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lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks · 3 years

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Grabbing Smoke

As much time as Sam spent with her best friends, sometimes she enjoyed a little bit of time alone.

Tucker was helping his mother bake cookies for some kind of fundraiser for the hospital, and Danny was busy visiting Pandora for fighting lessons. Apparently they were using swords today.

As fun as it sounded, Sam opted to stay behind, it had been a while since she'd been down to the park to feed the ducks. She didn't get quiet moments like that very often any more.

There was an uncharacteristic skip to her gait as she walked to the park, a canvas tote bag swinging from her arm.

Living in Amity Park, and especially hanging around with Danny, gave her an eerie sense to when something was amiss. Nothing quite like Danny's ghost sense, but she'd learned to detect a particular chill to the air, a prickling at the back of her neck. It could easily be mistaken for a chilly breeze, but Sam knew better. The crunch of gravel under Sam's boots was the only sound permeating the still air, not even the trees were rustling.

She continued her walk through the park, past the wishing fountain and through a trail where the trees grew slightly more dense.

The trail opened up to a large pond, it wasn't anything especially picturesque, the reeds were a little overgrown, the ground was muddy, but there were a few simple weather worn benches by the path that looped around the water.

Sam took a seat, pulling out a bag of frozen peas. She opened it, tipped a few into her hand and tossed them into the water.

The ducks immediately sped across the pond toward her, fighting for the peas that the turtles hadn't already gotten to.

Instead of grabbing another handful, she held the bag out to the empty seat to her left, waiting for a moment before shaking the bag impatiently.

A green hand slipped into the bag, pulling out a handful of peas before tossing them into the water.

"How'd you know I was here?" Kitty asked, now sitting visibly on the other end of the bench as Sam poured out more peas for both of them.

"I have my ways." Sam smirked. "What I want to know is why you've been following me all week."

"You knew for that long and you didn't say nothin'?" Kitty huffed. "Damn, I gotta up my game."

A duck waddled up and nibbled on her boot.

"Alright alright, ya hungry little doofus." Kitty lowered a hand full of peas and cooed as the duck happily ate from her palm. "Aww these guys aren't shy at all, do you come here a lot?"

"When I can." Sam tossed a few more peas into the water for the turtles. "So why are you following me?"

Kitty sat back and pressed her lips together, thinking.

"Look it's just... I don't remember much from when I was livin', you know? It's all sorta grey and fuzzy, I can't remember what anyone looked like, except Johnny." she tossed some peas to a smaller duck at the back of the group. "But as soon as I showed up here in town and I saw your face, I thought I felt... I dunno, somethin'. Like I'd seen you before, or maybe you just reminded me of someone, but I can't remember who, it's like grabbing smoke."

She lobbed a few peas a little harder than was necessary at the water. The turtles sucked them up greedily.

"So you've just been following me hoping you might remember something else?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Kitty sighed. "But it's not working."

Sam swung her foot idly between a pair of scuffling ducks, splitting them up before tossing out some more peas.

"Maybe I'm related to someone you knew. Where did you grow up?"

Kitty frowned down at the water.

"I... I don't know." she said, deflating somewhat. "I didn't even realise I forgot that."

Sam couldn't help but feel for her, Danny had told her that ghosts would often forget things from their past, especially once they'd been dead for longer than they'd been alive. Somehow she had never really considered how terrifying that must be.

"You know..." Sam started carefully. "I could show you some old family photos. Maybe you'll recognise someone?"

Kitty looked up, eyes shining brightly.

"Really? You'd do that for me?"

"Why not?" Sam shrugged. "If you were here to cause trouble you would have done it by now."

"Aw, I never thought you'd wanna do something like that for me." said Kitty, smiling brightly. "You always seemed like such a bitch."

Sam laughed.

"If you'd spent a week being someone that wasn't Paulina, I would probably have seemed like less of a bitch."

"So you guys are big rivals or somethin'?" Kitty asked, grabbing some more peas and giggling as three ducks tried to eat from her hand at once.

"It's more that we have... conflicting ideologies. She thinks that appearances and reputation are the most important things in life, just like my parents." Sam lobbed some more peas into the water, they both watched them disappear as the turtles quickly snapped them up. "It's shallow and stupid, and I don't get why they have to push that shit on everyone. I don't care what people think, I just want to be whoever the hell I wanna be without having to fight for it all the time."

Kitty's face turned contemplative as she tapped her nails on the back of the bench.

"I think... I was like that." she said, slowly. "I wanted to feel fun and exciting, but my parents..."

She trailed off, frowning.

"My parents... I didn't like them. They didn't like me bein' the way I was, I can't really remember why."

Sam emptied out the last of the peas and scattered them over the ground, she scrunched up the empty packet and shoved it back into her tote bag.

"You know, if we went to school together we would probably have gotten along." said Sam as she stood up, gesturing toward the path. "Let's go check out those photos."

Instead of floating invisibly behind, Kitty walked by Sam's side as they headed back to her house. She idly waved at people as they drove past, grinning when someone stared a little too long and almost ran a red light.

"You know, it's nice bein' able to walk around in the day." Kitty said, skipping a little. "Wish I could do it more often."

"What's stopping you?"

"What do you think?" Kitty's lip pulled up in disgust. "Any time I show up your dumb friend sucks me up in his stupid thermos. Only reason I can walk around right now is because I got you as my get out of jail free card."

"Danny doesn't care if you just want to walk around." Sam scoffed. "He lets ghosts wander around town all the time, he only gets involved when you start breaking things."

"Uggghhh but just walking around is so boring." Kitty pouted. "I mean yeah it's nice and I like it but it gets old real quick."

"Then you'll have to get used to getting tossed back in the ghost zone. Do not pass go, do not collect $200."

"Don't you ever get sick of his goody goody attitude?" Kitty asked. "I mean you and I aren't so different right? You're all about the rebel gig, don't you ever feel like keyin' some asshole's car, or takin' a baseball bat to some mail boxes?"

"Only if they deserve it." said Sam with a smirk. "But I feel like you aren't especially picky about whose stuff you're breaking."

They approached the door to the Manson mansion, Sam hopped up the steps and stuck the key in the lock. She touched the mezuzah on the doorpost without a second thought before opening the door and standing aside to invite Kitty in.

The ghost stared up at her warily.

"I can't get past it."

"Past what?" Sam asked.

"The mezuzah, it keeps me out."

"What?" Sam frowned. "It hasn't stopped other ghosts from getting in."

"Well it stops me." Kitty insisted. "I think it's got somethin' to do with what we believed in when we were alive. I haven't got a problem with churches but when Johnny tried to ride his bike through one he couldn't get in. His mom raised him Catholic, he says he doesn't believe in any of that stuff, but I think he still does, deep down."

"So does that mean you were Jewish?" Sam asked, smiling curiously.

"I AM Jewish." Kitty crossed her arms. "Bein' a ghost hasn't changed that, it just... means that we got a few things a little wrong."

Sam thought about that for a moment, before stepping aside and gesturing toward the door again.

"Well, if you've been invited and you're not going to cause any trouble, then I don't see why you shouldn't be able to come in."

Kitty climbed the steps slowly, fingers reaching out and cautiously brushing over the mezuzah, she didn't feel anything unusual, no zap or burn or pain. She took a step through the doorway and passed the threshold without issue, no invisible force or barrier like the last time she tried to follow Sam inside.

"Well, what do you know." she said, grinning.

Sam lead her into a large, open planned kitchen and dining area, the tiles were bright white save for the specks of mud Sam's boots tracked through the room. The decor was minimalist, the atmosphere bland and sterile, she could smell some kind of citrus surface cleaner.

The back wall was all windows, leading to a patio surrounded by perfectly trimmed grass. As they approached, Sam turned, heading towards a door to their right.

The next room felt a lot more friendly, it was full of bookshelves and red tones. The lounges looked soft and inviting, a fireplace sat cold and empty against the back wall, but Kitty didn't have to try hard to imagine it roaring to life, filling the room with its warm glow.

"This is basically my Grandma's part of the house." Sam informed her, voice low. "Her bedroom is just through there, she's usually napping around this time of day so try not to make too much noise."

Kitty slipped off her jacket and laid it over the back of the lounge, already feeling at home in the cosy little room. She looked over the books as Sam fussed around some kind of large ornate chest.

"Here it is." She hefted a large photo album from the chest, carefully closing and latching it again. "Let's see if you recognise anyone in here."

Kitty sat down beside Sam as she opened up the pristine book, the outer cover was beige with the name Manson inscribed in golden cursive on the front. The first page was full of old faded photos, in greyscale or sepia tones.

"Ugh, I'm not that old." said Kitty, flicking ahead a few pages.

The pictures were colourful now, but still grainy, there was a young blonde boy in seventies style jeans leaning casually against a Chevrolet.

"Wait hold up," Kitty pointed at the boy. "Him, I feel like I've seen him before."

"That's my dad." said Sam, surprised. "His name is Jeremy, did you know him?"

Kitty hummed a little, gently tracing a finger over the picture.

"Jeremy... Jeremy, I'm not sure," she frowned. "But he definitely looks familiar."

They continued through the book, when suddenly Kitty slapped her hand down roughly on a photo of a pair of young women.

"Her! I know her! She was a mega bitch!"

"Shhh keep it down." Sam hissed.

"Sorry," Kitty pointed to the blonde girl in the photo. "That one! I don't know how I knew her, but I definitely knew her. She was a total brat."

Sam slipped the photo out of its sleeve and read the neat cursive on the back.

"This is... my Aunt Caroline, in 1985. She's my dad's sister." Sam looked up at Kitty, amused. "I can't believe you had beef with my family."

"Your family are snobs." Kitty sniffed. "Carrie was such a ditz, she thought she was sooo bitchin' because her daddy bought her a Mercedes."

"Yeah, that sounds about right." Sam grimaced. "Did you guys go to school together or something?"

"Maybe..." Kitty took the photo from Sam's hand, staring intently. "I'm pretty sure I skipped school a lot, I hated it there. It was a private school, we had to wear uniforms, barf."

"I would never have guessed you were a private school kid." Sam shook her head. "But most people would say that about me so it's not like I can judge."

"You went to private school?" Kitty asked, "How'd you end up in that Casper High dump?"

"Got myself expelled." said Sam, voice thick with pride. "Elementary, middle and high school, got kicked out of all three."

"Damn, you're good."

Sam grinned, slipping the photo back in its sleeve and continuing to the next page.

Kitty pointed to a few other photos, remarking on their familiarity, but not quite able to grasp how she knew them, the memories only flickered in her periphery.

"Wait," Kitty whispered, fingers brushing over a polaroid containing three people. "This is..."

The picture looked as though it were taken at some kind of party, a man and a woman faced the camera, each with a glass of champagne raised in their hands. The woman's other hand rested on the shoulder of a teenage girl with auburn hair, pulled into a tidy braid. She stared glumly at the camera.

"That's Katherine." Sam said, pointing to the girl. "She was my dad's cousin, but she got hit by a car when she was-"

Sam paused, looking over at Kitty's wide eyes and then back to the photo.

"Noooo way." Sam pulled the photo out of the sleeve. "Is this you?"

Kitty took the photo in trembling hands.

"I... I forgot I used to look like that." she fiddled with a lock of her green, teased hair. "I remember this party, I didn't want to go but mom and dad threatened to take away all my records and cassettes if I didn't."

Sam stared at Kitty, mouth agape.

"You're Car Crash Katherine?! My dad talks about you all the time! He always told me about the shit you used to get up to, he'd tell me that any kind of 'rebellious behaviour' was a slippery slope to 'dying on the back of some delinquent's motorcycle'." Sam put a hand on Kitty's shoulder. "You were my bad influence role model."

Kitty's red eyes shone with tears, photo still in hand, she wrapped her arms around Sam.

"This is majorly wicked! My legacy lives on! Corrupting the youth from beyond the grave!" Kitty laughed. "My parents would go totally mental."

She stopped laughing, her face turning forlorn as she drew back from Sam and stared down at the picture.

"Are they still alive?" she asked, a tremble in her voice.

"Yeah..." said Sam. "They live in a retirement home in Florida. They don't come around very often."

Kitty traced a finger over their faces.

"I wonder if they miss me." she said quietly. "Or if they were glad to be rid of the family embarrassment."

Sam didn't answer, she had wondered the same thing herself, if her parents would even care if she died. They hadn't given her a lot of reason to think they would.

She rested a sympathetic hand on Kitty's arm.

"Oh, you have a friend over bubbeleh?" a croaky voice spoke from the bedroom doorway.

Sam and Kitty both turned to see Ida Manson shuffling into the room, cleaning her glasses with her sleeve.

"Sorry Grandma, we didn't mean to be too loud." Sam apologised. "This is my... um, friend, Kitty. Kitty this is my Grandma Ida-"

"Ida?!" Kitty shot to her feet, staring in shock at the old woman. "Aunt Ida?!"

Ida squinted at Kitty, before quickly setting her glasses back on her face.

"Well as I live and breath, is that you Kathy?"

"Oh my god this is getting super weird." Sam whispered.

Kitty leapt over the ottoman to wrap Ida up in a tight hug, the old woman was surprised for a moment, but held her warmly in return.

"It's me Aunt Ida! Not really living or breathing but it's me!" Kitty laughed breathlessly.

"Oh my goodness, when all the ghosts started showing up all over town I wondered if I would ever see someone I knew." She rubbed comforting circles on Kitty's back as the ghost choked on a few sobs. "It's good to see you again Kathy."

Ida pulled away and wiped a tear from Kitty's face.

"And I'm so glad you aren't stuck wearing what your parents buried you in."

Kitty couldn't help but laugh through her tears.

"Let me guess, it was that putrid blue dress, wasn't it?"

"The dress wasn't nearly as bad as what they did to your hair." Ida snickered, patting Kitty's hand. "It had little ribbons in it and everything."

"I almost forgot you." Kitty placed her palm gently against Ida's face. "You were the only one in the family who ever loved me for being me, and I almost forgot you. I'm so sorry, I should have come to find you sooner but I just-"

"Shhhh, it's okay bubbeleh." Ida grasped her hand tight. "I think being dead is a pretty good excuse for forgetting a few things."

Sam stood beside the lounge, watching the two in shock, she wasn't entirely certain whether or not to intrude. Whatever she had been expecting to discover with Kitty today, it certainly hadn't been this.

Though in hindsight, it did explain Kitty's familiarity with Sam, people always said she had taken after her Grandma.

Ida let go of Kitty and hobbled over to the photo album still sitting on the lounge.

"Oh you don't want to look at that album." she said, as she shoved it onto the coffee table. She wandered to the other side of the room and began rummaging around in a small cupboard. "You want this one."

She pulled out a book with well worn, peeling edges. Pieces of the plastic sleeves had cracked off and crumbled away. It was old, and weatherbeaten, it was obvious that Ida had looked through it many many times.

"Here we go." she sat down in the middle of the lounge, gesturing for the two girls to come sit beside her. "These are the forbidden photos."

She opened the pages, the photos inside were entirely different from the 'official' album, there were no perfectly poised, prim and proper photos of people in nice, presentable clothes. They were all candid shots, people in the middle of eating or laughing, some were stumbling around blind drunk, a few were smoking joints. There were pictures from parties and protest rallies, in backyards and drive ins.

There was a picture of Jeremy as a young boy, grinning with one of his front teeth missing and grass in his hair.

"Only in this family would losing your baby teeth make a photo 'unsavoury'." Ida grizzled as she continued through the album. "I saved so many pictures that my husband would have thrown out otherwise."

"Ugh, Uncle Peter was such a prude, he wouldn't even let me in the house if I didn't have my shoulders covered up." Kitty rolled her eyes.

"He used to be so much more relaxed when we were young." Ida sighed. "He changed when he inherited his father's business, he forgot how to have fun."

A few pages later Kitty squealed in excitement.

"Oh my god! That's Frankie! She was my best friend, we used to do everything together!"

The Kitty in the photo looked far more like the Kitty Sam knew. Her hair was teased up, and she was wearing a crop top and a miniskirt. The other girl, Frankie, had short curled hair and a leather jacket. They each had an arm around the others' shoulder and grinned wildly.

"I love this one." Ida smiled as she pulled the picture out of the sleeve. "That was the night I gave you a lift to that concert."

"Oh that show was sooo good! I got my nose pierced there! It got so infected, Mom grounded me for a month." Kitty laughed.

"Man, and I thought I was cool for skipping school to go see Circus Gothica." Sam grinned. "I'm gonna have to come home with a tattoo next time."

"I can't believe I forgot about Frankie, I can't believe I forgot about all of this." Kitty held the photo close to her chest, a few tears running down her face. "I'm so glad it's not gone for good."

She kept the photo in hand as they looked through the rest of the album. There were many pictures of Ida, all of them with other people of all walks of life.

"Oh this was when you took us to that pride parade!" Kitty smiled. "You made Frankie so happy, and you knew a lot of the drag queens there, like a LOT."

"Grandma took me to a drag show when I was 10," said Sam. "Even took me backstage to meet them all, my parents thought we went to the theatre to see Romeo and Juliet."

"Oh I have photos from that." Ida flipped through the pages, getting closer to the end of the album. "Here we are, oh Evelyn just LOVED you."

Sam looked at the picture of Evelyn, frowning slightly.

"Oh weird, she kinda looks like Mr Lancer's sister, he keeps her photo on his desk..." Sam paused as she processed what she just said. "That's not his sister is it?"

"You probably shouldn't bring it up." said Ida gently. "Teachers can get in trouble for associating with this sort of thing."

"That's so bogus!" Kitty cried. "I really thought this kinda stuff would be better in the future!"

"It is," Ida assured her. "But we're a long way from perfect."

Ida flipped back through the album, searching for more pictures of Kitty and Frankie. There were a good few of them, each one Ida pulled out and passed over for Kitty to look at and hold onto.

"Oh woah, is that Johnny?" Sam pointed to a picture of Kitty sitting on the back of a motorcycle with a blonde boy. "He looks exactly the same, just a little less pale."

"Oh, did Johnny come back as a ghost too?" Ida asked.

"Yeah! We've been together all this time, in sickness and in death." Kitty beamed. "Mom and dad blamed him for everything I did, even if he wasn't around when I did it. They said him and Frankie were 'corrupting' me."

She rolled her eyes.

"I bet they blamed him for my death too. They'd be so mad if they knew we were still together."

"Just goes to show they had no chance of keeping you two apart." Ida said. "Not even death could do that."

Kitty held the photo tight in both hands, her shoulders began to shake slightly.

"It was my fault you know." she said with a trembling little giggle. "Funny huh? My parents always blamed him for everything, but in the end it was my fault we got hit. We were havin' a fight over somethin' stupid and I distracted him-"

Ida wrapped an arm around Kitty, patting her head comfortingly as she laid it against the old woman's shoulder.

"I think you're being too hard on yourself bubbeleh." Ida whispered gently into her hair. "It was raining, the truck that hit you was running a red light, the driver was charged for both your deaths. Even if you did distract him, you weren't the only card at play that night."

She gave Kitty a light shake.

"And don't think I didn't see the way Johnny used to drive that thing, he was reckless. I have no doubt that he wasn't paying as much attention as he should have been." She placed a kiss on the girl's forehead and squeezed her tight. "It's not fair to hold all of that responsibility on yourself, even if you both did everything right, that truck still would have run that red light, it still would have been raining. It was just pure rotten luck."

Sam had never heard a ghost talk about their death before, even Danny didn't like talking about his accident, and asking about it was incredibly taboo. Sam had been pushing her luck earlier just by mentioning the car crash.

It said a lot about Kitty's love for Ida that she chose to open up about it. Sam couldn't say she was surprised, her Grandma had always been like that. Never anything but an endless well of love and support, and the occasional kick in the pants if you needed it.

"Johnny's always had rotten luck." Kitty sniffed. "Follows him like a shadow."

"Literally." Sam snorted.

After a few more moments, Ida pulled herself away from Kitty, she got up and began rooting through the cupboards, muttering to herself.

"Aha, here it is."

She brought over an empty photo album, it was roughly the size of a small pocketbook, containing only one photo sleeve per page.

"I meant to fill this with photos for Sam to keep." Ida admitted as she shuffled back over to the girls. "But I don't think she'll mind donating it to a good cause."

She winked at Sam, who nodded back.

"Here," Ida pressed the little album into Kitty's hands. "Memories are a fickle thing, but photos are forever."

"I can't take these!" Kitty insisted, pushing the album back. "They're your memories too!"

"Oh my god you're both so old." Sam laughed, "Dad has a printer/scanner. I can make copies."

As Sam took the polaroids to her dad's office, Ida and Kitty pored over the rest of the album, Kitty picking out more photos to copy. She chose a few of Ida and Sam, and even one of Carrie.

"She was a total loser and I hated her but I don't hate remembering her, you know? I want to remember everything, even the bad stuff."

She took a photo of her parents, just one.

When Sam came back with the last batch of photos, Ida finished slipping them into the little album.

"There's still a few sleeves left." Sam pointed out, holding up her phone with a smile. "We've got room for a couple of family reunion pics."

The two girls squished up against Ida as Sam snapped as many shots as she could. Ones where they smiled, ones where they laughed, ones where they laid haphazardly across the lounge together.

Then Sam took a few candids of just Kitty and Ida, as they looked through the new album they'd just made together. Capturing Kitty laughing at something as Ida looked at her with a soft, loving smile.

Kitty clutched the album to her chest as she gave Ida a long, drawn out hug.

"Thank you so much." she said, her voice thick with gratitude. "It's like I can see my life in colour again."

She left the house with the assurance that she would always be welcome back, at any time, and a promise that she would always be looking out for her 'new favourite cousin'.

Sam flicked through the photos she took on her phone, she would have to make sure to have copies printed by the time Kitty returned to visit.

She knew Kitty coming over regularly was going to make things complicated, her apparent newfound protectiveness over Sam could potentially backfire in many spectacular ways, she was petty and troublesome when in the right mood.

But then again, so was Ida, and so was Sam.

At least she had better things to do now than beat up strangers' mail boxes, Danny was certainly going to be glad to hear that.

#lula's fanfics #danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #kitty #sam manson #ida manson

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beann-e · 3 years

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Bnha Characters reacting to when you quit your job

bakugou

your steps were quiet as you tried to work up the energy to unlock your front door. Your hands sweating and cold when you finally got the energy to put the key in the lock a deep exhale leaving your lips when you finally walked in.

Your Body only carrying you to your kitchen counter before you dropped your keys and bag on the same counter your body now rested against.

The room heating up and shifting from the ice quiet atmosphere youd created when you felt strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you back to meet a hard chest

Small kisses being planted on the side of your neck as you let out another sigh of relief as you spoke trying not to drown in the comfort being given to you “ baby “

Your body shook as you heard a deep grunt of acknowledgment “ we — we need to talk “

you felt as another set of kisses were placed to your neck before his head snuggled into the spot between your neck and shoulder “ I— I think I made a mistake“

You bit at your lip as you kept going “ I— I was trying my best to stick up for myself y’know like you told me”

“ mm—and did you“

“ I did —I mean I did stick up for myself and I had to I needed to bu—”

“ slowly losing interest y/n “

you let out a shallow cough “ but I think I did it at the wrong time “

his body stood up a bit straighter head still remaining in the same place somehow “ baby I —i lost my job “

You felt as your boyfriends body went hard almost as if he was trying not to slam your own body into the floor in anger his grip around your waist only getting tighter “ like I said I — I wrong time“

“ wrong time? — y/n wrong place “ he screamed as he jolted your soul out of your already shaken figure. His head flying back to look at you conveying all the anger and annoyance he held, “ what the fuck do we do now “

you let out a small laugh to try to ease the tension “ we — we rely on your hero check ? “

You watched as he sucked his teeth and moved out of the kitchen “ I can barely feed a fucking roach with my salary y/n “ his voice getting louder as he walked into the living room you following closely behind “ i — i can barely feed you — us — y/n this is why we don’t have little crumb snatchers running around now “

his voice deep and heavy “ cause we’re broke do you get that babe ? huh no — fuck — you— fuck fuck fuck you gotta go back — you can’t just be chilling around the fucking house while i’m working my ass off that’s not how starting a family works y/n “

“ baby it’s just until I can get a new job “

“ tch— and how long will that take y/n “

“ well I— “

“ huh months ? “

“ well n— “

“ couple weeks “

“ I mean hopefull— “

“ babe you don’t even fucking know “ he sighed as he griped the skin on the bridge of his nose “ so fucking stupid — so so so fucking stupid “

the room went quiet as your eyes dropped to the ground. “ wel— no — I — I don’t know kats” you shook your head “ I— I really don’t“

“ and that’s the problem y/n “ he screamed eyes finally opening to look at you.

God, he loved you but seriously you just didn’t think sometimes

It’s not that he was calling you stupid it’s just that he really really loved you

He loved that you listened to him. That whenever he gave advice you heard it and went with it.

The night he told you to speak up he was honestly just fucking with you. He always forgets that he has someone who loves him now meaning he’s taken seriously. He always forgets he’s not in high school anymore.

He can’t say something crazy and asshole—ish and expect to just be ignored. He has someone that loves him and will truly listen.

Your not the stupid one

nor the one in the wrong he is

and he knows he is because he heard everything you said about your situation. Yet, he knew you were different from him whereas he had been speaking his mind for years regardless of ranks.

You couldn’t.

You had a job where everything relied on ranks and status. You couldn’t just say whatever the fuck you wanted to like he could and yet he convinced you that night to speak up whenever your boss gave you extra work you didn’t wanna do.

His eyes felt heavy and so did his body his brain automatically beating himself up as he stared at you imagining the rough day youd had. If he was pissed off with the current situation he could only imagine how you felt.

Someone who hated to rely on others yet, now having to rely on their boyfriend.

“ come here “ your eyes lit up at the statement as your tired body wobbled over and into bakugous arms. Head hitting his chest as he crushed you “ I love you and i’m proud of you “

your heart sank.

“ fuck those idiots you only have room for one anyways and hes— fuck trust me I know i’m enough “

Shoto

“ so “

You sat on the couch legs splayed out in front of you and hands playing with the tassels of the pillows placed next to you.

God you loved these pillows. You actually remember the day you bought them.

Y’know back when you had money

“ y/n “ you watched as shoto shifted uncomfortably on the couch next to you “ my love what are you doing home “

He shook his head confused at the body placed comfortably next to his own “ your not supposed to be home for “ he looked down at his watch moving his suit jacket up his arm to create space and to make sure he was seeing the time correctly “ for 7 more hours “

you let out a short laugh “ you sound like you just got caught cheating sho “

his eyebrows crinkled together as he stared at you in disgust “ y/n I would never “

His hand moved to be placed on your thigh “my love is that what you think ? — if that’s why your here then I can assure you tha—I mean honestly if so I would never be stupid enough to disrespect you in our home— you could’ve went to my office at least I mea— “

“ I lost my job shoto “

The air shifted as the hand on your thigh suddenly felt colder than before “ I— I lost my job “

you took a deep breath shaking your head “ it’s a long story on why but i’ve been leaving the house — pretending really— to go to work “

You chuckled “ god i’m sucha bad person “ your small chuckle turned into a hearty laugh as you felt your body go slack “ A fucking horrible timekeeper too if I managed to forget my husband gets off before me on weekends “

“ do not say these things about yourself “

“ it’s not like it’s a lie “ your tear filled eyes coming up to look at his. ” right “

“ I will not stand for this y/n “

“ for what — having an unemployed s/o—i mean you already have one so not much to do about that “

you scoffed “ why don’t you want a housewife ? huh“ you smiled “ I can wear the skirts for you y’know with the aprons cook you dinner and maybe we can have kids y’know we can even get —“

“ enough “

your body shook your eyes widened facing the 6 ft male now towering over you “ your always joking about serious things and I — I don’t understand “ his eyebrows creasing in desperate need to understand you. Eyes darting around your face “ how “

his voice going deeper as he got angrier “ y/n you lost your job“ his eyes grew wide “ do you realize how serious this is “

“ wh— “ you shook your head letting out a short scoff “ of course I do —I mean sho i’m the one who qui—lost it “

“ no you clearly don’t “ he scoffed “ not if your sitting here making jokes in my face “

His mouth quirked up in disgust “ it’s almost insulting — disgusting really “

“ wh— sho—“ you felt as a tear fell from your eye “ baby what could be so disgusting huh ? so ‘ insulting ‘ about me choosing to leave huh “

his eyes softened “ because of your reason to leave “

“ my reason ? “

“ my love I know you — I know you didn’t get fired and I know you wouldn’t just leave you loved it there “

your head dropped as your fiddled with your fingers “ so that means something led you to make that life changing decision and it hurts me that you were forced to make it “

Your heart broke, he was right he was always right, for days at work youd been dealing with an overbearing co worker who would tell you to do everything they didn’t feel like doing and when you finally decided to say no to them

They went and told your boss. Who even though you’d been working there longer than your so called coworker still believed everything they were told.

That was the day that you sadly found out your job favored years over hard work.

Due to the other person being there longer you were trumped in telling your story. It was seen as not necessary because , someone who was there for so long would have no reason to lie on someone like you.

A newbie

“ someone made you quit this job “

“ sho no they— I decided “

You felt as the couch shifted from him kicking it. You thinking he was moving to grab his shoes except walking past them and unlocking the door instead.

“ baby where are you going — we need to talk about how we’re going to split the bills now that i— “

“ i’ll handle it “

“ shoto you can’t put everything on your dads card we’re not “ you let out a soft exhale “ we’re not children anymore “

“ i’ll pay for it all myself — and you can be my little housewife “ he scoffed as your expression grew sour “ it was so funny a moment ago right “

“ shoto i’m not gonna ask again where are you going “

“ where else “

your eyebrows came together in a furrow “ wh— “

“ my love you work for my company ? obviously who ever I put in charge “ he shrugged walking barefoot to his car unlocking the door “ isn’t doing a very good job if they fire their bosses s/o ? “

He got into the drivers seat as he turned the car on and reversed the car “ needs to learn respect no ? so i’ll just have them switch places with you“ he smiled softly “ i’ll see you when I get home “

His once furious eyes turning soft at your body hidden in pajamas “ go inside baby —it’s cold —go order us some takeout i’ll be back in a little ok “

“ sho “

“ just let me handle this —i love you and i’ll be right back my love—go “

You shook your head softly “ go y/n “

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writing-in-lesbian · 3 years

Text

Salvation in Disguise

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff / Female reader (platonic) Tags: angst, cursing words, minor assumed violence, mentions of homophobia, legal age gap. Translations: pozhaluysta = please. Synopsis: When Wanda is leaving Westview, all its habitants felt relieved, left to their own devices to rebuild their old lives and to never heard from Wanda again. Except for you. You were left with an important decision. Her spell and control over your family gave you an escape from their control and mistreats towards you. So when she's driving away, you had a few minutes to save your life.

You were at the park having a rare time for yourself. Your parents allowed you to go and walk around before you have to go back for lunch. A rare occasion indeed, since you were 99% of your time with your parents and siblings, despite being legally out of age and with a well-paid job.

For some reason, that seems normal to all your neighbors, living at your parent's house feels normal, but to you, there’s something else. You can’t explain it but you feel something is not quite right, but since you have so much fun when you’re with them you don’t question the nagging feeling in the back of your head.

With the day off, you decided to take on Agnes' advice and try that coffee shop in front of the park. Has it always been here? You can’t remember seeing it before, but with so many things happening lately and your constant daydreaming you think it might have been renovated and you never noticed.

You ordered the special of the day a “dirty chai” (which is just a chai latte with an espresso shot) and an integral muffin (balance) before going back to the park to do your favorite activity: people watching.

Choosing your favorite bench in front of the fountain, you enjoy your small snack hoping to see at least from afar your favorite person in the whole town. Wanda Maximoff.

You don’t remember when they moved here, maybe you never paid any attention to the people around your hood, but when it came to her? It was unavoidable not to. You formed a good relationship after the twins were born, helping her babysit for a few days after Monica went back to her hometown. The boys grew so fast (almost in the blink of an eye) but they were your favorite ones to watch. You even like Vision (was it an odd name? Sure) despite he being the one married to your crush.

You were so engrossed and lost in your thoughts you don’t notice Wanda running into the park. It’s not until you heard a loud crash you turn your eyes to the sky and see it.

Agnes.

Floating up there in the sky and throwing what it seems flashes of lights.

And Wanda. Beautiful and innocent Wanda.

Floating as well.

You see a purple light go straight to her.

You drop your muffin and get up from the bench so fast. “WANDA WATCH OUT!”

You’re not sure if she heard you but before you can yell at her again that same light hits you square on the chest, sending you a few meters away and impacting your body against a lamp post. Everything goes black.

… … …

”I’m not a witch. I don’t cast spells. No one taught me magic”

“Your powers exceed that of the Sorcerer Supreme. It’s your destiny to destroy the world” … … …

You hear a lot of commotion, you grunt and try to open your eyes. Everything is dark, a red mist covering the sky. You desperately look around for Wanda. You have a horrible headache, it’s as if something trapped in your mind is trying to get free. You try to get up but your body refuses, managing only to sit up.

You hear Agnes's voice up above you and when you look up at the sky, Wanda is there, surrounded by the red mist. It looks as if it's coming out of her. Her previous red hoodie is now a red top, on her forehead, there’s a tiara.

Standing there open-mouthed you can’t help but appreciate her beauty and strength. Even Agnes (did she call her Agatha?) Is it a weird kind of purple robe? You hear the twins and Monica around you, you even saw a flash of something red and white flaying on the other side of the park but you don’t have eyes for anyone else but Wanda.

A big explosion surrounds you and the park. And then everything goes black again, but you’re conscious this time. You know you should go back home, you’re not sure what’s happening but you’ll probably be safer at home.

There’s this nagging feeling again inside your head. At this point, it might explode from the pain. Migraines are nothing compared to this, but you can’t move. You are glued to your spot. You can’t stop outlook out for Wanda.

Suddenly, the sun comes out again (did it ever went down) and everything is bright. You see Monica in a black and white uniform in front of the twins, Vision s there as well but he’s….red? (You. Might have hit your head harder than you expect it. Westview was known for weird shit happening but this is extreme).

When you see Wanda again, you see her talking to Agnes, and right before your eyes, her clothes change, her angry and scared voice goes back to being the overly sweet lady you once knew. You stand up and run back home despite your mind screaming not to.

// // //

It’s past midnight when you feel it. You were awakened by this flash of light bringing you back from dreamland gasping for air.

Your mind is racing 3000 miles a second. Memories of your life coming up to you.

Being yelled at, hit and slapped, punished by the person’s that should love you no matter what just for loving another girl.

Been kept against your own will at the house.

The constant verbal and physical abuse.

The loneliness of being taken far away from your friends and your ex-girlfriend and going to live in the middle of nowhere town when you were 16. A town so small no one would even think about looking out for you here.

The hopelessness of not being able to run away because your father was a retired high-rank government officer.

You check your thighs and wrists. The fading scars are there. The ones where you cut to numb the paint make you forget and maybe the final one that takes you out of this realm.

You remember one day being up in your room crying yourself to sleep when your headaches started. You were no stranger to migraines, but this was worse, so bad you wanted to vomit.

You ran to your bathroom. Next thing you know, you were having family dinners and going on Sunday family trips.

And you knew everything was related to Wanda. Things changed when she came to town.

Wanda, the park, Agnes (guess is Agatha know). You suddenly put 2 and 2 together.

Wanda.

You need to see her.

You know you need to run to her. She might be your salvation.

You think you probably have a few hours before everyone is starting to get up and getting their memories, but the noise coming from your parent's rooms tells you it’s not that much.

Throwing a few changes of clothes, the few money you had saved from your babysitting days, you take your bag and slowly and quietly make your way downstairs. If the clock is right is almost 3 am.

You reach the main floor when the door of your parent's rooms cracks. You hold your breath, praying to someone they don’t notice you. The bathroom door closes a few seconds later. You make your way to the living room, only noticing the one picture is there. You stand there, behind your parents and where they used to be your siblings, you see there’s nothing there. It was just part of whatever Wanda created for you.

You take the opportunity and open the living room window and jump through it. The main and back doors are locked at night and only your father has the key. One night when he left you outside all night after getting late 3 minutes after your curfew, you made sure to break the lock on the leaving room window in case of an emergency. They never opened it so never noticed it.

You see the bathroom light is still on. You count to ten before sprinting toward the driveway and towards Wanda’s house, hoping to find her. At this point, you’ll be happy to find Agatha or even Monica.

Before you arrive at her house you stop. You don’t even know if your theory is correct but at this point of your life, you’re ready to risk it.

You get there and look for her house. All you see is an empty lot.

No house, no construction, not even the reminiscent of anything. You start to panic.

“No, no, no, no”

Your breath gets shallow and your eyes are burning from your tears. You look frantically trying so desperately to find a sign of her. Anything but there’s nothing.

“You shouldn’t be here… Y/N”

Her thick accent makes you turn so fast your neck hurts.

“Wanda” you say with relief in your voice. She’s taken aback, clearly not expecting it. Her eyes are swollen and her red outfit is nowhere to be seen. Instead, she’s wearing a black hoodie.

You take a step towards her but she takes one back. You stop.

“What are you doing here?”

“I…”

You don’t know. You just wanted to see her. The night air is colder or maybe is just your nerves. You hug yourself in order to get some warmth into your body. Your pj’s aren’t exactly the warmest ones.

She sees this and conjures a thick jacket around you. When you say nothing she continues putting some bags into her car. A black and heavy-looking bag pack at her shoulders.

“You’re leaving?”

“I don’t think I’m welcoming here anymore Y/N. You should go home”

It’s the panic of not seeing her again, of her leaving you that has you getting closer to her and taking her wrist, stopping whatever task she was doing.

“Take me with you”

“What?” Her voice is barely a whisper but in the silence of the night is so loud she might be well yelling at you.

“Take me whit you Wanda… please”

You don’t beg. Never. Not after learning at a young age it only brought more problems, your father never stopped if you begged, it just enraged him more, so you learn to never beg, for anything.

She sees your hand on her wrist and feels the emotions swilling around you. She dares not to look at your mind but your thoughts are so loud she can’t help to see half of the abuse you have suffered.

A small gasp leaves her lips.

“Why do you want to go with me? I’m a monster. You saw it yourself”

“You’re not a monster. Not to me”

She’s still watching your hand. Your voice is just a whisper.

“I trapped you here”

“You freed me”

“I controlled your mind!”

“You saved me!”

“You... I… what?” She’s speechless, her nose scrunched in this little way you always thought cute.

“I don’t know the extend of what happened or how it happened, All I know is that my life was hell, literal hell and then you came into Westview and…”

“I should never have done what I did Y/N. You should be afraid of me”

“I’m not”

“Well you should”

You can tell she’s getting exasperated. Her eyes flashing red.

“Wanda… pozhaluysta”

It’s that little world in her native langue that has her seeing you for the first time this night. She sees your eyes and sees all the pain and anguish you have. She sees the same reflected in her eyes.

A plea in your eyes. You don’t see her as a monster or the Scarlet Witch. When you see her, she can see hope in your eyes.

She joined the Avengers and fought at their side to save people. The recent events after Thanos sidetracked her and blinded her. She was grieving and in pain… and did things she never thought of doing. Was she really what Hydra, Ultron, Agatha, and a lot of people said she was? Someone to be afraid of?

But you were here and as much as she just wants to grieve and is suffering, she has the chance again of being a hero. To make the effort and fight for once she once fought, to be worthy again, to make Vision sacrifice worth, to fight for the love she once felt.

“Okey”

The smile you give her is prof enough she can start again.

When Wanda left Westview and all its habitants, they felt relieved, left to their own devices to rebuild their old lives and to never heard from her again. Except for you.

You were leaving with her, escaping from the real prison you lived before she came into your life and offered you your salvation in disguise.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x female reader #marvel #angs #cross posted on AO3 #fanfic #AO3 fanfic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Heart-Shaped Box💟9/End

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), forced pregnancy, some violence, intimidation, some elements untagged for sake of plot.

This is dark!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Sister Series: Get Your Fix

Summary: You accept a job as an au pair, but not all is as it seems.

Note: Finally finishing this one up. Sorry it took me ages but I’m doing my best to go back and wrap up whatever I can.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Masterlist

Bucky pulled out of you as he held your head down, bouncing the bed beneath you as he pushed himself onto his back. You panted as your sweat dampened the sheet beneath you and he leaked between your thighs. You winced as you rolled onto your side and slowly sat up.

He had you whining loud enough that you had no doubt your guests heard it all. It only seemed to encourage his partner-in-crime as you soon heard a similar scene on the other side of the wall. You were sickened by that noise and stood warily as you cupped your hand over your cunt and scooped up his cum before it could drip onto the floor.

“I told you to keep it down,” he snickered and sat up, his muscled back to you as he stretched his arms above him, “get the shower started, I’ll be in shortly. You girls have a lot of work to do today.”

You grumbled and dragged your feet to the attached bathroom. The low buzz of the pipes filled the silence and you stepped under the steamy water. The moment of calm broke sharply as Bucky appeared from the other side of the curtain and stepped in behind you. He had you clean him with a lathered loofah and you bore it only for the eventuality of time away from him.

The other woman meant you wouldn’t be trapped with just him. It was little help or hope but it was better than your former solitary torture.

You dressed in black dress with daisies and made yourself look like his perfect housewife. You couldn’t hold the smile and make him believe it all the way but he wouldn’t anyway. He flicked your chin and clicked his tongue.

“Mmm, you’re getting there,” he mused as he dropped his hand and reached around to slap your ass, “better go get breakfast on. I’ll check in on our guests.” He squeezed and winked, “be a good girl.”

Those words made your insides curdled but you swallowed your disgust and nodded, “yes, sir.”

He stepped out behind you and watched you go down the hall to the stairs and you heard him knock on the door as you descended. You went to the kitchen and pulled out the frying pan and the coconut oil. You lined up the ingredients for crepes on the counter and took two bananas from the yellow bunch. Your mother used to make the oversweet delicacy and you needed a reminder that you were still that girl.

You stopped as you searched for something to keep the crepes warm after you assembled them, a lid that could fit over the plate or something akin to it. The lower cupboards you rarely opened. Bucky left the cleaning supplies on the counter with your chore list every day and you never bothered to look for anything else.

You stopped and stared at the drain cleaner and the can of toxic oven spray. Well, that wouldn’t be subtle enough, would it? They’d smell either of those a mile away. Anything under the counter would be easily discovered but it did give you an idea.

You closed the wooden door and went back to your task. You heard the voices in the next room and the scrape of the chairs on the floor. Steve’s girl appeared in the doorway, rubbing her stomach as her face contorted.

“Smells sweet,” she said as you simmered the bananas with brown sugar, cinnamon, and a little butter, “almost too sweet.”

“Morning sickness?” you asked innocently.

“All the time sickness,” she sighed, “anything I can help with?”

“Do you know how to make crepes?” you asked as you whisked the batter.

“Not really,” she shrugged, “but I can learn.”

“It’s easy. Takes less than a minute,” you waved her over and tested the temperature of the pan with a flick of water, “so you wanna put just a little batter in…” you ladled in a careful dollop and lifted the pan, “you spread it like this,” you tilted it so the batter spread all around, “you just use the spatula a little on the edges to make sure they don’t stick and you flip.”

It was like second nature and she nodded quietly as she watched. The crepe cooked quickly and you threw it onto a plate and put the pan back to the burner.

“You think you can handle that?” you covered the plate with the lid of a pat to keep it warm. “Then we put some of the bananas and wrap them, bit of cream on top and some icing sugar…”

“You like to cook?” she wondered as she added batter to the hot pan.

“Not particularly, but my mother taught me,” you shrugged, “she can cook anything.”

“Oh,” she flipped the crepe and glanced at the door, “I suppose… it keeps him happy.”

“He’s never happy,” you murmured and cleared your throat, “so, you must be excited to move in!”

“I guess,” she slid the crepe onto the plate as you lifted the foggy lid, “you know how it is.”

You smiled and she tilted her head as she squinted at you. You went to the drawer where there was a box of blank recipe cards and continued speaking as you fished out a pencil from another.

“It’s always nice to get settled,” you said as you wrote, ‘they can hear us’.

“I suppose, nice to be in one place,” she replied stiffly as her features relaxed.

‘I have a plan,’ you wrote and raised your voice just slightly, “oh, you know, we didn’t even get you a housewarming gift. I’ll have to remind James.”

You went to the burner and held out the card under the coil until it caught. You threw it into the sink and watched it burn and curl. You ran water over it as it turned to ash and washed it away. You nudged the bowl towards her and leaned on the counter, “need help with that?”

“No,” she said as she started again, “I’m getting the hang of it.”

💟

You looked around the front room of the house next door. Steve’s girl opened one of the stacked boxes. For once, the men were gone and you could just enjoy their absence.

Bucky agreed that a gift was in order and Steve had mentioned wanting to explore their new hometown. You tried not to seem eager but even the small walk across the lawns enlivened you. How long had it been since you’d been outside?

You started with the pictures. You left the frames in a stack as she assured you Steve would put the nails in and hang them. Then you moved onto the kitchenware and you kept her from lifting the heavy box of dishes. She seemed to forget about her condition and the reminder made her frown.

You stood behind the counter and set the dishes in the cupboards one at a time, the plates clacking one on top of each other. She watched from the other side as she arranged the silverware in the plastic tray.

“Can you do me a favour?” you asked as you kept on.

“What?” she asked as she dropped a butter knife with the rest.

“I know they’ve locked us in but can you check the garage door? Can we get in there?” you asked evenly.

“What?” she blinked and pushed herself straight, “even if we can, they won’t have been stupid enough--”

“That’s not what I’m worried about. I know we can’t get out that way either. It’s the same at our house. Everything is bolted up tight.” You assured her, “just go and check while I get these sorted.”

She left you and you snapped shut the door and finished with the utensils. You slid the tray into the drawer as she returned, rubbing her stomach.

“Yeah, we can get in but it’s mostly empty,” she said, “so…”

“Mostly empty?”

“Yeah, just the car--”

“The car,” you rounded the counter and curled two fingers for her to follow you.

You headed for the plain white door that led to the garage. You hopped down the steps as she remained at the top and watched you tentatively. You went to the car as she crossed her arms.

“He took the keys,” she said.

You tried the handle and the door opened. “I know,” you said as you put a knee in the front seat and peered into the back. Nothing.

You felt around under the dash and found the lever for the trunk. You pulled it and it popped. You shut the door and went around the back of the car. You felt around the spare tire and your hand felt something plastic. You grabbed the handle of the half-filled jug and pulled it out.

“Hey,” you held up the bright blue anti-freeze, “do you wanna cook dinner here tonight? A housewarming dinner?”

Her brows knitted and she gave a long blink. Her lips parted then curved.

“You can’t mean--” she let out a scoff.

“It’s sweet. Hopefully they won’t notice if I add enough sugar to the cake,” you breathed, “we can’t let them settle. This is our chance.”

“I don’t-- I don’t know. What if it doesn’t work?”

“Then we’re still in the same boat,” you turned your free hand out, “that man has drugged me for months. I think it’s only fair that he gets a taste of his own medicine.”

She swallowed and looked down at her stomach. She inhaled and cradled her bump. “It can’t get worse than this, can it?”

💟

You spent the day unpacking, the distraction not much of one as you thought of the bottle you hid at the back of the cupboard. By the time the men returned, you were ready to move onto the second floor.

Bucky offered a bottle of non-alcoholic wine and basket of expensive macarons as your gift to your new neighbours. He forced a kiss from you before he let you follow Steve’s girl upstairs.

You sat in the bedroom and heard the men ascend shortly after. You peeked in on them as you opened the linen closet to shove in the spare sheets. They were hammering together a crib. You knocked lightly on the doorframe as you watched them.

“Huh, what’s going on?” Bucky looked up from the directions.

“Um, we were just… thinking, we could have dinner here tonight? A little housewarmer? I could grab some ingredients from ours--”

“Give me a list, I’ll grab it,” Bucky puffed as he bent to help hold the rail in place for Steve, “that sound okay?”

“Fine by me,” Steve smiled, “it’ll be nice to have our feet on solid ground.”

You left them and returned to your only ally as she sat on the bed and stared at a packet of pills. She crushed it in her grasp and huffed. She flicked away tears with her knuckles. She tossed them over her shoulder.

“He kept them,” she snarled, “it’s like he’s mocking me.”

“What?” you neared her and sat carefully beside her.

“I never… I worked with him, you know? He brought me these drinks and I didn’t realise he was dosing them. The stuff, it made me itchy… it made me so hot and I just needed anything. I hopped on him I was so desperate and-- I told him to stay away. I realised what he’d done and I told him to leave me alone and you know what he did,” she crossed her arms over her stomach.

“No, I--” you touched her elbow.

“He broke into my apartment and replaced my pills. And he didn’t leave me alone,” she spat, “he did this all and he still has the goddamn pills like they’re some sort of trophy.”

She hung her head and grunted in frustration. You leaned against her and put your arm over her shoulders. She let you and the tension drained from her body.

“Even if we get out…” she whispered, “I’ll always have this piece of him.”

She pressed her palms to her stomach and you frowned. There was nothing you could do or say. You’d been lucky so far, even if it only fed your suffering. You didn’t have another life to worry about.

“We don’t have to if--”

“I want to,” she hissed lowly, “I want him dead.”

💟

Usually, you tasted the icing and licked the spoon. Not that night. The blue shade of the frosting was anything but suspicious as you spread it over the fluffy cake. It was a perfect disguise. You topped it with blueberries to add to the theme and dusted on a few coloured sprinkles. You stood back and admired your work as the smell of garlic filled the kitchen.

“I know it’s not much,” Steve’s girl said as she stirred the sauce, “but it’s what I can manage.”

“I’m sure it’s great,” you said as you took the meatballs of the burner and tested the spaghetti, “noodles are perfect.”

You strained the pasta and helped pour the meatballs into the sauce. You mixed it up and poured it into a large glass dish and the noodles into another. You brought them out to the table and called the men to dinner before you fetched the wine, both alcoholic and not.

Steve’s girl sat as you poured a glass for each of you and the men sat. You set the bottle down and nestled in next to Bucky as he served himself. When the plates were full, the other woman nudged Steve and whispered in his ear.

He cleared his throat and stood, “um, I know it’s just us but I guess I should say thank you for all the help and we’re excited to be neighbours… can’t wait for the kids to be running around these halls together.”

“Mmm,” Bucky lifted his glass, “hopefully…” he muttered doubtfully and looked at you, “that better be what she’s having,” he nodded to your glass.

You held it out for him to sniff and he gave you a sour look. He tutted and sat back to twirl noodles around his fork as he set aside his glass. You took a sip of the gutless wine and speared a meatball on your tines. You chewed and looked at Steve’s girl. She let Steve rub her thigh under the table and forced a smile.

She was playing it well and you felt as if you would fall apart. You felt as if Bucky would see right through you the minute you walked in with the cake. What would he do then? Steve couldn’t hurt his girl, she had the baby, but you, Bucky could replace you still. Maybe that was for the best but it didn’t mean you weren’t scared shitless.

You cleared the plates and retreated to the kitchen. Just you. You’d gone over it, you didn’t want them to catch on. You didn’t get too close with them around, you acted like strangers, you really were after all.

You sliced the cake into careful portions and came out with two plates at a time. You put them in front of each chair and sat. As you did, Steve’s girl covered her mouth and gagged. She pushed herself up unsteadily.

“Honey?” Steve asked as he rubbed her lower back.

“It’s the baby I--” she gulped sickeningly, “I gotta--”

She rushed out and Steve gave a look, “nausea. It’s been like this for weeks.”

“I’m going to make sure she’s okay,” you stood, “go ahead and start without us.”

You went down the hall and as you neared the bathroom, Steve’s girl opened the door and pulled you inside. She looked genuinely sick and you smelled vomit on her breath. She turned and rinsed her mouth and shuddered.

“I didn’t actually feel sick until I got in here,” she wiped her face with the hand cloth, “when I realised--”

“Everything’s in the trunk,” you assured her, “once they’re out, we get the keys and go.”

“How do we know--”

“Retch,” you hissed, “we wait until we’re sure.”

She gave an exaggerated hurl and you heard the clink of porcelain and silver and the drone of voices. You listened through the door as she watched you in the tight space of the half-bath.

“I’m thinking about getting her an… exam,” Bucky’s deep tone carried, “maybe she can’t…”

You let out the breath you were holding and closed your eyes. Just a little longer.

When you heard a sudden lull, your eyes rounded and you turned the handle and let yourself out into the hall. She crept close behind as you peered through the open archway. Both men had their faces on their plates in the crumbs of vanilla cake and smears of blue icing.

“Let’s go,” you went to Steve and shoved your hand into his pocket, “shit, they’re not here.”

“Here!” she pulled her hand from his jacket hung on the rack, “you think they’re dead?”

You looked from one to the other and shakily felt along Steve’s neck. “Still a pulse. I think maybe… they’re only knocked out.”

“The serum,” she shook her head, “means we have to go quick.”

You hurried after her and followed her down into the garage. She climbed into the driver’s seat and moved it back as her stomach pressed to the wheel. You got in the other side as your body trembled with adrenaline. She hit the button attached to the keys and the door slowly raised behind her.

As she reversed, you felt a sudden shock around your neck and yiped. You’d forgotten entirely about the necklace. She stopped suddenly and watched you writhe in agony.

“Shit, shit,” you leaned forward until the shock stopped, “the necklace.”

“Fuck,” she reached for it and you batted her away.

“No, you’ll get zapped,” you gasped as you pulled on it desperately. It was too tight to get past your chin but too strong to snap.

She took the keys out and tossed them in your lap. You lifted them and twisted the necklace around the house key but there was no give. You sobbed and dropped your hand.

“I can’t,” you looked at the bent key, “you gotta go without me.”

“What? No, I can’t--”

“You have a baby,” you said as tears burned in your eyes and your throat tightened, “go, please.” You dropped the keys on the dash and opened the door. “I can’t--”

“No, you have to come with me,” she begged.

“No, you have to go before they wake up,” you got out as you grasped your neck, the searing pain still hot on your flesh, “I’ll… I’ll survive. I have this far.”

“N--”

“Shut up!” you slammed the door and hit the hood, “go!”

She stared at you and her lip quivered. She gave you one last sad look and grabbed the keys. She sniffed as she gripped the wheel and backed out down the drive.

You fell to your knees and sat back on your ass as you watched her drive away. You shook your head and held it in your hands as you sat behind the invisible wall of your prison.

The tires screamed at the end of the street and the noise of the engine faded into the distance. You laid on your back across the concrete and covered your face with your arm. At least you could live with knowing you got her out. Well, you couldn’t really say you’d be living. You’d be alive but little more than that.

But you’d survive knowing that you kept one person from that pitiful fate. Even if it wasn’t you. Even if you knew that you would pay for it in the end. Even when those men woke up and found you laying in the garage, the sweet flavour of antifreeze on their tongues as the bile of their anger overflowed and drowned you.

You couldn’t do anything but wait. If you were lucky, they might just kill you and that in itself would be freedom.

💟 💟 💟

END

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #fic #Heart-Shaped Box #dark fic #dark!fic #series #mcu #marvel #winter soldier #captain america #avengers #steve rogers

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titan-fodder · 3 years

Text

Overwhelming Pt. 3

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Rating: E (explicit; mdni)

Pairing: Keiji Akaashi x Reader

wc: ~ 6.5K

Warnings: fluff, explicit sexual content, honestly very vanilla sex, spa stuff

A/N: this has been my plan for part three for literally over a year, and I finally did it, wow, go me. If all goes to plan, every boy will get highlight chapters, but there will still be group chapters of course. Anyway, hope you enjoy.

Your stomach flips at the knock on your door despite having been expecting it for the last twenty minutes, and you nearly trip over your own feet when you move to answer it. As instructed, you’re dressed for comfort in leggings and a baggy sweatshirt, but for a moment you fear you might be looking a little too casual. It isn’t like you’re trying to impress anyone, but you don’t want to look like a complete bum either.

The anxiety in your chest wanes immediately when you open the door and find Akaashi on the other side of it wearing joggers and an old Fukurōdani gym shirt. His contacts have been switched out in favor of black, thick-rimmed glasses, and when he shows a soft, close-lipped smile, you’re struck with how pretty he is.

“Hey,” he greets softly. When all you do is blink a little dumbly, still admiring him, he reaches into his pocket and holds up a little white gift card. “Tsukki stopped by the house yesterday and literally tossed this at my face, so I guess this is what we’re doing today.”

You take the card from him and read over the loopy text, the name of a nearby spa you’ve heard of before. Eyebrows raised, you consider grabbing your phone and texting Tsukishima back, ask him just what he thinks he’s up to, but you suppose you shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

“That’s very… uncharacteristic of him,” you mutter, then slap a grin on your face because really, you can’t say you’re not excited to spend the day being pampered, especially if it’s with Akaashi.

The two of you haven’t had the chance to spend time together one-on-one since the start of this beautiful, casual thing, but everyone has hung out in group settings on many occasions. Movies and lunches and walks out on the town, and even through the chaotic dynamic, Akaashi has proven himself to be extremely perceptive and very thoughtful. He learned your boba order in record time, noticed your penchant for sweets and makes sure to keep the house well-stocked with them. He made a point of asking what your favorite scents were and proceeded to buy them in the form of shampoo and conditioner so that you’ll always have some in his bathroom after things get messy.

Akaashi is quiet, even more so than Tsukki (probably because he doesn’t feel the need to talk shit 24/7), but as conversations happen around them, he tunes into them, listening for cues, for little hints, and because of that he’s managed to coil himself in your chest and around your heart alarmingly quickly.

“It is. I checked the envelope for traps—a glitter bomb or something—”

“Seems like something he’d do,” you snicker.

“But, I think he’s being genuine with it. He told me he wants you to be able to relax after—well, you know.” You nod, twirling the card around in your hand. “And, I just so happen to be the lucky one who gets to wind down with you.”

“I feel like I’m on The Bachelor or something. This is our arranged date.”

Akaashi chuckles, muttering a low, “Matchmaker Tsukki. Who would’ve thought?”

You slip back into the apartment to slide your feet into sandals, then grab your keys and lock the door before following Akaashi downstairs to his car, a little hatchback that’s oddly befitting of him. Some vaguely familiar indie band starts playing when he turns it on, and you settle into the passenger side, trying not to feel so giddy and accidentally offset Akaashi’s already very zen mood.

“Have you ever been to this place before?” He asks.

You shake your head. “You?”

“No, but Bo has,” he grins. “He gets those deep tissue massages and then whines about being sore for a few days.”

“I’ll definitely stay away from that then. Don’t have the highest pain tolerance.”

You don’t miss the way Akaashi quirks an eyebrow, his lips twisting to the side as if to fight off another smile, and you laugh to yourself and add, “Most of the time.”

“Mhm.”

“Shush.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

Though the banter isn’t as constant as it is with Tsukishima, and the conversation isn’t as loud as it is with Kuroo or Bokuto, you still find the drive nice, peaceful even. Akaashi speaks up when he has something to say about a song or a restaurant you pass by, and you respond with anecdotes of your own, watching the buildings pass by the window.

When you arrive at the spa—a large building with the aesthetic of a rustic inn—Akaashi gives your name, and you’re extremely surprised all over again to find that an appointment has already been made for the two of you. When you look to the man beside you, he shrugs his shoulders and suggests, “Must’ve been Tsukki,” which is just too hard to wrap your head around. You know he can be soft when necessary, when you need him to be, but this is unprecedented.

You almost want to make fun of him, if you’re being honest, but again: gift horse. Mouth. Not looking into it.

“Couple’s pampering, correct?” The young woman behind the counter asks. You feel your cheeks heat, but you nod in confirmation, and when she tells you the total of the spa treatment, your eyes nearly bug out of your skull.

Akaashi purses his lips but seems otherwise unaffected, handing the gift card over and telling you, “He said the card would cover it, so…”

And, it does. You’re really going to have to have a conversation with Tsukishima after all of this is said and done because it’s just too much. For now, though, you gladly follow the attendant down the hall and to a back room where you’re offered prosecco and told to undress and put on a robe.

“When you’re ready, it’s just through that door, but take your time. Finish your drink, eat some if you’d like,” she says, motioning to a small table stacked with fruits and pastries.

Once she leaves and the door shuts, you look Akaashi dead in the eye and say, “I’m gonna murder him.”

“No, you won’t. You deserve this,” he says, lifting the hand not holding his little champagne flute and brushing hair behind your ear so that you shiver. Oh, that’s soft. That’s butterflies-inducing soft. “I, however, do not, so I will do the honors of murdering him.”

You giggle and take a sip of your own drink, feeling just bold enough to step forward and rest your forehead on his shoulder. Akaashi is warm and sturdy. He has that same wiry muscle that Tsukishima does, only it’s packed in a little more tightly given his shorter stature. You inhale, take in his cologne, and try not to sound like a schoolgirl when you sigh dreamily.

His hand moves down to the small of your back, and you hear him swallow another bubbly mouthful before pressing his lips to your head and humming, “Come on, I’m excited for these fluffy robes.”

And, fluffy they are, ridiculously so, soft against your bare skin that had heated to dangerous levels when you caught Akaashi staring as you changed. He didn’t seem ashamed about getting caught either, which is sort of a relief, because if he had been, you would have just blown him off about it. He has, afterall, seen a lot of you. In various states. At this point, the shy boy act would probably annoy you more than anything.

As the attendant had suggested, you finish your prosecco and nibble at some of the food before easing open the second door of the room. Two masseuses are waiting for you on the other side, both smiling politely from behind their respective massage tables. There’s a small tray beside each covered in different bottles, creams, and burning incense, and a cliche, though very calming, soundscape is playing from an unseen speaker.

You’ve never been to a place like this before, but you could definitely get used to it. Even without experiencing any of the actual treatments, this is the life of fucking luxury.

The robes are lost, and Akaashi aims a subtle wink in your direction that makes your breath catch in your throat. It’s slowly becoming clear that out of everyone, all four men, he is the smoothest of them all. Yes, Kuroo has a smile to die for, and Bokuto is the king of compliments. Tsukki knows how to touch (and spoil) you just right, but Akaashi… Akaashi is suave.

It’s a little unnerving because you are anything but. Just Tsukishima’s fuck-buddy who was curious and desperate enough to spread her legs for three more people. It’s probably not a good look, so there’s really no reason for any of them to be so kind to you, especially this self-assured, refined aspiring artist.

You’re thankful for the masseuse standing over you, making your mind go blank with ease as she presses warm hands into your skin. She uses palms and knuckles to work up your spine and spread over your shoulders, effectively washing the tension and deprecating thoughts from you.

Face hanging in the cradle, all you can see when you open your eyes are the floorboards, polish shining even in the dim lighting, and when they fall shut again, you let them, not exactly dozing off but retreating to some far-away place in the back of your mind.

Knots you didn't know you had are worked out methodically, leaving you feeling looser than you've possibly ever been before. It's silent, save for the singing bell that's playing, a mostly monotone ringing that's strangely soothing. Those musicians in Nepal really knew what they were doing.

Time slips away, but after getting oil rubbed into your skin several times over, the back massage ends, and the masseuse is helping you sit up. Your limbs feel like jelly, and when you look over at Akaashi, he blinks sleepy eyes at you, his glasses folded on the little table between brown bottles. You can see the imprint of the leather face cradle on his cheekbones and can't help but grin at him lazily, warmth blooming inside of you when he shows a similar smile.

"Just give us a few minutes and the ladies who perform the facials will be in here," the woman who's been working on Akaashi informs you before leaving with the other masseuse.

If it were Bo or Kuroo here with you—maybe even Tsukki on the right day—you'd hear a snicker and amused, "Hah, facials."

But, it's Akaashi, so neither of you feel the need to acknowledge it which is a nice change of pace. Not everything needs to be innuendo all the time.

"That was nice," he muses, stretching his arms out above him and showing off the muscles of his abdomen. You try not to stare, barely even let your eyes wander, but the quick flick downward is still enough to make your mouth start watering a bit.

Your own robe is mostly closed, hiding now hardening nipples but still showing a generous amount of cleavage. It could be you flattering yourself, but you think Akaashi might spare your chest a glance.

"Yeah, it was. Tsukki needs to be careful, or I'm gonna start requesting spa days after every, uh—you know."

Akaashi tilts his head to the side as if curious then tells you, "You can say it out loud. I'm not about to judge you. I was right there with you the first time, a willing participant."

"I know, I know." You shrug your shoulders and suck on the inside of your cheek, averting your gaze as you try to think of the right words. "I just feel like… I don't have as good a read on you as the others, I guess. Probably because you keep your thoughts to yourself way more than they do." He smiles softly at this but stays quiet (as usual), letting you elaborate. "I don't really know your boundaries, like… what you're comfortable with talking about, what makes you tick or what embarrasses you or… whatever."

In one smooth motion, Akaashi slides off the massage table and takes two or three steps forward to stand directly in front of you.

"My best friend is Bokuto. Not a lot embarrasses me these days," he says, hooking a finger under your chin so that you can't look away. "It's a short list, and you're definitely not on it. Don't act like you’re something we should be ashamed of because we like you a lot."

You can feel your lips part as you stare up at him, your feet dancing nervously where they hang, and your voice comes out mousy when you prompt, "Including you?"

Akaashi nods wordlessly, then bends to kiss you for emphasis. The fluff of his robe pools between your fingers when you grasp it, pulling yourself up a bit to meet him at a better angle.

His mouth is warm against yours, lips soft, tongue exploratory as it slowly glides over your own. Almost immediately you're taken back to that first day, the way you had cried and shivered until you got into the shower with him, how his hands felt gently running over your skin with a loofah and how he hummed calming words into your ear when he pressed himself against you from behind.

Your fingers inch up to the back of his neck before carding through dark, curling hair, and you feel Akaashi's posture relax under your touch. One more step forward and he's slotted flush against you, hips nestled between your spread legs, and he grinds against you in a subtle way while simultaneously tugging your lower lip into his mouth.

A soft moan sounds loud in the quiet room but not as loud as the throat clearing from the doorway. Wide-eyed and blushing, you pull away from Akaashi and look to find two more unfamiliar ladies standing at the mouth of the room, both with amused expressions.

"S-sorry," you croak, feeling hot from head to toe for more reasons than one.

One of the women waves a hand as she steps further into the room, announcing, "Not the most explicit thing I've walked in on, believe me."

Akaashi chuckles and walks backward to the table he previously occupied, and after a few more bashful jokes, you lay on your back and allow your new masseuse to work more magic on you.

The facial is divine, skin being stretched and massaged, moisturized and rejuvenated. This time you end up dozing off into that space between sleep and wakefulness, the scent of rose hip and lavender relaxing you completely until you feel a light tapping at your jaw.

Opening bleary eyes, you find your masseuse grinning down at you. "Hope you enjoyed yourself."

You snicker and nod, then stretch on the table. Akaashi is already sitting up, face a little shiny from whatever oils that were used, but he looks as blissed out as you feel.

"So, the treatment portion of your day is over, but you still have access to the rest of the spa facilities," one of the women informs you. "I personally recommend the hot spring out back, but we also have a lap pool, steam room, sleep pods, and so on."

"Excellent," Akaashi says, rubbing his hands together before looking at you. "Ready to explore?"

"Absolutely."

You thank the employees, apologize again for what they walked in on earlier, then make your way out to the private hallways reserved for staff and guests. There are several signs hanging on the walls, all pointing to different facilities, and eventually, you and Akaashi end up outside in the recommended hot spring.

There's only one other person soaking, an older lady who you don't pay any mind as you slip off your robe and step into the water naked as the day you were born.

The sky is a perfect light blue from what you can see between the leaves hanging above you, the rhythmic tap of the sōzu echoing over the flow of water.

It's nice. Very nice. And as you sink into the spring, you have to make a conscious effort not to moan out loud. Any of the soreness that you developed over the course of the back massage seeps from your body, bones turning to liquid as you let yourself melt.

Akaashi hisses as he eases in, but once he’s more than halfway submerged, he lets out a little, “Oh, that’s fucking spectacular.”

Steam plumes around him, little dew drops already hanging from his hair. His face is flushed from the warmth of the water, and you’d like to say that’s why yours is too, but in truth it’s because he’s wading toward you, and though the water obscures him from the waist down, you still know what’s hidden underneath, still want it.

Finding your hand beneath the ripples, Akaashi laces his fingers with yours then gently pulls you to the layered stones at the side of the spring, serving as both steps and seats.

He doesn’t hold you against him or pull you into his lap which is for the best. The other guest probably would not appreciate witnessing all the things you’d like to do, and besides, Akaashi doesn’t seem like the exhibitionist type, not as adventurous as his friends, though just as bold and confident.

So, you sit peacefully by his side, rocking any way the water moves you, listening to the small fountain and echo of bamboo. Birds chirp, the wind blows, and Akaashi sighs in what sounds like utter satisfaction.

“All this pampering is making me sleepy,” he confesses, eyes drooping when you glance over at him.

“The lady said they have sleep pods or whatever. Might be worth checking out.”

He shakes his head just before letting it loll and rest against yours. “I can hold it off for a while longer. What do you wanna do after this?”

There are many things you’d like to do, but if you’re being honest with yourself, a nap sounds fucking great right about now, and though the sleep pods are probably very cool and relaxing…

“Wanna soak in here for a while longer and then crawl into my own bed… Preferably with you.”

“I can definitely make that happen.”

You lean back against the stones, smile when you feel Akaashi stroke your thigh underwater, letting the sensation soothe you rather than arouse you. It would be a much harder task if you didn’t feel like a bag of goo, but the spa treatment has drained you, and the hot springs are sapping you of what little energy you have left.

About twenty more minutes pass until Akaashi mumbles, “m’getting pruny,” in a drowsy voice.

You nod in agreement and stand, feeling his hand slip from your leg as you do and immediately missing it. Thankfully, Akaashi follows closely, stepping back onto grass and bundling you in your robe before he dons his.

The two of you take a couple wrong turns on your way back to the first room you were taken to, walking around the facility almost drunkenly until you stumble back into familiar territory where you dry off the rest of the way and pull on your clothes. Akaashi eats a stale scone, frowning the entire time until he swallows. You reach to wipe away the crumbs at the corner of his mouth, snickering at his pout then grinning widely when he tugs you closer for a kiss.

“Blueberry,” you murmur into his lips before flicking your tongue out, just for a little taste.

Akaashi inhales sharply, the shortest and quietest of grunts leaving his throat. His hands curl around your hips, anchoring you in place as he deepens the kiss, tangling his tongue with yours, nipping and biting until he’s panting, and then—

“Okay, good, I’m awake enough to drive now.”

You snort, give him another peck, then step out of his grip and lead the way to the door.

The concierge up front offers a kind goodbye, and you and Akaashi wave your free hands, others linked at the fingers and swinging between the two of you.

That same, soft indie plays in the car, the ride home feeling much faster than the ride to the spa. It could be that you just feel more comfortable after spending a few hours with the man next to you. It could be that you doze off a couple times. Either way, you’re glad that Akaashi has agreed to come up to your apartment with you because you aren’t anywhere near ready to say goodbye to him yet.

The place isn’t a complete mess, thank god, just a disorganized table, a few pairs of shoes in corners, and a rumpled throw blanket on the couch. You don’t bother turning any of the lights on, the window in the little kitchenette giving you enough to navigate to your bedroom. Akaashi is looking around curiously but doesn’t touch anything or ask any questions. You’ll offer him the full tour when you wake up. For now, though…

“I don’t think I’ve ever been sleepier in my entire life,” you groan, clumsily kicking off your sandals first, then your leggings, almost falling over in the process.

Akaashi steadies you with a hand on your arm, smirking slyly and adding, “Yeah, turns out being treated like royalty takes a lot out of you.”

“How ever do the monarchs do it?”

He shucks off his own pants and shirt, walking behind you and making your back arch when he finds the back of your bra through your top and unclasps it with deft fingers.

Definitely the smoothest of them all.

“Have you ever seen a portrait of a king or queen smiling? It’s because they’re so tired.”

“From being worshiped.”

“Exactly.”

Akaashi falls onto your bed, pulling you with him, then resituates the both of you until you’re comfortable. The duvet is pulled up, your hand finds a home in the middle of his chest, and the silly small talk fades to nothing as you fall asleep to the gentle beat under your palm.

xxx

Legs are twined with yours when you slowly wake up, not quite pinning you, but making it close to impossible to move. You don’t really mind, though, not when your eyes adjust in the dark room just enough to make out the angle of Akaashi’s jawline and the curl of his hair against his forehead. You’re more than happy to stay right here.

His skin is warm against yours, and you can’t help but stroke lightly at his chest, smiling at the way he shifts under you and sighs. The contact must have woken him, because though he doesn’t open his eyes, his fingers dance along the small of your back, nails softly scratching at the skin just above the waistband of your panties.

The shiver it pulls from you is unavoidable, a shock that starts at your neck and travels the length of your spine.

Akaashi hums in that content way of his, lips pulling up at the corners. There are many things you could say here—a sarcastic good morning, did you sleep well, wakey wakey eggs and bakey. But you stay silent, craning your neck instead so that you can kiss him.

It's a strange feeling, having him know exactly what you want without needing to say anything. You suppose that's probably just part of being with Akaashi—being watched and understood even in silence—but that doesn't make it any less surprising when he rolls to his side and leans over you.

At first it's just kissing, making out like a couple of teenagers only without all the nerves and fumbling. He braces an arm on the pillow next to your head, slots a thigh between yours, then breathes heavily when you start to roll your hips, already desperate for friction.

"You know we don't—mm—" his lips move with yours again as he pets your hair with what feels like a shaky hand. You think he might lose his train of thought, but Akaashi tilts his face away just enough to break the kiss, trying one more time, "You know we don't have to have sex. I'm not expecting it or anything."

You stare up at him with hungry eyes and spit slicked lips, smirking when you reply, "That's great and very gentlemanly of you,'kaashi, but I assure you, I wanna have sex. With you. A lot."

"A lot, like, multiple times, or a lot, like, you want it badly?"

You make a face of consideration, eyebrows high, lips pursed, then shrug your shoulders. "Both."

"Okay, cool," he nods, clicking his tongue once before descending on you.

He moves to kneel between your spread legs, starts working your shirt off until you sit up and handle the rest. Chest to chest, Akaashi snakes a hand behind your back, guiding you to lie back again and melting with you as you do. He hikes one of your legs over his hip, slowly canting back and forth to rub himself against your core through two layers of material.

You whine in the back of your throat, looping your other calf around him to pull him closer, and Akaashi responds with a kiss messier than the rest. He's finally starting to lose a bit of that composure, more of it getting hacked away when you tug at his hair, when you nip his lip, when you suck on his neck, until he pins your wrists and draws his nose down your throat, leaving a well-placed hickey at the swell of your breast before taking one of your pebbled nipples into his mouth. He tongues at it, gently grazes his teeth over the bud, and fuck, you can feel your underwear sticking to you.

Abandoning your hands in favor of scratching down your ribs, Akaashi sinks lower, tracing his lips over the soft skin between your tits, kissing over your stomach, leaving another mark on your hip that makes you gasp and shudder.

When he actually reaches for your little wet panties, he pauses for a moment to soak them further with spit, licking you as best he can through the barrier and driving you insane.

"Ahh, fuck, Aka-Akaashi—"

"Just Keiji," he corrects you just loud enough to hear over the heartbeat in your ears. "Please."

You swallow, peering down at where he lays, and nod. Funnily enough, you haven't put much thought into what you've wanted to call him. Tsukishima is Sir in the bedroom. Kuroo really seems to like Daddy. If Akaashi prefers his given name above all else, you can absolutely do that for him. And for you. You like the way those two syllables taste, the hard consonants that feel so soft on your tongue.

Akaashi—Keiji—brushes a kiss over the inside of your thigh, but the affection is almost immediately forgotten when he begins working your panties off you. There's no hesitation, no questioning glances or need for reassurance. He knows you want this. The shine of slick dripping from your cunt is more than enough proof.

The first lick makes you sing a broken hymn, fingers tangling in dark hair as your back bends and your breath catches. You feel extra sensitive today—tonight? You don't even know what time it is anymore.

Every flick of Keiji's tongue sends sparks down your spine, arousal flooding your senses and urging you to spread yourself open further, invite him deeper, deeper, please—

The vibration of a thoughtful hum travels to every corner of your body, and Keiji’s voice is muffled when he says, seemingly more to himself than to you, “Taste so good…” and he emphasizes it by shoving his face further into your heat, his nose bumping your swelling clit and making you writhe beneath him. He traces around your hole a couple times before plunging inside, pushing against velveteen walls with muscle just as tender.

Those lewd noises you’re still embarrassed by start to echo from where he’s attached to you, only you aren’t the one making them (not by yourself, anyway). Keiji slurps and sucks like he’s been deprived, and when he gently slides two long fingers inside of you, the resounding squelch makes him groan and rut into the bedding.

You could do this all night, watch him become unhinged over you. He’s just so pretty all flushed, pupils blown wide, lips and chin glistening with your desperation.

But there are other things you’d prefer to experience that you haven’t yet, like squirm away, watch the way his gaze immediately turns to one of confusion and longing only to go dark all over again when you shove him to lay on his back. Paying him similar attention, you make your way down Keiji’s lean frame, kissing and scratching, sucking hickies at his collarbone and along the V of his hips. He sighs and twitches and fists the sheets, lifting himself and helping you rid him of his tight boxers.

It isn’t until he starts laughing quietly that you realize you’re wiggling your fingers—excited or casting a fucking spell, you don't even know. All you're sure of is that Keiji’s unhidden amusement isn’t about to stop you from swallowing his gorgeous cock.

Saliva pools in your mouth, and you let it drip down his length as you suck at his head, pride welling inside of you when Keiji pushes his head back into the pillows. His chest begins to rise and fall rapidly, the tendons in his arms flexing along with his fingers.

“F-fuck—I—...”

You never got the chance to do this during that first time, a whirlwind of so many things, so many sensations, but never the one of holding Keiji in your mouth, feeling the weight of him on your tongue, how tight a fit he is slipping into your throat.

His eyes go wide when your nose meets his pelvis for a moment, but you pull back quickly, just before you gag, and focus on suckling at his tip again. His hips jump every time you press against the underside of his flared head, and when you shimmy a hand up to toy with his heavy balls, he bucks straight into your mouth.

You’re gentle as you squeeze him, just enough pressure to make him gasp, and the more he does, the more you leak for him. The sheets will no doubt be a mess once all is said and done. Good thing tomorrow’s laundry day.

Keiji allows you to tease for a little while longer, lets you lick every bead of pre that drips from him, but eventually he’s ready, and he proves it by sitting up and hoisting you to your knees.

“Okay, okay, I need—” he maneuvers your legs to straddle his hips— “Need to be—...” and cuts out again when you start to sink down on him, taking him inch by inch until you’re trembling in his lap. “Fuck, fuck—you feel so good, how do you feel so good?”

Keiji digs his heels into the mattress and starts bouncing you on his cock, eyes shut tightly, jaw open as he keeps muttering. Your pussy flutters around him, growing used to the stretch, though it never disappears entirely. He isn’t massive, but he’s still a bit above average, his dick just as beautiful as him with a slight upward curve that has you keening with every stroke.

Fingertips dig into the meat of your ass, nails carving crescent moons at every space, and like this—knowing you’re being held so tight—you let yourself fall, get lost all over again. Your lips meet hungrily, the opposite of previous, restrained kisses. Now, Keiji’s tongue is behind your teeth and yours is painting the roof of his mouth. Your noses squish together, and your jaws knock with each thrust, but it’s okay because it all feels good, it all feels so fucking good.

“Jesus—Fuck—Keiji,” you whine, skin sweltering but especially warm between your legs. That familiar spring coils deep inside you, set over burning coals and growing hotter every second. You’re already close, but before you can teeter too far, Keiji shifts and stops.

“Side of the bed,” he breathes, a sheen of sweat shining on his neck.

“Like,” you huff for a second, thighs quivering now that they’re no longer in any real use. “On my stomach, or—”

“No,” he shakes his head, helping you swing your leg over him. “Your back. I wanna be able to see your face when you come.”

You blink at him rapidly, processing his words and why exactly they make you want to go absolutely feral. You’ve had dirty things said to you before, absolute filth whispered in your ear and spat in your face, but this, something about his confidence… It isn’t arrogance; it’s assuredness.

Keiji rolls off the bed and stands, waiting patiently for you to hang yourself off the side of it. He places your calves on either shoulder, mutters something about, “Hope you stretched,” knowing damn well you just woke up, then pushes into you.

Stars burst behind your eyes. The ridge of his cock grinds over your g-spot over and over, and in no time, you’re dribbling slick and squirt and making a fucking mess of the neatly groomed hair at his base of his cock.

“There we go, that’s it,” he muses, one hand groping your bouncing tits while the other traces down your abdomen and to your pussy. The pad of his thumb glides against your clit perfectly, and Keiji begins a series of small, cultivated circles. He knows exactly what he’s doing. Eyes rolling back, your mouth falls open, mind going blank for a few seconds as everything stops except for your impending climax.

Your heart beats erratically in your chest, lungs aching from holding your breath until you can’t any longer, heaving and shaking and nearly crying when Keiji coos, “You’re so pretty when you’re worked up like this, princess. Must be so close now…”

Pretty doesn’t sound right, not coming from his mouth. Not when it’s in reference to you. Because it’s him—he’s the one who’s been so sweet, so kind and warm and beautiful.

“Just relax. Let me make you feel good," he tries.

"Already—oh, fuck—already have, you already—god you feel so fucking good, I can't even think straight," you slur, all the muscles in your body going tight.

Keiji grins down at you, those midnight eyes heavy and fond as he watches you split at the seams.

Your back bows in a slow curve, thighs so tense around his waist, they're quivering. You can feel the evidence of your lust smeared between your legs, soaking into the sheets under your ass, and you can't begin to be bothered by it.

The fingers toying with your nipples disappear, and when you feel them again, rubbing just above your stretched hole, all the pressure inside you comes to a head.

"Oh, fuck, oh my god, oh my go—"

Keiji strokes you through it, every single pulse of your muscles. He keeps steady until you're on the come down, the squelch of your pussy louder once he begins to quicken his pace. His thrusts aren't quite as long or deep anymore, but it doesn't matter because you can still feel every little snap of his hips, every inch of him rubbing swollen, gummy walls.

Despite barely feeling conscious, you do what you can to get him where he needs to be, where you want him to be, right alongside you in that dreamy headspace, all fucked out and happy.

"Come on, Keiji, please, wanna feel you so bad, please…"

You push yourself up on one elbow so you can nip at his pecs, other hand splaying over his ribs to keep him close, keep him inside. His angle changes slightly, pushing a pathetic rhythm of oh's and ah's from your chest because you're sensitive, so fucking sensitive you just might cry, but it still feels so damn good, want him so bad, need him to—

"Ready for me?" He pants, cheeks red, sweat beading at his hairline.

"Yes, yes, please—"

One side of his mouth lifts up for a split second, but then his expression is all pleasure, eyebrows high and jaw slackening as he lets go and fills you. The mess between your legs grows, a mixture of cum leaking from your hole, and after a few more thrusts, all Keiji can do is twitch and groan.

He holds himself up until his arms start to shake, and just when you think he's about to collapse right on top of you, he rolls to the side, breathing heavily with the barest of smiles on his handsome face.

"Perfect end to a relaxing day," you hum, feeling just as weightless as you did at the spa.

Keiji offers a quiet, "Mhmm," looking like he's about to fall back asleep, but he still manages a, "Wanna do something for dinner?"

"I don't even know what time it is," you laugh. "I have some stuff for simple meals here, or we can run out and get something."

He shrugs his shoulders, opening still-foggy eyes to look at you. "Whatever you want. I'm easy."

"Beg to differ," you smirk, though it fades to a pout as you whine, "Been wanting to jump your bones since you picked me up, and you made me wait all day."

Keiji chuckles and reaches to stroke your cheek.

"That's on you. You can jump my bones anytime, anywhere."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," he grins, bestowing one more very sweet kiss on your lips before sitting up and segueing, "So dinner."

Soba is made in record time and slurped up through jokes and smiles, and afterward you give Keiji the very small tour of your apartment, a little circus act not often performed, leaving you feeling very awkward when you wrap it up after a whopping three or four minutes.

"And uh, that's that, I guess," you say with a lame clap, glancing around your living room as Keiji toys with the tassels of a throw blanket.

"I like it. It's cozy. And quiet."

"Yeah, I figure it can get kind of loud living with Bo."

"He's not as loud as you'd think," Keiji waves a hand. "Just when he's excited or around other people. When it's just us he's pretty tame."

There's a certain look of fondness in his gaze, one that you feel just thinking about the other man, one you feel while thinking about all of them, if you're being honest. Spending time alone with Keiji was fantastic, something you'd love to do again, but that doesn't stop you from missing the others even as you settle down for a movie, even as he kisses you goodbye at the end of the night, and especially as you lay in bed staring up at your ceiling.

You learned several things today, mostly about Keiji—little facts and mannerisms—but you also learned a few things about yourself.

Spas have the potential to be very sexy.

You enjoy being spoiled rotten.

You just might be catching feelings.

#hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #akaashi x reader #hq fanfic #haikyuu fanfic

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songbirdstyles · 3 years

Text

sparks

summary: you’re a music journalist assigned to covering one of harry styles’ gigs, and he’s absolutely smitten with you. (part one.)

warnings: slight fluff, excessive liberties taken about music journalism; smut in later chapters, angst in later chapters

word count: 8.2k

inspo.: almost famous - cameron crowe; sparks - the who; hello, i love you - the doors

You’d never truly gotten a big assignment before - sure, you’d gotten a few pieces here and there detailing local LA bands that you knew would never live to see more than 100,000 monthly listeners on Spotify, and they mostly ended up buried by your higher-ranking coworker’s higher end stories on the front covers - and, for the most part, you’d honestly been fine with it. You’re fresh out of college, the newest recruit to your company and your colleagues who are sent out to tour with big bands and artists have been here for years, some even decades, and you suppose they deserve the opportunities more than you, don’t they?

You work your way up, your boss had told you the first day you’d started working, following him around like an eager puppy as he showed you the office. Eventually - if I’m impressed with you - you’ll get something big.

It’s enough for you. Small bands playing in hole-in-the-wall clubs and restaurants may not be the exact thing you’d envisioned when you’d set your sights on being a music journalist but it’s worked out well for you so far, hasn’t it? You’ve made friends - even dated the lead singer of an underground rock band who cheated on you hardly two weeks into the relationship - and your portfolio is slowly building, stacked with exposés and detailed recounts of small gigs that you’d watched from backstage. Eventually, you’ll leave this company and move on to something bigger, like Rolling Stone, and your career will take off until you’re practically the face of music journalism.

And, really, those dreams have carried you through college and the first year of your career, putting your all into every article and every piece just so your boss can tug you into his office one day with a rarely-seen grin to finally tell you -

“I want you to write an article on Harry Styles.”

You furrow your eyebrows, shifting in the cushy office seat that your boss has for guests in his office. It’s a facade that you’ve learned to acknowledge, because, no matter how much he makes it look like he appreciates guests in his office, you know he regards you as nothing more than an interloper, even if he’d invited you there to begin with. “Harry Styles?”

“You’ve heard of him, haven’t you?” Mike asks, light shining off his bald head, and your mouth opens and closes a few times uselessly.

“Of course I have!” You push yourself to sit up straighter in your seat, staring up at your boss with shock written in every feature of your face. You, writing about Harry Styles? God, you nearly want to pinch yourself to see if you’re dreaming. “Write an article about - about what?”

Mike scoffs in that pretentious way that makes you hate ever having to talk to him, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at him. “He’s coming to do a few shows along the West Coast. You can go to one or two - talk to him a bit, talk to his band - you’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

“With small bands, sure - Tacocat and - and the Mystery Lights -” You swallow thickly, and Mike stares down at you in your seat like he’s unimpressed with your enthusiasm, or lack thereof. And it’s not that you aren’t executed - but, Christ. Going from bands performing in underground clubs to Harry Styles is like going straight from crawling to flying a fucking plane and you’re not sure if any of your experience with the musical locality in LA could prepare you for that. “I mean, that’s huge, Mike.”

“It is huge,” Mike confirms, crossing his thick arms over his chest, leaning against the desk before you as though he’s immune to sitting in his seat behind his desk like a normal boss. “Do you not want to do it? Because Melissa, you know - she’d love to, was going on and on about it last week -”

“No!” Your cheeks flush at the volume your voice raises to, and if you didn’t know better you could swear you see the ghost of a grin on Mike’s face. “I want to, Mike, I really want to - it’s just crazy.” There’s a pregnant pause between the two of you, your boss nodding smugly down at you as you struggle for words, before you ask the question burning the tip of your tongue with its desire to be heard. “But - why me? I’m sure you have people more qualified for it -”

“Easy,” Mike says, cutting you off and you’d be annoyed in any other instance but you’re too desperate to hear his answer. “Look, Harry’s a young guy. Younger than anyone else our people have interviewed - I think he’ll respond more to a young, pretty girl like yourself than someone older than him.”

Well, that makes sense, you suppose. The only coworker even close to you in age is Melissa, and she’s pushing 30 as it is. You’re 23 - graduated college just over a year ago, and by far the newest recruit this company has taken in years - but you had always imagined that was the main reason you wouldn’t get many big articles, and here it’s the main factor in you getting what will surely be the highlight of your portfolio once you apply to Rolling Stone. An interview with Harry Styles - God, they’ll probably foam at the mouth when they see it, and a grin spreads across your face as you think of it.

“Is that a yes?” Mike questions, blonde eyebrows raised high and nearly disappearing into his scalp.

“Of course,” you respond without another moment of hesitation, and you push yourself to stand, office chair rolling behind you with the force, and it hits the wall behind you with a soft thump. “Yes - of course - of course.”

“Great.” And he crosses to the other side of his desk, pushing aside a few loose papers and folders on his desk, and you clutch your hands in front of your stomach as you watch him, practically bouncing up and down with uncontained joy and fear bubbling inside of you. The last time you’d felt like this was the first time you got a real assignment - more than just ranking songs and discussing new album releases - and you’d been sent to a strip club to cover a gig from an up-and-coming band. Back then, you’d never expected to ever feel more excited over anything in your life, and yet, here you are, eight months later, fighting back the urge to burst into joyful tears. “They come in a week - I’ll send you the address - if you need help with your questions -”

“I’ll ask Francine,” you finish the same advice he gives you every time you’re assigned an article, referring to your oldest coworker - a little old woman who’s been with the company since the 70s. She’s always been more than willing to help you with your assignments but this - you need to do this by yourself. “Thank you so much, Mike, this is - this is great.”

“Don’t let me down,” he says, pointing his finger at you, and you nod furiously. “I’m trusting you on this - it’s a big opportunity.”

“I won’t disappoint you,” you promise, holding up your crossed fingers just to show him how much you mean it, and you know it’s the truth - you’ll make this piece the best damn one this company has ever seen if it’s the last thing you ever do.

The night begins a bit - rocky, to say the least.

For one, you couldn’t decide what to wear, even after spending nearly a half hour trying on every variation of clothes in your closet and tossing them onto the floor of your studio apartment when they didn’t satisfy your needs. In the past you’d worn to gigs what you��d wear if you were a simple concertgoer, albeit a bit more modestly, but you can’t decide what you would wear to a Harry Styles concert if you got the regular chance to - and you’d never even dreamt that it would happen in the first place -

Well, you peruse your closet intently and land on a pair of patterned flare pants and a long sleeve sweater. It only seems fitting for the chilly weather outside, and you fold a shirt into your bag in case you need to change if it gets hot backstage. You’re not dressed to impress, necessarily - you’re dressed to get a job done, as Mike would always say, but how could you be expected to not attempt to impress Harry Styles? It’s a preposterous idea. You’re sure anyone would understand.

Journalism pass - phone - keys - deodorant - when you’ve checked your bag over three times to ensure you have everything necessary you finally leave, locking your door shut behind you and ordering an Uber to take you to the concert.

You hadn’t anticipated Uber and Lyft being absolutely overloaded with patrons due to the concert just a half hour away and you need to be there by 6:30 at the very latest to ensure you get in and can at least talk to Harry before he goes on - a quarter of your questions are geared towards how he feels pre show and you can’t get pre show questions after the show - that’s barbaric. But the minutes inch closer to 5:30 and your Uber driver is still ten minutes away and your heart beats so fast against your chest you think you might vomit right into the street in front of your building -

You’re in the car by 5:45. It’s not ideal, and you know you’re cutting it close, but hopefully you’ll be there before the soundcheck ends. It’s always an ideal time to take photos, watching the band warm up and check mics, and with a piece like this, you need all the opportunities for pictures you can get.

And traffic is horrible - you suppose that’s also to be expected, and your Uber driver curses in a language you can’t recognize as cars cut him off on the highway and if you were a different person, you’d recommend a shortcut he takes, but he doesn’t look like he wants to hear a single word come from your mouth. He had given you a dirty look when you entered the car, and that’s enough to make you shut up and pray for the entire car ride that you make it on time.

6:27. Mike would piss himself if he knew how close you cut it, and you hop out of the car with a speed you didn’t even know you could muster, pushing past the buzzing crowd standing in front of the main entrance. The hoard of people seems to have a steady heartbeat, pulsing with excitement much like your own, and you can’t help but smile as you make your way around the group, goosebumps cropping up over your skin as your teeth chatter in the coldness. For a moment you fear that the directions to the backstage entrance that Mike had given you were total bullshit - but then you see the door, blocked by a burly security guard that glowers at you as you walk up to him like you’re something sticky beneath his shoe.

“Hi!” you call, breath exploding in a white cloud in front of you in the cool night air. The security guard smells so strongly of booze that you need to try harder than you’d care to admit not to scrunch your nose - you cough softly. “Let me - um - find my pass - I’m with Autoamerican, the magazine?”

Fingers grab onto your journalism pass, deep within your bag, and you tug it out, flashing it to the security guard with a slightly nervous grin. All of the gigs you’d been to before hadn’t even had backstage doors - to get backstage, you just had to climb onto the stage and walk behind the wings - but this is a fucking stadium, not just a measly club, and a big one, at that. In your youth you’re sure you could recall your dad watching a football game that occurred in this very stadium - funny how life turns out, sometimes.

“Autoamerican?” the security guard questions, bringing his face closer to your badge as the wafting smell of alcohol increases, and he raises his eyebrows with a scoff. “Never heard of it.”

“Oh.” you pause, feeling your teeth beginning to chatter in the cool February air. You’re not quite sure what to say - you’d assumed Mike had called to arrange the entire thing, hadn’t he? And this is the time you’re supposed to be here - “well, we’re not as big as Rolling Stone magazine, but - we’ve done interviews with The Cure, The Smiths - even Zeppelin, at one point -”

Your voice trails off into silence. He doesn’t care. He’s looking at you like you’re some innocent teenage girl, trying to bribe your way backstage so you can bombard the artist and not a fully grown woman here on business, goddammit. And you’re not sure what to say - he doesn’t believe you, clearly, and you hadn’t anticipated that even as you listed all the ways tonight could go wrong.

“Look, kid,” he begins, and that really has your blood boiling, eyes narrowing to glare at him. “We get this all the time. I’m a journalist - I’m with the crew - it’s a bunch of bullshit. Now go to the front with your general admission tickets like the rest of them -”

“I have a pass - I’m a journalist!”

“Sure -”

“I can call my boss if you want proof!”

And before you can reach into your bag to search relentlessly for your phone to follow through on the promise like you intend to, the door the man is guarding suddenly swings open, nearly hitting the guard in the ass as it opens out. You take a step back as dim light from inside floods the darkness, and a man steps out of the doorway, his eyes darting between you and the security guard.

“Are you with Autoamerican?” the man questions, raising his finger to point at you as though he could be speaking to anyone else. You nod furiously, and you hold up your journalism pass again just to prove it. “You can come inside, then - c’mon, Steve, she’s got a pass, for God’s sake -”

And you can’t resist flashing the guard a smug smile as he steps to the side to let you inside, rolling his eyes so far back into his head that all you can see is a strip of white.

The man lets you inside and the door shuts behind you, and you nearly knock straight into a second security guard standing by the door inside, as though trying to stop people from going out. And, well - you’ve been backstage at more concerts than you could count but this is certainly bigger, better, bustling with people carrying equipment and makeup artists and more people you couldn’t possibly identify. You’re half inclined to reach into your bag and grab your notebook to jot down exactly what you’re seeing so you can make sure to include it in the article, but you have a distinct feeling you’ll never forget it.

“I’m Jeff,” the man tells you, already setting off through the people, and you’re quick to follow, trying to maintain your pace beside him. After a second of walking in silence you realize he’s waiting for you to say yours - you clear your throat and introduce yourself, and he sends you a smile. “The band just finished their soundcheck, if you’d like to have a word with them before they go on - what’s the article about, anyway?”

Jeff shoulders the two of you through lingering groups of people until you emerge into a small hallway lined with doors, and you can hear bustling noise coming from the one closest to you - holy shit, is that Harry?

“Um - just about the shows, the tour, how everything’s going. My boss basically told me to do what I want with it, so I’ll have a better idea once I speak to the band.” It’s the loosest instruction you’ve ever been given for a piece - you’d expected a clear cut outline - but perhaps with an artist this big, Mike trusts you to know what to write. “It likely won’t be anything too personal, but I’d love to get a chance to speak with Harry before and after.”

“Sounds great,” and you can tell he’s stressed - you wonder if he’s always anxious before his client’s shows, or if there’s something special about tonight that has him worried - and then he reaches past you, twisting the doorknob closest to you and holding the door open for you to enter before him, and you give him a gracious smile before walking in.

The room isn’t as crowded with people as you’d expected but they’re bustling with energy - a woman and a man, holding a guitar, lean against the wall with each other - two other women sip water bottles, laughing loudly amongst each other - another woman leans above someone, their body hidden from view except for their legs, covered in silk, floral printed pants -

Your breath catches in your throat as Jeff shuts the door behind you both, and the sound of the door clicking shut draws far more attention to yourself than you’d expected - it seems like every pair of eyes lands on you and Jeff, and you’d decided on being a music journalist to keep away from being the center of attention. You’ve always preferred being behind the scenes, a bit, at least until your career progresses until you’re a household name for music journalism, and now -

You feel very much in the scenes, eyes on you as Rhiannon plays in the background.

And then Jeff is tapping you on your shoulder, leading you around the room to the small groups of people lingering - you shake hands with Mitch and Sarah, the couple against the wall, and the rest of his band, and they’re so nice your smile feels like it’s going to break your face in half. You’ll need to interview them at some point - nothing too intense, and you may not even need to, if Harry’s answers are satisfactory enough - and you can already feel yourself building a strange sort of rapport with the band, their kindness rubbing off on you until you practically glide beside Jeff to the woman bent over Mr. Floral Pants, whose identity you’re fairly certain you’ve already deduced.

It doesn’t make it any more surprising when the woman steps aside where she’s carefully applying powder to the man’s face, and then Harry fucking Styles is staring up at her with a smile and an outstretched hand, suit jacket matching the floral pattern of his pants. His curls are carefully slicked back from his face, skin matte with the powder the woman resumes applying to the side of his face that isn’t turned to you, and you swallow your shock before reaching to shake his hand, Rhiannon turning into Hello, I Love You, playing from a source you can’t identify.

“Nice t’meet you,” Harry says when you’ve told him your name and the magazine you work for - Jeff had already mentioned it, but it is customary to repeat it to whomever you may have to interview. “Y’know, I love Autoamerican - told Jeff, s’the only magazine I’d let interview me backstage. Don’t usually allow it.”

“Really?” your stomach flips as Harry stops bouncing his arm, but it takes just another half second for him to untwine his hand from yours - you’re sure it’s because the makeup artist fretting above him is using her thumb to wipe off powder from his nose, but it still makes your heart thump faster against your chest. “I assumed most people haven’t heard of it - it’s nowhere near Rolling Stone.”

“I love it,” he insists, dropping your hand, and he looks so casual, as if this interaction isn’t blowing up your entire life, and you’re brought back to the many moments you’d spent as a teenager fawning over him in his One Direction days - God, this feels like a dream, and you’re half inclined to pinch yourself in case it is. Maybe you’ll wake up in Mike’s office to him giving you another shitty underground LA band to interview. “The interview with Sublime s’great - read it all the time.”

You swallow thickly, grin spreading wider across your face, and before you can open your mouth to tell him about Francine’s go-to story about how Eric Wilson had flirted with her while she interviewed them for the story, Jeff interjects - “Steve hadn’t even heard of it.”

“Steve’s an idiot,” Harry starts, and you giggle - his lips lilt upwards just a bit. “Hope he wasn’t hasslin’ you ‘bout it.”

“Just a little,” you say, hoisting your bag further up your shoulder just as the makeup artist drops the powder back into the apron slung around her waist, and her manicured nails tilt Harry’s head around for a moment before she seemingly deems his makeup satisfactory before leaving, sending you a tight lipped smile as she goes. “I’d love to ask you a few questions before the show - nothing too heavy - and then I’ll observe the concert and how everything goes, ask a few questions after.”

“Sounds great,” Harry responds, lifting his fist with his thumb up and you didn’t think your heartbeat could grow any faster or louder but you suppose today is just proving you wrong time and time again. “D’you need t’record m’answers? S’a bit loud in here.”

The truth is, you’re sure you’ll have this entire experience engraved in your brain for years to come - you’ll remember every word he utters for you until your dying days - but it is more practical to have a recording. You swing your bag off your arm and open it, digging through the jumbled mess of items inside until you find your phone, and you hold it up with a nod. “Yeah - there isn’t anywhere a bit quieter, is there?”

It takes a minute of bustling - Jeff tells you two instructions to go down the hall into another room where you may find more silence - and Harry promises, accent thick and eyes rolling, to be back in twenty minutes or less, if tha’s enough time for you, ma’am, and you try to trick yourself into thinking the burn flushing up your cheeks is due to the heat of the room.

Down the hall is another door that Harry opens for you, letting you walk in first. It’s a small room, clearly meant for storage, and he shuts the door behind the pair of you. There’s - luckily, or perhaps unluckily - just enough room for you two have at least a few feet between you, and he leans against the wall with an air of casual elegance you couldn’t hope to achieve as you scroll through your phone to search for the voice recorder app.

“Hope this s’good enough - is it?” Harry inquires, leaning his head closer to yours, and you nod. “Good - wish there was a nicer spot for you, but -”

“Don’t worry about it,” you interject, smiling up at him, and he grins back, and your stomach churns violently. You almost feel like you could vomit - when he goes on, you’ll go and have a bit to eat at the table set up with foods that Jeff had wheeled you past when you arrived. Eating seems to solve more of your nerves than you’d care to admit, and you feel like you’re nearly 95% nerves right now. Your fingers fiddle with the voice recorder app, adding a title to the recording while entirely too focused on the sounds of Harry’s breathing above you, and you can practically fear his eyes boring into your face before you press record.

And, for the most part, it does go smoothly. Harry introduces himself with an ease that only comes with years of practice, so much time spent being interviewed that it must feel like as much of a second nature to him as interviewing is to you. He’s charming and charismatic - flirtatious, even - making jokes and adding lines that you make a mental note to be sure to include in your final piece - whatever direction you go - and you can’t say you’re bothered by the way he leans closer to the phone, and thus closer to you, in order for his voice to be heard more on the recording when occasional noise bustles in from outside.

You don’t need to look at the questions you’d spent weeks laboring over - every question you inquire derives directly from his answers like he’s practically feeding them to you, and then you’re interviewing him so naturally, you could nearly fool yourself into thinking it’s an organic conversation between friends.

What’s his process to prepare for shows? Well, listening to Fleetwood Mac and eating finger foods, of course - he loves mozzarella sticks. Does Fleetwood Mac make you less nervous for shows? No, he doesn’t get too anxious before shows, now that he’s out of the band. He just loves Fleetwood Mac - he could listen to them at any time of the day. What do you think makes your solo career less anxiety-inducing than being in the band? Different fans let him be himself more. There’s less pressure to be someone he isn’t - do you think he could’ve worn a floral printed suit at a One Direction concert?

And, in the end, twenty minutes hardly feels like it, and by the time Harry tilts his head over the screen of your phone to check the time, you could nearly convince yourself that you’d merely spent a minute with the heartthrob, and it pains you to stop the recording.

“How’d I do?” he questions, cheeky smile indenting the dimple in his cheek, and you feel like you need to dip your face in ice once he goes on stage - your face hasn’t felt anything less than piping hot since the first moment he rested eyes on you, and his kind-bordering-on-flirtatious nature only makes your skin heat more under his gaze.

It isn’t as though you’d have it any other way, though.

“Perfect,” and you send him a smile. “I’ll watch the show - probably eat a bit, too, if I’m being honest - and maybe ask you a few questions. How many shows are you doing in LA?”

Harry reaches past you, grabbing the doorknob and opening the door for you once more, and you slip out with a small smile as he follows, face twisted in what’s clearly a show of being in deep thought. “Four. An’ a few more on the West Coast ‘fore we move out - reckon you’ll need t’come t’a few more?”

“Depends.” He looks at you curiously as the two of you make your way back to the room you’d been in before, and when you enter, it’s clearly in a more prominent state of preparation for the show - there’s more bustle and movement between every band member and Jeff, who looks entirely relieved to see you two come in as She’s a Rainbow thumps softly, volume clearly turned down on whatever produces the music. “If I feel like I’ve got enough material from this show, then that’ll be it - I usually just do reviews of specific gigs, and this is a lot broader - so I really don’t know.”

Harry nods, and you feel a flutter in your heart at how intently he seems to be listening to you, like he really cares, and you’re sure it’s a facade - he probably has a million other things on his mind as Jeff descends upon the both of you, whisking him away as he calls goodbye! to you - but still. When was the last time you’d felt listened to? By Mike, or by the security guard outside, or even from your own parents when you try to convince them over and over that you have a plan, that your degree wasn’t a waste of time when you could’ve been a doctor -

Well, Harry’s a gentleman, you decide, sliding your phone into the back pocket of your flares as you reach in your bag for your notepad. You can tell they’re preparing to go on soon and so you descend against the wall, grabbing your pen from deep inside the confines of your bag to scribble the essential notes of what you’ll need - it’ll make it easier when it’s time to write, rather than listening to the entire 20 minute interview again to try and find the important sections to include.

His responses to your question still burn fresh in your mind, and you began scribbling your bullet points on the small notepad in your hands. It’s decently easy to block out the chatter of the room you’re in along with its music, volume turned down further until it’s hardly audible, and it really is a skill you’ve mastered, though you suppose you’ve had to - trying to take notes for articles about gigs occurring in buildings so small that their noise reverberates off of every surface has made you a master in tuning out noise surrounding you.

You are aware, and acutely, at that, when the band starts exiting through the door beside you. They don’t look nervous, returning your encouraging smiles with ones of their own, and you watch them pour out the door with confidence practically radiating off of them. Well, that’s something to mention, isn’t it? Most of the bands you’d interviewed were practically vomiting with nerves -

Harry takes up the rear, fingers running through his slicked back hair, and you can’t tell if it’s a nervous habit or if he’s simply trying to let his curls fall in front of his eyes more. Jeff walks in front of him, giving you a smile as he leaves, and the singer stops beside you.

Your breath just about catches in your throat as you look up at him, and he’s staring down at you with a decidedly ambiguous look in his eyes, and you smile at him. “Good luck out there.”

“You’re gonna come and watch?”

You nod. “Eventually - I’m gonna eat something first, finish my notes. Maybe give myself a tour of the backstage in case I decide to include it.”

“Sounds good t’me,” Harry says, but he doesn’t make a motion to leave, and then his eyes roll down your body and is he fucking checking you out? Because - no - that’s crazy. That would cement into your brain the knowledge that this is a dream, and not reality, because there’s no fucking way Harry Styles is checking you out, eyes roaming from your eyes to your stomach to your - “I like your pants. Where’d you get ‘em?”

Ah. Of course. Fashion icon, he is, inquiring about the pants you’d chosen specifically because they looked like something he may like. “These?” You glance down as though you’d forgotten what pants you’d donned, as though you hadn’t spent hours in front of your closet envisioning what outfit you could wear to impress him. “I think they’re from Zara. Got them a couple years back.”

“They’re pretty.”

“Why, thank you -”

“Harry!”

Jeff’s voice calling from outside the room snaps you both out of your conversation, a slightly embarrassed grin spreading across Harry’s face that you’re sure is mirroring your own. His cheeks are tinged pink and he clears his throat.

“Sorry - gotta go - make sure y’try the mozzarella sticks, ‘kay? They’re good,” Harry tells you, and you grin, drumming the pen clutched between your fingers against the notepad in your hands.

“Will do,” you reply, and then you lift your hand and point to the door, raising your eyebrows with a smile. “Go break a leg - and then be ready to talk about it when you’re done!”

He doesn’t say anything else - just gives you a thumbs up and slips out the door, and you can hear his frenzied apologies to Jeff as their voices fade away, surely preparing to get on stage and sing his heart out and blow the fucking stadium away, but you can hardly focus on it. Because - God, you really don’t want to sound like a narcissist - but he was joking around with you, complimented your pants, and he did technically check you out, even if it was just to see your pants.

Was he flirting with you?

Surely not. No, that would be absurd. He’s probably just bored - maybe entertaining random people backstage is his way of dealing with his nerves.

That makes a bit more sense.

When you glance back down at your notepad, the page half filled with scribbled bullet points of things you’d sworn to remember, and when you click your pen open to continue your list, you find that you can’t quite think of anything else to write. All you can think about is the mozzarella sticks waiting for you, and then standing in the wings to watch him sing his heart out to a crowd of adoring fans that you, at one point, would have killed to be apart of -

You shove your pen and pad back into your bag with a determined spin of your heels. Food first - contemplation second.

~~~

The show is - needless to say - amazing.

You’d feasted on slightly-cold mozzarella sticks that were, even in their lowered temperatures, immensely good, and clearly garnered all the affection Harry had for them. The food table was nearly completely empty, crew members repeatedly coming up to fill plates with vegetables and snacks, and so you simply gathered the last three sticks of celery once you were done with your sticks before taking a leisurely stroll along the backstage area. Celery firm between your teeth, you pulled out your notepad and your pen once more and jotted notes of what you could possibly include in the article to jog your memory later -

It takes a while, admittedly. You don’t want to leave anything out, and eventually you have two pages filled with notes in your handwriting that would surely be illegible to anyone else who happened upon them - and, sure, your pages are small, but still. Two pages is a lot, and you’re sure most of it won’t even make it into the article but you don’t want to risk forgetting any important information.

A trip to the bathroom - perusing the food table again to pick up the last few carrot sticks - and the show is nearly halfway over, so you decide it may be time to slip into the wings and watch. Take notes, possibly, but mainly just listen and absorb the music and the atmosphere and exactly how the fans react to his every move. That’s what the people want to know, isn’t it? It’s what you would want to know - so you slip past the lingering groups of people into the wings of the stage, where you get a clear view of Harry and his band, singing his heart out to a tune you know to be Kiwi.

It’s ear splitting, truly, in a way that none of the other gigs you’d witnessed had been. But it sounds good - better than good - and he’s as charismatic on stage as he is off, waggling his eyebrows during the more suggestive lines and undoing the button of his suit jacket, and the latter garners a deafening scream from the adoring fans in the crowd.

No, you won’t need to take notes, at least not yet. You’ll remember this forever, won’t you? Watching him work the crowd like he was born to do it, like it’s a second nature and you’re sure it is, at this point. It’s all you can do to stand there, watching him, and you’re sure you look no different from the other fans in the crowd, your eyes wide and lips parted in absolute awe of him -

His head turns to the side, briefly, as if he can sense your eyes on him above anyone else’s. In reality you’re sure he’d simply turned his head to flick a sweaty curl out of his face but it’s never a bad thing to dream right? And your gaze locks for just a moment, his eyebrows raising when he sees your face, and heat burns at your cheeks before his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and his right eye shuts in a quick wink before he’s turning back to the crowd as if his attention had never left them.

Shit. You nearly drop your damn carrot. God, he’s a fucking tease, and you’re not even sure he knows it - that this experience will never leave your brain for as long as you walk this Earth, watching him wink as he stared into the depths of your fucking soul, clad in a gorgeous suit with his gorgeous hair and -

Harry truly is a sight to behold, and you’re more than content to watch him forever.

Forever ends up being another half hour or so before you’re made entirely too aware of the fact that you have to pee - not insanely bad, but enough to make you shift uncomfortably from side to side before sighing, turning and making your way further backstage in your search for the bathroom. In your determined tour of the backstage you’d forgotten to search for the restroom, and you wander about for nearly five whole minutes before getting to it -

You do your business. There’s not much more explanation needed.

It’s when your washing your hands, though, water freezing cold against your palms, that you become slightly aware of a myriad of noises occurring outside the restroom. At first you choose not to focus on it, shoving your hands beneath the air dryer to ease your soaking, cold hands, and the noise of violent air assaulting your palms drowns out the scuffling sounds from outside.

When the dryer turns off, and you reach down to wipe your damp hands on your pants, the noises haven’t stopped. And, sure, no one could expect it to be completely silent backstage, but whatever you’re hearing isn’t the normal laughter and chatter and muffled music that you’re used to hearing -

It sounds like someone is fighting, and your hand freezes in its place on the cool metal doorknob. You lean forward, scrunching your nose as you plainly try harder to hear what’s happening -

But, Hell. You have a job to do - you need to get back to the wings to watch the remaining few minutes of the set before Harry leaves and, subsequently, returns for the encore, and you’d intended to write with detail about his closing repetition of Kiwi. So you grab the doorknob, swing the door open and step out, and freeze nearly immediately once you’ve exited.

There is a fight - not as violent as you’d expected - as the security guard from inside scuffles with Steve, who looks positively wasted in a way you’ve come to know all too well, doing gigs in LA. His face shines with a sheen layer of sweat, skin glowing in the artificial light, and his fists move slowly to pummel into the other security guard’s back. It’s, truthfully, a bit pathetic to watch - he isn’t putting up much of a fight against the guard trying to hold him, and your mouth parts with poorly-concealed confusion at the display in front of you.

You’re not sure what to say - or do - or think - standing in the doorway of the bathroom as you watch the poor excuse of a fight, Steve nearly toppling to the ground as the other guard tries to contain him.

“Come on, Steve - don’t be like this -”

Then the other security guard looks up and sees you, and the expression on his face nearly makes you burst into laughter, but you contain it with a bit more difficulty than you’d like to admit. He looks annoyed, like he’s absolutely done with his coworker, and also slightly embarrassed. Clearly, he’d dragged Steve into the hallway containing the bathrooms with the hopes of nobody seeing either of them, and you’ve interrupted his bid for privacy desperately. “Sorry, ma’am,” the guard says, grabbing one of Steve’s flailing fists in his hands. “Don’t mind us - he’s drunk - just trying to contain him.”

You’re doing a damn good job, you want to say, but you bite back the retort with a small nod and a whisper of a smile on your face, walking with your back to the wall past their display in the hopes of Steve not seeing you. He hadn’t been particularly nice to you when you’d first seen him and you can tell he’s in a much more heightened state, now - he’d been drunk when you’d seen him before and you can tell it’s only gotten worse.

Maybe you should’ve told Jeff the guard was drunk?

Well, it’s counterproductive to dwell on the past.

You’re not so lucky, though - you’ve barely made it down five steps down the hallway before Steve lifts his head, pupils blown and skin even stickier looking than before, and he gives you the same disgusted look as though you’re something his dog had left on the grass. “Hey - hey - Jim - do you know who that is?”

And the other security guard - Jim - just rolls his eyes. “No, Steve, I don’t - stop making a fool out of yourself.”

“She works at - at - Eat to the Beat - Parallel Lines - what is it?”

Do you answer him? You don’t quite know. You just swallow thickly, forcing yourself not to don the smile that’s urging its way onto your lips as you hear roaring screams from the crowd that alerts you to the fact that, if Harry isn’t done with his set yet, he’s close, and you need to watch the end. “Autoamerican. Those are all good albums, though.”

“She’s snarky - get off of me, Jim -”

In Steve’s final bid for freedom his legs kick out, and his sneakered foot knocks into your ankle, and it’s certainly not hard by any stretch of the definition but it’s enough to catch you off balance, his toe hooking into the loose fabric around your ankles as he brings his foot back to kick again. One kick did it, though - you tumble to the ground, legs flying out from under you until you land on your ass on the hard floor, your bag slipping off your shoulder, and its contents scatter across the ground.

Fuck. That hurt, more than you’d care to admit, as you brace your elbows behind you to stop your head from knocking into the ground. Your ass hurts and you can see Steve’s leg bracing backwards for another kick, and you push yourself backwards so his foot merely pushes against the air.

You can already see Jim opening his mouth to desperately say sorry when a set of footsteps interrupts his apology - you don’t have to look to your side to see who it is, the smell of expensive cologne wafting before him like an introduction. You practically feel him before you see him.

Your name falls off Harry’s lips entirely too easily, like he’d been looking for you in the overtly small window of space he has before he has to go back on stage - his hair is messy and his skin is sweaty and he bends down next to you with such sentimentality in his eyes - you almost feel like a child again.

“Are y’okay?” Harry questions, and his hand rests on the small of your back and warmth seems to seep through your body from its spawning point, palm moving in circles against your sweater so gently you can tell he’s scared to go much harder. “Wha’ -?”

For his eyes had just landed on the sight in front of you - Jim managed to pull Steve up, the latter clearly coming to his senses at least a little bit, and his eyes narrow at the sight of you on the floor and subsequently widen as he sees Harry next to you.

“Wha’ happened?” And you can hear anger quivering under his voice like boiling water, ready to overflow, and you instinctively reach up to press your hand against his forearm - you do it to your niece all the time when you can tell she’s on the verge of a tantrum and it always works on her - but she is five, and Harry’s twenty years her senior, so, needless to say, the motion doesn’t do much to soothe him. “Fightin’ back here, kickin’ her - you’re s’posed t’be security guards!”

“It’s okay, Harry -”

“S’not okay -”

And then there’s another set of footsteps jogging over to you, and you look up to see Jeff -

“Har, you need to get back out -” but you can see the confusion set into his features as he stands over the scene, eyes flickering to you and Harry on the floor to Jim and Steve, the former having settled the latter into a fairly calm position. The scent of alcohol is strong and you can practically watch as Jeff smells it, his nose crinkling. “Is he drunk?”

“He is drunk, an’ got into a fight wit’ -”

“Okay, okay,” you interrupt, squeezing Harry’s arm again as you push yourself to stand, attempting not to wince at the pain in your ass as your muscles tense. He’s looking at you like you’ve just been hit by a car instead of having a mild scuffle with a security guard, eyes wide and concerned, and you shake your head at him. “Didn’t get into a fight, Harry - he accidentally kicked me. It’s really fine - you need to go back out, anyway.”

“She’s right,” Jeff insists, reaching down to tug Harry up as his eyes bore into the sight in front of you, Steve slowly calming himself down until he’s simply red in the face and reeking of booze. “Come on, Har - you need to get on.”

But Harry’s already bending down again, grabbing your pen and your notebook and your phone (you can see a crack in the screen that most certainly hadn’t been there just a mere ten minutes ago) and you could nearly laugh at the display he’s putting on, shoving your items back into your back, if Jeff’s demeanor wasn’t bordering on murderous as he drags Harry up again. You reach down and grab your bag, now fully stocked again with all of the items that had clattered out, and you give the tussling security guards one final fleeting look before following Jeff and Harry as they make their way down the hall.

“Y’sure you’re okay?” Harry questions, slowing his pace so you can jog beside him, much to Jeff’s lingering annoyance as he brings his fingers up to rub at the space between his eyes. “Y’should know - tha’ doesn’t usually happen -”

“I get it,” you tell him.

“No, really.” You’ve reached the wings of the stage, and Jeff leaves the pair of you alone to descend on to where the band stands, clearly waiting for the cue to go on. Harry runs a hand through his hair, and he looks oddly exasperated and you wish you could get it through his head that it really isn’t a big deal - “Someone will take care of the guards, okay?”

“Don’t fire them,” you insist, even though you’re sure he has no say in it. “Not Jim, at least.”

“Jim -?”

“The sober one.”

“Oh.” He pauses, dropping his hands to his sides. “I can’t make any promises.”

“Just try.”

“Will do.”

There’s another brief second of silence before you nod towards the stage where he’s needed - the few lowly minutes between the end of the show and the encore has come to an end, and you’re sure people are beginning to wonder if he’s not coming back. “Go on, Har. There’s people waiting for you.”

“M’going!” And he isn’t going, just staring at you with his brows furrowed, and you raise your own with a confused stare. “Are y’gonna come t’any more shows?”

You pause, nibbling on your bottom lip as you contemplate your answer. “Well - maybe. If I need more information.” “You should,” he tells you, and you tilt your head to the side. “Look, I don’t want your only impression of m’shows t’be that they’re violent an’ crazy.”

“I don’t think -”

“Jus’ one more? In two days. I’ll send you th’address. I really want you t’come -”

Before you can process the request Jeff has stepped forward, hooking his arm in Harry’s and practically dragging him towards the stage, and you watch him prance back in front of the audience like it’s his God given purpose and perhaps it is. You’ve never quite met anyone like him, you don’t think, and you’d certainly had a perception of what you’d imagined him to be like based on the insane amount of time you’d spent obsessing over his band when you were younger -

Your mouth feels suddenly dry as you watch him begin, and the music seems to reverberate beneath your skin, and suddenly - without having to think about it much at all, really - you know it won’t take much convincing on his part to get you back for a second night.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles series #harry styles drabble #harry styles one shot #im sure im going to regret starting this as a series and not trying to make it one long piece #but honestly??#im working on another fic right now so i just want the beginnings of this to be out there #i hope u enjoy

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junova · 3 years

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↬ 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 | 𝐫. 𝐝𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐞

abstract — the one where ransom gets a taste of his own medicine, but you happen to be so much sweeter than he’s ever been.

pairing — ooc!ransom drysdale x fem!reader

wc — 4.1k+ im so sorry lmao

warnings — cheating (if u squint its very vague), angst, fluff, slight self deprecation, ransom is kinda nice idk, i want a soft!ransom drysdale now pls, this is also very messy so read at ur own risk!

[m blabs] — howdy howdy! first time ransom fic. woot woot! still kinda finding my voice w writing so i hope you like it! <333

His mouth set in a hard line as you continued to curl into his chest, the span of your confidence seemed to be wiped away with a nightmare from the past. Part of him was upset you hadn’t told him anything, the blind leading the blind, as you stepped foot into his family event. Seeing the last person you’d ever thought would be there.

Surely by now, he thought you would trust him but it was more than evident you still didn’t. You persisted on hiding everything from him, anything you were sure might tick him off.

Well, Ransom wasn’t necessarily known for biting his tongue. Although, in your presence, he was learning what to say and where to say it.

It really surprised him. Not one woman had been able to tame him, not since he’d be fucking everyone in sight. His desire was endless and not one single individual would be enough for his fill.

Then, he found you drunk and sobbing on the concrete, right outside of the bar he was exiting. To this day, he still couldn’t tell you why he stopped for you. He never really paid attention to anyone if it wasn’t to his own benefit. Ultimately, meeting you was, even if he wouldn’t realize it then.

You flinched from his touch when he patted your shoulder, gently asking if you were alright. If anyone asked him, Ransom would surely deny he felt you pull at the strings of his heart in an instant.

He just knew.

Maybe it’s why it took him so long to accept it, to believe in what he felt for you. Definitely not because you did nothing but be the most wonderful human he’d ever met. More had to do with him.

Ransom dropped you off the first night you met in your small apartment downtown, definitely on the rougher side where he thought his Rolex sporting his wrist may get stolen.

A cute little thing like you living in a neighborhood like this — didn’t make much sense to him. Then again, it certainly checked out with his privilege why he didn’t.

Truly, Ransom didn’t realize how fortunate he truly was. Of course being a trust fund brat gave him the ignorance to live in an unmatched state of bliss.

He still remembers the moment.

Watching as you fumbled with your keys, finding it more than difficult to open your front door. It was cute, with your tongue poking out between your lips in concentration. Now, he wondered how he’d forgotten why he’d gone to get hammered at the bar in the first place.

“Here, let me help.” New to Ransom, he offered a giving hand. Grabbing the key from your jittering fingertips before unlocking your door. He tried to hand you back your keys, but you pulled him so close, your chest touching his own. Dragging two rapid hearts through your apartment.

“You smell like him.” A dopey smile on your face lighting every dark sight of Ransom, not that you’d know it did. “I smell like who?”

“My ex-boyfriend.” Your hands cupping his cheek, but you were too drunk to realize how Ransom flinched from your touch.

He didn’t push you away either.

“But he definitely didn’t look this good.” Defying all laws of his own nature, Ransom let you stay in close proximity to him as you felt him up. Your hand resting on his chest, traveling lower stopping at his stomach. “Definitely didn’t feel this good.”

He watched as you sighed, your puffy eyes were only slightly swollen and the mascara was still staining your skin with the rest of the makeup you wore. If anyone had asked him, you’d looked like a wreck but he still found you alluring.

Ransom always liked his women looking more than fucked out, usually from gagging around his cock. Not crying over a broken heart. Nope. He definitely did not like dealing with a woman's sorrow.

“He never let me touch him though. Guess that should have tipped me off.” You let your hands travel back up, wounding themselves around his neck before they applied more pressure — pulling him into you.

Ransom found you pretty confident for not even knowing anything more than his first name and the car he drove you in. You were definitely craving attention and maybe he’d be more than happy to oblige but the little voice in his head Dr. Shoal told him to listen to was being a pestering, little bitch.

What did Ransom want?

Right now he wanted to drown himself in some sweet ass pussy. He knew you would give yourself easily to him, especially in your drunken state. Clinging onto him like he was a vine.

The smaller part of him, the better part, knew you were drunk out of your mind. Absolutely plastered, but you had to stand there looking like a goddess.

He didn’t really know why he was letting you touch him, maybe in hopes the deeper, darker side of him would win like it always did. Ransom knew better, even if he tried to hide it from everyone including himself.

He liked you. From the very first moment, he knew he’d have to get you. Whether it cost your own sanity or his, Ransom didn’t care.

It’s why he left you drunk and alone, safely tucked into the comfort of your sheets with his number left in your phone. Even taking the liberty of texting himself from it.

He could never be too careful. Letting you slip through his fingers was simply not an option.

Thanks to him, you didn’t forget about him.

The next morning your memory only held vague images of a handsome stranger helping you home, thankfully he seemed to be nothing more than a doting gentlemen. The first for you to ever come across.

Until later in the afternoon the following day, Ransom introduced himself and checked up on you, worming his presence into your life.

Then he kept talking to you everyday, surprising even himself in the matter. Truly, he couldn’t help it. Part of him loved how gently you spoke to him on the phone. No one ever talked to him with such a level of care.

He always warranted yelling, usually he was the one who stirred the pot. He enjoyed it, and thrived in a chaotic environment. It’s what he grew up in. Ransom was more than comfortable with his own family yelling and cursing him out until the sun came up. He did just the same.

So, whenever you sweetly asked him how he was, it threw him off guard.

Not a single soul even cared or bothered to ask him anything. Truth be told, Ransom was a sack of shit treating everyone like they were the gum beneath his shoe. It didn’t matter who talked to him — Ransom was simply more superior in every conceivable way.

He would succumb to not a single soul. Paving his own way through life, with only the money from his trust fund of course.

Then the two of you fell into each other and he could pinpoint the exact moment he did.

The weeks and months blended together. He couldn’t really tell you why he was still lingering around, while he got nothing in return. You did get him off once or twice, but he wasn’t fucking you like he really wanted to.

Maybe it was the innocence in your eyes pulling his soul into the very little good he still had left within him. Or maybe it was the way your thumb dragged over his cheek when you thought he was in slumber, blissfully unaware of your touch.

More importantly his favorite thing, the way you let him hold you when the two of you cuddled. Your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, bouncy cheeks pressed into whatever knit sweater he decided to wear that day.

It was all the little things, unknowingly making him fall in deep like he never had before.

Unwelcoming to him, his mother came barreling in one Sunday afternoon, while you slept in his arms. Even as Linda screamed his name, you never jolted, out like a log. Safe in the peace he kept you in.

Linda looked annoyed, irritated he even had company in the first place but not surprised. What truly shocked her was they both had clothes on. Not truly believing Ransom was capable of such a sinless interaction.

He knew what she wanted; he didn’t even have to move from his position to continue a private conversation. Not that it would get him off the couch, and out of your embrace in the first place.

“I said no. Don’t know why you bothered coming here.” Linda angrily sighed. “You should at least show up.”

Ransom didn’t notice, but subconsciously continued to run his fingertips up and down your spine. Linda did. She noticed that he didn’t even care she was judging him, but let you remain unbothered sleeping in her son’s embrace.

“It’s for Walt. You need to be there.” She stepped closer, hoping the increase in her volume would wake you. “I expect you to grace us with your wonderful presence as does the rest of the family.”

The sarcasm dripped, attempting to coax him out of the four walls he never seemed to leave. Not recently, anyhow.

“I already told you, I can’t.” Now Ransom was irritated and he really wished she would calm the fuck down. It was one day, one event. There would always be another, that much wasn’t lost on him. “I have plans. Send him my best.”

Assuming it was the rumbling of his chest when he spoke, you moved jolting yourself in his arms, before remaining still again. His heartbeat continues to soothe you.

“You have plans? What else could be more important than your family?” The louder Linda’s voice grew the more you stirred, pissing him off.

He really needed to change his locks.

Even if he had no intention of going, he needed his mother to leave. Really for your own sake — trying to save you from Linda giving you a cold shoulder followed with a third degree burn.

“Fine. I’ll go. Can you just leave?” She accepted Ransom’s submission, before looking at your figure. Sound asleep and clinging to her one and only, sinking your claws into him.

She really didn’t like the way Ransom was looking at you. Linda was positive he would never be able to care about someone other than himself, but here he was, holding you close to his chest.

Almost like his life depended on it.

“Who is she to you?” With a raised eyebrow, eyes narrowing to you before meeting back with Ransom’s cerulean blues.

“I don’t know yet.” Ransom paused looking down at you, so beautiful. Holding a light so pure, so radiant; he hoped no matter how cruel he could be, he’d never act like that towards you. “Maybe someone I don’t deserve, but want to be better for.”

His rough, calloused fingers drawing mindless patterns on the exposed skin of your waist. He didn’t know what Linda said next or when she left.

Time seemed to stand still, his confession hitting his chest fiercely. He let himself sit with it for a moment, before you woke up. Enjoying a moment where he didn’t have to deal with anything, he didn’t have to say a word.

He could just enjoy the moment without eyes judging him or you questioning why his eyes seemed to shine just a bit brighter whenever you were around.

It was the first of many. Moments where he felt small pieces of himself chipped away into your care. Planes of existences within him no one had ever scratched the surface of.

Much like right now as you cried into his chest, begging for mercy.

Because you were afraid. Terrified you had made the worst mistake, an unforgivable one. You lied about your past and to Ransom it felt like more than a betrayal. More accurately he felt a dagger in his heart placed strategically with your murderous hands.

He’d never felt such empathy and pain at once. Maybe he’d never been empathetic a day in his life at all.

Until now.

To make matters worse, he knew his entire family was watching the whole scene from the window. It wasn’t from worry or concern for either one of you. Mainly all of them enjoying pain being inflicted on Ransom.

Linda of course wallowing in her ego, he could practically see her bask in her own pride. Another thing she’d been right about checked off the list.

The rest of the family watched the two of you fight with shiteating grins permanently stamped on their face. They’d never seen Ransom care about anyone but you. To watch the relationship he held so close to his heart blow up so publicly, only fueled the fire to Ransom’s rage.

Except Harlan.

Even through his hot, beating anger Ransom was trying his best to comfort you. To calm you down even if you had been the one to be caught red handed. Harlan couldn’t believe it, someone Ransom seemed to care about more than himself.

More than any of his family. Not that Harlan was offended. Well, maybe a little, but more so he was thrilled his grandson finally found someone he had to grow up for. Someone he had to earn, not buy.

No bribes. No schemes. No games.

Just you.

“Hugh, please talk to me.” How could he? It’s not like he had much to say. Maybe he did, he just wasn’t sure how to get the words out without hurting you or himself.

“I know I lied and I fucked up, but please — we need to talk about it.” Soft hands reaching for his own, but he brushed them off, his hands snaked higher on your waist. “We should have talked about this the moment you met me.”

Dead silence is all you were met with as he walked the fine line of pushing you away, leaving you behind and pulling you closer than he ever had.

“You’re right. I should have told you the truth but can you blame me?” He met you with solemn eyes and his own heart beating rapidly. “Yes I can.” Ransom was trying to act cold and distant but the two windows to his soul told a different story.

“That’s fair.” Even as he was holding you, Ransom still felt like he was a galaxy away. He was withholding himself from you like a turtle retracting into their own protection. A year ago, before he met you, he knew he would have never even recognized it.

Now, you made it possible for him to be aware of just how much he had changed. He broke old habits of his own just to please you so when you disappointed him, this unreachable high standard he held you to, it shattered his sense of self.

“Did you still love him?” Ransom questioned you. “I did. At the time, he’s all I ever really knew. I thought that’s what love felt like. The only image of love I had was the one he gave me. So, I ran with him and it crushed me.”

Ransom had to pretend the words you were speaking didn’t split him into you two. The image of you falling in love with someone else was enough to make him wanna strangle your ex.

His friend.

“Then we just got into one really big blow out. Right in the bar in front of all of his friends I had met for the first time that night.” You reached for a chunk of his sweater, clenching the material in your hand, like you were trying to convince yourself to let the words fall from your mouth.

“He told me how much I’d been irritating him and I couldn’t help but notice every girl he flirted with and touched right in front of me.” You tested the waters, placing both of your hands over his chest, the beat of his heart calming you down.

“Then I just cracked. It was only one of the many fights we’d been having over the course of the past few months. Everyone single argument pushed me closer to the edge, until the last one actually did.” You sighed, watching as he frowned.

“I ended things that night, before getting thoroughly plastered and soon enough crying on the cement. Wasted and lonely out of my mind, until I met you.” You moved your hand from his heart, cupping his clean shaven face.

“You made me realize I never knew what love really meant or felt like.” This piqued Ransom’s interest.

You said love.

Could a tragedy bring out the words Ransom craved to hear more than anything in the world?

Maybe you cared about him, more than anyone ever showed him. But loved him? How could someone be as hateful as him be worthy of someone like you?

Even if you had broken his heart, he’d done far worse to more people than he could count. He wasn’t really in a place to judge but it didn’t change the fact it still hurt. A lot.

“Hugh.” You heard him gulp rather loudly. “Yes?” His tone came out as more of a question than a response.

The silence he gifted you was unsettling at the very least. “You've barely said a word.” He was surprised he didn’t scurry off in his beamer the second he saw the guilt reach your eyes.

He was surprised he hadn’t let his anger take over and let the rage he felt inside body take it all out on you.

He was surprised he somehow couldn’t inflict a single hateful word towards you, even as you sat with his heart in your hands.

In pure bliss of just how much you owned him.

“I hate it. This fucking corner you’ve back me into. Not to mention for the prying eyes of my entire family to watch the show.” The sharp tone he uses sensoring you. “You used me just to get back at him.”

“Like I was some pawn in your game and I really even shouldn’t be mad.” He paused, trying to choose his words as carefully as he can. “I’ve done the same thing to so many different women. Used them and threw them out at my earliest inconvenience.” To your surprise, even Ransom’s, a single tear left his eye showing you how much you really meant to him.

You hated yourself for letting it get to this point.

“But you? I could never even think about hurting you. I could never live with myself if I treated you like everyone else because you’re so much more than that to me.” The tears continued to roll. The dame Ransom kept shut his entire life, opened because of you and he just wanted to make it stop.

He would give anything — even you.

He just wanted to not feel like a piece of shit for once in his life. For a moment, he thought he might have a chance to be something more than the picture he portrayed in everyone’s mind. You showed him maybe it was more complex than it seemed.

“I just assumed I was that for you.” You sighed in frustration, softly wiping his tears away. “You are, though. You are more than that.”

“Then how could you be so okay with lying to me?” The crease between his eyebrows only created more of an indention as he felt the anger trying to escape out of him.

You let the tension get to you first.

“Because I-I was scared if I told you the truth, you’d never tell me.” You puzzled him once again. You softly reach up between his furrowed eyebrows, the pad of your thumb smoothing it out.

“Tell you what?” His mind was clouded with the possibilities of what he could have missed.

“I can’t spell this one out for you.” You were tired of being the one to do everything first. Even if your intentions weren’t free from fault once you realized who he was, your feelings for him were anything but.

“I don’t know what you want from me. You only let me fall for you because you knew how much it would hurt him.” He bit back, growing impatient and tired. “Any other time, I would have cared. Probably would have been more than happy to assist. But you made me-”

Then Ransom cut himself off, jumping out of the swing and away from you.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I thought I could.” He literally sprinted to his beamer, but you chased him.

You were hell bent and just as crazy as he was. Maybe it’s why it worked for as long as it did.

“Hugh! Get back here.” You were running, thankful you’d gone for a more casual outfit today, the sneakers supporting your feet far better than the heels you’d usually wear.

Maybe if it was someone with a normal childhood upbringing you would have just cut your losses but this was someone who chose to be called Ransom.

This was someone who chose to run away from love and care because the only affectionate way he knew how to treat someone was to throw money at them.

This was someone who had the communication of a ten year old because that’s when his own mother didn’t bother to mess with him anymore before sending him off to boarding school.

This was someone who didn’t know how to love — and to be loved.

By the time you caught up to him his was digging for his keys, but he couldn’t fucking find them.

“Hugh Ransom Drysdale.” Your tone was sharp and he knew you meant business. “For once in your life, stop running away.”

“Why not? What good has it ever done for me to stay?” His back was facing you, his broad shoulders stilled with the rest of his body. Almost like he was ashamed of what he was hiding.

“I can’t speak for everyone else. I can’t speak for your mother or for Richard. For Harlan or for anyone else you thought might abandon you and really did.” You inched you way closer until you knew he felt how close you were to him.

“I can only speak for me.” Giving yourself, the final piece of you to a man who might run away from it.

You were so close he felt your breath on his back, and it made him tremble. He was shaking, terrified of it all. You didn’t let him be for long.

Intertwining your fingers with his, as he kept them at his sides, rubbing your thumb along the palm of his hand.

“I’m sorry for the way I hurt you. Lied to you. You never deserved it. Never.” You thought it would be easier if he didn’t have to look at you while pouring your heart out to him. A theory proved to be right as he gave your hand a squeeze.

“You’ve done nothing but treat me like a princess. You’ve done right by me, more than anyone else I’ve ever met in my life. It made me feel inadequate. My dark secret, always looming over us like a dark cloud of my own personal doing.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t done the proper thing by us and made you feel like I used you. You had every right to feel it because I did.” You took a deep breath, mustering up the courage to face whatever the future held for the two of you.

“I never expected to fall in love with a trust fund, playboy brat.” You felt him take a deep breath, like a breath he’d be holding all his life could finally be set free.

“I love you, Hugh.” The next thing you knew he had you pushed up against the car, lips hungrily attacking your own.

All forgiven because you love him. You actually were in love with him.

He couldn’t fathom it really because you’d been the first. To accept him just as he was. The first to refuse to call him Ransom because you like the way Hugh rolled off your tongue better.

You liked how he felt on your tongue, too.

The first to tell him Fran and Marta should call him Hugh because you wanted to be the only one who got to. The first woman to cook for him, willingly and not attached to the Thrombey payroll.

The first woman he had ever fallen in love with.

The first one he’d stick around and not run away for.

So, he kissed you. Hard. Softly whispering how much he loved you into the kiss, because maybe he wasn’t ready to say it outright. Loud and proud.

Yet, he felt it with every bone of his body — no longer lost in the blues.

taglist: @tonystankschild @parkastoria @tinylumpiaa @brattycherubwrites

#im so anxious to post this #bc i dont really love it but.......#here we go folks.#i rewrote it too many times sksksk 💀#not doing it again #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale one shot #ransom drysdale fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans x reader #m.writes

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lilyharvord · 3 years

Text

Meet Me at Our Spot

HELLO EVERYONE!! Vet school turned its back for a day and I was able to finish this one for you all. ((: Here is a lovely little one shot that is rated M people, so please read responsibly. Office AU because someone asked for it once upon a time and the image of Cal in one of those well tailored shirts/suits with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows has lived in my head rent free since then. So enjoy!!! ((:

also, I’m obsessed with that song Meet Me at Our Spot by Willow and The Anxiety (specifically the live version). So that’s the vibe were going for. (:

find it on Ao3 too: link

Mare Barrow always felt underdressed when she entered the massive glass and steel structure that housed the Calore enterprises. Even when she put on her only pair on heels, and a nice outfit, she felt like a smudge of dirt on the pristine floors. Today though, she was determined to not feel that way. She had a plan, a vision, and she was not about to let some socially constructed idea like dress code ruin it for her.

Striding up to the main desk before the elevators that lead to the corporate side of the building, she planted herself firmly before Tiria and cleared her throat to announce her presence.

The young woman looked up from the book she was scribbling things in and held up a finger as she spoke into the receiver cradled in her other hand.

“Of course sir. Yes, two on Friday.”

With a sigh, Mare braced her forearms on the counter and glanced out at the massive atrium next to her. Multiple people strolled by in their nice suits and tight business dresses, carrying portfolios and briefcases and talking heatedly about a number of things. She got a few looks from them for her baggy sweatpants, oversized jacket, and faded ugly sneakers. She simply smirked back at them in response, a glint in her eye that dared them to talk about her after they had passed.

No one had ever really gotten a good look at her here, and if they had, it was when she was quickly being ushered past this front desk and into the elevators behind it. She was, for all intents and purposes, a very well-kept secret. One that was mandatory to remain a secret, given her position and her affiliation with this place.

Never in her wildest dreams had she thought she would ever set foot in a place like this, let alone be associated with the circle she now tenuously walked through. It had its perks though, like getting to give a bright shiny middle finger smile to the people Farley would have spit at. Mare couldn’t exactly spit like she wanted to though, because she happened to enjoy being around one of them. And she was supposed to be on her best behavior when she was in this building. It was part of the stupid rules she had been forced to agree to a year ago.

Rule number one: No one can know your name, where you are from, and who you are.

Rule Number two: best behavior at all times when you are in the building or near him. No exceptions.

Rule number three: You are not allowed to show up unannounced or uninvited.

Well rule number three could just go fuck itself today, and rule number two could join it. The rules were just a way of making sure that the pristine reputation of this place didn’t get tarnished in the tabloids. She had laughed herself hoarse when they brought her into that dim conference room and dropped the pile of papers with the rules outlining everything in front of her. She never thought getting into a relationship would feel like a contract or a business deal but somehow this was made into one. Then again, the Calore family could make a business deal out of a child’s pretend game.

“Yes sir, I will let them know. Thank you for confirming, we will see you then.”

Tiria snapped the receiver back into the cradle and turning a scrutinizing eye to Mare she quirked a perfectly manicured brow. Every front desk girl in the world honestly looked the same to Mare, and in this place, there was no exceptions.

“Can I help you?”

“I have an appointment.” Mare said as she pressed onto her toes and pointed with a finger randomly into Tiria’s book.

The girl looked down at the line Mare pointed to with a frown while Mare swiped the key card Tiria always kept just under the ledge with her other hand. Tucking it into her pocket, she forced her eyes wide in a fake showing of bewilderment as Tiria gave her a contempt glare when there was nothing on the line.

“I could have sworn I called!” Mare gasped as she pressed herself up onto the counter to teeter further over it while her feet dangled. Damn these stupid things were high. She should have worn heels just so she could actually see over the top of the counter. “Maybe I should have called to confirm.”

“Miss Barrow, please stay on that side of the counter.” Tiria sighed as she leaned back in her chair.

Sliding down and dropping with a huff, Mare crossed her arms, trying to mimic the expression she saw most of these people give when they didn’t get what they wanted. “I want to go up.”

Forcing her sigh through her nose so it wasn’t as obvious, Tiria shook her head and adjusted a pen that had moved out of its perfectly straight line. “You’re not supposed to be here today. Don’t make me call security.”

“Well that would announce my presence.” Mare argued before picking up her backpack. “Besides, I’ll only be ten minutes.”

“Miss Barrow, I like my job and want to keep it. Leave.”

Letting out her own exaggerated sigh, Mare threw her hands up and spun on her heel to leave. “Honestly, you’d think I’d get a free pass giving who I’m dating in this place.”

Peeking over her shoulder to see if Tiria was still paying attention, she smirked as the girl dropped her head to write something down. One of the benefits of everyone looking down on her here was that as soon as she turned around, she was out of sight and out of mind. It made sneaking around easier.

Spinning back around, she scurried over to the elevators, ducking below the ledge of the counter slightly in case Tiria looked up again. Humming a song she heard on the radio to herself, she swiped the card and pushed the button to call the elevator. She had joked once this place was locked up tighter than a military institution, only to learn there was a reason for that. She doubted she could just swipe a key card and sneak into the Pentagon though.

The doors opened with a little ding, and she glanced over her shoulder once before darting in and pressing the button for the top floor. She had to swipe the key card again and punch in a four digit code she memorized weeks ago, but the doors still slid shut and the massive glass box rose.

Grinning like a fiend, Mare glanced over her shoulder at the green land stretching out behind her. She had to borrow Bree’s car to drive out to this place, and it almost didn’t make it. Her brother’s check engine light had been on since he bought the car, but he assured her it could make it the fifty mile trip and back. It had coughed the whole way, but it got her here. Beyond the trees she could just make out the highway she took with cars rushing along it.

The first time she saw this place, she was afraid of it. Why was it so far away from everything, why was it so tucked away? What were they trying to hide behind the wall of trees? She hadn’t entire believed the excuses they gave, but she was at least certain they weren’t building nuclear weapons at this place.

The doors slid open silently to a long hallway with dark floors and another bank of windows for a wall. Stepping out into the sunshine, Mare strolled forward, adjusting her hair and jacket as she went. Turning a corner, she passed a few smaller offices that belonged to some of the board members that held staff positions. The only one that was closed belonged to one of the only people she really, really didn’t want to see.

Volo Samos made her nervous. If there was anyone who might be trying to make a nuclear weapon in this place, it was that man. She edged by his office, glancing through the swaying vertical shades to see if he was actually there or he had left for lunch. He was sitting at his desk on the phone.

Scurrying past him, Mare quickened her pace. If he was here, then the rest of the board might be too. Which meant she might be walking in on a meeting. Not exactly the best option, and neither was sitting outside in the hall and waiting.

She had been so certain that there was nothing happening this week. She had planned everything around that fact. Maybe she should have called… just to make sure before she drove all the way out here.

Before she knew it though, she was standing before the heavy dark wood doors at the end of that hall. She had never been nervous to open them. They were intimidating with an exterior that was meant to deter people, but once you opened them and peeked inside there was nothing to fear, just like with the man behind them. She knew that, and yet, she had to squash the shake in her hand as she nudge the door open a fraction.

The office was empty.

Throwing the door open all the way, she stepped inside and glanced awkwardly around the space. She had spent enough time in here that she knew there were very few places to hide. Not that Cal would have any reason to hide in his own office. Pursing her lips she pushed the door closed and stormed over to the desk before throwing her bag down behind it and tossing herself into the chair. It spun in a slow circle with her momentum until she faced the back windows. Slouching down she tried to determine her next move with a pout. Maybe he had left for lunch. It wouldn’t surprise her. If the board members were here, then he might have had to play the good CEO and daddy’s boy he was supposed to be and taken them all to lunch to placate them. But Volo was here… so maybe they hadn’t gone to lunch?

She had put makeup on for this surprise. Honestly, was it so hard for him to be in the place he was supposed to be at this time?

Forcing out a sigh, she crossed her arms and spun the chair back around with her toes to look at the papers scattered around the desk. Cal was perhaps one of the most messily organized people she had ever met. He was an oxymoron himself though, so it only made sense. She picked up a thick stack of papers that were clipped together and lifted one of the corners between her finger and thumb like it was radioactive. She didn’t understand a word on the next page or the numbers scribbled in the margins. Putting it back in its place she glanced at the few pictures he kept on his desk.

The first time she had been in his office he had been on a phone call, and she had to entertain herself. She had picked up the pictures and made up the stories behind them while he watched her out of the corner of his eye. The picture of the two little boys crouched and playing in the mud on the edge of a lake was her favorite. She had been confused by it at first, until she saw the one next to it, with the same two boys almost a decade later in front of the Roman Coliseum.

Cal and his brother vaguely looked like brothers. They had similar features, but they wore them very differently. Where Cal was tall and broad, his younger brother was lean and sharp. Their eyes were strikingly different, but it was to be expected. She’d met Maven twice in the year she’d dated Cal. The first time was when he flew home for their father’s retirement party. He’d been quiet and reserved the whole evening until Cal dragged him out for a drink with her after to introduce them, properly as Cal had teased. When the brothers were alone and not around their father, they were different people. Maven especially. He seemed to soften, to melt a little bit. It had surprised her that someone could be so different just because the personnel around them changed. But Maven was a master of it.

The second time she’d seen him, Cal dragged her halfway across the world to Scotland to surprise Maven on his birthday. Cal’s brother lived as far from their father as possible, and honestly, Mare didn’t blame him. Unfortunately, Cal wasn’t afforded that luxury. Hence the rule book she had to follow.

He had a picture with his uncle next to that. The man was a few years younger than her father, but he caried those years poorly. Still, he adored Mare, and she didn’t have to pretend to tolerate him, unlike most of the other people that surrounded Cal at a given time.

A picture with his father was next to that one. It was a close second favorite of Mare’s. She couldn’t stand his father, the man was insufferable, but she loved to look at the younger version of Cal. He looked impossibly different as a kid, so different she almost hadn’t recognized him in the picture. She had told him that he reminded her of a taffy piece that was pulled too long in that picture. He was only ten in it, but his legs were already too long for him, and he was thin as a pole. He certainly had grown into his body, but the smile he gave to the camera there… he only gave it to her now. Or at least, she thought he did. She’d never seen him smile that brightly at anyone else.

Next to that, tucked almost behind the other pictures was a photograph of a young woman in a window box with a toddler resting on her legs. She smiled at him, clutching his hands in hers, completely unaware of the camera trained on her. Cal didn’t talk about it, or the woman in it, but Mare wormed it out of Julian that Cal’s mother was a sore subject with everyone. Even though she was smiling in the picture, Mare could almost sense the sadness that radiated from her. She didn’t look much older than Mare in that picture. No doubt she had been tied up with the same strings and restrictions Mare faced now. If that were the case, Mare wasn’t surprised she had been so sad. The rules and regulations that came with dating a powerful person were like a cage. It worried Mare some days. She didn’t like being confined, but when she was with Cal away from all of this, she didn’t feel that way. It was only when they were together around other people that she did. More oxymorons where the man was concerned.

The door into the office opened and Mare snapped to attention as Cal stepped in. His hands were full with papers he shuffled through while balancing his phone on his shoulder and speaking with someone. He’d nudged the door open with his hip and because of that, he had yet to turn and face her.

Even though she hated all the restrictions she had to face while she dated him, she knew they didn’t truly bother her because he was hers. All of him carefully folded into a suit that hugged every muscle made her stomach tighten and other parts flutter. And all of it was hers, some nobody from a backwater city block. She sometimes felt like a tiny dragon hording a single coin when she was with him. She didn’t have much to her name, never had and probably never would, but he was hers. She wasn’t sure if she would get to keep him, but she planned to enjoy every last second that she could with him.

Her lips curled into a smile as she leaned back in the chair and crossed her leg over the other, trying to paint a picture of coyness. It was probably not the best showing of it, but Cal was a miserable good boy who couldn’t handle anything remotely teasing.

The papers ended up on the other side of the desk from her, while he shifted to hold the phone and rest his other fist on the table. The muscle in his jaw that always twitched when he was irritated fluttered like a bird’s wing now. He pressed his fingers into his closed eyes as if he could force whatever headache was probably there away with just that touch.

“We didn’t agree to that when we signed the papers. They can’t come back and impose that restriction on us now.” She squirmed in the chair at the tone in his voice. There were multiple sides to Cal that she had seen. There was her Cal, who had no idea how to dance, and who blushed whenever she teased him. Then there was the Cal she sometimes got at one in the morning who would grab the inside of her leg while he whispered in her ear exactly what he was going to do. Then there was this Cal. The one who had been heir to an empire company since the day he was born, and who could command a room like it was any other Tuesday. Sometimes it was hot to watch him do it. Right now though, it was the opposite. He wasn’t happy with something, and it honestly sounded like the last thing he needed was her here.

She decided she definitely should have called before coming.

Edging the chair back with her toes, it squeaked as it went over the floor, and his eyes darted up to her before widening.

With an awkward smile, she wiggled her fingers in greeting before spinning the chair to face the back windows. Her cheeks were burning, and there were other parts that had melted to a very dangerous temperature. The look he gave her as he looked up at been fleeting, but it had been enough to put her on the teetering edge of deciding to grab him and pin him to the desk, or ask him to do just that with her.

“Deal with this. Don’t call back until you have.”

The silence following his words told her, that she was now the singular focus of his attention. His gaze was like a brand even through the leather of the chair. Crossing her arms and adjusting her posture accordingly, she went to spin the chair back around. He beat her to it though, spinning it to face him and tipping it back slightly so she had an easier time looking up at him.

“I don’t believe I left anything at the apartment.”

“You left me.” Mare pouted with a withering stare in his direction.

“Very funny. Now how did you even get up here?”

With a smirk, Mare fished the ID card out of her pocket and flashed it before him proudly. He snatched it from her hand with a startled gasp.

“Mare… what the… what are you a thief now?”

“Obviously.” She waved her hand to dismiss his comment before gesturing to the card. “You should really get lanyards to put those on by the way. I just kinda grabbed that off her desk. And if I got it anyone else could have—”

“You can’t go around stealing people’s ID cards. She needs this to get around the building.” He gestured at her with it, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

“Well I needed it more in the moment.” Mare reasoned with a smile before leaning back in the chair. She didn’t really feel that bad, but the worry starting to etch itself into Cal’s brows did make her feel a little guilty.

He tossed it unceremoniously onto the desk before sitting on the edge of it and massaging his face slowly with his hands.

“While I’m happy to see you, I don’t have time to deal with anything outside of work today.” His words were muffled by his palms but she could still hear every stressed syllable. Even when his work got stressful, which it undoubtably was at times, he still could push it aside whenever he saw her. Whatever he had been on the phone about had been serious, serious enough that he actually wasn’t all that happy to see her.

“What happened?” Mare asked, scooting the chair close enough for her to set her hands on his thighs and squeeze gently. Now was not the time to be thinking about just how well that suit fit, but the thought still crossed her mind. Along with a few choice other thoughts.

“Stupidity.”

Cocking her head to the side, she waited for him to elaborate. It took him a moment, but he eventually dropped his hands and let his head fall back to look to the ceiling.

“We signed papers on a deal a year ago. When that happens it’s done, the contract is sealed and stored away. In that contract, we agreed that should anything happen with a shipment, we were not liable. The group we shipped to doesn’t like that anymore, because a 30.5 million dollar shipment got lost.”

Now it made sense to her. This wasn’t anger, or frustration. This was stress. Stress she could handle.

“How does one misplace 30.5 million dollars?” She teased before running hers hand up and down his legs.

“I don’t know. But there are five different parties all in a screaming match over it, including us. And if the other four don’t back down anytime soon, I’m going to have to find 30.5 million dollars somewhere.” His eyes darted down to her as she brushed her thumbs along the inside of his thighs. Glancing up through her lashes at him then, she tilted her head ever so slightly.

“And that is hard because?”

“Does it look like I have 30.5 million dollars lying around to just throw at someone?” He reasons, and the dips in his cadence brought a smirk to her lips. Now she had his attention. Pushing up to her feet she slid between his knees until she could drape her arms around his neck. Immediately, his hands found her hips and hugged her closer still.

“I’m sure there are one or two things you could sell in this building to cover that cost.” She ran her thumb along the back of his neck, before tracing the spot at the base of his jaw. His head tilted in the opposite direction, trying to escape the feather light touch. Both of them knew exactly what it did after all. Smirking at his reaction, Mare ran her other hand along his shoulder, tracing the contours she knew by heart.

“I bet I could pick out one of two things.”

“I don’t need to find the thirty and a half because it’s not our fault what happened.” He squeezed her hips, and even though she could see the fight in his eyes, it was quickly guttering. The tension in his shoulders was still more than she would have liked, but that tended to be where he kept most of it.

“So stressed out over something that isn’t even your fault.” She teased as she pressed her thumb into the knot closest to his neck. He tensed under her, but didn’t speak. At this point, his voice had already dropped an octave, and Mare had known him long enough now to know that when he went silent like this, he was trying to hide just how far she had pushed him. “Do you want help releasing some of that?”

“Not unless you can get up in front of five different boards and convince them otherwise.” She had to admire how even he kept his voice. It still wavered in a few places as he tried to remain composed under her scrutiny. Dropping her hands from around his shoulders to land on his thighs again, she squeezed hard enough to emphasize her next point.

“That sounds like a challenge.” Mare actually witnessed his pupils dilate as she dropped her voice an octave too. “You and I both know it’s not much of one. I can be very persuasive.”

“You’re gonna get us both in more trouble than I can get us out of.” He whispered to her, a tiny smile lifting the edges of his lips. The glint in his eye made her stomach flutter, especially as he started to finger the waistband of her pants. She didn’t want him to put his hands under it just yet though, she still had one surprise she wanted to save.

Pulling back to slip out of his arms, she dropped back into the chair with a proud smirk. “Then I see no reason to not walk me down there, call up these assholes, and have me deal with them.”

His hands grasped the air where she had been a second ago as his mind failed to register her abrupt disappearance. Frowning, he leaned forward to grab the arms of the chair and pull her close again. Her heart pounded against her ribs as she watched him look her over and hold for a little too long on her lips.

“I’d love to see them try and deal with you.”

Oh she was going to make him sweat so very much.

Grabbing his face and yanking it down to hers, she crushed her lips against his. He tasted like mint toothpaste, and he smelled like that cologne she bought him for Christmas. Gisa said it was cheap, but he’s smiled and thanked her for it anyway. And now he was wearing it. The very idea sent a thrill through her.

With a groan, he slid his hands along her legs and then underneath them to grab her ass and hike her out of her chair until she was flush against his chest. Her lips curled into a smile as she took his lower lip between her teeth and pulled hard enough to draw a sound from the back of his throat. Knotting her fingers in his hair, she tugged and whispered, “You get to deal with me first.”

His eyes opened, barely an inch from hers, and the look in them sent a shiver down her spine. When he looked at her like that, it drove her half mad every time. “Put me down and I’ll show you just how persuasive I can be.”

He set her down with exaggerated stillness, making sure to drag her body along his so she could feel every inch of him. Smirking at getting her way, Mare nudged him back until he was sitting on his desk. Bracing her hands on either side of him, she asked, “Which do you want first? Surprise one, or surprise two?”

His brow quirked, and he slid a hand around her waist to pull her between his legs. “I want you, just you.”

When his voice dropped that deep, it made it very difficult to stay focused on what she had planned. But she wanted to see him squirm, and if there was anything Mare Barrow was, it was persistent.

“Surprise number two it is.” She grinned like a cat with a mouse as she hooked his belt with a finger and trailed it along the waistband of his pants to the buckle. Humming to herself, she undid it, sliding it through each loop like a needle with thread. When it was fully out, she held it up with a wink. “Give me your wrists.”

Even in the heat of it all, his cheeks burned. Immediately he put his hands behind his back. Pouting at his movement, she lowered the belt. “It’s no fun if you don’t play along.”

“Can’t be restrained. I may have to get to my phone.”

“Then I’ll answer it and tell them you’re busy.” She teased before cupping the back of his neck and pulling him close to ghost her lips across his. He sighed, and the tension in his shoulders melted as she ran her hand along one side. She loved when he scrambled in these moments. Locked between a rock and hard place, he was like turtle on its back. If all she had to do to knock him down was insinuate like this, she would do it every night.

When he pulled away with narrowed eyes, she released a mock exasperated sigh and tossed the belt away. “Fine, next time.” Without giving him a moment of relief, she unbuttoned his pants and tugged to start sliding them off. “But since it’s my job to help you relieve stress, here’s what I’m going to do.”

He visibly swallowed, even as he helped her slide his pants off. Running her hands up his legs after she dropped them, Mare chewed on her lip. “If you can keep it together for longer than ten minutes, I will let you do me from behind.”

His eyes widened, shock pouring out of every pore of his body. She hated that position, and always refused it. It was the most degrading thing, she insisted. If a man was going to fuck her, he should look her in the eye while he did it. She may be trash from the other side of the tracks, but she knew her worth.

“Ten?” He breathed, his eyes darting to the clock on the wall next to them.

“Ten.” She confirmed before crouching down. “But it has to be ten. If you cheat, I’ll know because I will be keeping track of the time.”

His mouth opened to refute before closing with a snap. She could see him working it over, trying to determine whether or not she would play fair. She never really did, but this time she made a promise to herself that she would. Besides, she trusted him to at least make the whole experience entertaining.

“Clock starts when I do.” She teased before tugging on the waistband of his boxers, making the elastic snap back. He tensed at the feeling, until she pulled them off too.

Perhaps it was the fact that she had snuck up here, or maybe it was the fact that anyone—including one of the most prestigious board members—could walk in on them at any second, but the sight of him sent electricity along every nerve in her body.

It was ten minutes. He wouldn’t make it to five, she told herself as she dragged her tongue along her lower lip. With that thought for reassurance, she gripped his thighs and closed her mouth over his cock. Immediately she felt the muscles in his legs tense, and his breathing hitched. She hummed, almost laughing at his reaction as he immediately grabbed the hair on the back of her head and pulled. She slid back an inch before diving back down, taking more than she had before. The groan he released was loud enough that she almost paused to make sure no one had heard. There was the fun in this, she supposed, getting caught might be exciting.

“Mare.” He gasped as she continued her ministrations, and began to trail her nails along his skin up to his hips. Forcing her head down further, he muttered a breathless apology when she gagged. Digging her nails and fingers into his skin, she smiled and hummed again.

“Fuck.” He spit the word like poison and bucked against her, earning another hum from her. “Not fair, that’s not fair.” He panted as she picked up the pace of her work.

His finger dug into her scalp as he pulled even harder on her hair. She stayed on like a leach though, stifling a laugh at his squirming. His other hand gripped the edge of the desk until his knuckles turned white, and his legs tensed in time with each of her movements. But the stubborn bastard kept it together, and no matter what she tried in her arsenal, he only cursed and gripped that desk until she thought it might splinter.

“Ten,” he crowed with a breathless laugh. “That’s ten.”

Mare snapped away with a grunt, swiping her hand along her mouth, smearing the lip gloss across her cheek. Glowering up at him, she grumbled a curse word that would have made her mother slap her across the mouth. A deal was a deal.

“Don’t look so bitter about it.” He teased, before cupping her face and lowering himself to capture her lips. His tongue darted along hers as his fingers gently pushed the hair he had pulled behind her ears.

When she pulled away for air, her chest ached and the space between her legs ached even more. “I’ve got one more surprise for you.” She rose to her full height, and had the pleasure of seeing a bead of sweat roll down from his hairline. He had barely made it. If she was being honest, she would say that she hadn’t been keeping track of the time. She’d lost all of it to the feeling of his hips rocking and the tension of his muscles.

Backing away a step, she winked at his confusion. “Remember a few weeks ago when I went to mall and made you go find something to do?” She fingered the zipper of her jacket, another bolt of electricity ran down her spine as he straightened up, completely attentive to her. “I was saving this for your birthday, but I got tired of waiting.”

As she went to unzip the jacket, he leaped, catching her hands almost knocking her over. Scrambling to stay on her feet, Mare let him take her whole weight as she gasped. “Fucking hell Cal—”

“Let me.” He smirked as he straightened her up and grabbed the zipper before she could. With a gentle tug, he unzipped it halfway, his eyes darkening again as he caught sight of the top half. She’d picked it carefully, the first time she’d ever done something like that honestly. Normally she grabbed things off the rack and hoped it matched. This though, she had taken her time selecting.

He had the jacket off in less than a heartbeat, and his fingers danced along the thin black lace of the corset. His eyes followed his hands as he searched the whole thing over, making her swallow in uncertainty. He trailed a knuckle along one of the many straps, his teeth obviously working at the inside of his cheek. Gently, he grabbed the waistband of her sweat pants and pulled them down as he dropped into a crouch before her. His eyes widened at the matching bottoms.

Immediately, his hands gripped the back of her legs as he glanced up at her. The weight of that stare could crush her if she didn’t realize that it was the most reverent of gazes. He looked at her like she had put the stars in the sky, and hung the moon too. It she was honest, she would admit that it might go to her head a little bit ans that the smile she gave him was mostly fed by that. She could bring this man to his knees by simply standing in a pair of lacy panties.

“Where,” he voice cracked on the word, and his fingers dug into her hamstrings a little more before he dragged his lips up the inside of her bare thigh. “Where did you keep this?”

Threading a hand through his hair, she exhaled in a sigh as his lips grazed the seam along the inside of her thigh. “You like it?”

“I’ll like it better when it’s on the floor.” He murmured before sliding his hand up to grip her ass again. She almost yelped, and grabbing his shoulders she let out a breathless laugh as he pressed more kisses along the inside of her thigh.

Standing up, he kept his hand on her as he lifted her off the ground. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and let him spin her around to the desk. With a quick sweep of his hand, he sent the papers all over it to the side before laying her down on it. With a tug, he dragged her back to the edge so she was still straddling him and braced his hands on either side of her head. She panted as she watched his lips curl into a hint of a smile.

“Forget fucking you from behind.” He murmured, before lowering himself to trail his nose along her sternum. “I want to see every inch of you in this.”

She grinned triumphantly as he slid a hand up her side to squeeze her breast, made far more generous with the help of the corset. It had been a good idea to listen to the pushy sales girl just because of that. “Good thing you don’t have to take it off.”

His brow quirked in confusion, and sliding her hand down her body, she opened her legs a little wider to brush her fingers along herself. “Made sure it would be easy for you. Didn’t want you to feel intimidated by all the straps and buckles.”

The snort he let out made her laugh, and she smiled as he stole the sound from her lips with a kiss. Rubbing his hips against hers, he lifted them off the table slightly until she was arched against him. Groaning when she felt how hard he was, she dug her nails into his arms, and said, “If I knew all it took to get you like this was wearing a pretty scrape of lace, I would buy sexier panties.”

“I happen to like the panties you already own.” He teased before reaching between her legs for the bundle of nerves there. Rubbing in a tortuously slow circle, he grinned down at her as she craned her head back so her hair spilled across the desk. Grabbing onto the edge above she tried to grind against his palm, seeking further friction.

Dropping his lips to her neck, he let his finger slide down to penetrate her. Groaning loud enough that she actually slapped her other hand over her mouth, Mare arched until her chest was smashed against his. He let out his own pleased sound at how wet he found her, and let her grind against his palm.

“Can you last ten minutes?” He whispered in her ear before catching her earlobe with his teeth and pulling lightly. Mare twitched in response to the movement of his finger inside of her, whimpering when he pressed a kiss to the point where her pulse pounded in her neck. And although this was heavenly, she’d be damned if he won at this.

Setting her jaw, she squeezed her legs together, earning a laugh from him as he withdrew his hand and brought his fingers to his lips. Sitting up quick enough to make herself dizzy, she grabbed his wrist to stop him from putting those fingers in his mouth. He froze as she closed her lips around his fingers and glanced up at him through her lashes. Releasing them with a pop, she watched his pupils dilate until they swallowed almost his entire iris.

Smirking when a blush exploded across his cheeks and neck, she licked her lips and said, “You won’t even last that long.”

Without speaking, he put a hand to her shoulder and slowly guided her back down to the desk as he stood over her. He pinned her hips down with his other hand as he tilted his head to the side ever so slightly and said, “I will take that as a challenge.”

Mare’s heart fluttered in her chest at the tone of his voice, and how deep it had dropped. Keeping her breathing as level as possible, she closed her eyes as he traced a hand along her side and cupped her breast before leaving open mouthed kissed along the column of her throat.

“Cal,” she breathed his name in a gentle exhale as she threaded her fingers into his hair at the same time that he slipped his hand to her entrance again and pressed his palm against her.

“Say my name like that again.” He whispered in her ear. “And I will do anything you want.”

“Anything?” Her voice hitched as she ground against his palm, her eyes fluttering as she sought out the friction he denied her as he teasingly pulled away.

His lips pulled up into a hint of a smile as he withdrew enough that she chased him with her lips. Their breath mixed as he rested his forehead against hers, and through her lightly fuzzy and crossed vision she could see the depths of his irises. Dark gold, and amber like honey. She could drown in them and be happy.

“Anything.” He answered her.

Lowering herself back to the desk, she pulled him with her while her other hand threaded between them to grab his hip and pull him closer. Without breaking eye contact, he let her guide him to her entrance. With a sigh, she tipped her head back and locked her ankles behind his hips as he pulled her completely to the edge of the desk.

“Cal.” She whispered as she grabbed the top of the desk again and squeezed her eyes shut.

“That’s my girl.” He replied before putting a hand on her hip to keep her pinned to the desk and pulled out before pushing in deeper. Mare bucked against him, gasping as she clenched her thighs together around his hips, pulling him closer. Bracing his other hand next to her head, he dropped his chin as he moved in and out. She only regretted doing this here for half a second, since she had to contain whatever sounds she made to minimal volumes. The last thing they needed was Volo Samos hearing something or coming to investigate what he was hearing. Although that might have been part of the thrill. If they were at her apartment, she could be as loud as she wanted, even with the window open. The traffic outside was loud enough to mask anything that happened in her shoebox apartment.

“Harder.” She panted as she dragged her nails down the side of his nice shirt. She wanted to tear it off of him, to get to his skin underneath. He caught her hand before she could do just that, and pinning that hand above her head he obliged her. She half yelped, half gasped as she slid along the desk until her head almost dangled off the edge.

Like a light switch flickering on and off, the light beyond her closed eyelids alternated with each meeting of their hips. She could feel the change in pace as he sensed her reaching her climax, and her lips curled into a pleased smile even as she arched slightly, hoping to escape him to last longer. He laughed softly at her attempt and pulled her toward him until she was dangling off the desk and had to grab on or risk falling to the floor. He caught her, but she still gasped as the change in angle pushed her completely over the edge so she shattered like glass. Every muscle in her legs contracted and her chest hitched on the rapid inhale she took. Curling around him as much as she could in her position, she stifled any other sound that wanted to come out.

The best part? She knew she had lasted longer than ten minutes. The worst part? She wanted him again. And there was no way that was going to happen because as she sat there panting after he put her back on the desk and bent over to kiss her lightly, she heard the subtle ringing from a cell phone.

“You’re getting a call.” She panted in his ear as she ran her fingers through his hair. It was damp now, and his chest pushed into hers with every inhale he took around his rapid heartbeat.

“It can wait.” He murmured in reply before pressing a kiss against her jaw again.

“I thought thirty and a half million dollars meant a lot right now.” She laughed as she traced a finger down the column of his spine from his neck to the middle of his back. He turned the full force of his gaze on her and she almost melted into a puddle in the heat of it.

“You’re worth more than that. More than any deal, any job.” He kissed the tip of her nose. It kept her from turning away to hide the blush that exploded across her cheeks. He traced a thumb along it, and smiling at her he continued, “Who’s blushing now?”

With an amused roll of her eyes, she traced a finger along his jaw in response to his light touches. This close to him, she realized he was beautiful, in the same way a marble statue in a museum was. She used to think he belonged in places like that, surrounded by priceless and irreplaceable objects that everyone paid to see.

“I love you.” She tilted her head to the side, testing the phrase again. It was only the third or fourth time she had used it seriously with him. The weight of it settled over him, and he brought her fingers to his lips to press a kiss to them.

“I love you.” He dropped the hand and pulled her into a sitting position so she could drop her legs from around his waist. Still connected with him, she trailed her fingers along his arms and drank her fill of him with her eyes. A part of her knew that someday she would lose him. Nothing in her life was ever truly hers and he luck had always been rotten, it was why she never bought a lottery ticket. And of course, his father did not like her. He wanted her gone because he saw her as an obstacle, or a hurdle his son would trip over. It took everything to not dig her fingers into Cal’s arm when they were around his father. Maybe if she did so, she could tattoo herself onto him and never lose him.

“What are you thinking so deeply about?” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and pressed another kiss to the tip of her nose.

“Nothing important.” She lied effortlessly, the smile she conjured for him almost real. If he saw through it he didn’t comment. The phone rang again from its sad position on the floor where it had ended up, and this time they both looked at it. The screen was lit up and he grimaced at the number showing on it.

“I think you have to take that one.” Mare whispered before pressing a kiss to his cheek and sliding away from him to hop off the desk. He managed to catch her, and bring her to his chest before she could escape. Closing her eyes, she let herself melt against him for a second, inhaling the smell of his cologne and the smell of her that was now on him.

When he pulled away to grab the phone off the floor and his pants from their pile near it, she sank back into the chair and watched his back as he finally answered the call. Whatever he was saying was like a buzz against her ears. She could only see him right then: the man he was, and the one he could become. She hated what he was in a small part of herself. But he wasn’t… he wasn’t like the other people he had spent most of his life around. And neither was his brother. Maybe that’s what that life did to people like them. Pushed them so hard that they turned out the opposite of their parents.

He glanced at her with a smile as he managed to step into his pants with one hand and pull them up. She conjured up another smile for him and stood to fix his hair. He leaned down far enough that she could do that while he went about stringing his belt back into his pants. She trailed her fingers along his chest and down to the buckle and wrestled his fingers from it to clasp it shut herself.

By the time she had finished he was done with the call, and was sitting in silence watching her work. She glanced up at him through her lashes, but he cupped the back of her head so she tipped her head back completely to him. His thumb rubbed a soothing rhythm along the back of her skull as he whispered, “I have to go. They found a solution.”

She nodded. “So I guess you don’t have to bring out the big guns and put me in front of them.” Her smile was easy even as she prepared to pull away from him again. He held her steady, staring into her eyes for a long moment.

Just after the silence had stretched too far, he whispered, “Thank you.”

“For what?” She managed to disentangle herself from him, and turned to gather her clothes. If he was leaving she needed to disappear too. They couldn’t leave together though, or people might notice. And she did not need it getting back to his father that she had broken any of those stupid rules. Then she might as well consider this the last time she ever saw him. What a last time it would be though. It would live with her for the remainder of what she had heard his father call a measly insignificant little life.

“Everything. You… you make me impossibly happy Mare.” He threaded an arm around her waist before pulling her back against his chest and laying a kiss on top of her head. She finally melted completely into his arms. Wrapping his forearms with hers to trap him for a moment longer she closed her eyes. Suddenly, she didn’t care about the rules she had agreed to. Rules were meant to be broken, and she had always excelled at doing just that. With him, she would break every rule and scatter the ashes of them to the wind.

#(*ask lily*)#(*shut up lily*)#my writing #my fanfics #red queen #glass sword #kings cage #war storm #broken throne #post broken throne #marecal #office au #enjoy everyone!#rated M for MATURE please #thank you #also find on AO3

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

Hi! Do you think you’d be willing to write some Cubs fluff for Mardi Gras? Like Leo making Finn and Lo do something (I don’t exactly know how it’s celebrated)?

Oh my god I LOVE Mardi Gras!!! Also, I haven’t done Cubs fluff in a while, and I combined it with a couple other related prompts. This fic includes Cubs and Coops bonding (ft. Logan being a little shit), Leo learning to drive in the snow, a chaotic trip to the grocery store, and Lions family dinner after a winter walk. Hope you enjoy! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove, as always <3

“Eas—Easy, babe, just take it nice and steady,” Finn gripped the ‘oh, shit’ handle with one hand and Leo’s thigh with the other; in the backseat, Logan rubbed his neck where the seatbelt bit into it.

Leo took an unsteady breath and carefully pressed the gas again, wincing as the car rumbled under him. “Oh god, oh fuck, okay.”

“Snow isn’t that hard to drive in—” Finn cut off as Leo slammed on the brakes again. “—as long as you don’t brake hard whenever you feel a little bit of ice. Lo, you okay?”

“Fine,” Logan wheezed, bracing against the car door.

“Slow and steady wins the race,” Finn murmured, keeping his eyes fixed on the road as Leo began inching forward again. “If you start to slip, take your foot off the gas and do not slam the brakes, okay? We don’t want to skid.”

“I don’t get why you can’t drive us there,” Leo said, glancing in each of his mirrors even though they were still in a fairly residential area. Ten minutes on the road and they’d barely made it four blocks from the apartment.

“Because you need to know how to drive properly.”

“I know how to drive!” Leo saw Finn and Logan exchange a look through the rearview mirror and smacked him lightly on the chest. “Stop it. When’s my next turn?”

“Still 53rd.”

“Left or right?”

“Right.” Finn tapped out a quick text on his phone. “Cap and Loops just arrived at the store.”

“Fuck,” Leo muttered.

“It’s okay, Peanut, take your time,” Logan said. “Just focus on getting there safely.”

Leo tried to breathe deep and they rolled down the block, flinching each time snow or ice crackled under the tires or threatened to make them slide. “I drive in the rain all the time. This shouldn’t be hard.”

“Rain is way different than snow.” Finn pointed to the next intersection. “Turn there.”

They took the turn a bit wide, but thankfully there were no cars on the other side—still, both Finn and Logan went pale. Logan cleared his throat. “Streets here aren’t as wide as New Orleans, mon amour.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Leo grumbled. “How much further?”

“The parking lot is on the next block.”

They almost got stuck driving up the small ramp into the parking lot due to Leo’s ‘slow and steady’ approach and he could have sworn he heard Logan muttering the Hail Mary in French under his breath. Parking was easy—nobody in their right mind would be driving after a true Gryffindor snowstorm. Except us, he thought wryly as he turned the engine off.

“Don’t forget to lock the car,” Finn said mere seconds after the key was out.

“Dude.”

“Sorry. Uh, Cap’s by the produce section.”

They were too focused on not slipping and falling on their asses to talk much while they walked through several snowdrifts to get to the front entrance of the grocery store; Leo sighed with happiness as soon as the heated air hit his face.

“Harzy!” Cap waved an arm over his head from the apple stand, smiling brightly. “You survived!”

“It was a close one,” Finn called back with a grin, sliding his hand into Leo’s back pocket as the three of them walked over.

“Dibs on riding in the cart!” One of Logan’s legs was already halfway into the basket before Sirius could stop him; he kicked aside the celery and onions and settled down, leaning back onto Sirius’ hands. “Bonjour.”

“Get out.”

“Non. I live here now.”

“I’m not pushing you.”

“I will!” Finn said. “Where’s the old ball and chain, Capsicle?”

“Call me that again and you can say goodbye to your ball and chain,” Remus said drily, lugging a bag of rice over from the other aisle. He stopped when he saw Logan, looking amused. “Hiya, Tremz. You look comfy.”

“Oh, I am.” Logan lounged in the cart, letting one leg drape over the side; he groaned when Remus set the rice bag on his chest. “Was that necessary?”

“No, but it was funny.” He grinned at Leo. “How was driving?”

Leo shrugged. “Decent.”

Sirius snorted as they began walking toward the meat section. “That bad, huh?”

“It’s a miracle I wasn’t beheaded,” Logan said. “Fish, how fast can you make it to the end of the aisle?”

“Loops, time me.” Finn tightened his grip on the cart and bent into a runner’s stance; Leo and Sirius both rolled their eyes as Remus dug his phone out of his pocket and opened up the timer.

“Ready…set…go!” Finn ran for three steps before hopping onto the under carriage as Logan whooped. Remus stopped the timer. “Four point six seconds! Get back here, I wanna try.”

“You’re not going to beat that time,” Logan laughed as he climbed out of the cart.

Sirius raised his eyebrows at the same time Remus stuck his tongue out. “Watch me. Knutty, can I trust you to be an unbiased timer?”

Leo shrugged. “Sure, gimme your phone.”

“You have one of your very own.”

“Trying to hide something, are we?” Logan wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Sirius pushed him away by the forehead. “Spill the beans, Loops! Got some spicy messages in there? Some things poor baby Nutter Butter can’t handle?”

“No, I just don’t trust any of you with anything that belongs to me,” he laughed. “You’re walking safety hazards.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment,” Leo said as he set the timer. “Ready? Go!”

Sirius nearly tipped the cart over when he stood on the lower bar, making both of them yelp and wobble for a moment. Leo stopped the clock at the end of the aisle. Three point nine seconds.

“Sorry, guys, that’s four point eight seconds!” he called as Sirius pushed the cart back up to them.

Remus narrowed his eyes. “Show me the phone.”

“I already reset the time.”

“So we definitely won,” Sirius said while Remus clambered out of the basket and Logan took his place. “Get out, Tremzy!”

“Make me!”

Sirius reached in and grabbed him under his armpits, but Logan kept a tight grip on the sides. “Are you done?” Remus asked wearily once Sirius started shaking him. “ ‘cause our grocery list is, like, a million miles long.”

With a disgruntled noise, Sirius dropped Logan back into the cart. “With any luck, he’ll be crushed under the food. What’s next?”

They had a few more competitions during their journey through the store, including onion basketball, vegetable Tetris, and a highly amusing game of twenty questions that ended in Sirius laying the bag of rice over Logan’s face.

Leo did some mental math as they walked out with six grocery bags full of ingredients. “We’ll need about seven pots to fit all this, but we’ve only got two that would work.”

“I think we’ve got one or two as well,” Remus said as he hauled a bag into the trunk of their car and brushed his hands off. “Celeste probably has some, and I can give Lily a call. Where are we making it, again?”

“Dumo’s. There’s nowhere near enough space at the apartment and I don’t want these two anywhere close to it.”

Finn shot him an offended look over a bag of onions. “Hey!”

“I love you, sweetheart, but if you fuck up my gumbo I’ll cry.” In the back of his mind, Leo was already thinking of small jobs for Logan and Finn to do so they could make it together, but they didn’t need to know that. It could be a Mardi Gras surprise.

“The sun’s coming out,” Sirius mused, looking upward at the clear blue sky. “Nothing we bought is going to melt. Do you want to go for a walk before we head out?”

Logan checked his phone. “We’ve got time.”

“Sounds good to me,” Leo agreed.

“I’m never going to say no to a snow day,” Finn laughed, wrapping his arms around Leo and Logan. “Lead the way.”

“So, Knutty, gumbo is basically chicken noodle soup, right?” Sirius asked as he linked elbows with Remus and started down the sidewalk.

“Uh, no.” Leo made a disgusted face and reached out to smack the back of his shoulder. “That’s blasphemy. Gumbo is more like stew, but you put less meat in it and more of a vegetable base. There aren’t noodles, either. Do you even know what a roux is?”

Sirius glanced back at Finn, who shrugged. “…I do not.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Leo muttered. “A roux is the base to all good New Orleans food. It’s flour and oil, and you heat it up so whatever you’re making has an actual taste to it, as well as some thickness. If you get it wrong, the whole thing is pretty much ruined.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Damn.”

Ahead of them, a pack of kids played pickup hockey on the park’s frozen pond. Several of them wore Lions sweatshirts or hats and Leo leaned his head on Finns beanie with a smile. “Look at how cute they are,” Finn cooed, waving to some of the astonished parents who had spotted them.

“Oh, killer hit,” Remus said as one kid went on a breakaway. “Is he—hey, nice shot!”

They paused for a second to applaud and a jumble of excited yelling echoed off the trees around the pond; Leo burst out laughing and draped his other arm across Logan’s shoulders, pulling him in closer to their huddle as they began to walk again. “We should head out there sometime. We live close enough.”

Finn hummed in agreement and stood on his tiptoes with a hopeful smile. “Kisses?”

Leo obliged, still grinning. “You’re ridiculous. That had nothing to do with hockey.”

“I didn’t get any kisses,” Logan grumbled, snuggling into Leo’s ribs.

“Get up here and I’ll give you one!”

“My nose is cold!”

Leo sighed dramatically and bent down to kiss the rosy tip of his nose—at the last second, Logan popped his chin out of his coat collar and caught his lips. “That was smooth as fuck. Better?”

“Much.”

“Are you three being gross again?” Remus teased, craning his neck to look back.

Finn raised his eyebrows. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“One walk,” Sirius sighed. “I wanted one walk where we could hang out in peace and quiet.”

“You invited the wrong people for that,” Leo snickered as they looped back around the block into the parking lot. “Harzy, baby, can you drive us back?”

“You need to learn!”

Leo turned on his saddest puppy eyes and stuck his lower lip out. “Please?”

Finn scrunched his nose up and flicked his shoulder lightly. “You’re too cute for your own good.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Obviously.”

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

After a quick pit stop at their apartment to pick up the pots, they arrived at the Dumais house just past two in the afternoon. Sirius and Remus pulled into the driveway just as they began unloading groceries from the truck and hurried over to give them a hand; all five of them were immediately mobbed by children the second they set foot in the house. Leo carefully took the onions from Logan so he could sweep Katie over his shoulder and tickle her knees, making her dissolve into giggles.

“My boys!” Celeste called from the entrance to the kitchen. She practically glowed with excitement as she pulled them into a group hug and Leo melted a little when she pressed a kiss to each of his cheeks. “You brought the food, yes?”

“We’ve got everything we need,” he confirmed, holding the onions and a pot up as proof. “As long as you’ve got counter space, we’ll be a-okay.”

Sirius and Logan lingered in the doorway, chatting with the kids in rapid French that Leo didn’t even try to keep up with—he used to think regional differences were made up for internet clout, but even after living with Logan for close to a year he sometimes struggled with the pace.

Celeste helped them gather cutting boards, knives, and basic spices that they hadn’t picked up at the store; Leo felt a thrill in his gut and drummed his hands happily on the countertop at the sight of the familiar ingredients. He made a mental note to send a picture to his mother later that night as he rolled up his sleeves.

“Think you can handle rinsing vegetables?” he asked, passing Finn a bag of green peppers.

Finn rolled his eyes, but he was smiling, and he pressed a kiss to Leo’s cheek before going to the sink. Remus unpacked the last of the bags and gave him an expectant look—Leo was struck by the sudden realization that for once, he was the only one in the kitchen who knew the recipe.

“Um, I’ll start the roux,” he said, grabbing the flour and oil. “Loops, can you start dicing the peppers, celery, and onions? Cap can help out once he gets the squid children off him.”

A smile tugged at the edge of Remus’ mouth. “Bold of you to assume he won’t drag them in here.”

“Alright, Rookie, what’s my job?” Sirius panted, grinning wildly as Adele wrapped herself around his lower leg and groaned with each dragging step.

Remus spared him a playful I told you so look, and Leo shook his head. “As long as you can use a knife with a kid clinging to your leg, you can help your fiancé chop the basics.”

Sirius mock-saluted him and hobbled to the counter; behind him, Logan wandered in with Marc under one arm and Katie under the other. “I have potato sack delivery,” he announced, giving them each a gentle shake. “Can these go in the gumbo, too?”

“No!” both shrieked at the same time, flailing their legs.

“Those look like pretty good potatoes to me…” Sirius said, glancing down at Adele. “What do you think?”

“Put ‘em in the soup!” she yelled.

“It’s not soup,” Leo complained, though he couldn’t be heard over the loud protests of the youngest Dumais kids.

Sirius finally got Adele to let go of him when he started cutting onions—“Do you want to smell like onions?”—but Katie perched on the edge of the counter and watched every move Leo made with eagle eyes as he finished each roux and began mixing the trinity in. Each motion was muscle memory—the smells wrapped him in a hug made of tangy peppers, smooth chicken broth, and a kick of spice at the very end.

Much to his surprise, Sirius, Finn, and Logan were quick learners. Making five massive pots of gumbo was much easier when he had five more hands helping him; Celeste had even been sweet enough to put jazz on as they cooked and the six of them took turns dancing, partnering with whomever was closest.

The others started arriving at five—almost immediately, the kitchen was crowded with ten new hockey players who crammed as close as they could to the stovetop to smell the bubbling broth. Noelle was the only one who was allowed to get within ten feet of the food, much to Talker’s chagrin.

Honestly, it was a miracle that they made it to the table without the rest of the team falling on the gumbo like a pack of wild hyenas who hadn’t eaten for a week. Kasey’s bouncy leg shook the edge of the table in anticipation until Leo reached over and smacked him on the thigh with his spoon. “Be patient, Bliz.”

“I’m always patient!”

Eight different people made noises of protest and he scoffed, leaning his face over the bowl to get a whiff of the thick steam. Dumo tapped his fork on the side of his cup; it wasn’t quite a classy ding-ding, but it made enough noise to catch people’s attention.

“First, thank you all for coming here for a family dinner,” he said, smiling so wide it made Leo’s heart warm. “Second, I’d like to welcome the older and wiser O’Hara to his very first Lions dinner, since he had the great fortune of visiting just in time to be adopted by the team for a night!”

Loud cheers filled the house and Alex gave a slight wave, blushing under the attention as Kasey and Nat jostled him between their shoulders.

“And finally, everyone say ‘thank you’ to Knutty for sharing his top-secret gumbo recipe from home. We might not celebrate Mardi Gras like New Orleans, but this is a party nonetheless.” Dumo raised his water with a wink and Leo squeezed Logan’s hand under the table as seventeen voices thanked him for his cooking, despite the fact that they hadn’t even tasted it yet.

The house went dead silent as people took their first bites, then erupted into noise. “Holy shit, Knutty!” Nado all but shouted, shoving another spoonful into his mouth. “This is witchcraft.”

“It’s called ‘cooking’, you should try it sometime,” Leo shot back, grinning. The chicken thighs melted in his mouth, and the pop of lemon and spice at the back of his throat tingled all the way down to his bones. He didn’t think Pots had taken a breath in thirty straight seconds. Leo closed his eyes, letting the tangled muddle of his family’s voices roll over him, mixing with the taste of home.

“Ça va, mon amour?” Logan asked under his breath, touching his elbow.

Leo smiled and touched their foreheads together, setting his spoon down on the edge of his bowl. “I’m so fucking happy right now.”

Logan smiled and the edges of his eyes crinkled. “You look happy.”

“You two are whispering without me?” Finn whined, scooting his chair over a few inches and squishing Logan between them. His bowl was already half-empty, Leo noted with a sense of satisfaction. “That’s rude.”

“I love you,” Leo said. It needed no embellishments; no big, dramatic displays. “And I love making food for everyone.”

“You can do it any time, baby rookie.” Kasey scraped the sides of his bowl to catch the last few grains of cornbread, knocking his knee with Leo’s. “Next time we have a sleepover, I’m not ordering pizza.”

“So I’m going to be your personal chef?” Leo snorted. “Not a chance.”

“What’s that saying? The Mardi Gras one?”

Leo savored his next bite of gumbo and looked around the table as everyone chatted and laughed at the top of their lungs. “Laissez les bon temps rouler,” he said. “Let the good times roll.”

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thebadboyfanclub · 4 years

Text

You Can Do Better (Rio x Reader)

Requested by anon, i’ve posted this for the third time and tumblr is being a fucking asshole to the point were i’m thinking of quitting this since every week I get a new way of them hiding my works. Enjoy it while it lasts

T.W. mentioning of attempted rape

(Y/n) had been Micks neighbor for a few months before the incident happened, this absolute dumpster was the only thing she could afford at the time, fresh out of college, in a foreign country without any family, but she was hoping to moving quickly. However, when Mick was coming home, he heard her screams and cries for help from the bottom of the stairs, he had seen her once or twice, even baked him cookies when he first moved in, she was nice and a quiet neighbor.

He found (y/n) being held down by two men in masks and one of them try to rape her, she was begging and screaming, he almost acted on instict when he shot the guy in the back, the other tried to attack him and he also ended up with a bullet in between his eyes. (Y/n) thanked him and Mick had to stop her from calling the police. Instead they called Rio. He was met with two dead bodies, A girl in her torn pajamas shaking and crying and Mick trying to calm her down.

“Those motherfuckers”

Was all he said, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what had gone down, Rio was a criminal and balls deep in despicable things, yet he was proud to say he had never laid hands on a woman nor a child. He kneeled in front of her, took a good look at her eyes, her entire body shaking as she looked at him, you could sense the trauma she had been through.

Rio had heard of her when Mick told him about this little girl next door that baked him cookies as a welcoming gift, he recalled how his friend laughed when he mentioned that the girl asked him his opinion about the next tattoo she wanted to get. Now this happy light hearted girl was replaced because two men thought they are superior.

“Hi sweetheart, I understand this is hard, we will take care of everything alright? You trust us?”

“I had locked the door, I was sleeping”

“I know sweetheart, it wasn’t your fault. We’ll take care of you ok?”

“Thank you”

Since Mick had vouched for her and Rio had seen her at her worst they felt obligated to take her under their wings, maybe even help her earn a little more money, get a good car, pay her bills comfortably, that sort of stuff. Until one day she asked to do more, get initiated

“Mama this isn’t the playground, we ain’t playing cops and robbers”

“I know, but you said I am learning quickly, why not teach me more?”

“Why you wanna do this? All of a sudden you feel like being a gangster? You were shaking in your shoes a few months ago”

“I’m done being your little child Rio, I want to hold my own. I will do this with or without you”

Rio looked at her with a serious face. She was growing, becoming fearless, ruthless, he had seen it coming, she was picking up more slack, asking more questions, she wanted to prove herself.

“You’re threating me mama?”

“And what if I am?”

She quickly not only proved herself, she became one of his most valuable members, she was his secret weapon, nobody would suspect a young little hotel receptionist being linked to them. She worked twice as hard and smarter than most if not all his men, advised him wisely and was always cool, calm and collected, she worked best under pressure. Scared little (y/n) felt like had never even happened, she was his soldier now, she had Micks status and Mick couldn’t be more proud, he had a soft spot for her.

“Hey mister policeman, Have some room for another criminal?”

She joked as she leaned at the door of her car, waiting for the new little boy toy to get out of the police station. Now the normal question is why is (y/n) around a police man, there is a two part answer to that. Great lover and also great cover, she was his little thing, so nobody would dare blame you for any crime, the girl of the police man being a gangster? it sounded like a joke.

“Depends on what crime we are talking about miss”

“I can think of a few, we can put those handcuffs to use”

As he approached her she smiled and took off her sunglasses. She looked amazing in her blue loose ripped jeans and a simple oversized white t shirt, a chain necklace around her neck and some nice rings on her fingers as her hair fell in front of her breasts, wearing a pair of high heels to style it up.

How you doing gorgeous?”

“Oh you know, thriving and surviving. How about you, I thought you had a day off today”

“Yes but I got assigned to a new case”

“Ohhhh should I be concerned? any criminal on the loose?”

“Not really, we are trying to find a link for this Rio guy”

Jackpot, this couldn’t have gone better. She tried to contain her smile and leaned back on the door, acting like nothing had happened.

“Oh I think you’ve mentioned him before, what did he do now?”

“Lots of things but motherfucker always slips away, chief thinks he has someone on the inside”

“Like a dirty cop?”

“Yes, so he wants me to look into it”

“Look at you, leading a case... Sexy”

The guy smiled at her, he was completely fooled and hooked. She hadn’t told anyone about her plan of seducing him to get information, she didn’t need to up until this point, yet what she did not calculate was Rio seeing her outside the police station talking to a fucking cop, the outmost enemy and being all close and cozy to him, acting all buddy buddy in broad daylight.

“I’m glad you like it miss”

“There’s a lot of things I like about you baby, anyway I have to go, I have a shift to clock in to”

“I’ll see ya later?”

“Maybe. Bye handsome”

At that (Y/n) got in her car and drove away. Rio was pissed, the girl he trusted and the girl he wanted was flirting with a policeman, how could she? He trusted her, taught her everything he knew, gave her everything with generosity and she was becoming a cops whore? Of course it wasn’t just about flirting with a cop, it was flirting with someone that wasn’t him.(Y/n) was a charming woman, he found her extremely attractive and she was even better now with the confidence she had gained over time, she was a woman he craved, the woman he wanted to have on his side, a queen that could hold the keys to his kingdom. Now all this was slowly shattering, no there had to be an explanation and he couldn’t wait to hear it.

Of course he could not just appear at her workplace, she was gracious enough to arrange a room for him incognito when Beth shot him, yet they had to act like strangers so all he could do was wait for her.

“Hey boss, sorry I’m late I had to take care of a few things”

“Like that cop friend of yours?”

She had barely closed the door of his office before he blurred it out, he had this whole plan of making her confess by herself, except when he saw her he lost control. Betrayal and confusion clouded his mind, as she stood there a bit dumbfounded for a quick moment before smirking at him.

“Stalking much?”

“I like to make sure my people are in line”

“Really? Is that why Beth is still walking around unharmed?”

He knew how much that had shook her up, (Y/n) took care of him almost as good as the doctor, she stayed with him until he fell asleep, helped him renew his bandages and anything else he needed, even though she never said it he was aware she was extremely concerned for him and he was grateful for her care, which made it even more complicated considering the fact that he was slowly becoming more addicted to her, needing and wanting more than she gave him.

“Let’s just cut to the shit, what were you doing there?”

“Talking”

“Talking? to a cop? what is this (y/n) huh?”

She sat in the chair calmly, any normal person would have either shit their pants or told him what they were planning right away. (Y/n) on the other hand found this amusing, she had grown tired of him doing things without considering the danger he was putting himself, especially when it came to Beth and the others, if it was anyone else they would have been six feet under the second Rio opened his eyes, now he had cut them in once again and had almost gotten Boss status.

“Yes, one of your little ladies is married to a cop, what’s the issue with me talking then?”

“Last time I check you ain’t never flapped your gums to a fed”

“I don’t flap my gums Rio, I have conversations and if you really want to know he is my new boy toy. He also was the one that told me about your case, how the fuck do you think I got the information? By holding interviews?”

Rio didn’t know how to feel, she was still working for him, had used her privilege to get information for him that had saved him a lot of money, however the whole “boy toy” thing did not sit well, she liked him, she gave him her time and even though she was stringing him along, she still had him in her life.

“You did what you were supposed to do and you got rewarded, so why you still talking to him”

“Don’t start the bullshit Rio, I’m not your daughter nor your girl so why do you care who am i fucking with”

“Where’s your fucking respect to your boss (y/n)?”

“Respect? how about where’s the respect for yourself? You let the suburban moms do whatever the fuck they are doing and I’m getting shit for having sex and getting you info from the feds?”

He was pushing it, he knew that and he didn’t care, it was time to reveal his cards and she was going to do the same, whether she liked it or not. Rio leaned back on his chair, his hand rubbing his chin as he looked at her, sitting there and looking right back at him, she wasn’t lying he knew that, she had a point for the suburban moms and she had expressed her disapproval for the little thing that was going on between him and Beth. What he did not understand was if she didn’t like it cause she was a tad bit jealous or because it fucked with their money and reputation?

“You are something else you know that?”

“Yet you still question my methods, if I remember correctly I wasn’t the one that planted three bullets in you”

“You are scared of losing me mama?”

She did not respond, she just turned and looked away from him. Of course (y/n) had picked up his little flirty remarks from time to time, she would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit she had thought of how he would be in bed, how his embrace would feel, his raspy voice was enough to start fantasies enough to make a book.

“Let’s say I am, what are you scared of Rio? Why do you care who I’m sleeping with?”

“He is a cop”

“A handsome cop, I’m sure you noticed how nicely that uniform was on him, let me tell you it’s even better when he sweats”

“I don’t need to hear it”

“Why? Does it bother you Christopher?”

She raised herself from the seat and placed her hands on the desk, leaning closer to him and making her breasts show just enough as her back curved in a perfect little S, she focused in his eyes as her tongue went over her upper lip. Rio got closer to her, his hand reached her face, as he held on to the side of her head and his thumb went over the lower lip.

“You’re not for him mama”

“Why not?”

“A woman like you is not for no goody two shoes, you can do better”

“Really? like who?”

They could feel each others breaths, their faces were almost touching as they both spoke in whispers, this conversation was not meant for no one else, they didn’t even have to speak as their body language was saying everything it needed to be said. She felt her breath become more swallow, his scent was getting her a tad bit flustered and so was hers to him.

He wanted to take her right here and then, just the idea of her naked body was enough to drive him wild, her hair was so soft he could only imagine them stuck on her face from the sweat, the most amazing part was her lips, soft and full that made his mind go wild with the need to feel them in his lips and his body, the doors to her moans.

“I can show you better than I can tell you”

“Let’s get it then boss”

#rio x reader #rio imagine #rio x you #rio x oc #good girls rio #good girls nbc #rio good girls #good girls imagine #nbc good girls #manny montana imagine #manny montana x reader #manny montana x you #manny montana #good girls x reader #good girls rio x reader #good girls rio nbc #rio

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amidstsaltandsmoke · 3 years

Note

Drabble challenge- 46 and maybe extra angsty please 🥲🥲🥲

Hiiiiiii! Ok, I don't think that I really pulled off the EXTRA angsty, but there IS angst involved!😆 Then I had to throw in the hurt/comfort/fluff. I also changed up the quote a little bit, I hope you don't mind! This is from an unnamed universe I'm currently working on 😌🥰 Hope you like!!!! Thanks for the ask! 🤗🤗🤗 ________________________________________________ 46.) “I thought you were dead!”

Jon was losing his damn mind.

Dany never went this long without responding to his texts and calls, especially when he was out of state for work and he only had technology to rely on to reach her. He wasn't possessive by nature, but ever since learning of her sometimes fragile condition - to which she insisted was not the case - he couldn't and wouldn't dare let his protectiveness be put by the wayside.

She was too important to him, and he really didn't know what he would do without her. Couldn't even begin to outline a picture of what his life would even look like without her right by his side in it.

He'd left the project early so he could return to the rental house and try her again. His boss had all but tossed him off the property by the hem of his pants because he'd been not only obsessively checking and rechecking his phone, but he was far too distracted and had already nearly drilled his thumb into a roof.

It was all in support, however - his boss knew Jon well, and understood the situation, and wouldn't sack him just because he loved his wife so hard it made him physically ill to think she might be in some form of danger. He didn't even care if she'd suffered a paper cut. He'd disinfect and bandage the shit out of that, too.

Gods, he was just as bad as her father had been, wasn't he? The very hovery, constantly-looking-over-shoulder person that Dany loathed and grew up with. He tried not to be, and most times he was successful. But he also wasn't typically eight hours away, halfway across the country, either.

He paced the living room, the other line just ringing and ringing with no answer. Her silky voice in the form of her voicemail passed through his ear again, and he sighed heavily. "Dany, I don't know what's goin' on, but you're really freaking me out. I'm sure you'll have my head when you see all the missed calls and messages...but please just let me know you're ok. You can send me the middle finger emoji for all I care. Love you more than anything. Bye."

Thumbing the red "END" button, he chewed on his lip and looked around the mostly-barren room, save for his suitcase which was still packed with his clothes. Tomorrow was the last day he needed to be here before flying back home...how crazy would it be to catch that night's red eye, anyway? And how livid would Dany be that he ditched this huge contract at the tail end?

His heart was made up before he could even try to rationalize it.

"Davos? I'm gonna take off...it's not like her to-," he chuckled nervously, while Davos commanded him to 'say no more and go get your girl'. "Thanks, mate. I'll keep you updated."

He wasn't sure Davos wanted to know any more than whether or not he found Dany safe and sound with all of the sulking he'd been doing the last several days.

Jon gathered up his toiletries from the bathroom in one hand, while his other was busy weaving around the airline website to book the soonest flight. To his relief, there was one in an hour and a half, which would give him just enough time to call for a rideshare and zoom his way over with thirty minutes to spare.

After the typical hell that was the airport and boarding process, plus the hole he burned through his credit card in just two hours alone (beyond worth it), he was in the air. Another torture was the distance; he managed to get himself a nonstop flight and shaved off two hours but still…

Naturally, he refused to sleep. His phone was clutched in his hand so the moment he landed, he could check it to see if he’d gotten any responses.

No luck.

He rushed through baggage and had already scheduled his next rideshare prior to his flight. Now that he was in his homeland and a mere twenty minutes from home, the anxiety and nausea were really setting in, the what-ifs and the endless possibilities; he wouldn’t know what he’d do if she wasn’t at the house…

When they pulled up, he was flooded with relief to see that her car was in the driveway, had he couldn’t have grabbed his luggage and get to the front door fast enough. He rifled for his keys and jammed it into the lock, Ghost’s howls instant and persistent until he got the door open and he whined upon seeing Jon walk through.

“Hey boy,” he greeted quietly, giving him a few good scruffs before haphazardly dumping his stuff on the floor and locking up behind him. He paused and strained his ears, exhaling when he heard the shower running upstairs.

Once he was in the conjoining bedroom, Ghost hot on his heels, he took his time shedding some layers and kicking off his shoes. On the nightstand sat a brown paper bag, folded shut, which was a little odd, but everything appeared to be in normal order. Their regular things skewed about as it was when they were there, Dany’s pajamas laid out on her side of the bed.

As he was going through his drawers to find some pajama pants, the bathroom door opened and he spun on his heel, just to confirm that she was there, safe and in the flesh.

A gust of air gasped into her mouth, her hand flying to her towel-clad chest as she jumped backward. “Seven hells! You scared the life out of me!” She breathed, her cheeks pink from the warm shower and damp hair tumbling about her shoulders. Even just the good-natured joke made him wince; it was the dormant worry that had been on his mind for hours now.

Then, a fond smile came over her face. “You’re home early.”

He was exhausted, and maybe that was why he couldn’t find it in him then to be playful, his brows twisting and her face falling a fraction. “You didn’t answer my texts or calls,” he said as gently as he could, but the fatigue was evident in his tone.

Dany blinked, then crossed her arms over herself, but she was still trying to keep it light. “Missi and I went on an impromptu girls’ vacation after my test and...,” she paused and stepped over to the mysterious paper bag, rustled her hand in it, then withdrew her phone and wiggled it, “dropped it into a pool.”

Jon took a moment to himself to shuck off his jeans and slip into his pajamas. He didn’t want to admit it...didn’t want to give her the ‘w’ word, but they were honest to the bone with one another. It was just how they programmed. He was still a little cowardly, avoiding her eyes when he said it. “I was worried sick about you.”

He heard her huff, and finally lifted his eyes to get a read on her. Clearly she was irritated, but not entirely furious. “There was nothing to worry about, Jon. I was stupid and dropped-”

“Not stupid,” he chided, cutting her a stern look. She was anything but.

Now she rolled her eyes. “It was only a little over a day; I didn’t think it was such a big deal if I just waited until I got home to try and fix it. All the stores were closed by the time I got in. And it was only a little over two days,” she defended.

Slowly, Jon frowned, and it grew deeper by the second. “A lot can happen in a little over two days, Dany,” he stated, tossing his jeans into the hamper in the closet.

“What did you expect had even happened?” She laughed humorlessly, getting more agitated by the second. Then she buried her phone back in the bag, which he now realized was full of rice, and disappeared into the bathroom, returning with her hair brush and began to detangle the damp knots.

He grit his teeth, fists clenching and loosening at his sides. “I don’t know, Dany, but I always get this terrible feeling in my gut after a period of time passes and I don’t hear from you,” his voice rose a hair. “I know you don’t want to hear it, and it’s bloody ridiculous on my end, but it kills me that I can’t turn it off. I worry when you’re at work, when you do a grocery run and I’m not there…,” he huffed and shook his head, running his hands down his face and briefly hiding behind them. He was overwrought with jet lag and lack of sleep and emotions on high, but he’d opened the floodgates now.

“Well, I’m not a fragile piece of glass that needs to be in a bubble day in and day out,” she returned, “or maybe I am, who knows! But I don’t want to be thought of that way. You know that. It makes me feel worse about myself and what I’m capable of and gives me heightened anxiety. I worry when you worry and it’s a vicious cycle!”

Closing his mouth, he forced himself to inhale a lungful of air through his nose, releasing it between his lips. “I do know. But it’s how I’m wired; I can’t help it sometimes.” Dropping his arms to his sides, he sighed. Gods, of course she wasn’t fragile. She was, far and away, the strongest woman, the toughest human being he’d ever had the pleasure of knowing let alone sharing a life with. He made it a point to remind her of that every single day, with all sincerity. She was the best thing that could have ever happened to him, bar none. Some days he wondered how and why he’d gotten so damn lucky, such as now. He was doing the very thing he swore he wouldn’t. Her father had been overbearing enough. And it wasn’t all-consuming always, but sometimes his nerves got the best of him.

Dany’s eyes narrowed. “Did you think I died or something?”

The dagger twisted in his stomach once more. “That’s where the worst of my thoughts went, yes.”

With a hard look and silence, she went back into the bathroom. For a while there was nothing but the sound of her trying to feed her brush through her hair.

“Dany.”

“What?” She asked through her teeth.

Maybe he ought to give her time and space to breathe for a few minutes, but gods, he needed her so, so bad. Just to physically hold her and know she was safe and whole and unhurt, but also that he had made a colossal fuck-up. He’d seen the tears welling in her eyes before she could hide them away, and it broke him. He was a blistering idiot. She had texted him that her test came back normal, and yet here he was with frazzled, totally frayed nerves.

Dany had one too many brushes with death in her young life, and he knew how she felt about that, too.

He crossed the room and stopped at the threshold, discovering that she was having a hell of a time getting the tangles out, and her face was scrunched adorably. Without a word, he reached for the brush and took it from her. A little stubbornly, her arms fell to her sides, defeated. Jon parted her hair in half and twisted it up out of the way while he gently began with the under layers first.

He could feel her eyes burning through him in the mirror. “I’m sorry,” he murmured as he looked her straight in the eyes, his voice thick and gruff.

Wordlessly she spun around and curled her arms around his shoulders, nestling her face into his neck. In return, he secured her against him, nuzzling into her half dried hair and kissing the top of her head several times.

All of the fear seemed to evaporate off of his shoulders having her gathered up in his arms, grounding him, and maybe even herself. They stayed like that for a while before Jon moved them to the bedroom and he had her sit, then crawled up behind her on the bed to finish her hair. Nobody spoke for a time, but it wasn’t a tense silence, at least.

Once he finished, she reached back to squeeze his thigh, then stood to her feet and dropped her towel. Although his body reacted as it always did, it was evident that they both needed a good rest. He scooted to the edge of the bed and after she’d pulled on her silky sleep shorts, he motioned for her to lift her arms, and he slid on the matching top.

Before he could move again, she stepped between his legs and curled her arms around his head, holding him against her abdomen while he, happily, linked his arms around her middle and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, too,” she whispered. Softly, she hushed him when he made a sound to argue. “I wish I didn’t get so defensive. Maybe it’ll get better with time.”

Shifting his head, he planted his chin on her breast bone and peered up at her, while she gazed back down on him and raked her fingers through his hair. “I don’t want you to change, Dany. Not anything, not ever.”

She studied his face for a few beats, her other hand cradling one side before she leaned down to kiss him sweetly. Jon did not consider himself a religious man, but she was the closest thing to heaven that he could conjure up. Rolling back, he took her with him fully onto the bed as she squeaked, and situated them so he could lay beside her. There was barely any part of them that wasn’t touching, their limbs a tangled mess.

“And anyway…,” he smirked slyly, “S’kind of sexy when you put me in my place.”

She quirked one thick eyebrow, her index tracing over his facial features. He was seconds away from completely passing out, the heaviness looming over his eyes. “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” he conceded lazily, sliding his hand under her shirt to smooth over her warm back, her velvety skin a contrast against his worn hands and making her shiver under it. “How was your vacation?”

Dany pulled a face, lifting one shoulder. “Fun, but I bet I missed you more than you missed me.”

“I doubt that very much,” he croaked, blinking slowly now, but fighting it. “Has your boss ever thrown you out of your workplace for moping over your husband?”

“Jon!” She gasped, perfectly affronted and pinching his cheek.

He chuckled sleepily, then buried his face in her chest, kissing at the exposed skin there. “I think it did everyone a favor, honestly. And it was almost completed anyway, so…”

“So, you risked a job you adore and traveled eight hours unplanned, all because my arse was clumsy and let my phone go for a swim?”

“No,” he resurfaced from the warm haven of her skin, tilting his head up to see her properly, “because I love you. And don’t think I wouldn’t do it again,” he frowned in thought as an idea formed, “maybe we should get you one of those old people phones that you can wear like a necklace.”

Dany tossed her head back with a burst of laughter, and Ghost materialized on the bed to see what all the ruckus was about, until he decided he didn’t care anymore and stole Jon’s side of the bed. Jon grinned madly, rolling onto his back. Dany folded her arms over his chest while she caught her breath, her hair a silver curtain around them. “You wouldn’t dare,” she challenged quietly, leaning over to switch off the lamp, then curled herself around him completely, her breath tickling his cheek. “I love you so much,” she whispered, her hand returning to his face to caress.

The dull moonlight filtered in through the window, casting one half of her face in a faint blue. She pulled him closer and he poured all of his words and soul into his kiss, giving her a few small pecks afterwards. “I love you more than anything in this world, Daenerys.”

#jonerys #jonerys drabble #fic prompts #is it really a drabble if its 2700 words?

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jarofstyles · 4 years

Text

You Again II

A/N: Here’s part 2! We are open to adding more parts to this but this is where it is at for now. As always, send requests and feedback here :)

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pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warnings: age gap, smut, daddy kink, spitting kink, rough sex, multiple orgasms

word count: 5.4k

The pub seemed like a good idea at first. To eat some food and get to know each other some more, but the last thing Y/N was thinking of was food. He should’ve let her win, should have just waited till the end of the night to kiss her because he really just fucked it for the both of them.

She was sitting there, sipping on her wine and eating the appetizers they had ordered for them to share, chatting away but it was clear Y/N couldn’t focus. The amount of times he had caught her just staring at his lips was embarrassing, she wished she could stop. It was been months since Y/N had sex. Probably ages since she’d had good sex. She was never unsatisfied though, felt like she had gotten enough. Something about the way he kissed her and touched her and looked at her made her feel hot. He could tell she was distracted. He wasn’t sure why but he caught her staring directly at him and was curious why she had gotten so squirmy for-- until he asked.

“Bunny?” He had taken to calling her that, “Are you okay? You seem so distracted.” He murmured, rubbing over her hand. She snapped out of it and looked at him with wide eyes. “Do you not like the place? Or do you not feel well?” He hoped neither was the case but he was curious what was making her zone out the way she was. He had to ask her questions twice or call her name.

“Sorry,” Y/N mumbled, realizing she had zoned out enough for him to start noticing. He asked her what was up. What was she supposed to say? ‘You kissed me and now I’m horny and can’t have a focused conversation’? She was all embarrassed, her cheeks flushing at his concern. “No, no, it’s not that at all,” Y/N explained, looking at him and feeling her heart beating faster. Her pupils were certainly dilated beyond belief. “It’s lovely, I like it here... I’m feeling okay, I just..” She needed to just spit it out. “It’s going to sound really juvenile.” Y/N didn’t know how he was going to react but she couldn’t lie. “I just really want to kiss you again.” Her cheeks got all red, licking over her lips as she squirmed in her seat a bit. Y/N couldn’t focus on the food, she just wanted to swallow him whole. She’d never been like this before. It’s been ages since she’s kissed anyone, but to get this worked up? It was crazy.

But Harry could tell she was horny.

He could see it now with how she tripped over her words, how she squirmed-- she was pressing her thighs together. She wanted kisses. And who would Harry be if he denied her of kisses? He had gotten her to eat at least something.

“Okay. Did you want to leave?” He asked softly, “We can kiss some more but... I don’t think you want to kiss with all these people around.” At least not yet. No, she needed somewhere where he could lick deeper into her mouth and kiss her properly. She let out this sound, this whine, it had his cock reacting to it. Christ. He threw a $50 on the table, standing up steadily while she scrambled a bit. There was an eagerness to her hand grabbing his arm and attaching herself to his side. “Let’s go then.”

They were there probably less than 45 minutes.

Y/N should have been ashamed of herself and she was a bit. “Sorry, you didn’t get to have that lava cake you were talking about..” Y/N murmured, “but I have those brownies I was telling you about?” She at least wanted to offer something, “and wine.” She was all squirmy even in the seat of the car, her heart rate picking up again. Her body never had a reaction like that to a kiss before. What on earth was happening? Was this what it was meant to feel like? A genuine attraction? Cause she was starting to believe she’d never been attracted to anyone before him.

“S’okay, bunny.” He laughed quietly at her mention of the lava cake. “Think that some kisses are a far better alternative. Much sweeter.” He patted her thigh gently. Yes, they were. He was excited to get her truly alone so he could kiss on her and give her what she was wanting. He hadn’t been this attracted to a woman in his life. He had found everything she did incredibly beautiful, even just the way she flipped her hair. It was overwhelming. He was obsessed with her. She didn’t know how beautiful she was.

Once they arrived at her apartment building, Y/N led him through the lobby and into the elevator with quickness in her step. She was eager and that was clear even when she fumbled with her keys, letting him inside and locked the door behind her. She was so incredibly needy, but she needed to chill out a bit. Y/N didn’t want him thinking she was always like this, especially when the date had started off so strongly.

“Again, make yourself comfortable.” Y/N smiled, “I’ll get some wine and some brownies.” She giggled and made her way over to her kitchen to get everything sorted for them. It was rather nice to have him in her home, she felt safe here like she could let loose. She brought over the brownies and the wine, the lighting in the room was on its dim setting seeing as it was past 7 pm. They were on a timer just because she had a bad habit of falling asleep and forgetting to turn them off.

“Y/N?” He murmured to her when she walked towards him. She looked confused but tilted her head as if to ask him what. “Put those down.” He pointed to them, watching her perk up a little as he sat on her couch. “Come here.” He motioned for her to come to him. Obviously it was a bit of a shock with how gentle he had been all night and considerate but she had him horny now, had him wanting more kissing. “Sit.” He didn’t give her a chance to think before pulling her body down on to his, a gasp of air leaving her as he steadied her. “Fuck the brownies. You wanted my mouth, didn’t you? S’why you were staring the whole time.” He had hold of her chin so he was in control for the time being.

Y/N was like a fish out of water. Her eyes were wide, mouth opening and closing, but she was at a loss for words. This was new for her, this feeling. It was like an adrenaline rush. The tone of his voice was forceful yet gentle, she didn’t feel like he was being pushy or anything just... dominant. Her body shuddered, goosebumps covering her skin as she swallowed thickly, eyes searching his.

“Wanted to at least offer, didn’t want to be pushy..” She murmured, clearly not understanding fully where this demeanor was coming from. It was safe to say Y/N didn’t know much about sex besides the vanilla stuff. Sex, oral sex, basic kinks, but nothing like this. To her, it was completely new and unheard of.

“You’re so cute.” He chuckled, noticing that Y/N obviously wasn’t used to this type of thing. “Got so much to teach you, little bunny. So much to show you.” He licked over his lips as he moved his hand up and cupped the side of her neck. “S’okay to be pushy for something you’d like when it’s wanted just as bad by the other person.” He could feel her pulse in her neck where his thumb rested. “But for now, let’s just kiss a little bit.” He knew that if she wanted to push it further than that he would have to tell her he was a little kinky and liked to be called daddy. Tell her that he liked to go hard. He knew that could slip. “Come on.” He murmured, pressing his lips back to hers and leaned back into the couch. It was all it took to have her melting into his body, arms going back around his shoulders.

Her heart was definitely beating very fast from just how bold he was being. Not only was he courting her, but he was also taking control? It had her heart going. He did say she had a lot to learn, but what could she possibly be missing? She let out a little hum when their lips connected, feeling those butterflies return. Y/N definitely was enjoying how smooth he was, how easy it was for him to control the pace of the kiss. She also liked his hands, she found them to be warm and strong and that was getting her brain going to mush as well. His mouth was like paradise, she kept making these little sounds she didn’t even know she could make.

Harry decided to take things into his own hands when he received enough positive reactions. He picked her up in his lap and shifted her himself. He wanted her a certain place, pressed up against him the most she could be. Harry was needy for her attention and he could be man enough to admit it. His hand ran over her back, moving her hair out of her face when it came back up. Their kisses were deep and he could taste her all through his mouth. She was just as eager and as needy, even more so. He was controlled, keeping her at back and teasing slightly when he pulled back from kisses to lick at her lip. Her breathing was definitely heavier, a squeak coming from her lips as he picked her up and shifted her on his lap. She was mad at herself for wearing jeans, feeling the fabric stretch. She would much rather be wearing much less clothing, would rather see him in less clothing. He always wore these long sleeves, she wanted to see some skin.

“Your mouth tastes so sweet.” He murmured, leaning in closer. “Stick out your tongue for me?” The first of many tricks, he licked his right over it before gently sucking it into his mouth. It was hot, obviously never done before in this way to her. He held her face with one hand and suckled at it before he released it. He was experimenting, seeing what she truly liked.

Though she whined at his teasing, she was still a very good listener. Y/N let out a breathy whine, her hand tightening on the hair at the nape of his neck to let him know she liked it. She rolled her body up against his, feeling so much better about having left that goddamn pub early. This was so much better. Y/N was on a high, but her body felt that need for touch, a craving. It wasn’t enough. The licking into his mouth was only doing so much, but she liked letting him do as he pleased. He ran his hands down her body and stopped at her ass. The whine she let out against his mouth signaled to him that she definitely liked his hands on her, so he moved to grab her ass. Two handfuls, squeezing. So good, she reacted immediately with a moan against his mouth, Harry using his strength to roll her hips against his cock. He wanted some relief too, and this felt so good.

“Fuck me.” He muttered against her mouth. “You’re so beautiful. Fuck.” He held at her ass, bringing one up to smack it. She let out a yelp and looked at him alarmed, Harry simply chuckling and rubbing the sing through the jeans. “S’a perfect ass. Are you going to let me see it?”

The grinding over his cock was normal, but the smack over her ass? No one had ever done that before. More importantly, why did she like it so much? Y/N let out a strained whine, backing her ass up against the hand that was moving it over and pecked after his lips.

“You want to?” She whispered as she pulled back, pupils blown. Y/N was clearly excited, pulling away from him so that she could stand up and strip out of her jeans. She knew she got prepared for a reason. Thank god. However, she had some plain and classy set on. She didn’t really own any sexy underwear. “This too?” Y/N asked curiously, holding her little white button up at the buttons waiting for him to direct her. She could see that he was hard in his pants, that definitely turned her on even more. She didn’t think she’d be able to hold back.

“Yeah- off. Want all of it off. Let me see what’s mine.” Harry already considered her his. He didn’t really care if it was soon but he knew that there was no way she was going to be let go this easily when he was so fond of her already. When she did remove her clothes, he let out an audible groan. Moving closer and kissing over her bare stomach, standing up to kiss over her chest. Harry tugged and placed her hands at his belt, “Take care of this.” He requested, continuing his kissing over her chest. “Perfect tits too. How did I get the whole package, hm? How did I get so lucky?” His hands ran over her body as he felt her throw his belt to the floor and his pants unbuttoned. He stepped out of them; simply grabbing her hips and picking her up so she wrapped her legs around his waist. “Which way?” He demanded an answer. “Want to lay you out for me so I can touch.”

“End of the hall.” Y/N breathed out, knowing that this was really going to be it. She was positive that he had a lot more to show her than she realized. Their little make-out on the couch was way more involved than any other one she’d had before. Her cunt was practically throbbing for him. Thank god for her big bed too. They’d have plenty of room to do whatever the fuck they wanted, and by the look on Harry’s face they’d be in for a very wild ride.

Harry had her on the bed easily, stripping his shirt off and over his head as soon as he could. He almost felt predator-like, stalking up on the bed and between her legs so he could hover over her, kissing from the top of her panties, making his way over to her mouth again. He was taking risks here and he didn’t care. His hand cupped over her pussy, feeling the slickness through the panties. The heel of his hand rubbed against her clit, making her buck into his hand. God, Harry missed making a woman cum-- however, Y/N would be a brand new and better experience.

“Feels good on your cunt, yeah? Were you sitting in that booth across from me with your pussy all messy like this?”

“Yes.” She squeaked, her body was reacting rather well to his touches. She was hungry for his mouth, her hand going up to cup his cheek as they kissed but slowly moved to the back of his head. His words surprised her, a whine leaving her lips. Y/N was so eager to touch. Her leg hooked around his, bringing him closer without speaking. It was something that she just never really did in bed. Yeah, moans and whatnot, but... she was often quiet in bed and asked for what she wanted without using her words. Harry was hot. Maybe the 12 extra years have done him well in the world of sex. He certainly seemed to know what he was doing and the two of them seemed to be starved of intimacy. “Please.”

“Please what, sweetheart?” He cooed. “Gonna need you to ask daddy what you want.” He liked that she shuddered from his words and that she seemed to genuinely be in awe of his touching. She wanted it so bad but had never been with a man like Harry before. “Because I can make you feel so good. I can spend all night making you cum and shake all over this bed. I want to hear you say ‘Please, Daddy, fuck my dirty little cunt.” He smirked wolfishly. Yes, he was pushing her to her limits but she needed it. She was being pushed for the right reasons. “Because as soon as you do, these panties are off and I’ll properly make you cum. You’re about to cum from this but, I can stop.” He paused just movement and looked at her desperate face.

She was a squirmy mess beneath him and he was definitely wanting to push her boundaries. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, she definitely did, her eyes darkened whenever he had brought up something new and exciting she had never done before. It was clear that she was a bit shy and nervous, blushing deeply when he asked her to tell him what she wanted.

He wanted her to say those 7 words.

Y/N whimpered when he pulled his hand away from her, her mouth opening to speak but she was too nervous to see it. It really wasn’t like her, but she knew that it would make him happy if she did. She was just very conflicted. Being adventurous in bed was new for her, even if it seemed so simple for him, she really hoped he understood that especially by the look on her face. Her body was aching for him to touch, but he wasn’t giving it to her and she was growing increasingly frustrated. It took her a few moments, some encouragement, but she had finally said the words.

“Please, Daddy... I want you to, fuck my dirty little cunt.” The words felt so foreign.

“There’s my girl.” He cooed, taking the panties off in one fell swoop. She had done what was asked of her so she would be rewarded. One finger was slid inside of her cunt. Hot, wet walls clenched tightly around him as he began to thrust it into her. “Fuck me... you’re so tight.” He breathed against her cheek. He didn’t know how long he could last not being inside of her. All he wanted was to slide in and give Y/N every bit of his cock. “So messy too. Hit the gold mine of cunt, haven’t I baby?” He murmured, adding another finger before fucking it faster into her pussy. He wanted one orgasm before he did so and it wouldn’t be difficult based off of her squirming. “Want to hear you. Don’t hide what you feel, baby. Tell me about how wet you are. Moan. I want to hear it. Makes me so happy.” He curled his fingers, her hand going to his wrist. He pulled it away, placing it on her clit. “Rub yourself.”

The way his fingers so easily slipped into her just said it all. A loud moan escaped her at the feeling of his fingers hitting places she was never able to reach on her own. How could she ever go back to normal after this? She needed him for this now, no one else would do. Having him right in her ear didn’t help either, she was shuddering and whining and moaning left and right but she couldn’t bring herself to speak still. It would take some working at, she definitely needed to be pushed a bit and he was doing a good job at that. He said it made him happy to know, she wanted to make him happy.

“F-feels good...” She breathed, “Want more, please.”

“There you go, baby.” He purred, thrusting his fingers harder into her as he spoke to her. “That’s what I want to see. So wet for me, you see this?” He had her watch as he pulled his fingers out for a moment and how wet and drippy they were before he thrust them back in. “Cum for me so I can fuck you. Come on.” He coaxed, moving up and kissing her deeply, pulling back only to pepper kisses to her chest. His fingers worked steadily and fucked her at a fast pace to work at her. “Cum for daddy, Y/N. M’gonna fill you up and stretch you proper as soon as you do. Rub your little clit, you’re so close. I can feel you.” She was so close.

It was overwhelming-- his praises, his fingers, his kisses, his encouragement. It all sent her into a crash of an orgasm. Her body was shaking, twitching as she continued to kiss him. Moans flowed into his mouth, her breath being caught in her throat from just how good it felt.

“D-daddy...” She whimpered out, knowing he’d like that. Y/N was trying for him because that was definitely the most incredible orgasm she had ever had. Y/N couldn’t stop kissing him, even when he had pulled his fingers out of her. “I-I never had two...” Y/N wanted him inside of her, wanted to feel full, but she’d never had more than one orgasm in a row. She wasn’t sure if her body even let her do that. Y/N didn’t want to fake it either. He would be understanding she was sure, but she had to warn him anyway.

“Better get used to having a lot with me. So many orgasms, you’re going to be spoiled rotten.” He would treat this woman with the most care and need he ever had with anyone and she would see it. He brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean. It tasted so good, the moment it touched his tongue he was groaning deep in his throat. “So sweet. Gonna have to lick your pretty pussy up soon. But I need to fuck you.” They both needed his cock inside of her. “Trust me. M’gonna get you there.” He laughed softly at her concern but he had made a few women have multiple orgasms in his day. She was especially sensitive too and didn’t know it. He would have fun with her. “S’gonna sting a little. You’re small.” Her cunt was small and his cock was far bigger than his fingers, so he took his time easing himself into her. Panting slightly at just how good it felt, her walls throbbing around him and how she squirmed under him and held on to his forearms tightly. “Shhh, baby. S’good. You’re alright.”

“So big..” She murmured, feeling herself make a mess around him the more and more he spoke into her ear. She was a very big fan of dirty talk. Feeling him slowly slide into her felt even more satisfying. Her breathing was heavy, her whines constant with every time he pushed into her. “Just fuck me, please.” She asked, nuzzling her face into his neck because she really couldn’t wait anymore. Y/N was gagging for it, she was ready to feel him stretch her out and have him have a proper go at her. He responded to her request by thrusting all the way in. Her sounds appealed to him so much, he pulled out and thrust back in again. Slow, hard thrusts. Getting a noise from her and her nails diffing into his back with each hard fuck into her.

“Yes... love this pussy. So fucking tight.” Was this how all young pussy felt? He swore she was the tightest he had ever had, even at her age. She was incredible. Giving him everything he wanted without even trying. “That’s my girl. Taking my cock in you so well.” There was no protection and that in itself only made him more aroused. He was taking the woman he wanted to be his, bare. “This is what you wanted, hm? Wanted my big cock inside of your little pussy?” He sped up his thrusts so it was at a steady level, and they could hear how wet she was with each thrust. “Can you hear that? How soaked you are around my cock? It feels so good to have your pussy suckin’ in me like that. Trying to milk me hm?”

“Oh—“

There wasn’t much else she could really do. Y/N was full of cock, her mouth wide open and back arching slightly up from the bed. She swore she’d never felt that place inside of her before but it felt fucking incredible. Strings of ‘uh’s and ‘ah’s and ‘daddy’s left her mouth, unable to really catch a breath. He was relentless and she was thankful for it, that coil in her stomach was returning. It was sensitive and a tad bit painful, but she was starting to think she liked the pain. After that little spank earlier, Y/N had realized just how much she wanted to feel it again. Especially when he was stretching her out so well. Y/N knew she wouldn’t last long, it had been a while and she was so incredibly worked up. He could whisper a few more words in her ear and she’d be losing her mind all over him.

“C’mon baby. Give me that cum. M’not done with you yet, no... gonna pull you up and fuck you on your knees. Want to watch your ass bounce while I fuck you hard.” He smirked as she looked at him with glassy eyes, already a mess under him. “Give it time me, baby. So close, I can feel it so close for me. Give daddy that cream.” He purred, snapping his hips harder. He wasn’t going too fast. He was saving that. While her mouth was open, Harry grabbed her chin. The other hand kept him up, her breathing chippy. “Tongue.” He ordered Y/N morning and nodded her head before exposing it to him. Leaning closer, he spit thickly on her tongue, grinding his hips into her. “Swallow it. Cum.”

Her eyes practically crossed as she swallowed his spit, feeling incredibly dirty but that was the best part of it. She felt like she could do all of it with him and he wouldn’t judge, he just wanted her to be dirty and take it. That was incredibly attractive to her. Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat, unable to inform him that she was about to cum. Instead, her orgasm ripped through her with a loud scream, his cock still working into her cashing small squeaks to follow suit. She was very sensitive. Looking up at him, he really didn’t seem like he was done and she knew that she just needed to let her walls down or she wouldn’t last. He flipped her around and pulled her to sit up by the hair, panting as she leaned back to look at him. He slid his cock back inside of her, thrusting up into her much deeper this time.

“Oh my god!” She screamed, “holy— daddy!” Y/N was positive she had passed away.

He had gotten her on her hands and knees. She had cum twice already but he was going for three times. This is when he let loose, knowing she was sensitive and would cum again no doubt. Holding one hand on her hair, the other on her waist. He pounded into her. Hard. The bed shook, Harry groaning in relief. This was the fuck he wanted tonight. He wanted to wreck her for anyone else. Know that she would want him so badly and no one else.

“Yes, yes... my good girl.” He smacked her ass hard, feeling her clench around him harder. “Like them, hm? Like daddy spanking, your perfect ass.” He rewarded her with another spanking, pulling her up slightly by the hair so she had a bite of pain. He was experimenting and letting loose on her pussy. Fucking it hard. Taking what was his.

Y/N was gripping at the bed sheets for dear life, her whole body buzzing with hormones and dopamine. She felt a rush she had never felt before and it was all because of him. She had never been fucked so hard in her life, but she took it like a champ, feeling her eyes rolling back in pleasure every-time he hit extra deep. She even caught herself throwing it back into him, wanting more and more. She had completely let go, letting him use her in any way that he wanted. Y/N was just following orders, speaking when spoken too, and letting herself ride the waves of pleasure. More whines followed his spankings, a happy sigh leaving her mouth as well.

“Like it so much.” She told him, whimpering because yet again she was so close. Her pussy was fucked out, dripping wet, but she still wanted one more. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—“

“That’s what I want. Want you to take my cock in your filthy little pussy and let daddy take care of you. Gonna cum three times for me, hm?” He smirked, taking his hand to her throat to pull her up properly, back arched and hardy slammed into her hard. “This is my pussy now. Daddy’s perfect cunt. Gonna feel it all day tomorrow and remember who filled you up, who made you cum so many times.” He smirked, nibbling on her ear. “Because it’s mine. Made for my cock only.” He pushed her back down and grabbed her hair again, the sounds of her ass smacking against him and her moans filling the air. “Give it to me. Give me all that dirty shit baby girl. Gonna cum again on my cock? Slick me up more? Then let me cum in you?” He teased. “Yeah... s’exactly what daddy’s pretty girl is gonna do.”

Y/N felt herself tearing up at the pleasure, moaning out in ecstasy as he pulled and grabbed at her. She never knew that being manhandled like this would be so pleasing to her, but it had come to her attention that maybe everything she had come to know about herself should be questioned. Harry has claimed her now and she honestly wasn’t sure if it was just the sex talk or real-life talk, however, she wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about this. She would want this all the time, for him to teach her more, she wanted to speak more during sex and all that.

“I-I’m—“ Just like that, she was orgasming for the third time that evening and she was loving it. Her body just let her keep going and going and if she wasn’t so tired she’d let him keep going. Y/N was a bit loopy now, throat hoarse from all the screaming. It felt good though... fucking incredibly actually. She felt free.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Baby..” He hissed as he came, burying himself deep and cumming hard. It was the hardest he had ever cum in his life, shaking slightly as he pressed kisses to her back, grinding himself in as he pumped her full. “That’s my girl... so good. Did so well. Love how you feel. My pretty bunny.” He whispered, holding her close to his body as they both went through their orgasms. She was weak and he knew that, Harry moving them so they were spooning. He didn’t want to pull out just yet. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Mhm...” She hummed, taking his hand and bringing it up to her face. Y/N felt her eyes getting droopy, though all she really wanted was a cuddle from Harry and maybe a few more kisses. She pressed soft kisses to his skin, nuzzling into it so she could get comfortable. “Feel good..” She mumbled, already starting to doze off to sleep. “Stay?”

Y/N wasn’t really used to guys staying after but temporarily forgot that Harry wasn’t just some guy she was hooking up with. He had taken her out on a lovely date... he wanted to spend time with her and the sex was just extra. That’s what made her feel every better in her post-orgasmic state, feeling herself drift off knowing that she had finally gotten Harry. A whole year of wishing and hoping, and here he was.

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A/N: AHHHHHHHH exciting things! hope you enjoyed :) - n + d

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ladydimitrescuspet · 3 years

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Make Me Feel Better Chapter 4

AO3 Link! wow, long time no update! welcome to a filler chapter that's not really a filler chapter but is definitely a filler chapter! I hope y'all enjoy it and tell me your thoughts if you'd like! and as always, sorry for any and every grammatical error!

disclaimer: as it is in 'What About What I Want?', Victoria is the oldest, Elise is the youngest, and Daniela is the middle child. this was started before information about the daughters was released so until I finish this fic up and the other one, that's how it's gonna be. okay?? okay!! enjoy!

Tag List (click here to join): @lord-dimitrescu, @alwaysgoodnight, @paint-it-periwinkle, @lightspica, @ultimatebottom69, @sexyheisenbeast, @crazy-obsessed, @squid3, @inlovewithalcinadimitrescu, @the-obscurity, @sapphicalciee, @ladydimitresculove, @solemnnova, @itsyourgirlmalise, @the-little-shadow, @marvelwomen-simp, @rachelthefanfictionwriter, @d14n4ol, @peachesandlesbians, @celina1221, @theuselesslezbian｜Anna, @Gansito83, @Followingmyheartledmetoyou, (won’t tag, idk why)

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Two weeks. You’d been down in your cell for two whole weeks. Alcina hadn’t even come down to see you, only sending either Elise or Victoria to check on you and bring you your meals. You stayed facing the wall, your back to the cell as it opened.

“Y/N?” That voice didn’t belong to Elise or Victoria, it belonged to Daniela. You felt yourself tense when your name fell from her lips. “I’m… I’m not here to hurt you. I actually shouldn’t even be down here.” Daniela explained.

You still hadn’t made an effort to turn and face her. You felt the bed dip as Daniela sat down. “What do you want?” You asked, your voice soft.

Daniela sighed. “I’m sorry.” She glanced over at you before continuing. “I’m not expecting you to forgive me for what I said, but I am sorry.” Daniela said, reiterating her two worded apology. She cleared her throat before speaking again. “Mother Miranda said that the way I acted reflected badly on her and my family, I… she was disappointed in me. I’m disappointed in myself, if you can believe that.”

“I don’t.” You replied, still staring at the wall. You wanted her to leave, you wanted to be left alone. In all honesty, you wish you hadn’t run into Heisenberg that night you’d been travelling after escaping your kidnappers.

Daniela stood up from the bed. “Mother Miranda wanted me to give you these. Mother says that Mother Miranda will be visiting in a few days and she wants you to know what the high priestess looks like and how to act when she gets here. You’re to write a report and Elise or Victoria will pick it up tomorrow evening.” Daniela’s tone was now firm as opposed to earlier tone when she was apologising.

Daniela left after that, the cell door closing with a loud thud. You looked over your shoulder and found the room empty, she was really gone. When you sat up in the bed, you looked over at the table and your eyes widened before you let out a scream. The face in the photograph, you knew that face. You stood up from the bed and slowly made your way over to the picture, your hands shaking as you picked up. That was Mother Miranda? You shook your head, no no no, it couldn’t be. You dropped the picture and went over to the door. You were about to bang on it and scream for Alcina when the door creaked open a bit, Daniela hadn’t locked it, strange.

“Hello? Daniela?” You called out into the dungeon. You gulped as you took a step out of the cell, looking around to see if there were any of those ghouls lurking around, you didn’t know what they were called. You tried to remember how Lady Dimitrescu had brought you down here, but it was dark so you could barely see. You’d almost given up and was on your way back to your cell when you heard something. “Hello? Is anybody there?”

You heard a growl in response and a shiver ran down your spine. You could hear a scraping noise, it sounded like nails on a chalkboard. “Please, can you help me?” You asked the surrounding darkness.

“Run!” Was suddenly screamed into your ear and it was all you needed to set you off.

You ran until you rounded a corner and found yourself face to face with those ghouls. There was little light in this part of the cellar, but you could see that some of them had swords and you gulped. You let out a scream as one of them moved toward you swinging the swords, others trying to claw at you with their sickles. One of their sickles caught your upper arm, tearing the sleeve of your shirt. You pushed past them, managing to find your way to a set of stairs that led to the kitchen area. You grimaced at all of the dead animals hanging up, looking away as you came upon a hallway that led you to a hallway where you saw a door. A door that leads to… the dining room? That was good, right? You knew the door to the right led to main hall. Mostly because you could hear voices, but you’d been through the dining room plenty of times to get to the courtyard. You opened the door slowly, seeing the Lady and her daughters talking and you gulped. You could easily sneak out the courtyard door, go to the gardens, make your way into the woods and leave, but would that really fix everything? Running away again?

“Darling, are you going to stay behind the door or would you like to join us?” A voice asked, you recognised it as Alcina’s. “And how, pray tell, did you get out of your cell?” Alcina asked, but she was looking at Daniela.

Daniela shrugged. “I locked the door, but the key must be faulty.” Daniela replied.

Alcina sighed. “I will deal with you later, Daniela. For now, go find something to do while I talk with Y/N.” Alcina ordered. The girls half swarmed away upstairs and you caught Daniela running her thumb across her neck and mouthing, “You’re dead.”, causing your eyes to widen a bit. “Did you learn your lesson?” Alcina asked.

You frowned. “You left me down there for two weeks, Alcina.” You replied. “Two whole fucking weeks and you didn’t even check on me. And then you send Daniela down there and she fucking gives me a picture of Mother Miranda.” Her name left a bitter taste in your mouth.

“And what about Mother Miranda, dearest?” Alcina asked with a raised eyebrow.

You let out a small sigh. “She’s the one… that was holding me captive. I escaped from her.” You replied.

Alcina hummed. “Impossible. You said you’d been walking for days before you go to the village and Mother Miranda resides here so you must be mistaken.” Alcina said.

“I’m not mistaken, Alcina! She’s the one that I escaped from and I had been walking for days before I ran into Heisenberg.” You argued. You shook your head. “I don’t feel safe here anymore, Alcina.” You said quietly.

“Come here,” Alcina commanded and you went to stand in front of her. “I told you, you are safe here, not anywhere else. Do you understand?” You nodded your head. “Despite your words, you will remain in this Castle, under my protection. I won’t let anyone harm you, and I definitely won’t let Mother Miranda get her hands on you again. Is that clear?” You nodded your head again. “You poor dear, you were down there for an awfully long time. I suppose I should explain why.”

You looked up at her. “Explain why?” You questioned. ”I thought you didn’t…” Your sentence trailed off.

“Didn’t what? Didn’t care?” You chewed on your lip. “Of course I care, darling, that’s why I had you down there. To put it simple, there was… an incident that needed to be tended to and it was best for you to be down there than up here.” Alcina explained.

“What happened?” You asked.

Alcina shook her head. “Nothing to concern that beautiful brain of yours with. Now, why don’t we get you all cleaned up and fed, yes?” She suggested and you nodded your head. You let out a small yelp when she picked you up. “I’m terribly sorry that you had to be down there for so long, perhaps it was a bit cruel of me to subject you to that part of your punishment.” Alcina said as she carried you to the bathroom in her chambers.

“The report?” You asked, suddenly remembering what Daniela told you. Alcina hummed in acknowledgment but didn’t say anything. “Daniela said-“

Alcina cut you off. “Just because Daniela claims that I said something doesn’t mean it’s true. She may have learned her lesson with how she treated you, but it doesn’t mean you’re automatically off her bad side.” Alcina said. “Now, you take your time in here, and I will have Natalie bring you something to eat, I’m sure the two of you have much to catch up on, dear.” Alcina didn’t leave room for you to reply as she exited the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

You didn’t know how long you stayed in the bath for, but by the time you opened your eyes, the water was cold. Stepping out and drying yourself off, you made your way into the bedroom to find Natalie tidying the room up while a tray of food sat on a nearby table.

“Y/N, I’m so glad you’re alright!” Natalie exclaimed. You smiled at her and sat in front of the tray to eat. “So much happened while you were down there. Did the Lady tell you about it?” Natalie asked. You shook your head. “Oh. Well then, I better not speak on it, she might have my head for it.” Natalie said with a small laugh. “The Lady wanted me to tell you to meet her in her study after you’re done eating.”

You nodded your head. “Yeah, okay.” You replied. The two of you sat in silence while you mostly played with your food before deciding that you’d had enough. “I’ll um, I’ll see you around, Nat.” You said as she took the tray from the room.

“Try not to get put in the cellar again. It was very lonely without you around to nag at me.” Natalie said before leaving the bedroom.

You dressed before making your way down a few hallways before coming to Alcina’s study, knocking and only entering when she told you you could. “Natalie sa-“ She put a finger to her lips to quiet you before gesturing for you to sit down.

“Yes, Heisenberg, I am well aware of that now.” Alcina replied before sighing. “If you could just… Heisenberg, listen carefully, whatever you have planned, just keep it under wraps.” Alcina said. “Yes, I know. She did? Mother told you? Well, what about me?” Alcina questioned. Her brows furrowed. “Heisenberg we will continue this discussion another time.” Alcina replied. “Yes, you may come over, but if you bring any of your disgusting mutts here, I will not hesitate to turn them into skewers, do you understand?”Alcina threatened. “Good.” Was all she said before hanging up.

“What did he say?” You asked, shifting a bit in your seat.

Alcina shook her head. “Not now, darling. You’ll know what’s going on in due time.” Alcina replied. “I need you in here be-“ Alcina found herself being cut off by the arrival of her daughter, Daniela. “Because of her.” Alcina said, gesturing toward Daniela.

Daniela crossed her arms. “What is that rat doing here, Mother?” Alcina raised her eyebrow. “Sorry, Mother.”

“You two will be… getting better acquainted before the arrival of Mother Miranda.” Alcina said. “I won’t hear any excuses as to why you don’t want, Daniela. Besides, you’re to make sure Y/N feels safe here in our Castle. This is a much their home as it is yours.” Alcina explained. “And with some new information I received, you and your sisters will remain with Y/N at all times until I feel as if you don’t need to. You all may take turns watching them, but do try to give them as much space as possible.”

“At all times?” You asked.

Alcina nodded her head. “Yes. Excluding when you’re sleeping as you’ll be with me.” Alcina replied. “Any other questions?”

“Why do we have to babysit Y/N?” Daniela asked.

“Because Daniela, it is for their own safety.” Alcina answered. “If you wish to know more about the situation then ask Y/N about it. Until then, you both will need to write letters to each apologising for your actions. You’re dismissed.” Daniela opened her mouth to protest but closed it immediately because of the look her Mother gave her. “Deliver the news to your sisters, thank you. And take Y/N with you. You two can work in the library and I will be by later to check on what you have written so far.” Alcina said before fussing over her paperwork.

“Alcina?” She hummed. “Thank you.” You said quietly before rounding the table and kissing her on the cheek. “I really appreciate you making the effort to make sure that I feel safer in the Castle and hopefully with time I can gain Daniela’s trust.” You gave her a small smile and wave before exiting the study, running to catch up with Daniela who had left you behind.

Alcina let out a sigh, rubbing her temples. She couldn’t necessarily overpower Mother Miranda on her own, but if she could make you feel safer, protect you, and have you be grateful for that then she could accept that until she could take down Mother Miranda for the hell she put you through.

#lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #resident evil #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #lady dimitrescu's daughters #daniela dimitrescu

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