to watch him try.
He waggles his eyebrows at you as he takes the keys and turns so that his back is to the door. He fumbles around blindly, chewing on his bottom lip in concentration. Your breathing slows as your eyes track the movement. You swallow thickly, feeling the familiar attraction you have for your best friend—that you usually keep tightly packed away—rise to the surface.
Admittedly, you’re a horny drunk. You can’t help but flirt with everyone and anyone you encounter while out partying, including your best friends that you’d never consider sleeping with, not even while intoxicated. But Stiles was a different story.
You’d been attracted to the spaz since you met him freshman year, although it was clear nothing was going to happen due to his obsession with a certain raven haired beauty. That was a couple years ago at this point, and he’d moved on, but the two of you were much too close to act on any lingering feelings now.
You laugh again as he continually fails to unlock the door, and decide to help him out. You lean forward, your chest only an inch away from his, and wrap your fingers around his hand. He stiffens against you, but you don’t notice through your drunk haze.
You peer over his shoulder and guide the key to where it needs to be, easily unlocking the door within seconds.
“You lose.” You quip, standing up straight to smirk at him before popping the door open and skipping inside.
What you don’t see is the way Stiles stands there for several moments collecting himself. You hadn’t even done anything, he thought. You’d barely touched him and here he was, clutching his chest in an effort to slow his racing heart. He was so screwed, being alone with you right now, but he was also way too drunk to do anything about it.
He clears his throat and finally walks inside, closing and locking the door behind him. Even while completely plastered, he knows a random supernatural creature could attack at any moment. Not that a wooden door would do much to keep them out, but the action was just muscle memory at this point.
He finds you lounging on the couch, your legs dangling over the armrest. He scratches at the side of his head as his eyes trail over you, trying his best not to make his simmering lust obvious. You were easily the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and that was when you were wearing sweats.
Right now, with you laying there, your skirt riding up and your breasts peaking out from the low neckline of your crop top, he was finding it hard to control his attraction.
“It’s my turn.” You push yourself up onto your elbows and let your eyes sweep around your living room and kitchen. “I bet I can make the fries I have in my freezer without burning the whole place down.”
Stiles groans excitedly at the idea. Anything greasy sounds like the absolute best thing he could put into his stomach right now. He nods encouragingly and you sway to your feet, giggling as you almost fall once again. You take a detour and slide your heels off at the front door, sighing with content as your feet finally relax.
He follows close behind you as you prance your way into the kitchen, telling himself it’s to keep you safe but knowing it’s actually because it gives him an amazing view of your ass. You preheat the oven and pop the freezer open before crouching down to rummage through your cabinets for a pan.
Stiles wants to avert his eyes. He wants to be a respectable young man and not openly gawk at his best friend, but he can see the edge of your red lacy panties with you bending over like that. He chews on his bottom lip and watches as you search for whatever it is you’re looking for. He can’t even remember what you’re supposed to be doing with your body on display like that.
You finally find the right pan for the job and pull it out with a triumphant smile before standing upright, much to Stiles’ dismay. You place the baking sheet on the stovetop and pour out a heaping pile of fries before resealing the bag and putting them away.
You turn on your heel to face your best friend, who was still somewhat in a daze, giving him jazz hands with a big grin.
“Ta-da!” You bounce your way over to the large island in the middle of your kitchen, proud of yourself for completing the first step of your bet.
Stiles’ hooded eyes follow you, his heart racing in his chest. He honestly can’t believe how lucky he is to call you his best friend. The two of you—along with the pack of course—had gone through so much the last few years. It was a miracle any of you were still alive, although not all of you were.
It was with the realization, that life is short and that he loves the shit out of you, that he decides to throw caution to the wind. You jump up onto the island, blissfully unaware of the breakthrough he just made. He gulps, the sight of you level with him now, your mini skirt all hiked up around your thighs and your tight crop top giving him a peak of midriff almost too much to handle.
He isn’t sure if he’ll regret this in the morning, but he’s also too drunk to care. Right now, he wants you more than he’s ever wanted anything. He walks toward you slowly, his eyes trailing up and down your form as if it’s the first time he’s seeing it.
Your brows furrow at his sudden change in demeanor, the darkness swirling in his caramel eyes too hard to decipher from this distance. You watch closely as he moves forward until he’s only a foot away. He leans down, still taller than you even while you’re sitting on the counter, each of his hands bracing against the marble beside your hips.
“Stiles...?” Your voice trials off in question as you search his face.
“I bet,” He swallows down the last bit of hesitation bubbling in his throat and lets his eyes flutter down to your lips. “You won’t kiss me right now.”
Your breath catches at his words. Your eyes widen and you aren’t even sure you heard him correctly. Your mind instantly starts racing with questions. Is he just saying this because he’s drunk? Or could he possibly return the feelings you’ve been harboring for years?
To be completely honest, you don’t really care. You’ve wanted him for so long, and he looks ridiculously enticing in his red flannel and black bomber jacket. It was the alcohol that made you do it, sure, but it was more so the fact that you’ve wanted to kiss this man since you met him.
You cup the sides of his face and jerk him down to you, closing those last few inches. Your lips wrestle with his and he stiffens against you as if surprised, despite being the one to initiate this. The kiss isn’t pretty. It’s messy and heated. A battle of tongues and teeth as both of you fight for dominance.
One of his hands moves to your exposed knee, the other gripping your waist firmly. He lets out a broken moan against you, his head tilting to give him more room to devour you. Your hands tangle in his hair and you arch into him as his long fingers tentatively slide beneath the edge of your crop top.
Internally, he’s freaking the fuck out. He didn’t think you’d actually do it. He fully expected you to laugh the bet off and move on, but here you are. Kissing the shit out of him. He knows that he will never be able to come back from this moment. No matter what happens after this, he has to have you.
You pull away first, breathless, not from the kiss itself but because it’s him. It’s Stiles. Your best friend. You’re honestly a little surprised that he’s such a good kisser. Sure, he’s had girlfriends over the years, but damn.
The two of you sit painfully still for several moments. Stiles is afraid that if he moves even an inch, he’ll break whatever spell had come over you. He leans forward minutely, desperately wanting to kiss you again, but you press a hand to his chest and practically shove him away.
His eyes widen as he stumbles back, nearly falling to the floor, panic tightening in his chest. Did he fuck up? You regret it already? Is everything ruined forever?
You chew on your bottom lip as you look at him. His hair is all wild, his cheeks are flushed, his lips are plump and glistening. He’s sex on legs, and you’ve barely even gotten a taste. That one kiss is all it took to ignite the lust that’d been simmering within you all night.
You pull in a shaky breath, knowing that if you’re ever going to make a move, it has to be right now.
“I bet,” You say slowly, your voice low and sultry as you watch his eyes flicker over your face. “I can make you hard without even touching you.”
Stiles sputters silently, brain short circuiting at your words. He’s frozen in place. He wants to pump a fist into the air because this is actually happening but his muscles won’t move. He just nods, his eyes wide and mouth agape.
You giggle at his dumbstruck expression as you jump down from the island, the food on the stove completely forgotten. The edge of your lips twitch up into a smirk when you take a small step toward him and he stiffens. A surge of confidence moves through you at the sight of unmistakable desire in his eyes.
You hold his gaze as you grip the edge of your top and peel it over your head slowly. You’re suddenly very grateful that past you chose to wear your favorite matching red lacy set. Stiles’ eyes instantly trail down your exposed torso, although they keep flickering back to your breasts as if unable to look away.
You run your hands slowly along your shoulders, over your chest, and down your stomach. Stiles watches every one of your movements like they’re supplying the air he needs to breathe. You push your thumbs into the waistband of your mini skirt and pull it down a fraction of an inch before letting it go with a snap against your skin.
Stiles jumps at the sound, his glazed eyes locked onto the place your hands had just been. You take a few steps toward him, swaying slightly, and can’t help but giggle. This situation really is pretty ridiculous. You’re in your kitchen, preforming a strip tease for your best friend. It’s not something you ever thought you’d do.
You don’t stop until you’re only inches away from his heaving chest. You bat your eyelashes up at him and turn around so your back is just a hairs length from him. You bend over slowly, flicking your hair over your shoulder to look up at him as you wiggle your hips sensually.
You hear his shaky intake of breath and can’t help but smirk. If you’d known the effect you had on him, you would’ve done this years ago. He’s absolutely itching to touch you. His fingers are twitching at his sides in anticipation, but he doesn’t want to overstep your boundaries.
He wants to take you. To claim you as his. Pull you back against him and ravish you like the goddess you are. But he holds himself back. The ball is in your court, and he’s going to let you have your fun until he’s sure you’re ready for him.
You stand up straight and turn to face him, eyes skimming down to the obvious bulge at the front of his jeans. A slow smile pulls at your lips.
“You lose again.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. You’re afraid that if you speak any louder, it’ll break this tension, this electricity between you.
It’s at this moment that he snaps, his earlier thoughts instantly forgotten. He just can’t take it anymore. He’s been restraining himself for years and right now, after the show you just gave him, he can’t wait even a second longer to have you.
At once, you’re in his arms. He leans forward and captures your lips with his, sliding his palms down the backs of your legs before hiking them up around his waist. You squeal against him and tighten your thighs to hold yourself up.
His hands are on your ass, kneading the soft flesh as he blindly walks both of you toward the stairs. He doesn’t need to look. He has the entire layout of your house memorized after being here almost daily for years. He clambers up to the second floor, staggering and pausing a few times to deepen your kisses.
You feel feverish. His skin on yours is causing some sort of reaction. You’re burning up, hot crackling desire twisting in your stomach. You don’t even realize that he shoves his way through your bedroom door until he tosses you onto your bed. You bounce a few times, bracing your hands on the soft mattress to keep yourself upright.
Your eyes widen at the sight of him at the foot of your bed. He’s looking at you with this heat, this need. It makes you want to give him anything he asks for. You’re his, whether he knows it yet or not. You’re completely gone for your spaz of a best friend.
He suddenly takes a step forward and grips your ankles in each of his hands. He jerks you toward him until your legs are dangling off the edge of the bed. He pulls them apart and stands between them before dropping to his knees. Your eyes widen knowingly, a spark of excitement igniting in your chest.
“I bet I can make you cum in less than five minutes.” He smirks at the awestruck expression overtaking your face.
You nod your head enthusiastically, wanting nothing more than for him to ease the throbbing need between your legs. He runs his fingers up your shins, torturously slow, before stopping to squeeze your thighs gently. His eyes never leave yours as he moves higher and higher, dangerously close to exactly where you want him.
Stiles leans up and connects your lips again, this time a languid kiss as he lightly guides you down to the bed. You prop yourself up onto your elbows as he peppers gentle kisses down the column of your throat. A shudder moves through you at the feeling of his hair brushing against your heated skin as he moves across your collarbone.
He traces a path down your chest, stopping at your breasts to lap at your hardened nipples. You moan loudly, the feeling of his warm breath against you, along with the course material of your lacy bra enough to make you cum on its own.
He moves lower and lower until his fingers slide beneath the waistband of your skirt. His lips never leave you as he tugs it down over your hips before discarding it somewhere on the floor behind him. Your panties quickly join the pile as you shiver on your bed, dripping core now exposed to the chilly air of your bedroom.
Stiles’ darkened eyes flicker up toward yours as he parts your thighs and dives between them. You cry out when his tongue expertly brushes your clit, throwing your head back against the mattress. One of his hands glides up to squeeze your hip, while the other teases your entrance.
A pitiful whimper escapes you when he inserts a finger. It’s so long and thick and wow you’re really doing this with your best friend. He groans against you, sending delicious vibrations through your body. One of your hands tangles in his hair, pulling harshly when he flicks his tongue against your sensitive bud again.
You steal a glance down toward him and feel your heart swell at the look he’s giving you. His eyes are shining with adoration as he laps at your core like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.
Your eyes roll back when he pushes another finger inside you and starts pumping them quickly. You feel your stomach tightening already as his free hand snakes up to pinch your nipples delicately.
“Stiles...” You murmur breathlessly, back arching as another wave of pleasure crashes down onto you.
He nearly explodes in his jeans at the sound of his name on your lips like that. His eyes pinch shut as he tries to reel in his own desire so he can fully focus on you. He groans against you at the feeling of your core clenching around his fingers. He pulls them almost completely free before slamming them back inside, smirking at the way it makes you whine.
All it takes is one more lick against your clit, and you’re coming. You cry out, your body trembling from head to toe as intense waves of pleasure move through you. Stiles can’t help but moan at the sound as his free hand slides across your stomach to push you down against the bed.
He doesn’t stop until you sag against the mattress, completely spent. He finally pulls away, wiping his mouth clean with the back of his hand as a big grin overtakes his face. He’s been wanting to do that for way too long, and honestly can’t believe it just happened for real. He’s imagined it enough times to know it would be amazing, but that had exceeded his expectations.
You’re the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen. All sweaty, flushed chest heaving, pupils blown wide from pleasure that he gave you. A sense of pride swells in his chest at the fact that he was able to make you feel so good.
Once you snap out of your blissful haze, you sit upright and jerk him toward you. You hungrily devour his lips, not feeling the least bit satiated by that mind blowing orgasm. You want—no, need—him. Right now.
He clambers up onto the bed, one of his hands moving to cup the back of your head as he climbs on top of you. You slide your hands along his shoulders beneath his flannel and practically rip it from his body. Next comes his undershirt, followed by the belt around his waist.
Your shaky hands fumble with the button of his jeans for a few seconds before he bats them away to undo it himself. Within seconds they’re gone too, joining the pile of clothes on your carpeted floor. You drag your fingers down his broad chest, pausing over the small patch of hair between his pecks.
He shudders against you, lips leaving yours to suck and lick his way down your neck. You palm him through his boxers and he grunts lowly, stiffening at the feeling. A trembling sigh falls past your lips as you explore his hard length through the thin fabric.
Suddenly impatient, you use both hands to pull the barrier down, eyes widening as his cock springs free. It’s so much bigger than you imagined. You’d spent an embarrassing amount of time thinking about your best friend’s dick, but it still hadn’t prepared you for the real thing.
You wrap your fingers around him and he freezes against you. He presses his forehead to your shoulder as you pump him slowly. A moan rumbles through your chest at the feeling of him so exposed, so primal on top of you.
All he can do is huff out a few quick gasps as just your fingers set his body ablaze. He honestly feels like he might combust with the way his heart is sputtering in his chest. It takes every ounce of his willpower to peel your fingers away from him. He knows he won’t last long and he desperately wants to be inside you.
“Can I...is it okay if...” He doesn’t even know what he’s trying to say. He’s so tightly wound, so high off your presence that he can barely string his thoughts together.
“I have condoms.” You breathe, trying to convey with your eyes how much you want this. How much you want him.
He swallows thickly, hesitating for only a moment before sliding onto the floor to rummage through the bedside table you’d gestured toward. He pulls out a single foil packet and moves to sit next to you on the bed. He glances between his shaky hand and your eyes, suddenly needing reassurance.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” He breathes, heart clenching in his chest at the possibility of you saying no.
Even if you do, he has to give you this moment to decide. He’s painfully aware that both of you are very intoxicated and may regret this in the morning. But he also knows that he’s wanted you for years and it might just kill him to stop now.
You trail your fingers along the side of his face, eyes rounding at the respect he has for you. You really love the idiot sitting in front of you, a realization that makes you lean forward and close the distance between you.
“Stiles,” You mumble against his lips. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to lose my mind.”
His eyes widen in shock at your urgency and he chuckles, tearing the small package open and rolling the condom on quickly. He reconnects your lips and pushes you down onto the bed gently. You wrap your arms around his neck, playing with the hair at the base of his skull.
Your head tilts back, a long moan escaping you as he enters you in one swift motion. His eyes pinch shut tightly as he braces a hand against your headboard to steady himself. All he can do is grunt and gasp for air as your heat clenches around him. After only a few trusts, he knows he’s going to explode any minute.
He slides an arm under your arched back and turns you both so that he’s now laying on the mattress. Your knees settle on either side of his thighs and his brows furrow as he grips your hips tightly.
“Please...” Stiles groans, not even sure what he’s asking for. You’re everywhere. Around him, on top of him, your delicious smell is enveloping his every sense with his head on your pillow. It’s all too much.
You press your palms onto his chest and swirl your hips, pulling a broken moan from him. You lift yourself up before gliding back down slowly, wanting to see how long you can tease him before he’ll snap. The memory of the way he’d lost control earlier has your core clenching around him. You want to see that again.
“Y/N, I c-can’t...”
You lean down to steal a quick kiss, almost instantly reading his mind. He flips you over again, sliding his tongue along your bottom lip as he starts pounding into you, hard. Your head knocks into the headboard with each of his jerky movements, but you don’t care.
Your stomach tightens and you whimper, not expecting to cum again so quickly. None of your other partners had ever gotten you off more than once in a session. Stiles brings a hand down blindly to rub quick circles over your clit and you cry out against his lips.
Within seconds, you’re both tumbling over the edge, a chorus of moans and shaky breathing the only sound in your otherwise quiet bedroom.
He collapses onto the bed beside you, chest heaving as he tries to make sense of what the fuck just happened. The lustful haze is clearing from his mind as his orgasm fades away. He’s left laying there, his best friend—who he just fucked—only inches away.
He lets his eyes trail over to you slowly, honestly terrified of what he’ll find. He needs to know what you’re thinking. His eyes search yours, but they’re guarded. Unreadable. He instantly starts panicking, heart sputtering in his chest as he bolts upright and quickly discards the condom in your trash can.
Your brows furrow from your position beside him, surprised by his sudden movement. A wave of exhaustion comes over you. It’s a mixture of the alcohol and the mind blowing sex you just had, and all you want to do is sleep it off.
You reach forward to clasp a hand around Stiles’ wrist, stopping him just before he stands from the bed. “Where are you going?”
Your heart falls into your stomach at the thought of him trying to run away from what you’d just done. There wasn’t a single part of you that regretted it. You wanted to do that since you met the idiot, so there was no way you’d be going back on it now.
You honestly didn’t even care if the two of you ever slept together again. You just needed him in your life. You weren’t going to let him disappear on you just because you gave into a night of passion.
“Oh. I-I didn’t know if you...you know, would want...” He stammers, eyes widening at the frown on your face. Maybe he misread the situation.
“Of course I want you to stay, you big dork.” You chuckle, tugging on his arm again.
His lips twitch into a grin, relief washing over him. He crawls back into the bed, peeling your comforter away so that you can join him beneath the warmth. You instantly curl into his chest, his arms wrapping around you in a familiar gesture. You’d cuddled many times before, but never like this. Never naked.
Stiles tries thinking of anything else to fight off his growing erection. Now was not the time for round two. You were basically asleep against him, your breath slowing to an even rhythm. He pulls you in tighter and lets his eyes flutter closed, knowing there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.
The last thought that flickers through his mind before he drifts off is that he could definitely get used to this new aspect of your relationship. He only hoped, come morning, that you’d feel the same.
#stiles stilinski#stiles imagine#stiles stilinski smut#stiles stilinski fluff#stiles x y/n#stiles#teen wolf fanfiction#teen wolf fic#teen wolf smut#stiles stilinski fic#stiles smut#dylan obrien smut#dylan o’brien#dylan obrien x reader#dylan obrien imagine#teen wolf#stiles x reader
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— 𝖌𝖑𝖚𝖙𝖙𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖚𝖘
this is my piece for @karasunosimp’s “it’s raining milk” collab!! this is my first time ever participating in a collab, so thank you for letting me join <3
milf!sasha braus
fem!reader, nsfw content, large age gap, wlw, oral sex.
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ♡ 18+ CONTENT
Your job as a babysitter had quite a few perks.
One: The pay is good. You were rather reluctant to resort to babysitting as a part-time job but, desperate times call for desperate measures, especially when you’re trying to earn some form of income while putting yourself through your last year of University. So you were pleasantly surprised when you had been offered more than you normally would be compensated when babysitting.
Two: The kid you babysit, Kaya, is an absolute angel. Due to her rather withdrawn nature, Kaya typically keeps herself busy by quietly reading in her room or watching the television in the living room. As time has passed and Kaya’s slowly become accustomed to your presence, she no longer seems as apprehensive to interact with you as she once was. It’s obvious to you that she’s a good kid. Although she’d rather keep to herself, she’s always polite when you converse and sometimes she’ll even ask if you want to join her and watch a show together. She has pretty good taste in shows, you think as you watch “The Winx Club” together.
Three: Miss Braus is one of the hottest fucking women you’ve seen in your life. She looks fucking incredible for a woman her age and you were honestly shocked to learn that she’s as old as she is. Whenever you interact with the woman, you have to physically restrain yourself from allowing your eyes to lower; her shirts are always exceptionally tight, clinging like a second-skin to her tits. It’s only when she turns around to leave through the front door that you let yourself check out the older woman. She has a damn nice ass.
“Hello, Miss Braus.” With your tote bag resting on your shoulder, you step inside of the home as the brunette warmly ushers you in.
“Miss Braus makes me feel old. How many times do I have to tell you that Sasha will do just fine, sweetheart?” She complains, playfully scolding you as you slip off your sneakers by the entrance of the door. Her hands are firmly placed on the curve of her hips when you lift your head to offer her a sheepish grin.
“Sorry, Mi—Sorry, Sasha. Force of habit, I guess.” You bring up one hand to rub at the back of your neck, brows lightly pinching together when you survey the space to see Kaya nowhere in sight. “Eh, pardon me, Sasha, but where’s Kaya at?”
Although you’re well aware of how reserved her daughter is, you’ve come to expect Kaya to be curled up on the couch reading a novel whenever you come over to babysit her. You guys have fallen into the habit where you’ll cook her lunch as soon as you arrive while she reads nearby so it’s rather unusual that the blonde girl is nowhere to be seen.
“She’s at her father’s house for the day.” For a brief moment, the brunette’s expression pinches up: distaste for the blond man made evident on her face. You don’t know too much about Sasha’s ex-husband, just that he’s some renowned chef that frequently travels a lot. Niccolo is his name if you recall correctly. It’s not your place to pry so you choose to not ask any questions regarding the matter and listen when Sasha slips little tidbits of information regarding her ex-husband.
Wait. What?
“Kaya’s not here?” If Kaya’s not here then why were you still scheduled to babysit today?
You’re drawn out of your train of thought when Sasha places a gentle hand on your shoulder. You startle at the little amount of space in between the two of you.
“Nope!” She cheerfully exclaims as she slips your bag off of your shoulders. You’re left in a stupor, wondering what the fuck is going on, but you shake it off and follow Sasha, who has turned around and is now making her way in the direction of the kitchen.
“I thought we could chat today!” Her back is turned towards you as you take a seat at one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter. She floats around the kitchen, grabbing items from the fridge and cabinets. Your eyes glue themselves to the thin sliver of skin that appears when Sasha’s shirt rides up as she reaches for something in one of the upper cabinets.
“O-oh, okay.” This turn of events is rather strange, but you’re not complaining. Sasha’s a really wonderful conversationalist: the conversation flows naturally between you two and you’re always left in stitches at the jokes she cracks. Also, you get the opportunity to openly ogle her with her back facing you as she cooks something on the stove. You’re not going to pass up on an opportunity like this.
“I’m making us some lunch, but it’s going to take some time to cook.” You’re knocked out of your reverie once again and quickly avert your gaze from Sasha’s ass to meet her eyes. You desperately hope you were fast enough that she didn’t catch you. Her expression doesn’t give anything away so you think you’re good.
“Sounds good to me! Thank you so much for making lunch.” Your mouth waters at the thought of eating Sasha’s cooking. Although you’ve never tried it, Kaya’s always boasted about how her parents are both great cooks. You’re looking forward to trying her food since Kaya speaks so highly of it.
“Of course, honey! It’s no issue especially for such a sweet girl.” Your thighs automatically squeeze together. You mentally thank a higher being that the counter hides your lower half because that would be painfully embarrassing for you if your employer saw how turned on they made you by uttering only two words.
You watch as Sasha floats around the kitchen, grabbing some more ingredients from the fridge and different cabinets before tossing them all together on the stove to simmer. You fidget in your seat, never one who was good at sitting still with nothing to occupy your attention. You feel that it would be rude for you to pull out your phone and scroll through social media in Sasha’s presence.
“There we go! Now we just have to let this simmer for a while,” she exclaims, turning around to face you and clapping her hands together. A pretty smile graces her face and her features light up when you return it with a grin of your own.
“Since it's going to take some time, how about we get comfy?”
Sasha pats the seat next to her on the couch, prompting you to slip out of the stool you’re sitting on to join her. You make sure to maintain a respectable distance that Sasha effectively destroys when she scoots closer to you until your knees are brushing against one another’s. The lack of space between you two makes you more nervous than you’d like to admit, but you don’t move from your spot.
The air is stolen straight out of your lungs when Sasha places a delicate hand on your knee.
“You know, you’re not really discreet when you’re checking me out, honey,” Sasha notes.
“Huh—what?” It takes your brain a moment to process what Sasha’s said, especially as her hand steadily inches up your thigh. Once you realize what she’s said, embarrassment crashes over you in a cold wave.
“Oh my god, I am so so so sorry Miss Braus. Please forgive—.”
Your words die out when Sasha places the hand that’s not on your thigh on your cheek, forcing you to look her way.
“You talk too much, sweetheart,” Sasha affectionately chides before she presses her lips to yours, effectively shutting you up in the process. You’re frozen still for a moment. Is this actually fucking happening? When you feel Sasha move her lips against yours, you realize that yes, this is, in fact, fucking happening.
Any of your prior hesitations is thrown out the window when you feel Sasha’s hands slip underneath the hem of your t-shirt. Your tongue traces the seam of her lips before Sasha parts them, letting you in. Your hands rest on her hips, urging and guiding her to seat herself on top of your lap.
You smile against her lips as a startled gasp leaves them when you firmly squeeze her ass.
“Too much clothing,” she rasps out while pulling her shirt over her head. You’re quick to follow suit and tug your own t-shirt off just in time to watch Sasha unclasp her bra. Her breasts spill out from underneath the constraining fabric and jiggle before settling against her chest.
As much as you want to lean forward and lather her tits in attention, you’re eager to switch the position you’re currently in. Sasha’s back hits the couch’s cushions with a quiet thump as your frame leers above her.
Her eyes widen in brief surprise at the action, but Sasha’s not granted much time to think when you swoop down to kiss her again. It’s sloppier this time around. You have no clue when, or if, you’ll ever get this chance again and you’re determined to make the most of it. You want to ingrain the taste of Sasha into your brain.
Her hands tangle together behind your neck when you begin your descent down her body. You lick the bead of sweat trailing down the column of her neck and gently nip at the skin there. Not hard enough to make any marks, but just hard enough to elicit a gasp from Sasha.
“Fuck. Just like that.”
She throws her head back when you swirl your tongue around the hardened bud of her nipple while your fingers roll her other one. You lavish her tits in attention, sucking and nipping at them until blood rushes to the surface of her skin. When you lean back, you mentally pat yourself on the back. Her tits are a mess, covered in hickies of varying sizes.
You pepper kisses to her stomach, relishing in how soft and plush her skin is, before tossing her legs over your shoulders.
“You look so good like this, Sasha. So pretty and desperate for me to eat you out,” you coo. You hook your arms underneath her thighs, grabbing fistfuls of the fat of her ass until she’s positioned in a way you like.
“Hurry up and put your mouth on me already.” She tightens her thighs around your head and digs her heels into your back, urging you to get on with it already. If this was any other situation, you’d draw it out a little longer until Sasha was on the verge of tears and begging you to eat her out, but you’re feeling impatient. You can’t lie and say you’re not eager to have a taste of her.
Before Sasha can complain at how long you’re taking, you dive in. A startled moan tears its way out of her throat when you lick a long, deep stripe along her dripping slit. You lap at her cunt like a woman starved, devouring her whole. You circle her clit with your tongue before latching onto it.
“Shit. I’m so close. You’re doing s’good.”
Her back arches off of the sofa as her hands bury themselves into your hair. She digs the blunt edges of her nails into your scalp and the slight splintering pain has you moaning into her cunt.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Shit! I’m cumming.”
She sharply digs her heels into the muscle of your upper back and she cums with a loud cry. You hold her in place as she convulses, bucking her hips wildly as she rides out her orgasm. You gently suckle on her clit and run your tongue through her folds until she’s whimpering.
The incessant beeping of the timer that Sasha had previously set startles the two of you. From in between her thighs, you stare up at her with a crooked grin. A mixture of her juices and cum coats your lips and chin. Her eyes dart to the pink of your tongue when you lick your lips clean. You use the back of your hand to wipe your chin, which only serves to smear the liquid more.
“Thanks for the dessert, Sasha. I’m looking forward to tasting your cooking now.”
#attack on titan x reader#aot x reader#attack on titan smut#aot smut#sasha braus x reader#sasha blouse x reader#sasha braus smut#sasha blouse smut#celeste.scribs#drip#tw fem reader#tw age gap#tw milfs#tw wlw#drip.aot
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Control - G.W.
George Weasley x Fem!Reader
Summary: Both Y/N and George don’t like to give up control.
Word Count: 2.3k
Warnings: 18+ NSFW. MINORS DNI. Switch!reader & switch!George, slight hair pulling, slight choking, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, consensual fight for dominance, I don’t think anything else?
A/N: I haven’t written in like a month. Did anyone ask for this? No. Honestly, almost 100% of the ideas for this fic came from @parseltongueswriting & I maladaptive daydreaming and them making me thirsty for George. Pictures are from Pinterest.
I have not included all of my general taglist, because I do not know who is 18+ or who wants to be tagged in smut. If you would like to be added to my NSFW taglist and are above the age of 18, please message me.
George laid with his head rested against Y/N’s chest, his arms trapped beneath her as they snaked around her waist. The two had been watching a movie for a little over an hour, a tradition they had picked up when they first moved in together. While their lives were hectic and their schedules often conflicted, they always were sure to make time for one another in some capacity. And one of the ways they did that was their weekly movie night.
Y/N rhythmically ran her fingers through George’s long red hair, detangling any knot she came across. He had been growing it out for a few months now, and while Molly was anything but happy, Y/N loved it on him. It gave him a ruggedly handsome look, and it set him apart from his twin brother. Not to mention, he looked absolutely divine when her fingers were threaded through his long red locks as his head was trapped between her thighs.
Y/N sat up a bit as she focused in on the scene unfolding, almost completely ignoring the groan that left George’s lips as he shifted to get comfortable once more. Without giving it much thought, she gave a gentle tug to his strands of hair, never letting her eyes leave the screen. She hadn’t meant anything by the small action, nothing more than a soft pull to stop his whining. Regardless of her intent, the result had her freezing in place. Almost inaudibly, Y/N heard the sound of a soft whimper, not out of pain, but desire. Her mind went momentarily blank, void of the movie or anything else for that matter. Then, as a warmth spread to her core, her only thought became pulling that sound from him again.
“Do you like that, baby?” Her voice was silky smooth, an air of teasing and amusement taking over as a smirk spread across her face.
From her position angled slightly above him, she could see the way his eyes rolled back slightly as his breathing became a bit more shallow. Her hand began to move once more, tricking him into believing she’d pull once more, only for her to light scrape at his scalp, awaiting a response.
“Please.” George whispered, his eyes screwed shut. He wasn’t sure why such a small action had such an effect on him, but something about it mixed with her teasing had him worked up already.
Y/N traced a finger from his hair down the side of his face, taking her time to outline his jaw. She felt him shiver against her, causing her smirk to widen. She wasn’t always in control, but when she got George like this he was always putty in her hands. She slowly traced down the column of his neck, then along his collar bone, before gripping his shoulder gently and pushing him forward into a sitting position. Within seconds, she had swung her legs over his, straddling his lap. Her hands wound around his neck, her fingers landing in his hair as she hurriedly pressed her lips to his.
For a few minutes, all that could be heard was their quiet pants and moans over the sound of the movie. It was taking all of George’s control not to grip Y/N’s hips and grind against her, because he wanted to be good.. His willpower was slowly diminishing, though, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could take it.
Y/N trailed her mouth down to his jaw, leaving wet kisses in her wake. As she found the sweet spot on his neck, she began to suck lightly and give her hips one languid roll, reveling in the gasp she’d pulled from his lips. Without really thinking, he bucked his hips up into hers, desperate for any sort of friction and relief. The feeling was bliss for one single moment, before he opened his eyes and was met with the dark look overtaking Y/N’s face. He’d fucked up.
“For fucks sake, I haven’t even gotten you out of your clothes yet. Looks like someone can’t be patient, hm?” Y/N narrowed her eyes, leaning her body away from him. “Is that what my baby wants, to get himself off?”
“N-No.” George stuttered out, growing desperate as the likelihood that Y/N would punish him grew stronger.
“Well, bad boys don’t get a choice, do they?” Y/N tutted, feigning pity as she looked at him. “Go on, get yourself off. Rut against me like the desperate boy you are.”
George looked frustrated, knowing he was losing this battle. He bit down harshly on his lip, his brain filled purely with lust and nothing else. It was a split-second decision, something he’d never done when in this position before. Normally, when Y/N was dominant, he submitted completely, save for a few moments of lost control. But now, something in him broke, and he couldn’t take orders any longer.
Before Y/N could truly process what happened, George had their positions reversed. He had used his grip on her hips to stand and lay her down on the couch with him hovering over her. His face no longer held that pitiful desperate look, but rather his eyes were dark and his jaw was clenched. Y/N wasn’t ready to give in so easily, but she couldn’t deny that him taking control out of a pure need for her had her turned on. She cleared her throat, ignoring the way his tongue absentmindedly darted out to wet his lips and his muscled arms pinned her below him.
“I’m in control.” Y/N’s voice was weak, and even she didn’t believe it in her own ears.
“Yeah?” George chuckled. He removed one hand from where it was holding him up, placing it around her neck and gently squeezing. “Are you?”
Y/N gulped, but George gave her no time to respond before crashing his lips onto her’s. There was no more taking their time, George was moving hurriedly, like he couldn’t get close to her quick enough. Their mouths moved sloppily together, but neither of them had it in them to mind. George was quick to tear Y/N’s t-shirt and sweatpants from her body before leaning back to lift his own shirt over his head. He took a moment to admire her, a small smirk coming to his face as he watched her chest heave, her hair a mess, and her eyes desperate. She was beautiful like this.
George leaned forward once more, pressing his lips to hers softly for the first time that night. The action brought butterflies to her stomach and a smile to her face, but it wasn’t long before the passion returned.
George kissed down her neck, taking a moment to suck and bite at the skin of her breasts as his hands slid behind her back to undo the clasp. He tossed the garment aside, taking a few moments to kneed and suck at her boobs before continuing his trail of kisses down her torso. Y/N spread her legs in anticipation, only for him to pepper her inner thighs with kisses, completely ignoring the spot where she needed him most.
Y/N wouldn’t give in the way he had, she couldn’t. Instead, she simply bit her tongue, focusing in on the way his finger was tracing the hem of her panties, never getting quite close enough to her clit. She needed some sort of friction, some sort of relief, but she would have to be patient.
Once George realized she was being stubborn and wouldn’t submit to begging anytime soon, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her clothed clit, pulling a soft moan from her lips. It wasn’t much, but she was aching and desperate for him.
George was slow in his movements, deliberately teasing her as he hooked his fingers under the hem of her panties and drug them down her legs. Y/N expected more teasing afterwards, but was relieved with quite the opposite. George had quickly leaned forward and licked a stripe up her slit, causing her to moan loudly. He was relentless in his pace, alternating between licking at her core and sucking on her clit. Her back arched off the couch, her fingers threading through his hair in the way he loved so much.
“Feels s’good, Georgie.” Y/N moaned, her mind clouded with only the feeling of his mouth against her core. She gave an involuntary tug to his hair, causing him to moan. The vibration reverberated through her core, causing her to arch further and tug again. “Right there, keep going. Please please please.”
Y/N begged, feeling her orgasm beginning to build in her lower stomach. As pleasure filled every vein in her body, all she could think was this must be what heaven feels like. She was so close, just another moment with George’s expertise tongue and she would—
And then he stopped.
George pulled back, knowing Y/N well enough to know when she was on the brink of cumming. He wouldn’t let that happen, not after the way she had teased him earlier. Y/N groaned and withdrew her hands from his hair to cover her face, feeling nothing but frustration as her orgasm slowly slipped away.
“Is something wrong?” George feigned ignorance, looking at her with a raised brow. “Oh, did you expect me to let you cum? Oh, you sweet baby,” George jutted his bottom lip out, pretending to pity her. “After what you pulled earlier, really?”
“Georgie, please, I’m sorry.”
“What was it you said to me earlier?” George pretended to ponder, tapping a finger to his chin. “Ah, that’s right. Go on, get yourself off, was it?”
Y/N whimpered, the fear of George leaving her in this state beginning to creep in. She needed him.
“You’re lucky—” George paused to stand up from the couch, then slowly pulled down his sweatpants. “—That I’m a lot nicer than you.”
His boxers went down next, his fully hard cock springing up as he pulled them down. Y/N sat up and leaned forward, prepared to pleasure him next, but he was quick to grab her wrist.
“Remember who’s in control, yeah?”
George pumped his length a few times before taking his place between her spread legs once more. He leaned forward to kiss her lips, smirking slightly at the small moan that escaped them. When he pulled away, he leaned down towards her ear.
“Are you ready, princess?” He whispered, causing a shiver to shoot down her spine.
“Yes.” Y/N’s voice was small, but her affirmation was all he needed to grip his cock and slowly guide himself inside of her.
He wanted fast pace, he wanted to ruin her, but he would have to start slow, because he never wanted to hurt her. Y/N moaned as he slowly filled her up, her eyes rolling back as he stretched her to a point she thought she’d split in half. He gave her a moment to adjust, waiting for her whimpers to subside before hitching her legs around his waist and slowly pulling back out. At first he took his time, before losing his patience and setting a steady rhythm.
Y/N’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as his hips continually met her own, his eyes set on her face the entire time. She was a masterpiece to him, even as she came undone. His dick continually grazed the spot inside her that made her see stars, and she wasn’t sure how long she would be able to hold her orgasm in.
“Right there, fuck,” She groaned, her mouth falling open as she finally looked up at him.
“Do you like that, baby?” He mocked, hitting a particularly hard thrust against her. “Touch your clit, princess. You’re still going to get yourself off.”
Y/N didn’t have the mental capacity to complain, so she simply obliged. Although her hand was shaky, she slid it between their two bodies and her fingers quickly began to rub circles at the bud. George’s eyes were trained down to their core, entranced by the sight of him disappearing inside of her and her hand bringing her so much pleasure. He loved knowing that ultimately he was what was getting her off. Even if he made her do the work as punishment, thoughts of only him were clouding her mind. The thought alone had him close to cumming, and his thrusts began to grow sloppy as he groaned.
“Come on, princess, I need you to cum.”
With one more thrust and the continuing rhythm of her fingers, Y/N was arching her back off the couch and cumming. Her eyes rolled back as George whispered dirty praises down to her, his own orgasm not far behind. George buried his head into the crook of her neck as he thrust fully inside of her, filling her up with his cum. Y/N’s fingernails dug marks into his biceps at the feeling, finding herself in a state of complete bliss.
After they’d both come down from their highs, George slowly pulled out and leaned back against the opposite side of the couch, needing a moment to catch his breath.Y/N was the first to move, sitting up shakily to crash against his torso, craving his warmth and comfort more than anything else. George wanted to chuckle or tease her, but the though of her wanting nothing more than him had his heart swelling, so he opted to pull her closer instead.
“George?” Y/N spoke after a minute.
“Yeah, angel?”
“I’m really in control next time.”
As George chest continued to heave, all he could do was chuckle and nod.
#george weasley fanfic#george weasley#george weasley x reader#george weasley x you#george weasley x y/n
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SUBMISSION: Prompt 1,20,29 from the Disney song list with Harry Holland ( I’m interested to see how this goes)
DUDE i am so sorry this took SOOOOO long but i hadn't had time for it and i didn't wanna just give you something rushed so anyway i hope you like it!
1. Please don’t shut me out again, please don’t slam the door.
20. Go on and kiss the girl.
29. Barely even friends, then somebody bends, unexpectedly
---------------------------------------------
“God, that’s disgusting”, you grimaced at the newly-formed couple who was making out in the living room. The Holland’s living room, to be precise. Harry and you had been friends for a while, close enough to be invited to get-togethers and random drinking evenings. This was one of those evenings, where everyone wanted to unwind and have a good laugh to inaugurate the weekend, and Harry offered the perfect way to do that.
I mean, free booze, the guy you liked, and good music? How could you say no?
You and Harry had hit it off quite quickly after first meeting a few years ago, through mutual friends. You had a lot of similar interests, same sort of humour, and even in the things you thought differently on, you learned to like for the other. He was an absolute dream. Everyone saw it, too. They secretly hoped you’d get together soon, and already assumed something happened between the two of you but, alas, here you were. Angry at life and that innocent couple in the living room because of the stupid, lovey-dovey thoughts that just wouldn’t go away.
“Why the long face?” Harry asked with a chuckle as he entered the kitchen, stopping beside you and turning to look where your angry stare was headed.
You nodded towards the living room, and answered, “Them. Like, can you not do it in front of my face, please?”
“But you’re all the way here in the kitchen?” he said, confused.
“Shut up” you ended, giving a big swig of your cup. A silence made itself at home between you too, not necessarily uncomfortable as you would expect, but a little suffocating. You became self-conscious about every move you made, hating how the curly-headed boy could turn you into a mess with just his presence.
“I think it’s cute” he shrugged, breaking the silence.
“They’re barely even friends, then somebody bends, unexpectedly. Ha, what a joke” you challenged.
The quiet settled again and you didn’t notice, but Harry side-eyed you while a million thought ran through his mind. He remembered that one night where you found yourselves in a similar situation. Both drunk off your asses and looking at the world through a pink lens, you shared an intimate kiss just weeks after meeting each other. He also remembered how, after trying to talk about it with you, you shut him out and didn’t speak to him for an entire two weeks. It was after promising he’d never bring it up again that you ended the silent treatment, much to his delight.
As the night went on, you kept going into the kitchen for more drink refills, feeling a little tipsy. The people, getting rowdier and nastier, went on to find the darkest spots in the house for their shenanigans, and you were so distracted that you didn’t even realize when you were dragged to a circle that formed in the living room. The announcement that the classic “Spin The Bottle” game was about to be played was made and yup, cue the eye roll.
A bunch of rounds went by with no one you actually cared to remember the name of getting their turn, until the guy who looked a little to drunk to be managing the game yelled,
“Harry! My boy! Your turn to snog one of these lucky ladies here tonight” he motioned to the girls sitting around the circle, who all bit their lips or looked down in embarrassment.
“Snog? Shut up, mate,” the red-head answered and confidently spun the bottle.
You held your breath and did not tear your eyes from it, the stupid thing seeming to spin for ages until it slowly came to a stop.
Pointing at you.
Of course it’s me, you thought as you closed your eyes, damning every single power in the universe. When you opened them, Harry was intently staring at you, as if studying any movement you might make and trying to figure out what was going through your head. In response, you got on your knees and lightly slapped you hands on your thighs, showing you were ready. He didn’t move an inch, still analyzing your face. Harry knew this was thin ice he was treading on—one wrong move and everything would go to shit. He was dying to press his lips on yours, even if it was just a game, but the memories from a few weeks back flooded his mind and—
“C’mon mate! Go on and kiss the girl!” the guy from earlier encouraged.
Well, why the fuck not?, you both thought at the same time.
Harry crawled to you and you met him halfway, lips clashing with force and desire. His hand made its way to cradle your cheek and part of your neck, guiding the kiss and making you melt into a puddle instantly. Your mouth opened a little more, letting him kiss you deeper and hungrier like no one has ever before. It was absolutely everything you had ever wanted.
And it was everything you couldn’t have.
Parting your lips with your hands on his chest, you felt tears well up in your eyes, and whispered for only you and him to hear,
“This is why the fuck not”
You hurriedly got up as everyone cheered and hooted after the heated show they saw, quickly glancing at Harry but rushing towards the upstairs bathroom.
“Please! Y/N, wait!
Hearing a faint call of your name and footsteps catching up to you, you almost ran for the room you deemed safe. Before going in, however, Harry’s voice made you stop in your tracks.
“Please, please. Please don’t shut me out again, please don’t slam the door”, he begged.
You felt his presence a few feet behind you, the dark hallway only aiding in the tense atmosphere that surrounded you. Not daring to move an inch, the only thing you could do was stare ahead at the shower curtain, your mind going a thousand miles a minute on how anything that happened in the next few moments could make or break you.
A pair of warm, shaky hands found their place on your shoulders, making you tense and then relax as they carefully and lovingly caressed their way down your arms. You felt the ghost of his chest against your back, his breath fanning on your neck and you closed your eyes, savouring the moment but dreading having to face him and look him in the eye. Gently, he grabbed your elbows and turned you to him, still very close to you.
In all honesty, Harry did not have a plan. He ran after you because there was no way he was letting you get away once more, but now that he caught up to you and had you so close to him, he had no clue what to do. His mind had gone blank, the only thing filling it was the image of you. You, whom he had shared so many memories with. You, with the beautiful laugh and crinkly eyes that brought butterflies to his chest every time. You, who never failed to bring happiness into his life, even if you weren’t on the best terms. You, whom he loved so much.
Leaning his forehead against yours, he quietly pleaded one more time, “Please don’t run away from me again”.
“I’m not,” you answered with the same tone, eyes still very much closed.
“You were going to, though”
“I’m sorry”
“Why?” he furrowed his brows.
“For trying to run away”, you answered swiftly to each question, surprisingly. As if all your walls had been brought down just by his simple, loving touch.
“No, why do you keep running away?”
Not so swift anymore, huh?
You stayed silent, not knowing how to answer his question without sounding like a little girl scared of the dark.
“Y/N” he said again, waiting for your answer. His hands moved from your arms to your hands, stopping both pairs from shaking and lightly intertwining your fingers.
You knew you had to come clean. It wasn’t fair to him for you to not give him answers, and not fair to you to keep feeling this angst. So, still very quietly, you answered.
“I’m scared. I’m scared that I’m gonna get hurt if I let you in or that I may hurt you if you let me in. Or both. I care about you so much and I don’t want to ruin our relationship because what we have is great but I also really want to be with you and love you but then I’m also scared because of what I just sai—” your ramble being cut off by Harry’s chapped lips.
His hands held both sides of your face, making you feel secure in his embrace and the soft kiss radiating adoration. He poured everything he felt for you in it, only hoping you could feel it too and that it would bring you out of that fear that had you so trapped in yourself.
He broke the kiss, lightly running his thumb over your cheek and reassuring you immediately.
“With me? Darling, you don’t have to be scared with me. I promise you I feel the exact same way, I love you so much and the last thing I want or will do is hurt you, but I can’t let you get away anymore. I want to make you feel loved and make you feel happy and I want everyone to know you’re mine and that I’m yours. Please let me do that, Y/N. Let me love you the way you deserve to be and I promise you won’t—”
It was you who interrupted him this time. During his small speech, you felt safe enough to open your eyes and see him. You saw the honestly and frustration in his face, desperately wanting you to understand how he felt. It made you realize that you would rather spend a few moments loving each other than the rest of your life watching him with someone else, not knowing what could have been.
“Okay,” you said after parting ways.
“Okay?” he asked you, eyes frantically scanning your features for any sign of doubt or humour.
“Yes. Yes, let’s do it!” you giggled, him mirroring your actions and pulling you into his chest for a tight hug. He buried his face in your hair and yours in his chest, feeling relief course through him at the idea of you being taken by none other than him. Just holding each other, you were about to share another kiss until a random voice interrupted you from behind,
“...can I use the bathroom now?”.
#harry holland#harry holland x reader#harry holland imagine#harry holland blurb#harry holland x y/n#harry holland fic#harry holland fluff#harry holland angst#harry holland fanfiction#harry holland one shot#harry holland x you#harry holland imagines#harry holland blurbs#submission
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Poisoned Appletini
Yandere! Eddie Longo
Ship: Yan!Eddie Longo x Reader
Warnings: kidnapping, adultered drink, stalking, yandere-ish behavior
Requested by: @tomriddlessecretvampiredemigod
Don’t be out alone at night.
Be vigilant at all times.
And never accept any free drink that wasn’t sealed.
Those were three rules (out of many) to survive life as a woman. Three rules your parents, authorities, and society in general had told you over and over again until it was engraved in your brain.
And yet you forgot to put the words into action.
To be fair, you had had a very stressful couple of weeks beforehand, having to wake up extra early every morning to get ready for an awful day surrounded by people you didn’t like telling you how to do your job.
So, in the midst of all that havoc you found a little routine that made life just a tiny bit more bearable.
Every Monday and every Friday at precisely 9:00pm you’d stop by that club everyone you knew kept talking about, you’d order an Old Fashioned and look closely as it was being made while talking about nothing with that cute bartender whose shift you apparently always seemed to catch.
Those talks usually consisted on nothing of real importance, making fun of people who seemed to be way too drunk, creating interesting stories about strangers the other picked, and what you had considered harmless flirting.
It was anything but harmless.
This Friday had been way too chaotic to put much mind on anything else, you had gone with your usual routine until it seemingly out of nowhere became too much. You couldn’t even glance at your coworkers without feeling the urge to yell at every single one of them.
Your boss was no exception, and when that jerk started yelling at you instead for arriving a minute late after lunch you just couldn’t take it anymore, wouldn’t take it anymore. Honestly, if you tried recalling that moment you’d most likely see something similar to an out of body experience.
The way you almost weren’t in control when your arm threw your water at your boss, and then how your lips moved almost out of your control telling him where he could stick his stupid minute. And then a silent ride to the club in which you were now drinking your usual.
Eddie listened to your every word as you recounted your day, his eyebrows going up and down as your story progressed, every time more and more engrossed in the sound of your voice, his whole body leaning ever so slightly in your direction from the other side of the counter.
As you finished he had drummed his fingers against the polished wood and smiled “You know what this means, right?” He had the widest smile.
His excitement made you laugh
“What?” You asked fully leaning in the counter
He turned around and kept moving around under your curious glance, blocking your view of whatever he was doing, dodging your every question with soft laughter and a couple “you just wait”
And then he placed a green drink in front of you.
It looked and smelt pretty good, you realized. It even had a slice of fruit decorating it, you rose a brow at him.
“It’s a special Appletini, on the house” he explained “A congratulations on starting your new life” he added with a strange smile, one you mistakenly thought nothing of as you began downing the liquid.
It almost tasted like apple, there was something else in there though, something that made everything bitter-y but since you’d never had one before you just figured that was how it was supposed to be.
A couple seconds later you began feeling dizzy, it must’ve been a strong drink, stronger than anything you were used to, you tried to look at Eddie and ask for water, but your head was just too heavy, and so was the rest of your body, it made you stumble out of the stool you had been sitting on.
“You okay?” His question only dimly registered in your brain, but you managed to shake your head regardless.
He wasted on time on getting to your side, his hands taking a hold of both your arms as he directed you outside “I’m taking you home” was all he’d say, and you tried to reply, you really did try to tell him that you’d never told him where you lived, he must’ve been confusing you with someone else.
You can’t remember much more afterwards, only waking up with a pounding head and Eddie offering you water. You tried to scream but your body was too weak to do anything but drink water and stay in bed for the next couple of days, he didn’t even bother tying you up knowing how it would take you a while to take full autonomy of your body.
The second you heard his car taking off you’d try to move some and some more, at first your body had been too heavy, then too weak or clumsy, but sooner than he had expected you were able to move, still putting on a facade of a slow healing in front of him.
And then, one night after he’d left you got up as fast as you could and bolted to the door, which of course was locked, then you looked at a couple of windows until you found one whose lock was so old and worn out even you in your weakened state could break.
You jumped before taking a good measured look outside and began trying to run, but he had been heading back, unfortunately for you he had forgotten his wallet, and he caught you exactly like a deer on the headlights.
Your legs were much too weak to run faster than him, and in no time he had you back in the house that looked even weaker than you.
He wasn’t yelling though, not even raising his voice, but he had you wrapped so tightly in his arms it was hurting you as you tried to squirm away. Something you had noticed about him is that he rarely got mad at you, not being able to talk the last couple of days he had gone on and on about the beautiful life the two of you would share.
Making comments about whether or not he wanted children and deciding it would be up to you, but you only wanted to yell at his face and maybe spit in his direction and then run the other way.
But now he was silent, he’d never been this silent before, he let you loose momentarily as he turned around to lock the door and you tried to hit him square in the chest, I say try because it ended up being more of a slap than anything, but it took his attention back to you regardless, his eyes clouded and his breath going in and out in puffs.
The sight made you shiver and your instincts forced you to run the other way, but he grabbed your arm and twisted it in a very painful angle behind you as he forced you to walk to the bedroom he had had you imprisoned in.
“You are not leaving me” he said only once, twisting it even further with every poisoned word.
You were crying out of an ungodly combination of fear and pain “You’re hurting me!” You cried
He spun you around and forced your back against the wall getting close inside your personal space “You hurt me first” he declared with his whole face going red “pulling out of nowhere that running away shit! What the hell were you thinking! Fuck!” Every word he said made him angrier “After everything I’ve done for you?”
“You kidnapped me!” He slapped you as soon as the words left your mouth, and then he forced you to face him with a steel grip on your chin.
“I saved you!” Was his only reply “And you are never leaving me”
#tell me a story#Eddie Longo x reader#paul wesley#paul wesley x reader#yandere paul wesley#yandere eddie longo
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let me hear you [javier peña x reader]
gif credit
pairing[s]: javier peña x female!reader
warning[s]: 18+ only due to swearing, sexual situations/references -- aka mentions of face fucking, marking/biting/claiming kink, mentions of piv sex, hints of sub!javi (idk what happened, but it happened!!); flashback; sprinkling of fluff; angst (no happy ending. . .for now??); one use of y/n cause it couldn’t be helped
word count: 3.0k
prompt[s]: inspired by this post from @pedropascalito
summary: javier just wanted — no he needed — to hear your voice.
author’s notes: alright, here we go — first javier peña fic! this honestly got really out of hand?? i had seen @pedropascalito’s post come up on my dashboard, and i got inspired to write this. however, this was supposed to be like, maybe 500 hundred words?? but like, apparently i can’t write drabbles and so here were are, 3,000 words later. yeaaa, so that is how that went down, lol. i do want to make note that this is also my first time at writing something semi-sexual — there isn’t any actual smut, but it is talked about/heavily implied. so again, if you aren’t 18+, please do not read/interact with this. also, if i missed tagging any warnings, please let me know. i am trying to make sure i tag all the warnings, but like i said, first time writing something with ~spice~ so i could have missed something. so please, let me know! :) as usual, all mistakes are my own. comments/likes/reblogs are loved and appreciated. enjoy lovelies! ☺️
It was his fucking fault.
Sure, he could blame it on the job, on Pablo fucking Escobar, but it wasn’t any of those things. It was him. It was always him.
“Come on,” he muttered as the first ring sounded through the receiver. Then a second, then a third. “Pick up the phone,” he begged softly after the fourth. “Please.” But, then there was a fifth ring and the tell tale click of your answering machine message about to begin. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath and pulled the phone away from his ear, ready to slam it back down on the receiver. But, he stopped himself and quickly brought the phone back to his ear.
“Hey, Y/N here! Sorry I can’t come to the phone right now. But, if you leave your name and number, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!”
---- ☆ ☆ ----
“Hey, I got you something,” Javier said as he entered your apartment, shutting and locking the door behind him.
“A present? For me?” you asked, turning on your heel to face him. A smirk broke out over your face. “Something we can both enjoy?”
Javier chuckled softly and shook his head, taking a step toward you. “You are insatiable, princess,” he muttered as he reached out, brushing an errant strand of hair from your forehead.
You hummed. “I wonder where I get that from,” you said, your eyes wide and innocent as you reached out, forefinger and middle finger pressing against the bottom button of his tucked in red shirt.
Javier looked down at your hand as your fingers slowly walked their way up his chest, before coming to a halt at the third button from the top (the first two buttons were, as usually with Javier, already undone). With practiced ease, your fingers deftly worked open the button before the brushing against the exposed skin. Involuntarily, he shivered at the ghost of your touch, but it was gone before it started, your fingers now working on the next button. Before you could get to the second one, Javier reached out his free hand and wrapped it around your wrist, stopping your movements. You raised your eyebrow. “Maybe next time, princess,” he promised with a wink before letting go of your wrist. You didn’t continue your movements, and Javier took that as a sign to pull the bag he had been hiding from behind his back. He held it out between the two of you. You eyed it for a moment before taking it from him, and opening it. You furrowed your brow before reaching in and pulling out the box.
“An answering machine?” you asked, puzzled as you let the bag fall to the floor and held the box in your hands.
Javier hummed and shrugged his shoulder. “I noticed that you didn’t have one.”
“What gave it away?” you asked, a hint of sarcasm in your voice, glancing back at him.
Javier rolled his eyes. “You need one, princess.”
“Do I? I have been doing perfectly fine without it for the past few months, Javi,” you explained, flipping the box over. He watched your eyes scan the back of the box.
Javier sighed, and rested his hands on his hips. “Hermosa,” he started, his voice low and serious. “What if someone can’t get a hold of you, hm? What then?”
“They call back, that’s what.”
Javier let out a small, irritated growl, and you looked up from the box to him. Slowly, you raised your eyebrow as you gave him a questioning look. Javier huffed, tightening his hands on his hips, but said nothing. He watched as your questioning gaze began to study him, head titling ever so slightly as your beautiful eyes carefully took him in. And, with every second that passed, every inch of him that you gazed upon, it seemed as if you were figuring out the real reason Javier had bought you an answering machine in the first place. That he wanted — no needed — to be able to leave you messages. That he needed you to know he had called, and that you’d call him back once you got his message. To let him know you were home. To let him know you were safe. Because, there were times, times when he called and the phone would just ring and ring and ring, and fuck. Those were the times his heart would pound in his chest, and his mind would fill with all these terrible fucking scenarios of what could have happened. It was his own nightmare filled by his own experiences, the job he had dedicated his life to, and this. This answering machine; it wouldn’t elevate all those thoughts, Javier knew that, knew that it wouldn’t make them all magically disappear. But, there would be some temporary comfort from his aberrant mind.
“Alright, Javi,” you said quietly, breaking the silence. Javier watched as you took a step toward him, a small smile playing at your lips. “I’ll keep it. But, you,” you said, taking the box in your hand and pressing it against the middle of his chest. Javier’s hand immediately came up to cover yours, holding it and the box in place. “Are helping me set it up.”
Javier smiled as he brushed his thumb over the back of your hand. “Yes, ma’am.”
It hadn’t taken long to set up the machine itself. However, the recording was a different story.
The first time you tried to record yourself, Javier had interrupted you with a playful smack to your ass that had caught you completely off guard, causing you to yelp in the middle of your sentence. You had scolded him for his behavior, telling him to keep his hands to himself. With a smirk, he promised, but you didn’t believe him as you erased the recording and started again. And, you had every right not to believe him — because a moment later, he reached out, running his fingers up the side of your ribcage.
“Javi!” you squeed, side bending as you squirmed to get away from him before he could attack again. However, he was quicker, and was able to get one last swipe at your sides before you got fully out of his reach. He let out a small laugh, a grin pulling at his lips as you huffed, a few strands of your hair blowing with your breath, and placed your hands on your hips. “What did I tell you?” you asked, glaring down at him.
“Sorry, must have forgotten,” he mumbled, acting nonchalantly as he raised his beer bottle to his lips and took a swig, but his dark eyes were dancing with mischief.
You narrowed your eyes. “Forgotten my ass, you little shit,” you mumbled, stepping back to where you had been standing before. “Hands to yourself, Peña. You hear me?”
He stood up from the couch. “Alright, alright. Hands to myself,” he repeated and you eyed him for a moment. Javier could tell you were still skeptical that he would do something. “Promise,” he said before he breezed by you, heading toward the kitchen to grab another beer. Javier could feel your eyes on his back as he dropped the bottle in the trash and opened to the fridge to swipe a fresh one. When he turned around to head back in the living room, you were still eying him wearily, but you had already deleted the previous recording. You started recording again, your eyes finally leaving his to look down at the machine. A wicked grin spread across his face. In four quick strides, he was standing next to you and before you could give him a warning glare, Javier had leaned down and sunk his teeth into your bare shoulder blade (he silently thanked God you had chosen to wear a tank top that day).
You had, after all, said hands only.
“Javier,” you groaned, and for a brief moment, Javier had expected you to pull away, irritated by his actions. But, you didn’t pull away, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see you grasping at the corners of the end table, knuckles turning white. He mentally grinned, and bit down a little harder before worrying the skin between his teeth, and electing a whimper from your lips that went straight to his cock.
Javier knew you fucking loved this — the biting, the marking, the claiming. You had never said anything out right, but oh, Javier knew; he knew it by the way he found you admiring the marks he’d made the night before in the mirror, your hands gently running over the bruises. He knew by the mewling, the whimpers, the groans of pleasure you made. Or, his absolute favorite, the way your pussy clenched deliciously around his cock if he was buried inside of you.
Javier gave one last pinch of the skin between his teeth before pulling away. He grinned at the abused skin, could see the indentation of his teeth and imagined the beautiful colors it would turn within the hour. The thought sent another spike of arousal straight to his cock. You whipped your head around to face him, and though you were glaring at him, it didn’t matter. He could see the arousal in your face; the way your pupils were dilated, the way your lips were parted ever so slightly, the hitch in your breath. The grin on Javier’s face grew. “You only said hands, princess,” he said, holding his hands up, the unopened beer bottle still in one hand as he took a step back before letting himself fall back on to the couch.
“Peña,” you growled, voice low, warning, but Javier could hear it. That tinge of arousal. “I’m warning you.”
Javier chuckled, low and deep in his throat. He locked eyes with you, and leaned forward, elbows coming to rest on his knees. “Warning me?” he asked, keeping his tone light as he looked away from you, and grabbing the bottle opener he’d left on the coffee table. “Warning me about what, princess?” He swiftly popped the bottle top off, and dropped the little metal top and opener back on the table. Javier leaned into the couch, resting one arm over the back of it as he looked at you, that grin still pulling at his lips. He took a long, slow swig of beer. He kept his eyes on you as he pulled the bottle away from his lips, waiting for you to say something. However, you were completely silent, but your eyes weren’t. No, they were still screaming for him. “Come on,” Javier started again, his voice an octave lower than before. He licked his lips, and watched as your eyes followed the movement. “What’s this warning you’re gonna give me?”
The seconds ticked by, the two of you silently watching each other. You were studying him so hard Javier couldn’t help but almost feel naked under your gaze, even with all his clothes on. He forced himself not to move, not to shift against the couch as he waited for you to say something, do something. He took a swig of his beer, and watched as your demeanor slowly shifted. Your back straighten, and a sly smirked pulled at your lips. He watched as you came to stand next to him, your thigh brushing against his knee.
Javier felt the tables were turning on him.
“Instead of a warning, how about this?” you started, resting one hand on the back of the couch while the other came to rest on high on Javier’s thigh as you leaned down, your lips only a few inches away from his. The hand on his thigh squeezed and Javier couldn’t help the small groan that escaped his lips. “You let me record this tiny, tiny, little message,” you explained, eyes flickering down to Javier’s lips, then to his crotch. Javier watched you lick your lips, hand sliding farther up his thigh, coming to a stop just short of where he wanted you to. “Without interruptions.” Your finger traced the outline of his half-hard cock, causing another groan to escape Javier’s lips as his eyes fell closed, hand gripping the bottle of beer in a death grip. “And, I’ll let you fuck my mouth,” you finished, and without warning, covered Javier’s clothed cock with your palm and pressed down, grinding your palm against him.
“Fuck,” Javier hissed, hips bucking into your hand, but as soon as it started, your hand was gone — and you were gone too. When his eyes opened, you were already standing up straight over him, looking down at him with that shit eating grin. Your eyes were dancing with arousal and mischief. Oh, how the tables had turned.
“You think you can be a good boy for me, Javi?” you asked, breathlessly and wanton, a sound that went straight to his cock. He nodded his head so quick that he was afraid he might break his neck. A wicked grin pulled at your lips as you turned your attention back to the machine.
It was the most painful ten minutes of his life because, of course, you wouldn’t like the first take. Or the second, or the third. Javier knew why you didn’t like them — it wasn’t cause you sounded bad, or you stammered ever so slightly in the middle. No, you were teasing him. You were purposely messing this up just so you could watch him squirm as he waited, his body humming in anticipation as his poor cock strained against his jeans. Javier had thought about shucking his belt, unzipping his pants, and taking out his cock, just to get some sort of relief, maybe even give it a few tugs. But, he wasn’t even sure if he was allowed to. Jesus Christ, allowed to — anyone else, and Javier wouldn’t have hesitate. But you, there was something about you that had him giving up the control he constantly needed. Maybe it was the way that when he pushed, you would push back— that constant back and forth that turned him on to no fucking end.
“Javi,” you called out, voice soft and practically singing. Javier snapped his head to look up at you. You were standing there, all doe eyed and innocent looking, a small smile playing at your lips. “I’m finished.” You took a step toward him, and reached out, giving his knee a squeeze. Without hesitation, he let his legs fall open and you came to stand between them. “See,” you mumbled, as you ran your hand from his knee to his thigh and back down again. “I knew you could be a good boy.” Javier’s cock twitched in the confines of his jeans. “And you know what good boys get?” You slowly went down, falling to your knees in front of him, and God, was it such a pretty picture. You grabbed the practically empty bottle of beer from his hand and set it on the end table beside you. “Good boys,” you started, hands coming to rest on his belt, “get rewarded.”
---- ☆ ☆ ----
The obnoxious beep pulled Javier out of his thoughts. “Fuck,” he muttered before realizing that he had said that out loud. “Shit, it’s—” he started and slammed his hand on the payphone box. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “It’s me, princess. I wanted to — I needed—” Javier felt his heart beat rapidly in his chest. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I just—I needed to hear your voice,” he said, his voice breaking ever so slightly. He quickly turned and glanced behind him. There was nobody near him, nobody that could hear the desperation — the absolutely fucking heartbreak because that’s what this was, even if he didn’t want to admit it — in his voice. But, still this was a shitty fucking place to be doing this.
But, he hadn’t thought — he saw the payphone and just called, the need to hear your voice so fucking strong. It had only been a week, but he fucking missed you. He missed everything about you, but God, did he miss your voice. He missed the way you sounded when you greeted him in the soft morning light after the two of you had woken up, limbs tangled around each other to the point where Javier wasn’t sure where one of you began and the other ended. Or, the way you sounded when you greeted him at your door after work, a smile on your face and your arms open, willing to be whatever he needed after a long, rough day. The sound of your voice when you whispered sweet nothings into his ear before you both fell asleep. The sound of your laughter when he told one of his jokes, or when he tickled your sides because he knew you were ticklish. And God, he missed the sound of your voice when you said his name. Javier. Javi. Peña. Pendejo (the one name usually reserved for when he’d done something particularly, utterly stupid or reckless). It didn’t matter what you called him, or even when you did — when you were happy, sad, angry, sleepy, aroused — he just missed it, so fucking much.
Fuck, he just missed you.
And now, here he was, standing at a goddamn payphone, leaving you a vague fucking message. He coughed, and softly banged his hand against the payphone’s metal box. “Please cal—” The line went dead, the recorder cutting him off, and leaving Javier with the numbing sound of a dial tone.
“Fuck!” he cursed as he pulled the phone away from his ear. Javier looked down at it for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh, eyes falling closed once more as he let the phone come to rest against his forehead. “Fuck,” he whispered again, his fingers clenching around the phone. The dial tone was softer now, not pressed against his ear, but he could still hear it. It was still as loud as ever, still ringing in his ear, taunting him and reminding Javier of what he had lost.
#javier peña x reader#javier peña x you#javier pena x reader#javier pena x you#javier peña imagine#javier peña imagines#javier pena imagine#javier pena imagines#narcos imagine#narcos images#my writing
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Mystery at the Salt-Irons
Hey everyone! E here with a new chapter! kept you waiting huh? Haha sorry it's been a busy few weeks. Nothing serious but I had to keep starting and stopping this chapter so it threw me off but it's here, it's ready and I hope you enjoy it!
I have some special guests in this story, some ocs made by my friends because you know what I can so I will and honestly, they were really great oc ideas guys. so keep an eye out for @hains-mae and Biz_fantasist OC(I don’t know if she has a tumblr but it’s late so I’ll edit it later)
That's it for me! I hope you are all stay safe, keep your loved ones safe, wash your hands, wear your masks, push to give everyone the vaccine cuz this is getting ridiculous. I hope you have a great week, thank you for reading. I deeply appreciate and feel free to share it with your friends, give me feedback. Reblog and comments all that fun stuff! Thanks and I'll see you soon!
Here’s the chapter over at Ao3
https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/85394095
Here’s the story from the beginning if you’re curious what this is about
https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/75486005
and here’s a list of all my work both original and the various fandoms I write for
https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrE42/works
Summary: Finnrick is called to solve a mysterious case as per his job as the city's only Private Investigator wizard but as he sinks deeper into the case, the more it seems that something is happening behind the scenes. Of course with an old friend in town and dark magic surrounding the case, Finnrick is as busy as ever. Ain't no rest for the wicked.
-----
The Salt-Iron Flats weren’t anything special on the surface: An unassuming apartment complex on the north side of Newton Haven, the only thing most people remembered about the place was how the price tag hurt their souls.
Of course, unlike the general housing market, the Salt-Irons (affectionately referred to by the locals) actually had a very reasonable reason for fetching such a high rate: The salt and cold iron baked into every single brick that formed the building.
If you weren’t in the magical know, you’d think it utterly insane that you’d be forced to pay such a large amount of cash because some weirdo decided to make a new age artistic statement with bricks. Of course, if you are aware of the greater community at large, you’d knew you were paying the insanely large sum because someone decided to make the Salt-Irons the single most protective location in the city.
Most mortals have forgotten their history, their lore and collective knowledge passed down throughout the generations: Why their ancestors used to place lines of salt in front of the door and windows, why the elders always suggested to the braver, recklessly youthful family members to carry iron whenever they ventured through the wild.
Outer beings were repelled by salt and iron. No one really had an idea why fae, angels and demons weren’t fond of salt or iron and there's been plenty of arguing about the subject but all in all the fact remained they did not do well when faced with either.
That was the main reason Finnrick didn’t find himself in the north side of town often.
Well that and the zealous Gate Keepers. Those guys were freaks but between them and the Salt-Irons being the only supernatural community up here, Finn never got a case from the area.
Until today.
The Salt-Irons were great at protecting you from any outside threats that wished you ill will: It didn’t protect you from anything you decided to bring in with you.
It was five in the morning when Finnrick got the call. The M.R.R.D representative didn’t have much to offer beyond the address and floor but he thanked her all the same.
Finnrick yawned tiredly, stretching the tension out of his neck while he sipped his coffee. He let out a sigh of relief as the sun slowly rose into the sky.
The Salt-Irons was a twelve story tall building painted a ghastly pale green that made Finnrick sick just looking at it.
“People are paying how much to live in that shade? I’d ask for discount if I were them.” Finnrick laughing to himself, making his way into the apartment complex.
Luckily the interior was much nicer than the outside: Everything was well kept and cleaned. Not a single speck of dust in sight and the wooden stairs didn’t creak when Finnrick placed his foot on them.
Which was good given Finnrick needed to go up seven flights of stairs.
Finnrick wheezed a little, wiping the sweat from his brow when he reached the seventh floor. He glanced down the hall one way then the other as he began to search for room 707 which basic deductive reasoning suggested should be around the corner.
Finnrick crushed the empty foam cup and tucked it into his coat pocket as he made his way to 707. It was a simple wooden door and immaculately spotless just like the rest of the place. He rose his hand and gently rapped on the door.
No response.
He frowned, checking if he was still alone in the empty hallway and rose his hand towards the door frame.
His eyes glowed with a blue energy as he whispered softly “Revelis”
The door gleamed with a bluish hue for a moment before fading away without a trace.
No protective spells laced over the frame so the only thing Finn had to worry about now if it was locked.
He tried the knob, unsurprised when it swung open silently.
“It’s not breaking and entering if someone’s expecting you” Finnrick justified to himself as he pushed the door in.
He nearly staggered backwards: The air tasted thick and foul like something had been left rotting inside. His skin prickled with anxiety, a chill running down his spine with each step he took further in.
Finnrick took deep, calming breathes while doing his best to ignore the bitter taste that seem to cling the air within.
He noticed the trail of footsteps, perfectly preserved in what appeared to be black dust leading deeper into the living room.
“Hey da! You here?” Finnrick called out, carefully stepping closer “You and ma still married?”
There was a deep grunt of acknowledgment before a voice responded “Sorry son, we’re divorced now. She got custody of you.”
“Well fuck. I guess I’m going to be eating kale and poorly cooked spinach for the rest of my life.”
Garrus Valka was not in fact Finnrick’s father, adoptive or otherwise. He was actually one of the highest ranked officers of the Magical Rapid Response Department: An elf clocking in at 200 years old with richly tanned skin. His bluish gray hair was slicked back in his preferred style. Garrus’s had his back turned to the detective but Finn knew his sliverish gray eyes were deep in concentration as he took down notes about the surroundings. His beautifully inhuman features were marred with a scar on the right side of his face: burnt skin on his cheek, healed by time and various surgeries. An old war wound though Finn never got the full story.
He was dressed in typical M.R.R.D fashion: Dark blue windbreaker, jeans and a blue shirt with the words “Powered by coffee and spite” splashed across the front. His Winchester rifle was slung across his back, ready for any action that may befall the elf.
“Drift.” Garrus greeted teasingly while offering a hand.
Finnrick gave it a playful shake “Da. So is mom here or she trying to smite pigeons again?”
“THEY TRIED TO STEAL MY HOTDOG!” Garrus’s partner Eden screamed from another room “I SHALL BRING MY GOD’S WRATH UPON THEM!”
“You know when they mean justice.” Finnrick called out “I don’t think they mean against winged rats.”
Eden chuckled darkly “You know not their sins.”
“Okay.” Finnrick nodded despite the fact she couldn’t see him “If you say so. What happened Da? Aside powerful necromancy.”
“Powerful necromancy” Garrus replied cheekily “and missing persons.”
Finnrick rose an eyebrow “Persons? More than one?”
“Two: A father and son. Richard Charles and his son Richard Jr. Recluses it seems. Neighbors hardly saw them. Mostly kept to themselves.”
Finnrick pursed his lips thoughtfully “Any magical abilities?”
“They’re not on records if that’s what you mean.” Garrus answered “Never signed up in the academy, not registered with The Council. If they were practitioners they didn’t tell anyone.”
“So what was the spell? I just smell the remnants of spookiness.”
“Hadn’t noticed the rest of the room huh?”
Finnrick frowned before finally getting a good look at the rest of the room: Every inch of the apartment was blanketed with the same black dust that he found in the entrance way. Inches and inches of the substance and that wasn’t the strangest part.
Everything was bent at different and odd angles: chair with crooked legs, the wall clock warped and twisted, the fridge leaning like someone folded it in half. Floorboard reached for the sky and walls split inward.
There was a common misconception about magic. Most people thought spell casters, especially wizards, could command reality to their wills. That magic was capable of impossible feats and it was as simple as snapping your fingers.
The truth was all magic, ranging from divinity to free range nature, was performed on a micro scale. Practitioners did not alter reality but rather shortcut it. Throwing fireballs was as simple as rapidly heating the air until it combusted. Turning invisible was less about vanishing completely as it was bending the light around you to not be seen. Magic was rooted in reality and imagination. If you had the magical strength to perform the magic, the magic often followed your lead.
Of course there were spells that required much more than magical hand and willpower. Powerful magic, like summoning outer beings or raising an army of zombies, required both time and materials. Magic was like any other energy: you needed enough of it to perform what you wanted. The human body could only generate so much magic without dying and resting was necessary to replace any expended in the use of spells. Materials were guidelines for the spell. Feathers for anything with flight, ash for fireballs etc etc.
The other thing needed was to gather energy and store it for the spell’s use. There were different ways to achieve this: Wands, talismans, potions were basically magic soups. The most efficient way to gather energy was the wizards preferred way: Circles.
Finnrick eyed the room closely this time, murmuring under his breath about angles and trajectory. Garrus paid him no mind, well familiar with the private investigators methods.
“If this went like that” he gestured to the wall clock “and that went here.”
Finnrick glanced about, carefully walking about as if worried he was going to step on a landmine.
“Here.” Finnrick found himself staring at a spot in the middle of the room “Ventus.”
He gestured with a hand and light breeze filled the room. It brushed away some of the dust covering floor, revealing the outline of a half melted metal ring.
“What is it?” Garrus turned curiously
“Spell circle. The source of the explosion. I’m willing to bet it’s custom made. Copper, steel. Maybe some bits of tin couldn’t stand the surge.”
“No iron or sliver?”
Finnrick shook his head “That’s for containing or repelling monsters. Necromancy is more about drawing in the evil entities. Or sucking out life.”
Garrus sighed tiredly “Don’t touch?”
“Only if you want to live to see retirement. Might have some pent up magic ready to blow outwards.”
“Understood. I’ll call in our guys. I’ll let you know if something comes up.”
Finn nodded gratefully while pulling out a vial and motioning to the elf “Mind if I do?”
“Be my guest, you might find something we’d miss.”
Finnrick smiled gratefully before scooping up some of the dust and sealing it within the vial.
“Take care Garrus, stop fighting birds Ma!”
“Flying rats!”
-----
The cafe was lively despite being early but that was no surprise given it was Mother’s. Mother’s was the single best food establishment in all Newton Haven and if anyone disagreed, they were allowed to have their opinions.
They were also allowed to be wrong.
Finnrick paused in the doorway, breathing in the scent of well cooked eggs and sweet lemonade. The pop and sizzle of heated grease brought a sense of comfort to the hard working private investigator.
“Finny Drift!” Maddie Copperstone called from behind the counter “How’s my favorite customer holding up?”
Maddie was 40 years young with tastefully curled dark brown hair. Human, little on the short side but fierce. She wore a simple red blouse and jeans, both stained with flour that the apron around her waist did not prevent.
Finnrick bounced over cheerfully, reaching over the counter to give the matron the biggest hug he could muster “I’m good Maddie. Working a case.”
Maddie’s brown eyes searched his face carefully “You always working Finny. You resting as much?”
“Scout’s honor.”
Maddie let out a disbelieving chuckle “You weren’t ever a Scout.”
“Honorary scout after I stopped that bear from eating them.”
“Thought it was a giant raccoon.”
“Yes but people don’t take giant raccoon seriously. He here?”
Maddie clicked her tongue disappointingly but motioned to the booth at the far end of the establishment “Rest.”
Finnrick rose his hand in surrender “After.”
“Never you mean!” Maddie shouted after him.
Amos Frye hadn’t changed much since last he was roaming around Finnrick’s neck of the woods: Handsome with soft gray eyes that reminded Finn of gathering storm clouds. His long black hair was tied in a messy bun held up by a golden pin, a braided strand hung loosely near his face. His beard was much shorter than what Finnrick remembered though he noted the unkempt split ends indicated that Amos hadn’t trimmed it in a few weeks. His iconic dark red sleeveless jerkin and black jean combination would look ridiculous on a lesser man but had allowed the monster hunter to show off his muscular frame. His brown skin was a bit more pale than usual so no doubt Amos had been operating at night lately.
“Finnrick, you cheeky bastard! I am so glad you came!” Amos beamed happily, his various bangles and bracelets clinking together in equally joyous celebration as the two shook hands.
“Amos! Happy to see you.” Finn beamed brightly as he slid into the booth across his old friend “Why though? Family trouble?”
Amos’s joyfully gleam turned dark for a moment.
“No. Have you…?”
Finnrick shook his head quickly “Not a word. Sorry, I hadn’t meant to…”
Amos waved the apology away “No worries cuz. I understand why you’d think that. Coming across the pond isn’t a spur of the moment thing and Os has always been the black sheep of the family. I suppose no news is good news.”
“Right.” Finnrick cleared his throat awkwardly “So what’s the trouble? I doubt you’d call me up for a nip and chat.”
“Rightly so.” Amos confirmed, reaching into the bag at his side and pulling out a folder “Hunting business as usual cuz.”
That made sense: Amos was the latest of a long family whose specialized business was monster hunting. The Fryes had been striking at things that went bump in the night for centuries ever since the first Frye defended the folk of some underground society.
Amos was an average wizard if Finnrick was being generous. That was not a slight against his old friend, it was a matter of fact: Amos spent most of his time honing the physical aspects of his profession which was obvious given the size of his arms. Any spells he knew were purely for defensive or preventive measures so he often communicated with Finnrick for higher quality and complex spellwork.
Finnrick took the folder from Amos and began pouring over its contents.
Most were quickly scrawled notes Amos had noticed about his quarry: Long sliver hairs, canine in nature. Large paw prints found in the areas it had been sighted, far too big to any natural wolf. Wulfvur and werewolf were hastily written and as quickly crossed out. A pattern of hanging out in wild areas, often forests and swamps.
There were pictures too: flashes of sliver, blurs of fangs and muzzles darting in and out of camera frame. It was always a distance away, sprinting deeper into the wildness. It was hard to tell from the photos but Finn guessed it might’ve been 10 feet tall at the very least.
“Why we hunting wolves now?” Finnrick asked curiously.
Amos flagged down the waitress “Contract given to my pa. It was hanging around the marsh lands of the jolly old isles. Someone wanted it gone.”
Something wasn’t clicking with Finn “and you followed it here? From England?”
“Nah cuz” Amos gave a cheeky grin “I tackled it through a portal and found I illegally crossed into America.”
“Ah.” Finnrick nodded in understanding “Fae.”
“Fae?” Amos frowned thoughtfully “I thought that too but I never heard of any snarling wolfie breaking into homes and snatching out wee younglings in them old folktales.”
“Fae are weird.” Finnrick shrugged “Their whole shtick is not making any sense. I had to expel a cat the size of a bus once. Double decker tall.”
Amos whistled in appreciation as he scratched his bread “So fae. Slippy fellow as you can tell. Whatcha recommend?”
“What’s the contract?”
“Banishment. It’s looking like wolfie ended up in the wrong part of town.”
“I think you mean next town over. Fixed a pattern yet?”
“Not yet but I wasn’t looking for one.” Amos admitted “Thought I was tracking some mutant. Fae changes a lot. Magical circles?”
“Easiest way to catch it.” Finnrick agreed “Sliver for sure. Iron would hurt it and based on your files, it hasn’t done anything than thin the local wildlife population. No need to anger mister big bad wolf.”
“Good call. I got some talent to handle a few circles but tracking is not really my speed.”
“I’m on a case but if you swing by the M.R.R.D, maybe they’ll loan you a wizard.”
Amos let out a disappointed sigh “I need to take care this sometime this year Finny. Bloody bureaucracy probably set me back a month at least.”
“There’s always Jaime but she’s pretty busy at work.”
“Jaime huh?” Amos smiled mischievously “I haven’t talked to your sister in a long time.”
“I will curse you.” Finnrick playfully threatened “And not no simple hex either. I’ll make you bald.”
Amos gasped dramatically, clutching at his hair protectively “You wouldn’t dare mate.”
“Shinier than the sun.”
“Okay, okay” Amos conceded “I’m kidding. She’s with Casey anyway. Good couple. Cute couple. He still hopelessly selfless and she still trying to fast track her way to power?”
“Yep.”
“You gonna fix that?”
Finnrick shook his head “It’s their lives. Their choices.”
“Idiots.” Amos chuckled “the lot of them.”
“All you need is love?”
“Spoken true the gospel of my land.”
-----
A few hours later with a brainstorm session completed and a promise to help out the next day, Finnrick left Amos to his work and continued with his own.
It was noon now and as the sun rose high in the sky, Finnrick found himself at the Grimyard.
The Grimyard was the premiere spot for all things magical in Newton Haven: Rows and rows of shops specifically catering to the magic community. The streets were paved with century old cobblestone and the buildings here were various hues of faded brick and mortar. It was easy to get lost in the Grimyard if it was your first time as the Grimyard did not spread out, it stacked downward. Layers upon layers of the Grimyard were actually underground to allow those with issues against the sun to sell their goods and services at all times of the day. Don’t let the dark fool you, anyone with worthy talent or product was here in the Grimyard.
Normally Finnrick would wander around a bit, checking out the various businesses and protective wards around the mile long patch of land but he was on the clock and the sooner he began to figure out what was going on, the sooner he could stop it.
Luckily for him, his destination was right here on the top floor of the marketplace. Specifically furthest back corner.
Knightly Ore was ran by the Knight family. Originally they only sold rare metals and ores which were necessary components for some of the more complicated magicks. At some point the owners expanded into selling more alchemical materials and eventually brewing potions, salves and such for a fee.
Despite decent business, it was the most rundown building in this part of the Grimyard: Broken window shudders with the paint faded down to the original shade when the business first opened decades ago. The humble black door was crooked and creaked whenever it moved
Finnrick knew the owners fairly well but here wasn’t here for them. He was here to see their son.
He pushed past the building, ducking into the alley that led to the lot directly behind the shop.
“Halt!” A voice called out “Who seeks the Brewmaster of the Grimyard?”
“It is I, Finnrick the detective. I got money and I need work done”
The Brewmaster was Theodore Knight, an incredibly talented alchemist who didn’t have the same opportunities Finnrick did: He was pretty tall for his age (14 or 15, Finnrick lost track once or twice) but clearly a teenager given his short lavender hair had a few strands dyed red. His eyes were an unnatural pale blue, paler than the blue of the sky. He wore the usual attire Finn often found him in: A sleeveless dark blue hoodie with a fist sized red gem clasped in front just under his neck and a lighter shade blue t-shirt. He wore black finger-less gloves gripping his brown messenger bag slung around his shoulder. A matching brown pouch hung around the waist of his gray cargo shorts and his brown boots were kept clean despite his place of business was in an alley behind his parents shop.
Theo jumped out from a hidden shadowy corner of the lot “Finn, whatcha got for me now?”
Finnrick reached into his pocket, showing the eager teen the vial that held blacken dust within.
“That’s it?” Theo scoffed, rolling his eyes “I was expecting something…...cooler.”
He took the vial and raised it to the sun. Theo gave it a rough shake and watched it carefully for any properties the strange substance would display.
Theo frowned, clearly unsatisfied by what he saw “You brought me ash? Plain ash? It’s your money but even I think it’s a waste.”
“It’s ash?”
Theo shot the detective a look that screamed how obvious it should’ve been “Yes, ash. Thicker than what I’ve seen but ash all the same.”
Finnrick bit his cheek thoughtfully.
“Look Finn, you know my rates. I dunno what you want me to do but standard fees apply.”
“I’ll paying double.”
The Brewmaster’s eyes narrowed suspiciously “Double for ash? What’s so special about it?”
“Oh nothing." Finnrick pretended to look disinterested “Aside it was taken directly from a crime scene: Necromancy and cast via a half melted spell circle.”
It took Theo a minute to allow the implications of what Finnrick said to sink in. His eyes shifted from suspicion to wild excitement.
“Really?!” Theo clutched the vial like it was his first born child “Necromancy really doesn’t like many alchemy processes. It’s not going to be easy for me.”
“I know right?” Finnrick grinned impishly “It’s almost like I’m going to have to pay double for it.”
“Yeah, you’re gonna have to….” Theo pouted unhappily “Ha freaking ha. Okay smart guy, pay up.”
Finnrick handed over 50 gold. Theo took it eagerly, his eyes lightening up with glee.
Theo paused for a moment, his face turning oddly serious for a teenager.
“It might take me awhile depending on what you want.”
“I want to know what’s in it. Necromancy requires specific ingredients. After that it’ll be easier to track the seller.”
“And the buyer!” Theo blurted out excitedly “Smart.”
Finnrick ruffled his hair playfully “I wish I thought of it. You keep this up and you’re going to run me out of business.”
“I’ll text you when I have something.”
“Pleasure as always Theo.”
“It’s Brewmaster.”
-----
It was 2 in the afternoon when Finnrick made his way back to the Salt-Iron. He stood outside the complex, tossing the remains of his pizza into his waiting maw and crumpling the can of soda he was drinking before tucking into his coat pocket.
“What’s this?” Finnrick asked, utterly confused by the crushed foam cup he pulled from within “Oh right my coffee. I’ve been really at today.”
Finnrick wiped his hands clean and made his way inside the Salt-Iron once more, mulling over the details of the case as he ascended up the stairway.
Blacken ash cast by a spell circle. Both father and son missing with no indication where they went too. Recluses and rarely seen. Necromancy within a threshold.
It was hard to tell how deeply the father and son were involved in spell. Someone who had access to the apartment was behind it no doubt. Spell circles were the most consistent way to cast magic but they took time to build, set and channel energy. You didn’t build a spell circle without knowing exactly what you plan to do with it.
The nature of the magic was also a mystery: Dark magic had various applications and not a single one was good. Finnrick hadn’t much experience with that branch of magic but there was nothing logical about the aftereffects: Ash spread throughout the apartment, clinging to everything like a second skin. There was no signs of an outward blast given that nothing bent in the same direction. Everything in that room decided to twist in whatever wayit felt like. If the spell was supposed to draw in something then chair legs and wall tiles would’ve been pulled directly towards the circle.
“Curiouser and curiouser Alice” Finnrick spoke to no one in particular.
He was on the fifth floor when he noticed something odd.
Finnrick raised an eyebrow as the skies outside the window darken, black and stormy.
A thunderstorm it seems.
Finnrick peered out the window, glancing upwards to see what was going on.
Dark clouds swirled directly overhead. Rain began to lightly drizzle as the skies boomed. Thunder and a moment later lightning trailing across the gathering storm.
A thunderstorm that formed directly above this building.
Without warning.
“Well that’s not ominous.”
Finnrick made the mistake of leaning closer to the window, peering around to see if he could see where exactly the storm was coming from when it happened.
“Watch out below!”
Finnrick noticed three things in that moment: First, was of course, someone shouting to watch out below. Second was the distant sound of claws scratching something wooden, the walls perhaps. Lastly was the thudding of something falling down quickly and towards him.
Finnrick rose his hand, pivoting on his heels in time to see something crash into him.
It wasn’t much of a contest: Both Finnrick and whatever slammed into him broke through the fifth story window and went sprawling into a freefall.
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LEAVING MIDORIYA
part one (nsfw) | part two
tw// mentions of toxic relationships, drinking & mention of a bombing
honestly, if you were given enough time you probably could’ve figured it out on your own — without the assistance of a psychiatrist — but exactly one appointment later, you were left with the disheartening realisation that you weren’t having ‘bad dreams’ and the marks on your body weren’t inflicted by yourself during slumber. eventually, the fact set in that it was your sweet, gentle fiancée who was the cause of all these things.
this whole time, you were under the impression that you were the problem, that there was a malicious part of you that wanted to paint deku out to be some sort of villain; and now you were finally made aware that a villain is exactly what he is.
it was a hard conclusion to come to but the initial wave of relief you felt was enough to make you act on it quickly, as the more you waited around and let the fact sink in, the more you doubted whether or not to take action. but reasoning isn’t what you need right now, you just need to get away from him.
where will you go? you had no idea, but any where away from him is good enough.
midoriya didn’t even get enough time to try fill your head with even more lies. you came marching into the apartment with the intention of ignoring everything he says and simply pack your stuff so you can leave. no matter how much he screamed, begged or yelled, it was like trying to hold a conversation with a brick wall hence he eventually gave in, leaving you to collect your things in peace as there was clearly no way he was going to get through to you.
you left without another word — not even a goodbye — and you were sure to sneak your engagement ring out with you. although it made you sick to look at, realistically you might need the cash since as soon as you stepped outside your shared apartment with your shit in bags, you were officially homeless.
no need to worry though, you had arranged to stay the night at a friend’s house until tomorrow morning, then you could catch the train to your parent’s. from there, you’d stay with them until you manage to find a new apartment within your price range.
one problem; your friend just texted you saying that they have to retract their offer because their landlord doesn’t allow over two people to sleep in the same dorm, and they already have a roommate. very unfortunate but hey, what can you do? plus, they apologised and offered to pay for your hotel but you reassured them that their money wouldn’t be necessary.
now sitting outside your old apartment complex, scrolling through your phone looking for the nearest hotel. since both you and deku were well-paid pro-heroes and bought a penthouse in a rather affluent area, it was no surprise that most of the hotels that were reasonably close were from 4-5 stars.
although a 5-star hotel room for one night really wasn’t necessary, the post-breakup adrenaline was telling you otherwise. it also told you that treating yourself to a shopping spree, getting wine drunk at a bar and then shuffling back to the hotel with mcdonald’s take-out was a great idea!
those emotional discussions you had with complete strangers must’ve really gotten to you because when you opened your front camera to take some pictures, you immediately grimaced at the sight of your mascara staining your cheeks. you were lazing around in the hotel lobby surrounded by name brand gift bags — waiting for your room key — looking like that? how embarrassing.
quickly wiping away your tears, you put on a pair of designer sunglasses you brought earlier to shield your smudged eye-makeup from the world. not that you cared what anyone in this damn lobby thought of you anyway, you were only going to be here for one night, after that you would never see most of these people again. or at least, that is what you thought.
out of the corner of your eye, you saw flashing lights which prompted you to take out your earbuds but once you did, you instantly regretted it as all you heard was screaming and yelling from the entrance. looking up, you noticed an average-looking guy wearing a skull tank top resembling the fashion sense of a middle schooler, being followed by a mob of screaming fans, paparazzi and gossip channel reporters.
“dynamight! thank you for everything!”
“you deserve to be number one!”
“we are here at scene, pro-hero dynamight has just been seen entering what appears to be his five star accommodation, wearing his signature blac--”
the loud noises were suddenly muffled as the doorman shut the entrance behind him, leaving things just as they were, except now there was a muscular blond man encircled by bodyguards staring daggers at you.
in any other situation, you would’ve just tried your best to ignore him but some of that liquid courage was beginning to get to you, so your reaction was to snarl right back at him, yelling across the hall, “take a picture, why don’t ya? it’ll last longer.”
only upon processing your reply did the man finally snap out of his trance and storm up to, being hastily followed by his guards who looked as though they were ready to throw down at any given moment, so of course you cowered back in your seat, apologies waiting on the tip of your tongue, ready to spill until his face was hovering centimetres away from yours.
your throat ran dry at his unexpected action, your eyes scanning over his chiselled features through the tint of your glasses. in a turn of events, you were now the one speechlessly staring at him. then, a deep chuckle erupted from his throat, causing the shock to show on your expression.
“i knew i recognised you! you’re stupid deku’s girlfriend- fiancée or whatever; i saw the invite for your wedding in my mail and i just got a look at your face before i threw it away. small world.” the blond continued to laugh, talking to you as if you were an old friend of his despite the fact you’ve never seen him before in your life, “anyway, you like a hot fuckin’ mess. where’s deku?”
why was he talking to you so casually? and how dare he say that!
“first of all,” you started, peering over your glasses to gaze at his face without the rose tint but to no avail, you still had no idea who this man is. using the soles of your palm, you pushed him away by the shoulders as he was a bit too close for comfort, but that resulted in all his guard looking at you with murderous glints in their eyes. “deku and i broke up--”
“when?” he cut you off
“let me finish.” you glared at him, fixing your sunglasses, “we broke up this morning. secondly, who the fuck are you?”
the man looked like he was ready to burst out laughing once again until he had a visible realisation, “eh, well, we’ve never met before but i’m sure deku has told you about me. if not, you’ve probably seen me in the news; i saved around a thousa--”
“no, i’ve not watched the news for, like, the past six months.” this time, you cut him off with a mischievous smirk which you tried your best to conceal.
“bitch! let me fuckin’ finish!” he barked, then had a sudden change in demeanour as he let out a sigh, momentarily silent as he scanned the surrounding area, “i’m bakugo. kastuki.”
your reply of a blank stare spoke a thousand words.
“y’know, dynamight.”
who?
“the number two hero!”
nothing.
“the one who saved that whole airline from blowing up just a week ago! c’mon, it was all over the fuckin’ news!”
“you look like a hotter version of my old maths teacher. oh, and i’m (y/n) (l/n).” was the only verbal response he was able to get out of you, even after all his explaining.
“why do you i feel like you are sayin’ that just to piss me off?” he muttered to himself through gritted teeth, followed by a sharp inhale which you assumed was an attempt to calm himself down. his carnelian eyes darted around the room, halting once he raised his arm to view his watch. his brows knitted together as he read the time, forming a concentrated look which was short-lived as his face was quick to relax, emphasised by a slight shrug as if to say ‘i’ve got time’, before slumping down on the couch next to you.
“so why did you and shitty deku break up?”
“i may be a bit tipsy but i’m not just gonna tell that sorta stuff to a complete stranger.” each syllable felt like it had to be forced out one at a time, but you’d rather that than slur you speech as bakugo seemed like the type to poke fun at you for it.
“i just wanna know how badly he fucked up this time.” bakugo smirked, propping his elbow up on the back of the couch to turn and look at you, “eh, i don’t think we’ll be strangers for long.”
there was a certain purr in this voice which sent blood rushing to your cheeks as you never expect someone like him to come on so strong. not that you were complaining, i mean, being in his presence during a time like this felt like a gift from god but you weren’t going to let him know that. it’d only add to his already massive ego so you decided to ignore his suggestive behaviour, opting to show disinterest instead, “hm, you think?”
it was almost comical how fast bakugo’s cocky smirk fell into a frown. honestly, he wasn’t used to people that he flirts with rejecting him, considering that he rarely ever makes moves on anyone. so, now what did he do? due to the foreign nature of this situation, bakugo felt as though he was left with no choice but to bargain, since he’s far from a quitter, “oi, what that supposed to mean?”
you shrug.
bakugo clicked his tongue along with a roll of his eyes before he said, “how ‘bout this; i pay for your room tonight and in exchange we can get to know each other tomorrow.”
“i can pay for my own room though.”
bakugo deadpanned, he honestly thought he had won but apparently not. perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to hit on someone who had just gotten out of a relationship but whatever. “you’re impossible.” he spat, getting up from the couch and marching away, presumably to his room.
he tried to brush off the encounter like it never happened, reassuring himself that he didn’t have to think much of it as he could get with anyone else. plus, you’d probably come crawling back to him, begging to fuck once you get over deku anyway.
and he was half right.
eventually, you came to the realisation that both you and bakugo have one thing in common — a hatred for deku. and as it turns out, hatred provides a good groundwork for friendship.
#deku angst#izuku angst#bakugo x reader#bakugou x you#bakugou x y/n#bakugo x y/n#midoriya angst#👾angst#i'll probably have to make a part 4 for this to make sense
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Mostrami Amore.
Summary: Cha-young tries to move on from a certain mafia boss.
Author’s Note: Thank for to everyone who sent in prompts for Chayenzo, it resulted in this mess. I don’t have much to say, I considered making this into a multi- chaptered story but honestly I don’t have time for another ongoing story so if this seems rushed it was a little, I wrote it in one go today. Hope you enjoy this, I stuck in some of my favorite crack ship because I am weak and obsessed. Happy reading!
p.s takes place after final episode but han seo lives because this is my world and I get to play God.
Another postcard.
Their delivery becomes sporadic and she’s embarrassed at the giddiness that washes over her each time a new square is sent miles across a wide stretch of ocean, the view on the card most likely lackluster in comparison to the true rendering of Malta. She has spent many hours on her laptop searching for images of the small paradisiac island, yearning to see what he sees and feel just a tad bit closer to him. Most of her life has been spent in solitude with only her work acquaintances filling the void at times, so she expected herself to be more equipped to deal with his disappearance and subsequent absence. But nothing prepares her for those moments at the coffee shop, when she finds herself smiling across a table only to realize there is no miniature espresso cup in the hand of a very dangerous Italian Korean mafia member grinning back at her.
The smile melts off her face and she swallows the bitter cool sludge in her cup, the beverage tasting exactly as he had described it without him there.
Nights are the hardest, loneliness coils around her like a snake.
There was never any other fate for them, she knew that when Vincenzo murdered all their enemies this was their only real outcome. He would always be a fugitive on the run and she an accomplice if he were captured and questioned, it was in both of their best interests if he vanished from the face of the planet. But knowing that does nothing to qualm the ever present feeling of isolation that clings to her skin as she sits alone on her couch, downing makgeolli at a vicious pace. Trying to wash his taste from her mouth, that kiss on loop in her mind and the phantom grip of his hand on her neck.
It’s those treacherous nights without the plaza members that have become a second family to her and Han Seo following her like the lost puppy he is calling her “Noona” so freely and frequently until she forgets her own name, that she allows herself to feel exactly what she’s feelings.
Heartbroken.
Desperate.
Lonely.
Rage.
The last one she hides like a dirty secret in the closet of her heart, she knew what she was signing up for. She has no legitimate reason to be angry, or so she tries to reason with herself. But. This was the same man who had bypassed the security of one of the richest men in Korea and ultimately killed him without leaving a trace. She had watched him do despicable things, blackmailing, threatening, seducing, and murdering others as he saw fit and yet, he hadn’t used any of those dastardly ways to see her. That chance meeting at the art gallery had been the last she had seen of him, Then a few weeks later another postcard with the same message she had boldly uttered at the airport, it feels insufficient after having him in her arms again. She knew in that moment that they would never be enough again. She hadn’t even argued when Mr. Nam claimed he would leave this one on his table instead, she merely nodded and walked away to peruse the new sexual assault case she has taken recently.
It gets harder and harder to hear Han Seo regaling the wonders of his “hyung”, her anger boiling deep below the surface like magma waiting to explode and transform into something tangible and destructive.
“He told me that he has a room for me too. I wonder when he’ll let us visit.”
She nods absently, staring out the window at the sunlight twinkling in through the blinds but then his words register and the gears in her head churn before running the sentence back through to carefully process them.
“He---what? You spoke to Vincenzo?”
The human puppy pouts his lips before tilting his head and dealing a hard blow to her ego and her heart, “Yeah, he sends me letters. I got so scared the first time! He said the letter would self-destruct after I read it and I really thought that was true and I dived across the room to escape but I bumped my head on the table and then...”
He sent Han Seo letters.
She had received the same fucking postcard for months on end with the same message she had said to him, and he had time to write Han Seo letters. He hadn’t sent her even one in the time he had been gone.
“That fucking bastard!” She explodes interrupting Han Seo’s recount of his near death experience and he looks wide- eyed and taken back by her outburst, she almost soothes him before another wave of anger rushes through her veins. She had accepted the bare minimum because she thought this was all he could give her but it seemed she was being too naïve. He was Vincenzo Cassano after all, he could make anything happen. She had seen it with her own two eyes. If he wasn’t reaching out to her maybe that was a message and she was too blind to see it.
“Noona? Are you okay?” Han Seo looks absolutely terrified, eyes huge and quivering. She doesn’t bother answering, grabbing her cup of lukewarm coffee and stomping out of the office ignoring Mr. Nam’s calls behind her. She’s tired of being an idiot.
She throws herself into forgetting him, the same way he seems to have forgotten her despite his words to her that fateful night on the stairs.
I thought about you everyday.
Actions speak louder than words and she is done accepting his crumbs. She has never needed anyone, had even accepted when her own father wanted nothing to do with her; she has basically been prepping for this moment her entire life.
So she goes shopping with Miri, buying gadgets that she has no idea how to use but that the other girl makes sound like things that she definitely needs such as a new home security system, her break in still fresh in her mind. She grins at the pretty smile on the other girl’s round face as she explains the specification of the machines around them and she can see why Han Seo has such a huge crush on the girl, the pretty blush that blossoms on the other girl’s cheek after stating the fact out loud is adorable and she pinches said cheek much to her chagrin.
“You should worry about your own love life.” Miri teases but the words sting like acid on her skin and she turns away to hide the grimace on her face, but she’s not fast enough and the other girl catches her wrist halting her movement.
“What? What’s wrong? Did something happen to Mr. Cassano?” Miri whispers the last part, looking around to make sure that nobody overhears them.
She forces herself to stifle her emotions, trapping them in the back of her mind refusing to let him have this kind of affect on her.
“I wouldn’t know.” She tries for a emotionless tone but even she can hear the bitterness in her own voice and Miri’s eyes fill with pity and it makes her sick to her stomach, “Don’t. I am going to be fine. Let’s just go.”
They don’t utter single word in the car ride home.
After that it becomes painfully obvious that everyone in the plaza thinks something is wrong with her and are teaming up to make her feel better. It’s the packed lunches that keep showing up on her desk without fail, her clothes being steamed and pressed for free, the way that they won’t allow her to be alone and there are countless spontaneous family game nights all ending with her drunk and being carried home.
Tonight Mr. Tak is the unlucky volunteer, dragging her limp body in her father’s house and she thinks of all the times that they drank here together and a certain person was the one hauling her body to bed complaining and grumbling but that distractingly fond smile on his face that he only ever seemed to shoot her way. Her heart thumped loudly as he loomed over her and leaned in close, getting her hopes up only to brush her hair behind her ears and softly tell her, “Go to sleep now,” and she had never been obedient all her teachers could testify to that but when he looked at her like that she was powerless to do anything else but listen.
“I miss him.” The traitorous words fall from her lips and vanish into the inky darkness of the night.
A deep sigh from the left of her, “We know.”
She feels vulnerable, the worst thing about having a weakness is other’s noticing too. She hates how weak she feels.
“I am going to forget him.”
The body supporting most of her weight tenses under her arm and she waits for his response, they all love Vincenzo- he had become their unexpected hero and leader in many ways. They would always take his side, she knows that.
“If that’s what you need to do to be happy. Then, do it. Loving a man like Vincenzo isn’t easy.”
She turns to look at him in genuine shock.
“What? You thought I would tell you to keep waiting with no end in sight? You should know by now, you mean a lot to us too. Your happiness is important to us too, we’re a family.”
“But we’re the Cassano family,” she challenges unable to accept that they could love her without Vincenzo attached, but Mr. Tak shrugs at the clarification, “We can be the Hong Family too.”
She feels her eyes swimming.
“I should go inside.”
She feels sober and more awake than ever, she stays up all night twirling the long strands of her hair in between her fingers.
Thinking.
Variety is the spice of life.
She doesn’t know where she’s heard that but it’s those sage words that are the catalyst for her spontaneous decision.
“Same as always? Silky with some body?” Her stylist peers into her eyes through the wide mirror and she hears herself say, “No I want a cut and some color.” Yu-jin raises one pretty tweezed brow but nods after a moment’s pause, “Okay. How short are you thinking?”
And that’s how she starts her day with long thick hair that grazes her lower back and ends it with a short bob that tickles her neck. It feels like a weight has been lifted from her shoulder, metaphorically and literally and she loves the face that she sees in the mirror, her eyes looking brighter than they have in months. She feels more alive, like a snake shedding its skin and becoming a newer and fresher version of itself.
“Your hair?” That becomes the running theme for her day, shocked gaping mouths and hands reaching out for the hair that was once there. She merely smirks at their palpable surprise, especially Seol-jin who doesn’t recognize her from behind.
“I haven’t seen a pretty lady like you aro--Oh Ms. Hong! I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you, I am so sorry please excuse me!” The interpretative dancer bolts away leaving her to watch him bemused, she skips to Jipuragi with a pep in her step laughing loudly when Mr. Nam drops his coffee upon seeing her and the brown liquid goes flying and douses him in a sticky hot mess.
It’s an entertaining day to say the least.
Moments later when he’s finished cleaning himself up and changing into the cheetah print track suit that he insisted to keeping in the office, he mentions that a new postcard has arrived. She nods at the information, looking at her laptop and it’s only seconds later that she finally looks up and sees that he’s waiting for her response. She doesn’t have one.
Forcing a tight smile on her face she replies, “Oh that’s great. Just put it with the others.”
He does.
But she can feel his eyes on her, his concern heavy and tangible in the air.
She pretends not to notice and keeps clicking away on her laptop, only glancing over at the card once or twice. But it’s only out of habit.
Nothing more.
She starts going on dates with random men. Men she meets in coffee shops, on the streets, in bars, hell one time even the bookstore. She never meets the same man twice and they never get what they want but it does make her feel desirable and that’s all she’s looking for.
“Where are you going?” Han Seo asks her curiously, Miri by his side as she struts out the plaza new perfume on her skin.
“On a date. I’ll see you both later.” They both gape at her and can only watch with wide eyes as she sashays away, heels clicking with every step.
Word spreads like wildfire and no one takes it harder than Mr. An, who calls her a “jezebel” and cries at the front of the law firm for hours, she has to step over him to go get lunch shaking him off when he latches on to her ankles.
The others just look at her with sad eyes, filled with both understanding and disappointment.
Much to her surprise the lunch boxes keep coming and her clothes are still pressed and starched to perfection though.
She also starts taking self defense classes, Korea is much more dangerous than she had first suspected and she has to be able to protect herself because nobody is coming to save her. Not anymore.
It becomes a great outlet for her built up anger and her instructor praises her for being a fast learner. She grins and nods before flipping him and twisting his arm around his own neck in a modified sleeper hold. When he taps on her arm she squeezes tighter instead of letting go and he goes limp for a moment before she comes back to herself and releases him hastily with a quick apology, “Sorry!”
He rubs his neck, panting for air and she feels guilty, there's a tinge of that but most of all she feels powerful, more so than she has for a long time.
It’s crazy but she finds herself asking him for drinks after class and even crazier is that he agrees even with her marks still there on his skin, the area bruised and red. He looks at her like she’s challenge that he wants to conquer, she lets him believe that’s possible. It’s only a bit of fun anyway, she has no plans for anything serious.
Drinks turn into a drunken cab ride home with his hand on her thigh, hot through the thin material of her tights and they don’t feel right- too small and not rough enough but she’s moving on and she has no time to reminisce.
There hasn’t even been a postcard lately. Message, loud and clear.
When she shoves the keys into her door, he’s glued to her body leaving wet kisses on the long column of her neck and she tries to suppress the nausea that swims in her stomach, everything feels wrong and she hates herself for feeling that way. Why shouldn’t she fuck whoever she wants? He is probably doing the same thing, everyday on his beautiful private island. Kissing women that aren’t her and whispering dirty Italian words into their ears as he rocks back and forth, nary a thought of that Korean woman he knew once upon a time.
Fuck him.
She rocks back into the purposeful grind of the hips behind her, feeling the hardness that digs into the soft flesh of her ass and finally the door opens and they both tumble in haphazardly and he thrusts a hand under her loose shirt fingering at her breasts before a dark figure moves far too quickly in her peripheral and she hears her date cry out in pain.
She almost faints at the familiar sight of the one person she never expected to see, the hard glint of his cold eyes as he twists the same hand that had just been fondling her chest. The grip looks painful, the wrist contorted in an unnatural manner.
“What the fuck? You have a boyfriend?!” Her instructor cries out, voice high pitched falling to his knees as Vincenzo kicks his feet out from under him.
She rolls her eyes, of course he would come now when she is trying (and failing) to get over him.
Vindictively she answers the question, ‘No.”
But that makes Vincenzo twist the wrist in his grip even tighter and she can see the bones breaking so she takes pity on the poor man, he didn’t sign up for a murderous mafia leader after all.
“Just let him go. You have no right to do any of this.”
He doesn’t listen right away and absently she wonders if she’ll need to test out her new moves on him, it would be satisfying to deck him square in the face. She dreams of that as often as she dreams of their reunion. Her feelings are...complicated to say the least.
Then with a grunt, he throws the other man away like he’s trash and growls out, “Get out of here before I kill you.”
She tries not be get turned on by that. But it’s a hard sell, her body already getting revved up. He’s telling the truth.
The man wastes no time, jumping to his feet and bolting out the door without one backwards glance. Asshole, he was really just leaving her with a clearly unstable and dangerous man.
“We need to talk.” Vincenzo squeezes out between clenched teeth, and her blood runs cold but she stares him dead in the eyes tired of this game they’ve been playing, if he’s here to end things she wants to know.
“Okay. Then talk.”
She looks insanely beautiful, with her hair cropped so short bringing his eyes to the tantalizing length of her neck. His eyes close in on a spot of moisture on her neck, he feels his blood boiling imagining that bastard touching any part of her. She’s glaring right back at him, her chest rising and falling and he can’t help but check her out, it’s been months since he saw her in person the photo of her doing aerial yoga above his bed couldn’t compare to the tempest that is Cha-young in real life.
The flat plane of her belly is on display under the white crop top loosely stretched across her chest which leads down to her slim hips and legs wrapped in white spandex, leaving very little to the imagination not that he hasn’t imagined her in far less many, many times. Too many times to count. Spilling across the silk adorning his king sized bed with only her name on his lips.
She looks fucking hot.
That makes it even more frustrating because he can still clearly see that bastard wrapped around her like a snake and his hands going up her shirt---he has to take a deep breath before he breaks something. Or chases that asshole to break his face.
There’s so much he wants to say to her, so much he owes her.
I missed you.
I love you.
Come with me.
“Who the hell was that?” He says this instead then watches her eyes glint over into nothing but pure murderous rage. Wrong move. But he couldn’t help it, green eyed raged taking away his decision making abilities.
“That’s all you have to say? Get out.”
He wasn’t expecting rose petals and trumpets when he returned but he definitely wasn’t expecting this, her cold glare or another man in his spot. He thought she would wait for him, just as he had done for her.
“Are you serious right now?” He counters, flabbergasted.
“Deadly. Get out.”
He clenches his fist, and then stomps out. Turning back but only to watch the door slam in his face.
What the hell.
It had only taken a letter from Han Seo to get him on boat that would take him to an open field and hours later he was soaring through the skies on a hot air balloon, on his way back to Korea. It was insane and he barely had time to explain to his family but Luca nodded at him like this was the only choice and told him that he would take care of everything, and he trusted those words more than he had ever trusted anything in his life.
“Vai a prendere la tua donna( go get your woman).”
He had nodded, gruffly patting the other man on his shoulder before hopping over into the waiting boat.
But he wasn’t so certain anymore that Cha-young was his.
She seems different. Colder almost, she leaves whenever I mention your name and she goes on dates now. I think she’s moving on hyung, what are you going to do?
Those words had been the scariest thing he had never seen. Scarier than every gun that had ever been pointed at his head. He thought what they had was something special, something that could stand the test of time and distance. He stared at the huge pile of letters on his bedside, all addressed to her. He had written one everyday since they had been separated, but each time he was too much of a coward to send it. In those letters he could say things that he could never say to her face, things like how much he ached without her by his side and how her smile was the only thing that kept him going. In those letters he could regal the ways he loved her, and how deeply she had been branded into his soul, every atom of his body belonged to her and her alone. He would kill for her, die for her, anything she needed or merely wanted he would provide it, all she needed to do was ask.
He could only share those feelings in the letters.
He walks for hours, until he ends up at his old apartment the familiar door greeting him and he sticks his hand in his pocket before he remembers that he gave the key away, with a sigh he starts to walk away before the door creaks open and he hears a voice he hasn’t heard in months.
“Hyung!”
A warmth spreads across his back as a solid weight almost knocks him off his feet. He reaches one arm around his body, awkwardly slapping the face that is pressing into his collar.
“You really chose to stay here.”
He feels the nod on his shoulder, “Of course. It made me feel closer to you hyung, I missed you.”
He grunts in response, before turning around and tugging the younger man into a real hug. He had missed the annoying little leech too, he had missed everyone.
They are still in each other’s embrace for a moment before Han Seo pulls away, sympathy etched deep on his face.
“She wasn’t happy to see you.”
“There was someone else there.” He hates the words even as they leave his mouth and Han Seo winces, looking pained for him before tugging him into the small apartment. Everything is just like he left it. He looks around in awe.
“I’m sorry hyung. What are you going to do?”
That’s the golden question, he pondered it all the way here and he’s no closer to knowing the answer to that. Usually she is the one that makes the move, she has always been the brave one between them. He back steps and says things he doesn’t mean and she sees through him and smashes down all his walls. That’s how this has always worked.
“I don’t know. Maybe I should just leave her alone. Let her be happy.”
A loud scoff reaches his ears, “Sure. Is that why you sailed across sharked infested waters and trusted a hot air balloon company run my former thugs?”
He smarts at the sarcastic reply and glares before flicking the cheeky brat on his nose, "I liked you better when you were stupid you know. Now you're a little smart ass."
The younger man looks even more youthful as he grins back at him, rubbing at his nose before shrugging. "I learned from the best."
He has no rebuttal for that so he tries to flick him again, giving chase when he darts off.
It feels good to be home.
He warns Han Seo not to tell anyone that he's here least they give away his location.
So he's not surprised the next day to find the cavalry at his doorstep hands filled to the brim with containers of food. There are tears, mostly from Mr. Nam who won't stop screaming his name and pinching his cheeks to see if he's real and Mr. An who wraps around him like a koala despite his very detailed threats. It's all chaos and so familiar that his heart aches but her absence is like a hole in his chest. Nobody mentions her but they all keep looking at the door, so it's obvious that she was invited but chose not to come.
Because she didn't want to see him.
"You're here to win her back right?" He doesn't know who even utters the words but when he glances up they are all looking at him expectantly.
He didn't know that was what he was indeed here for thought that she would happily welcome him back and they could pick up where they left off but she's made it clear that this won't be the case. This will be the most important fight of his life.
"Yes. I'm here for Cha-young."
He gets enthusiastic thumbs up and a loud giggle from the Yeon-Jin and Cheol-Wook’s adorable baby, her little hands too uncoordinated to do a thumbs up but she waves excitedly feeding off the energy around her.
He wonders how Cha-young would look with a baby in her arms, their baby it's a dangerous thought. But one that he can't get out of his mind once he thinks it.
They stay until midnight, forcing him to eat and drink too much soju until he passes out to dreams filled with a round Cha-young, belly swollen and protruding from her body.
It doesn't take much to learn her schedule(Mr. Nam hands him a laminated copy) and he has to put on a disguise but he enters the shop seconds after her, hearing her order that god awful sewer water she's so fond of.
"An espresso for me." He leans in too close, almost brushing her shoulder and she jolts at the sound of his voice, turning to stare at him as if she's a mirage.
"You're still here?" She whispers and then shakes her head and looks away as if she's hadn't meant to say the words aloud.
It hurts him that she thought he would leave without telling her but he can't blame her, he has been anything but consistent. Instead of answering, he leans forward to hand his credit card to the cashier who glances between them suspiciously before accepting the card.
Their orders are ready in seconds and he follows her as she walks to their table, butterflies in his stomach at the familiar sight.
She turns to him with a glare, "It's just the only available table."
He moves to pull out her chair and she starts at him tight lipped before sitting down. She's in a tight black suit today, two long slits on the side of her pants going all the way up to her thighs. He gulps down his drink to get rid of the drool pooling in his mouth.
"You're upset with me."
She stares at him like he's the biggest idiot on the planet, it's not a look he receives often but she's always the outlier in his otherwise organized life.
"Astute observation." She quips back, sucking loudly at her coffee.
"Why?"
He considered how to go about breeching this subject and in the end had decided on going straight to the source, he had been under the impression that this was working for them.
Her face morphs into a person he hasn't seen for a long time, the Cha-young that would berate him and make him angry enough to curse in Italian.
"Do you think this little of me?"
He's completely lost, "What do you mean? What did I do that was so wrong? Wrong enough for you to cheat on me!" He's panting now, his voice has gotten loud enough to catch people's attention he can feel them watching their table, nosy and invested.
"Cheat on you?"
Cold as ice, her voice is. It almost makes him shiver.
"How could I possibly cheat on you? We're not together. You send me the same postcard with the same message every few months. I have no idea what you're doing in Malta, who you're with. You can't even be bothered to send me a letter, do you think this is a relationship? You think it's enough to pop up like this every once in a blue moon? You've told me nothing about how you feel about me but I'm supposed to be satisfied with whatever you throw my way?"
If he wasn't sitting down his legs would have already given out he's certain about that. Her voice is deadly quiet each word landing and chipping away at his confidence.
"I'm doing the best I can! You knew it would be like this after everything was over, why are you blaming me now? How about you, I don't know how you feel either!"
"I love you! Anyone with eyes can see that, I told you that at the airport too. And again when I took a bullet for you, you didn't think that meant I loved you? I was willing to die for you."
Shit.
It's not at all how he expected them to confess their love for each other, it's hard to believe the words that are coming out of her mouth as she bares her teeth at him.
"So why are you doing this? Why are there other men?"
Why aren't I enough? He wants to say but he's scared of her answer, terrified that she'll say that she can't do this anymore. That he just isn’t enough anymore.
She stares at him long and hard.
Waiting for something. But he doesn't know what.
"You haven't changed at all. You're still a coward, I'm not interested in guessing anymore. I’m done playing this game.”
She stands up and walks away, leaving her unfinished coffee on the table.
Unwanted just like him.
She doesn't see him for days and she accepts that her words had done their damage, she had cried until she fell asleep that night. Waking up with swollen red eyes that no amount of concealer would save but thankfully no one commented on her state.
She goes through her day on autopilot and before she knows it she's back home, ready to face her night alone again. She pushes the door open, half praying he'll be waiting for her but her hopes shattered when she turns on the lights and finds no one.
"It's better this way." She lies to herself, pouring herself an obscene glass of soju. She's going to need plenty of alcohol to get through this pain.
Her head is woozy and heavy when she hears a sound, suddenly alert she stills in her chair before rushing over to get a frying pan walking on the tips of her toes she prowls closer to the clicking sound, finding herself at the window peering at a long lost friend. Placing the frying pan on her window sill she pry opens the window, screeching when the audacious bird flies inside landing on her table as if he belongs there.
"Hey Inzaghi! Get your dirty bird feet off my table!"
He looks at her nonchalantly, making himself comfortable on said table and she sighs before shutting the window and drunkenly swaying over to him.
"What are you even doing there? Do you want to be my bird now, I won't be a very good owner. I won't remember to feed you. I barely remember to feed myself."
Despite being a bird he finds a way to roll his eyes at her before standing up and only then does she notice something on his leg. She looks at him cautiously before moving closer and untying the paper on his leg, the pigeon barely reacts before flying over to her couch. She sighs in annoyance, she's going to have to clean everything after this bird leaves.
She unwinds the string holding the paper together, unrolling the paper scroll. There is a message written inside: the rooftop. 9 pm.
Glancing at her clock the time shines at her.
7:34pm.
"This could be a trap."
It very much could be, she has enemies now. It was a small price to pay for taking down Babel but she's always looking over her shoulders now, so this note could easily be someone luring her to hurt her or get back at Vincenzo.
Inzaghi coos loudly at her as if he can hear her thoughts. This time he finds a way to look exasperated.
She stumbles off to her room.
She needs time to think.
"So she told you that she loved you and you didn't say it back?"
"I was shocked. She was growling at me and looked ready to kill me at the same time." He reasons back, trying to show his hyung his point of view. The younger man doesn't look even a little bit convinced by his logic.
"Okay and? That sounds perfectly normal for you too. You should have shot someone and wrote it back in their blood on the table."
He recoils in disgust at the suggestion, "What the hell is wrong with you? Are you actually insane, why the fuck would I do that?"
Han Seo stares deadpan in return.
He puts up a hand trying to stop whatever response he has, "Don't say it."
It doesn't work.
"Pig's blood. Don't forget I saw it all, I've never seen Ms. Hong look so excited before. You're both crazy."
Well, that had been different. It was an old tradition, she simply had an appreciation for the classics.
"And I bet you're defending her right now in your mind. Noona is just like you, that's why you're made for each other. She's the gasoline to your fire."
"You know that would just make an even larger fire right?"
"Yes. I'm smart now remember? I know what I said."
He sighs falling into the comfortable familiarity of the couch, a spring digging into his thigh.
"Why didn't you say it back?" His stills at the barely whispered question, his chest constricting as he recalls the passionate confession. He had frozen, like he'd always known she was the brave one between them. Always doing the unexpected and the time was no different, her words had knocked him off his feet.
"Because I was scared."
Han Seo huffs at his honesty. He doesn't know where the words are coming from but he's tired of keeping it all in.
"Because if anything happens to her it'll break me, I thought it would be better if I kept her at a distance. I thought this was enough. I thought this would be easier. When I think about her I want to drop everything and just be with her and that...was too dangerous. I had to keep my distance."
There's a pregnant pause, just the sound of their breathing filling the void.
"Was it?"
"What?"
"Easier. Is this better? Enough?"
He thinks about Cha-young getting married to a faceless man, exchanging vows and sealing it with a kiss, happy and in love on their honeymoon wanton moans and screams from their room, learning that they're having a baby and her round and glowing with someone else's child smiling brightly as she rubs her belly and it's too much. He wants to smash it all into little pieces.
"No. It's not enough. I need her, without her nothing is enough."
"That's what you should have said to her. Don't glare at me I'm right, but I have an idea. I saw it in an American cartoon."
And that's how he lets his younger brother convince him to send a note to Cha-young using Inzaghi, the pigeon had shown up one night and he'd been so happy he almost kissed the bird.
"How will he know where Cha Young lives?" He asks skeptical even as he ties the note to the birds leg.
"I showed him a picture of her house. According to the cartoon, birds just know.”
He stares at the younger man, wondering why he's listening to this ridiculous plan.
"This is stupid. I should just text her, Inzaghi is never going to deliver this. He's just a regular pigeon."
"This is more romantic." He answers matter of fact.
"How is a pigeon delivering a message in anyway romantic?" He challenges already knowing from the shit eating grin he won’t like the response.
"The same way pig blood was." The brat counters and he doesn't get a chance to respond before Han Seo picks Inzaghi up and throws him out the window, "In the name of love!" He only barely stops himself from bashing his head into the wall, the younger man has to wrestle him to the ground.
It's stupid. They did all of this for nothing the cool breeze makes him pull his coat tighter around his body, exposed to the weather on the open space of the rooftop.
He checks his watch, 9:48.
She's not coming and the worst part is that he doesn't know if it's because that damn bird never delivered his message or if it's because she really doesn't want anything to do with him. The burden of not knowing hurts more than anything.
Expelling the air in his lungs he walks back to the single door that leads off the roof, twisting the doorknob in his hand and pulling it open.
Meeting the shocked face of one Cha-young.
They both just stare at each other before he speaks, "You came."
He can't believe it. Inzaghi had actually delivered the note, somehow the pigeon had found her house and she was here. He almost pinches himself to see if he'd passed out on the roof and this was just a dream.
"I didn't know Inzaghi was a carrier pigeon." She futilely tries to change the subject and he takes a step back, gathering the tattered pieces of his courage. The same courage that had propelled him to kiss her all those months ago on the stairs.
"I'm so happy you're here. I waited for you."
She stares at him like he has two heads before blushing, and avoiding his eyes.
"Come with me." He extends his hands and tries not to be too hurt when she bypasses it and steps around him instead.
At least she was here.
With a quick swipe of his hand he sends the message to his accomplices.
Now.
The lights come on, fairy lights decorating the roof top in a heavenly glow. She spins around in wonder, eyes nearly as bright she's so beautiful it's almost painful to look at her.
Then the music starts.
The soft notes filling the space.
When I walk down a road I don't know well....
She looks around in wonder, staring back at him she can’t believe what’s happening.
Then the letters start falling from the sky, all the letters he had written to her alone and missing her thousands of miles away. His plaza family smiles down at him, throwing letters from a higher building.
Cha-young stares up at the sky in surprise, hundreds of letters landing all around her.
It had taken a few days for Luca to send them all over and then another day to get the guts to do this, there was no turning back now. He had never willingly made himself vulnerable to anyone else, but according to Han Seo it was the only way he was going to win her back.
“She just wants to know that you love her too. Show her.”
He watches anxiously as she picks up a letter, stroking lightly at her own name on the front looking at him with stunned wet eyes.
“You wrote me a letter.” Her voice is revere and awe that he doesn’t deserve, not after everything he has put her through in the sake of protecting himself but he’s too elated to see her looking at him like that again, like he’s someone important to her.
“182. For each day we were apart. I told you I thought about you everyday, and every time I did I wrote you a letter.”
She stares at the letter in her hand, gently ripping it open and devouring the words on the page. Nerves shoot up and down his body as he watches her read his most private thoughts about her, her expressive face for once empty of emotions as she silently reads the letter.
He waits.
Breathless and terrified.
“Why didn’t you ever send them? They were mine so why did you keep them?” He hears an edge in her voice that makes him wonder if she’s only talking about the letters.
“Cha-young, I don’t think you understand.”
She breathes out loudly, stomping over to him until they are inches apart and he has no choice but to look into the deep pool of her eyes.
“I don’t! I don’t understand anything, I thought you had found someone else in Malta and the postcards were just your way of being nice. I thought you didn’t feel the same way I did, you were sending Han Seo letters but you wouldn’t do the same for me. What was I supposed to think? Why didn’t you try to help me understand, you were gone for six months!”
There’s so much wrong with everything she said, how could he find anyone else when his heart beats for her? How could he forget her when everything he did reminded him of her, he saw her every night in his dreams. But he doesn’t make the same mistake this time, he says what’s important.
“I feel the same way. I love you Cha-young. I thought this was better for you, that this could be enough. But I was wrong, I missed you every minute of every--”
“Come home with me.”
He stops, stares, gapes and then stares some more.
“What? I wasn’t finished confessing though.” Actually offended that she interrupted his planned speech. He was about to recite one of his favorite Italian love poems for her and then ask her to dance.
She rolls her eyes dragging him towards the door, “Don’t you think we’ve wasted enough time? It’s been six months and you have been here for too long, you have to go soon.”
She’s right, he has a flight in two days for an identity he borrowed for his escape.
“Listen to her, just go back to her place and have a good night!” That sounds like Cheol-Wook and then they all erupt into applause and start cheering and hollering, chanting their names and then to his embarrassment they start chanting, “Go have sex! Go have sex!” complete with the monks banging on their drums and he doesn’t think he will ever live down this moment, especially when he sees Miri capturing it on the new video camera he had gifted her.
He flips them off as an eager Cha-young pulls him away their laughter following them all the way.
The car ride is too long on the way over and she wonders how quickly she can undress them both as soon as they reach, there is simply no time to waste.
But once they get to the doorstep he suddenly freezes, tugging her backwards into his chest.
“This looks familiar doesn’t it?” His voice is dark and smoky and she immediately knows what he’s referring to, and she refuses to give him any reaction.
“Are you seriously doing this right now?”
“You let someone else touch you. Here.” He runs a hand up her neck, briefly squeezing, “And here,” she gasps at his hands suddenly on her breast, squeezing harshly at the tender flesh.
“So what are you going to do about it?” She knows that she’s playing with fire, but that is their foundation. She has never aimed to cool him off or tone him down, she sees the dark side inside of him and loves it, encourages it and feeds on it herself allowing it to bring her darkness out too.
He kicks the door open, shoving her side and she delights at the rough treatment. She hopes that she is filled with his bruises tomorrow.
She doesn’t wait for his next move, pulling her shirt up and over her head before tugging off her skirt leaving herself in a barely there lace panties and a matching lace bra that is translucent, her nipples peeking through the sheer material. He stares at her transfixed, his hunger evident in his eyes and in the tent forming in his tight dress pants.
“Take those off.” She commands and he smirks before obeying, peeling the pants off his thighs standing in his button down shirt and tight boxer briefs that leave nothing to her imagination, every delicious inch of him visible. She steps forward bringing their bodies in contact, before thrusting her hand inside the opening of his briefs. He feels hard and smooth, liquid pooling at the tip and she twists her hand collecting it to ease her slow strokes up and down. His voice hitches as she fingers his balls and without warning she tugs his boxers off, leaving him bare to her eyes.
Mesmerized by the unencumbered sight of him, she drops to her knees using her hand to guide him to her eagerly waiting mouth.
His flavor explodes on her tongue and she swallows more, grabbing his hips to drag him deeper into her mouth until she can feel him in her throat, but even after her eyes start to burn and she feels herself choking she doesn’t stop, bobbing up and down hungrily, sloppy wet sounds filling the room in a filthy symphony. At first he lets her control the movement, pliant in her hands but as she increases her speed and suction he starts groaning and huffing loudly and then she feels his hand on the back of her hand, keeping her in place and when she looks up at him he looks wrecked. Eyes dazed and his face red and flushed, she ingrains that image in her mind, for when he’s gone and all she has are her toys.
She stares back defiantly before he draws himself out of her mouth, a single line of spit connecting them and then he thrusts back into her mouth roughly and she opens her mouth wider to accept the abuse, loving every second of it even as a her throat aches. He sets a frantic pace, his balls slamming against her chin and she doesn’t realize at first that his grunts have transformed into words, too much blood rushing to her head.
“Mine. Mine, nobody can---ah fuck! Nobody can see you like this. Only me. You’re mine.”
He fucks her mouth like it’s his to use and do what he pleases, and she’s wetter than she’s ever been listening to him claim her verbally and with the wet push of his dick in her mouth.
She starts grinding on the floor like a cat in heat and without preamble he grabs her under her armpits and lifts her like she weighs nothing, his dick sliding free from her hot mouth, “I want to make you scream.” He says this like a declaration of love and she throws herself at him, kissing the words off his lips. His tongue swirls in her mouth and she wonders if he can taste himself in her. It makes her hotter and she grinds her barely covered pussy onto his naked length, groaning at the friction even though the thin layer separating them.
He tosses her onto the bed and she doesn’t even remember them walking, his tongue and his wondering fingers had completely distracted her.
She lays sprawled across the bed as he stares at her, like she’s feast he can’t wait to devour.
“Nobody has been in here.” She doesn’t know if he’s asking a question or making a statement, but she feels that his jealousy is real. Seeing her with someone else had done something to him, guilt washes over her. If she had seen him with someone else she would have lost her mind too.
“Nobody. I never brought anyone home before, that guy was a mistake. I was just hurt and missing you. I’m sorry.”
He had abandoned her for six months and she didn’t owe him anything but his pain is her pain and they are stronger now, everything has been said.
“Good.”
Then he rips her panties away and buries his face between her legs, prying her wide open with his hands and lapping at her with his searing hot tongue. Immediately he has his wish and she screams, loud enough to fill the entire room.
“Already screaming amore? It’s going to be a long night, I want to make you hoarse.”
She doesn’t get a moment to respond before he’s back to licking and sucking at her most sacred part, fingers deep inside her as he thrusts and strokes alongside his tongue, his fingers and tongue moving in tandem and she tries to stifle the scream but a particularly deep fuck makes the sound erupt from her throat and her head feels dizzy from the overwhelming sensation.
He has boundless energy it seems, as time drags by and she feels her body tightening up as he systemically destroys her, he never takes a break or pauses, slurping up all the liquid that drips from her and the sounds of him swallowing are beyond erotic. When a hand runs up her stomach and squeezes at a bouncing breast she can’t contain her moans of pleasure, crying out as his fingers pinching the tight bud of her nipple.
“Please.”
He coos in her, “So pretty when you beg.” Then he sticks his tongue as far as it can go and she hears the rush of blood in her head as her body shakes apart and her release gushes from her body, twitching when he laps it all up her oversensitive body recoiling from the overstimulation.
She has never come like that before, most men have never put in the work necessary to make her come and she wasn’t one to fake it so her experiences with sex with someone else were few and far in between.
This feels like nirvana.
“You still with me amore?” The bastard looks so smug, looming above her naked arms on the side of her head, and she had no idea when he took his shirt off.
“I can’t feel like my legs.”
He chuckles loudly at the statement, grinning growing wider.
“Well I can assure you that they’re still there and they will look great wrapped around my waist.”
Raising to his challenge, although her body is still buzzing she wraps her legs around his waist, they feel like jelly but she finds the strength to follow through with her movement.
“I was right they do look great.”
“Well this would look great in me.” She counters, grabbing at his thick ruddy red dick jutting from his body and he rocks into her hand before knocking her hand away and taking himself in his hand.
“Do we need a condom?” He asks her, looking like he is ready to stop at nay minute if she tells him that they do.
“No.”
She has been on birth control since she was a teen and there’s been no one for her since she met him, and she trusts that it’s been the same for him.
“Thank goodness, I want to feel everything.” He barely finishes his sentence before he’s easing into her, slow and steady. She lets him continue for a moment before she tightens her legs around his waist and pulls him in roughly, as deep as she can get him in this position. “Fuck, you’re so impatient.”
“Shut up and fuck me already.”
He grumbles at her calling her bossy, but she sighs when he draws out and slams back in with a quick snap of his hips.
“Yes just like that!”
He takes direction very well, repeating the motion until the bed starts to creak from their movements, he pistons in and out of her gone all semblance of gentle or slow, they have teetered into a speed that can only be defined as “break neck” and she feels her body sliding up the mattress as he pounds into her over and over again, she latches onto his neck eager to leave a branding mark on him and he groans at the suction, grinding harder into her and gripping her ass to force her to meet his vicious thrusts.
Absently she feels him peeling her bra from her body, the only remaining item of clothing that has survived their coupling and she knows exactly when he sees the scar. The grotesque knitting of skin that had left a permanent scar on her shoulder, she almost covers it up but when she peels her eyes open he is staring at her mesmerized.
“Don’t look.”
He leans down to kiss it, the softest more precious kiss she has ever received in her life.
He peppers more kisses all over, then strokes at it with a single finger.
“I should have realized, this was your confession. I was an idiot. I will never be that stupid again, I love you so much. I would do anything for you. Anything.”
He puts her legs on her shoulder, nearly bending her in half before resuming his thrusts but they are less frenzied now, it feels like lovemaking. Her eyes prickle when he kisses her scar with every downward thrust, whispering, “Beautiful, so beautiful. Every inch of you.”
She cries out.
With every thrust he kisses her scar, making her feel lightheaded and naked.
When he moves them into a new position, her back to his front giving him better access to her scar, she loses herself as he whispers sweet nothings into her ears and litters the spot with warm kisses.
She falls off the edge with his lips on her scar and him deep inside her, warm bursts filling her up before leaking out onto the bed sheets.
“Today’s our last day.”
Waking up next to him is torture, she tries not to ingrain that in her mind but it’s too late it’s already there. He blinks away the sleep in his eyes at her words and then nods solemnly in agreement.
“Yes for this visit. But I’ll always come back for you.”
She smiles brightly, “Don’t keep me waiting for too long.”
They don’t leave the bed except to get breakfast and that ends with her laid across the kitchen table getting taken from behind after teasing him. He can’t seem to keep his hands off her new hair, twisting the short strands in his hands and yanking on them. She catches him looking at her heatedly more than once.
Then they wind up in the shower, trying to clean up and getting dirtier instead, his hands tight in her hair and around her waist as he hoists her up to pound her into the wall. Making up for lost time.
They get messages from their entire family, Vincenzo showing her a message from Han Seo asking if he’s going to be an uncle soon. She promises to embarrass him in front of Miri very, very soon.
Both pretend they don’t feel the day fading away, bringing them closer to their goodbye.
Tomorrow he will be gone again, but there’s no guessing now. She knows what she means to him now and that’s more than enough.
She wakes up to an empty bed and a ticket to Malta, the ball is in her court.
#vincenzo#chayenzo#smut#but you know with feelings#romance isn't dead#you can find it in strange places#like pig's blood#han seo has the best wingman#the mafia family
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