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pattypanini · 2 months

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Lay All Your Love On Me

Chapter 2- Watch Party

Josh Kiszka x Reader

Word Count: 3,106

AN: Hi everyone! Here is the second chapter of Lay All Your Love On Me from me and @mar-rein12! Thank you so much for all the support on our last chapter, as they go on they are getting longer and longer. We hope you enjoy chapter 2, Watch Party.

Next chapter coming next week!

Warnings: 18+, Angst, Flirting, Cuddling (if you squint), Making out, Hickeys, Grinding, Slight pain, Tit sucking/fondling, Cursing, Degrading.

The morning was slow and productive. You cleaned up your room, did laundry, and washed the dishes from breakfast to distract yourself from the nerves that were building up inside you. You would be alone with Josh all night, with no idea of what it would entail.

Sure, you were gonna watch the movie and talk about what needs to be worked on, but is that all that would happen? There’s something in the back of your mind telling you that he wants something more from you.

Although you weren’t sure of what would happen, an everything shower was needed just in case.

You shaved your body, washed your hair with your coconut shampoo and conditioner, and scrubbed your body down with your vanilla sugar body wash.

You feel silly preparing for something that probably won't even happen, but you will not be left feeling vulnerable to Josh.

You get out and moisturize your body with your coconut cream pie lotion and blow dry your hair. You didn’t want to try too hard, so you opted to clip it back.

While looking through your closet you connect your phone to your speaker to play some music and absentmindedly play whatever song was last on.

…the bar when your glass is empty

You thinking that this songs coming on to tempt me

I need to be alone like the way you left me

You start calling, you start crying

I come over, I'm inside you

I can't find you

The girl that I once had

But the sex…

You rapidly skip the song and let another play, Girls by The Dare begins to play. Even though some would say it's a violating song, you liked it. Most people probably wouldn't expect it from you seeing that you were a theater kid but you had a very expansive music taste.

You loved Noah Kahan, Tyler the Creator, Lana Del Rey and many more artists. You loved music and it was one of the things that got you into theater. Your Dad would always play music and sing with you in the mornings before school. It was one of the things that got you and your dad through the divorce, with your mom. When you started getting older he would take you to plays and you fell in love with the art. You began taking singing lessons and perfected your voice, which transitioned into acting lessons. All of which led to your audition at the University of Michigan. To your surprise, you were accepted and have been living your best life since. But now you're hit with a roadblock, and that roadblock is Josh Kiszka.

But this role meant a lot to you. You were so happy that Coleman took a chance on you. She had always said that you had so much potential and that with hard work you’d get to be where you want to one day, and now you are. You couldn’t disappoint her now, so if hanging with Josh for a few hours is what you had to do, you’d do it.

After browsing for a while in your closet, your eye lands upon your blue, Detroit Lions crewneck that you got for your birthday from your dad. You slip that over your body, without even realizing you hadn’t put on a bra. You start digging through your drawers for bottoms. The temperature was a little warmer than usual, a cool 54 degrees which is pretty nice considering how cold it has been. You find your white Lululemon shorts, and pull them over your hips patting them down to make sure everything looks okay.

You make your way over to your vanity and apply a thin coat of mascara and a few dots of cream blush, then slip on your socks and New Balances. Finishing it all off you spray on some deodorant and your Sol De Janeiro 62 perfume. The nerves in your body were covering up any bit of excitement you had, which is probably why you got ready so early.

You head into your living area and turn on Victorious which is you and your roommates current binge watch. Without a doubt, Charlotte hears the intro and runs into the living room.

“You're supposed to tell me when you're gonna watch it y/n!”

“Sorry, I just had some time to spare before I have to go out.”

“Where are you going, over to Andrew's apartment from last week?” She says with a devious grin.

“No. As tempting as that is, I have to go to Josh’s tonight.” You space out for a moment thinking about Andrew. “...He did have some good dick though.” You laugh simultaneously.

“Didn’t need to know that y/n. SO what are you going to do with Josh?”

“I don't know? Watch the movie probably and figure out how we're going to keep the peace during practice.”

“Makes sense. I wish you were free, I'm going to the mall with Lindsey and Rebecca. I have a vision.”

You knew whatever she was going to say would be interesting. She always has so many crazy ideas and is always looking for something new in her life.

“Okay so, imagine, bubblegum pink sweatpants for the sorority thing were hosting next week. With a cute loose white shirt. Gold chunky hoops and my tasmans. What do we think?”

“Very cute Char.” You would offer for her to borrow yours but you’d probably never see them again. “I’ve been thinking about getting platform mini uggs, but it’s starting to get a little warmer out so I’m not too sure.”

“Stopppp those are so cute, they would look amazing on you. What if you also got some….”

As the conversation is flowing just like it always does, you didn’t even notice the 4 hours and something minutes had slipped by while having Victorious play in the back before you hear a buzz from your phone.

8:13pm Josh: Sooo do you not want your role orrrr?

Shit. You had completely forgotten about your hangout with Josh.

8:13pm y/n: Fuck, sorry got lost in time. I'm on my way.

You quickly grab your cross body and phone and are on your way.

As you hastily walk towards the apartment you think about what you're going to have to deal with now that he's been waiting for you.

You decide to take the stairs, sprinting up them due to already being late. When you get to the third floor you knock on the door, 322.

You were expecting an angry Josh, but were met with the sweeter looking version of him.

“Hello?” Jake answers.

His roommate, and brother Jake, looks you up and down before turning away from the door.

“JOSHHH, she's here.” Before you could say anything else he grabs his guitar case and lets you in.

“See you y/n.” He shoots you a wink, causing blood to rush to your cheeks, painting them a flushed shade of red.

“Bye Jake.” As he leaves, you turn the corner and you’re met with the less enjoyable version of the two.

“Why are you late?” He harshly questions.

You stare at him with a confused look on your face. “I was hanging out with someone before this. I got held up.”

“Who was it?”

“I don't see why that's any of your business. Plus why do you care?” You spat at him.

“I just want to know who you're hoeing around with when you're not with me.” Instead of telling the truth you decide to play into it, make him jealous.

“You calling me a hoe doesn't hurt my feelings, Josh. Just because you don't get any doesn't mean you have to be jealous of the guys I get with.”

“Who says I’m jealous?”

“Oh please, it's written all over you.”

He scoffs, “Let's just get this done so we can part ways and say we worked on it.”

You roll your eyes and follow him into the dark room, lit by a small lamp that's in the corner. Mamma Mia is already queued up on the TV. You let Josh pick where he’s going to sit, so you can pick the farthest seat from him.

As he sits on the left end of the couch, you sit your stuff on the end table near the right end of the couch and take a seat. Leaving a spot in between the two of you. You slip off your shoes and criss cross your legs on the couch.

“Do you need anything to drink?” Josh asks clearly, feeling obligated to.

“Um, I’ll just have some water. Thanks.” You fidget with the necklace hanging around your neck, in a nervous manner.

He nods and walks away leaving you alone in the living room. As you look around the room, you take in the atmosphere. It’s very different from what you would have thought. It's a very nice apartment for a junior to be living in, but wasn’t too out there considering the wealth of the family. When you walked in you were met with the living room on the right, a very small kitchen on the left, and a bathroom straight down the hall. You would have to assume that he and his brother's bedrooms were also down the hall. You wondered what Josh’s was like?

The living room was cozy but sleek. You sat on a cold black leather couch with a white faux fur blanket draped along the back. A flat screen TV takes up most of the wall, with a table beneath it with a PS5 on top. A small leather chair and music stand sat in the corner of the room, which you assumed was Jake’s.

Midway during your observation Josh had come back with your glass of iced water.

“Here,” he puts down a coaster on the glass coffee table, sitting it right in front of you.

“Thanks Josh!” You pick up the glass taking a large gulp of the icy water.

“Mhm,” he says with a slight nod.

“Sooo…do you like Mamma Mia?” You question him.

“Phhh, no. I’m just doing this for the part, I don’t really care about all that stuff. And for them to not even get married at the end was fucking stupid.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t play the part if you have such strong feelings about it.” You give him a fake, condescending smile.

“Did you come over to work or to just attack me all night?”

“Maybe both.” You say half joking and half not.

He rolls his eyes and grabs the remote to the tv and starts up the movie. When he has the movie up and running he leans back, placing one foot on the coffee table and his arms draping across the back of the couch, accidentally brushing your neck sending shivers down your spine.

I wonder what his hands would feel like wrapped around it.

Ew. You shake the image out of your head. You should not be thinking about those kinds of things. He is a peer, nothing else.

As your eyes fixate on the screen you feel a soft hand graze your neck, this time with a purpose.

“This is a nice necklace.” Josh states while playing with it gently, occasionally brushing against your skin.

Wow Josh Kiszka being nice, something you would have never expected.

“Did you get this from one of your 12 boyfriends?”

“Funny Josh, My parents actually got this for me before they got divorced but thanks for making this awkward now.” You say with a fake grin.

You could seem him shut down a moment, realizing he hit a nerve.

“Ohhh, it’s okay Josh! Being a dickhead is just in your nature, I totally get it!” You shoot him down with your sarcasm.

He grins for a moment, making him feel better that he didn’t absolutely ruin the night.

As you get through the first couple scenes you begin to get uncomfortable in your seat. You look over to Josh noticing he's still paying his attention to the screen, making disgusted faces every once and a while at the acting.

You decide to stretch your legs out a bit, turning your body parallel with the couch, facing towards Josh. He doesn’t seem to mind but glances over when he feels movement on the couch. A few moments pass and you feel a hand placed on your ankle. You glance over and see his hand resting upon it, rubbing light circles.

You hate to admit it, but you kind of like it.

As the scenes went on Josh had scooched much closer to the point where your legs were bunched up in front of you. Josh noticed and gently pulled your legs so they were stretched out across his lap, giving him more leg to rub. His hand traveled higher and higher to the point where it was resting just under the thin fabric of your shorts. Your heart was beating rapidly, and the only thing that could have made it worse was the Lay All Your Love On Me scene. The scene that you and Josh both despised, but there was a different feeling this time.

Your core heats up and you feel a wetness forming between your legs. Your eyes travel down to where his hand rests, then you look back up and make direct eye contact with him. Your eyes begin to wander down the rest of his body and they stop right below his waist. His gray sweatpants weren’t good at hiding much because you could see the imprint of his dick fighting against the fabric.

You smirk a little, realizing that he is looking right at you.

“What?” Josh raises his eyebrow at you.

“Oh nothing, you're just not very good at hiding how you feel.” You smile smugly at him.

He begins to look down and tries to readjust himself to conceal his erection.

“It's okay, I’m flattered Josh.” You begin to push off the couch to stand in front of him waiting for him to communicate what the next move was.

He gives a slow look up and down your body before smirking at you. Without knowing, you are being pulled down onto him. You straddle him, your legs resting on either side of his legs. As your hands drape around his , you feel two hands forcefully grab your ass. He begins to grind you back and forth on his hardened length. Your lips connect and tongues fight for dominance.

Josh separates. “How does that feel mama? You like that?” He whispers seductively in your ear.

Your head is thrown back with a moan, leaving your neck completely exposed to him. His lips attach themselves to your neck, leaving wet, sloppy kisses. Followed by some hard sucking and biting, soothing the area with his tongue after.

What the fuck is going on. Why was this happening? Yesterday you would have thrown up at the idea of this ever happening, and now you never want it to end.

As he stops attacking on your neck you decide it is your turn. Your lips forcefully attach to his neck giving him no time to react. You suck hard on the tender skin, as a whimper slides past his lips.

“You like that Josh? What's making you feel this way? Me grinding on your cock, the sucking on your neck, or my tits rubbing on your chest? What is it, baby?”

“Fuck y/n. You’re so fucking sexy… god.” He praises you.

“So desperate for me Josh.”

Josh’s hands release from your ass and drag up your back slowly leading them up to your chest. He grabs your tits through your thick crewneck, but that doesn’t stop him from realizing the lack of bra you have on.

“No bra, y/n? Were you expecting something to happen tonight, like the little slut you are?”

He leans into your ear, “You tell me if you don’t want it, understand?”

You nod in agreement.

“Words mama come on.” Josh pleads with you.

“Yes, Josh.”

He smirks, “Good girl.” His hands begin to travel down and go beneath your sweatshirt, going right back up to where they had been. He starts off by slowly massaging them in his palms and switches to a painful pinch of your nipples, eliciting a moan. ”You feel so nice baby. Your tits are fucking perfect. Let me see them.”

Your hand finds the hem of your crew neck and lifts it up just enough to reveal yourself to him.

“Fuckkk y/n.” He looks so turned on right now and you find it slightly amusing.

He leans his face down to your tits and begins to leave kisses all around them and ends it with a hard suck right on top of your tit, leaving a huge purple mark.

“You look so sexy sucking on my tit, Joshy.” You speak as you continue grinding down on him, supplying yourself with the smallest amount of friction.

He goes down and circling your nipple with his tongue. He felt so good, it made you wonder what else that tongue could do.

“Want more of a taste?” You tease. His eyes lead down to your core that has been rocking back and forth on his cock all night.

He smirks, and lifts you up while standing up, laying you down on the couch.

He leaves a few kisses down your body before reaching your shorts. His fingers hook onto the waistband about to pull them down before you hear the door creak open.

You immediately pull your shirt down and sit up to see who it is.

It is Jake coming in with his guitar case. He was supposed to be gone all night?

“Oh shit!” Jake says before shielding his eyes and turning away.

“What the fuck Jake! What are you doing here?”

“Practice got done early.” He says still facing the opposite way, eyes covered.

“Anddddddd… You're supposed to be somewhere else right now though.”

Jake’s eyes widened. “Yeah yeah I know… I just was dropping this off before heading over to Bens.”

He quickly throws his guitar down and runs out the door.

You begin to stand up and grab your stuff. “I thought he was going to Scotts?”

“Just got the names mixed up I guess.” He was smooth with his response, but knowing deep down it was a line of shit.

You place your bag around over your shoulder. “Goodnight Josh. Doesn’t seem like you should have any problems on Monday.” You smirk, leaving him there with only the empty thoughts of you.

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Taglist:

@demonrat444 @gvfstuddedmajesty @jordie-gvf @jazzyfigz @mar-rein12 @terry-66 @gvfmarge

#greta van fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van smut #gvf #gvf fic #gvf smut #josh gvf #josh kiskza fanfic #josh kiskza smut #josh kiszka #josh kiszka x reader

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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bi-writes · 4 years

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mine—mob!tom

a notorious extra

She is the sun, moon, and stars, and she is all for me.

this fic can be read stand-alone from the series

type: one-shot, alternate universe detail: mob!tom x fem!reader word count: 9.1k warnings: mature language and themes, nsfw content 18+ (unprotected sex, breeding kink, dom!tom, oral—fem!receiving) series masterlist

this part is dedicated to @duskholland—thank you for always supporting this series and being my cheerleader

Everything was blue. The moonlight was soft, and the drapes were open, and it made the room so blue. Perhaps it would calm him when he found out. Maybe, just maybe, he could be comforted by the light when he discovered the side of your bed cold and empty, left behind.

Maybe it would help him to forgive you.

You watched his sleeping figure as you zipped up your jacket. He had been so tired lately, those eyes you loved so much always drawn downwards. He carried deep, dark circles under them, a permanent frown on his face, a bitterness to him that left the space between you cold and distant and tense. You tried to soothe him with kisses, with love, with something gentle, but Tom turned away from you always. Not even switching your normal attire for something more revealing had done much to calm his mind. He was somewhere else entirely, his eyes always closed. He always said it helped him think, but you thought it better allowed his already-formed opinions devour him.

Finally, tonight, you had gotten him to sleep. You wouldn’t let him into the bedroom unless his hands were empty, free of his laptop or documents or papers, and Tom had a rule against sleeping without you.

The rule was that he never did.

He had tried hard to force himself into the bedroom, but one look at your face had him frozen. In any challenge, Tom was no match for you. Your word was final, always, and while Tom always had a way of standing up to you, it never mattered.

“I know what I’m doing, y/n.”

“Men always say that, and then they fuck it up.”

“I’m not going to fuck it up!”

“Don’t yell at me. You’re not a child. Give me a reason why, and look at me like you respect me, in the fucking eyes, Tom. Tell me.”

Silence always followed arguments that went that sort of way. Tom was always so angry, hands so tense he thought of grabbing you and shaking you, but then he would realize that was exactly what you wanted to hear. Nothing, because Tom was always too angry to think properly. Men that were angry never thought, they only acted, and then Tom would be angry because as always, you were right.

There were no secrets between you. Tom voiced every thought in his head, even if he thought it stupid, because you were listening, and sometimes you were the only voice that ever made sense and the only one that would listen. His men were obedient, willing, but all they did was try and please him with new ideas, and sometimes Tom just needed to say what was on his mind. His favorite way to think was to sit on your shared bed, with your head in his lap as he played with your hair, his voice low as he spoke gently, sometimes into your ear. It soothed him to have you near, to know you were giving him your undivided attention, and it was where most of his decisions suddenly became clear and sound. His wife was listening, and if she was still listening, it meant she thought he was right, and if she thought it was right, then it just was.

Tonight had been different. There had been no arguments, no talking. You finally let him in when he was without anything, and as soon as he came in, you turned out all the lights and got into bed. Tom had taken the silent cue, undressing and getting into a warm shower, and when he came back to bed, you were waiting for him, one hand drawn out for him to take. He had taken it; tightly, he wound himself into your arms, and he realized he didn’t need to work. His head hurt, so much, and finally there was nothing but silence around him and the touch of you. Fingers threading through his curls, soft skin against his own, warm body near his. He had fallen asleep before he even had the chance to say anything more.

You waited until his body had gone completely limp beside you before you had gotten up. There were no secrets between you; not until now, at least.

You respected Tom’s privacy because you loved him; it was also because you and Tom had vowed to never have secrets, lies, stories get between the two of you. You were better than that, meant for more than that, but you had noticed things had been off for some time now. You weren’t worried about other women no matter how many times his men talked around you.

You were certain other women did not excite Tom. Sometimes you wondered if his men thought they were clever because of it, maybe they even thought they were funny; poking at relationship insecurities must have been a game for them. You had let the thought entertain you once or twice, but Tom’s love never faltered, not even once. The distance between you was not one of love.

It was words.

You had noticed weeks before the way he sat. Tense, unrelaxed shoulders, the hard set of his jaw, that thing he would do with his fingers when he was stressed. Flexing them and unflexing them, and he would scratch at the tattoo of your initials on his finger absentmindedly. He ate in his office, and when you would fall asleep by yourself, sometimes you’d notice him wearing the same outfit as the day before in bed. There were things on his mind, and when Tom Holland was sure of himself, he was not a tense, stressed, bottled up man in sleek suits. He was confident, open, and he was bold enough to bend you right over his desk and take you in any room of his house. But even those moments didn’t feel right; staring into his eyes had been scarce. Tom was always good to you, always sweet, but no longer did his love feel direct. It felt like something to find release, to find relief in the tightness of his being, and while you liked to be that outlet for him at times, it didn’t seem to relieve any part of him anymore.

There was something on his mind; and he was not telling you what that something was.

You found yourself in his office. Your heels clicked against the wood as you stepped inside, and you made sure to lock the door behind you as you carried yourself through the room. On the chair in front of his desk was where he had thrown all of the things he had planned to carry to bed. Laptop, papers, a few pens he had left uncapped. You picked up the pile, moving his laptop to the side as you flipped open the first few manila folders.

Sheets, a money trail you had seen many times before on paper, but you didn’t recognize the accounts on it. They were not Tom’s accounts, no, they belonged to someone else. You took a seat in Tom’s chair, grabbing one of the uncapped pens and dragging the ballpoint tip against the paper as you went over the numbers. The money moved around like clockwork. Tom had written notes in the corners in his scrawling handwriting.

Offshore to shell, shell to offshore.

Back and forth, where is it coming from?

No English companies, can’t trace the transaction.

You eyed Tom’s laptop, picking it up and opening it up in front of you. You typed his password in, watching it unlock, and you made sure the searches were untraceable before following the breadcrumbs Tom had left behind. You had a sour taste in your mouth.

If he had asked for my help, I could have found the fucking answers myself.

Tom was good at getting answers, but he always had trouble connecting the dots. Men always had the motivation to gather the puzzle pieces, but it was women who always figured out where each piece lied.

Tom was always too busy in his mind to ever do it on his own.

It didn’t take you long to produce a name. Money was easy to move around, but it was difficult to hide, especially when it amounted to hundreds of millions of pounds. With everything digital, the footprints were hard to find, but they were always, always there.

You shut Tom’s laptop, reaching down into his desk. He kept a drawer with a false bottom on the left side; it was where he kept the cigarettes you never let him have. When you opened the drawer and popped the bottom, you did find the cigarettes. But it was something else that made your heart drop.

There were crumpled parchment paper notes, smashed and ripped, at the bottom. You slowly took them out, smoothing the paper out on the desk. You swallowed hard as your eyes scanned over the small papers. They had been ripped out of a notebook, the paper thick and brown and rough, and there on the paper was you.

You had a smile on your face, and you were wearing your favorite leather jacket. You were sketched onto the paper, deep smudges of lead filling in the shadows of your face. Near the bottom was an address. You had been to that address wearing that smile.

The rest of the notes were similar. Sketches of you, in different outfits, with different smiles, but all of you in that smudged, dark pencil shading. Each picture had a caption, locations of where you had been when they had been sketched, and you had tears in your eyes when you realized why Tom had been so upset, distant, away from you.

“I love you.”

“I know that, Tom.”

“No—”

“Tom, hey! I’m trying to do some work here, please, I don’t have time to—Oh!”

“Just…let me look at you, darling. Please.”

“What’s gotten into you, Tom?”

“Nothing. I just love you. Say it back.”

“Tom…”

“Say it back, y/n. Please.”

“I love you, Tom. You know that. You know I love you.”

You smoothed out the last note, and you felt nothing but anger when you read what was scribbled onto it.

She’s beautiful. Give it back, and maybe, just maybe, we can talk.

You shoved all the notes back into the drawer, haphazardly closing it. You slammed it closed rather, grabbing Tom’s gun off the table and stuffing into the back of your jeans. You rummaged through his drawers looking for anything else, but you came up empty.

Tom wasn’t going to have enough time to stop you. He was fast asleep in your bedroom, and he would stay there. His men would tell Tom as soon as they noticed you leave, but you knew that, and that was why you left from the second story window of his office, dropping down a few ledges until you made your way to the garage. You were quick to pick a vehicle, getting into the drivers’ side. Tom never trusted you with his cars. You had grown up driving on the other side of the road, and he would joke that you would ruin his precious collection.

Really, you knew that didn’t matter to him. You could burn Tom’s millions, and he would still look at you with that same, doe-eyed lovesick expression. Really, you thought he was afraid of where you might go if you were the one driving. You always thought about taking him with you, driving off into nowhere. Tom would object, but if you left, you had a feeling he would follow.

You drove for what felt like hours. You always taught Tom not to act rashly, but you had acted rashly just now. But even with the time between you, even having silence around you to let yourself breathe and think, you were still angry, seething with it, hot inside all over.

You knew why. People threatened you all the time. You were a princess, a queen, an heiress that had inherited an underground, criminal fortune, and everyone wanted your head just to have a taste of the wealth at your fingertips. You weren’t afraid of other people, you weren’t scared of what they could do to you.

But not my Tommy. Never my Tommy.

All of the lights were on in the house when you stepped through the front door. You had put your hair up and away from your face when you left, but now it was down, forced out of its style. Your jacket was in your hand, and there was blood on your clothes. Tom’s gun was still tucked into the back of your jeans, and as you made your way into the living room, you tried to hide your hands, but it was no use. They were bleeding at the knuckles, bruised and split. You held your head up high as your heels sounded, and as you came further into the living room, Tom was there, sitting on the couch, a glass of dark liquor in front of him and a cigarette hanging off his lips.

“What did I say about that?” You tried to scold him, but it came out soft and low. When Tom finally turned to look at you, his face twitched with a touch of something sinister. He eyed the cut above your brow, the split lip, the dried blood under your nose. Other than your small injuries, you were relatively untouched, but it made him feel no better.

“Sit down,” Tom said firmly.

“Tom—”

“Don’t say another bloody word,” Tom snapped. “Sit down.”

You shook your head, “I’m not. You’re going to yell at me. You’re going to tell me that I’m stupid, that I’m careless, that I’m—”

“Oh, really?” Tom stood up, coming towards you, “and why do you think that is, y/n? Who else is going to tell you how things are? Who the fuck else is going to tell you how bloody stupid you are?! How reckless you are?! How you must have your head so far up your own arse that you didn’t even bother to ask for any backup?!”

You had not seen this Tom Holland in a long while. In fact, you had not seen this Tom Holland since you had met him. The one with unhinged and limitless anger, the one that broke glass and severed heads with nothing but his glare. The Tom Holland others were afraid of, and the Tom Holland you had tamed.

I suppose tamed until now.

“I know what I did!” You shot back. “I know what I fucking did, I don’t need you to tell me how it is, I already know how it is!”

“Clearly you—fucking don’t!” He grabbed your chin, forcing you closer to him, and you glared up at him as he held you roughly, making you look right into his eyes.

“If you’re looking for an apology, you won’t be getting it,” you spit at him, your voice a growl. “I’m not sorry. I don’t regret anything. If I had the chance, I would do it all…over…again.”

Tom let out a bitter laugh, his hand falling until he had you by the throat. You were staring each other down, both eyes dark and blown wide with that familiar rage. Tom thought that you had never been more of a Holland than this moment. Reckless, clouded with fury, willing and guilty of doing the most impulsive, dangerous things. You had never been more of a reflection of him than you were now. You were terrifyingly beautiful.

He was shaking. You were dizzy from being hit and thrown and grabbed, but you never faltered in your ability to get things done. No matter how many men he sent your way, they laid in a trail behind you, groaning, unconscious, laying in heaps of their own blood as they failed to get back up again. You had a crazed, starlight reflection in those brilliant eyes of yours, and you held Tom’s gun up in front of you, finger on the trigger.

“You,” you breathed, swallowing the blood in your mouth. You wiped the blood that was coming down your nose on the sleeve of your leather jacket, shaking your head. “Do you fucking recognize me?”

“Yes—” He held his hands up, cowering. “Yes, fuck…yes…”

“You’ve been watching me. Like a coward, in the shadows,” you laughed bitterly, stepping over one of his men that was on the floor in front of you. “You don’t look so happy to see me, though.”

“You’ve got a bloody gun in my face.”

“You’re lucky that’s all I’ve got,” you growled, glaring at him. “You’ve been threatening Tom. My Tom. Tell me why.”

“This is between us,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re just…collateral damage.”

“Well, collateral damage came back and bit you in the ass, so start talking, or I’ll make sure you never forget today,” you lowered the gun, pointing it at his knee. “Start fucking talking.”

He glanced between you and the gun, and when he made a move, you pulled the trigger, this time aimed at his thigh. You were careful with where you shot him, nothing but flesh and ensuring the bullet went through and through, and then you moved the gun back to his kneecap.

“I won’t ask again,” you said softly, kneeling down to his level as he cried out in pain in his chair, holding onto his leg. His face was reddening, his whole body shivering, and you tilted your head to the side. “Tell me why you’re after Tom.”

“He—gah!” He let out a few coughs, holding his hands over the wound to stop the bleeding. “He can’t just come back and take back this bloody city. He left to play kingpin in New York, and there’s no more room in London for—God!” He shook his head, “there’s no more room for Hollands here. You can’t leave for years and expect everything to be handed back to you. Even you understand that, don’t you?”

Your nose twitched a bit. You did understand; but it didn’t matter. He was your Tommy, and you couldn’t just let people threaten him. They could threaten you all they wanted, but not him. You swiped a pen off the table, clicking it open before shoving it into the bullet wound, grabbing him by the neck and forcing him facedown into the desk. His screams did not deter you; they only encouraged you.

“If you come after us ever again, I’ll find you all over again,” you whispered in his ear. “And I’ll make sure London forgets your name ever fucking existed. Do you understand me?”

“Yes—yes! Yes…yes, God, please…please…yes…”

“You’ll bend the knee,” you murmured, forcing him to look at you. “You’ll look Tom Holland in the eyes, apologize, and be grateful that he’s allowed you to keep your head for this long after all of the trouble you caused. You’ll bend the knee to him, you’ll pay your dues, and you’ll warn anyone else in London that if they don’t do the same, I’ll pay them a visit, too. But I will not be giving out warnings anymore.”

He had tears in his eyes. He was afraid of you. You pulled his head back and slammed it against the desk, watching his eyes flutter shut as you knocked him unconscious. You fished into his suit jacket, finding his cell phone, and you dialed the first number you saw, tossing it onto the desk with a thud. You wanted him to be alive. How else would he tell others what happened today?

You glanced between Tom’s eyes and his lips, your body relaxing a bit as you stared at him. You loved him with every fiber of your being. You loved him endlessly, desperately, completely, and you would do it all over again just to protect him. You were not sorry about what you had done, not even a little bit. They had threatened your Tommy, made him feel small and powerless and at war, and you remember all too well what that felt like.

“I’m not sorry,” you said again, softer this time. “They wanted to hurt you, Tommy. Yell at me all you want. It won’t change my mind. They deserved it, and I hope they’re afraid of me now. I hope they think twice before threatening you, I hope that they are scared of what we’ll do to them if they don’t fall in line.” Your eyes watered a bit, and you sucked in a shaky breath. “You are mine, and I will do it again and again until people stop trying to touch what’s mine.”

Tom was breathless. That anger inside of him had faded, nothing but a deep lull in his chest as he realized how undeniably his you were. You were fearless when it came to things that you loved, and he was nothing but breathless listening to you speak. You lit a warm fire in his heart, and suddenly he understood you completely. Tom had been prepared to do just the same as soon as he discovered who was threatening you; he had been prepared to scream, to fight, to hurt anyone that tried to come close to you. Of course you had gotten to them first. You were brilliant in more ways than one, and Tom was foolish to think he could finish jobs without your help. He simply couldn’t.

Tom was silent as he pushed you backwards, his hand squeezing the expanse of your throat as he shoved you back into the wall, his eyes on your lips as he stared down at you. His eyes traveled back up your face, meeting your own, and you reached over, grabbing both sides of his face firmly and pulling him close, close enough that his forehead rested against yours.

“The things I would do for you, Tom…” You whispered against his lips. “I’m afraid of it.” Your voice faltered for a moment, and his breath was so warm against your lips, his chest rising and falling. “I’m afraid of how far I’ll go. B-Because the truth is Tom…” He loosened his grip on your throat, his hand sliding to the back of your neck. “I’ll let the whole…I-I would let the whole fucking world burn if it meant you would be alright.”

“You’re so selfish,” Tom muttered, shaking his head, but his entire body was warm. He was grounded here, right in front of you, and the only thing he could truly focus on was the way you were licking those luscious lips of yours and how gorgeous you looked as you let your jacket drop onto the floor. He pushed the straps of your camisole down your shoulder, running a thumb along the bare skin there, and he grunted a bit as he pushed you back into the wall again. “You’re so fucking selfish, y/n.”

“Maybe,” you shrugged, your eyes calm. It didn’t faze you, it didn’t bother you, not even a little bit. “But you’re alive. I don’t much care for anything else.”

Something about the tone of your voice was so ominous. Tom could see in your eyes that you meant every word, and the thought that you would let everything fall to chaos for him put you in a dark light. You were dangerous, in love, but Tom was not easily deterred.

No, he was not deterred. In fact, there was something stirring inside of him at the thought of you burning the world for him.

“You don’t mean that, love,” Tom licked his lips, his thumb finding your bottom lip. He touched where your lip had split, and you took his thumb into your mouth, sucking on it for a moment. The intense stare between you remained, and neither of you dared to look away from one another. “You and I both know that you care about other people. Not just me.”

You blinked, “I meant what I said,” you said softly. Your words echoed in his ear.

She is afraid of how far she will go for me.

You shoved his chest harshly suddenly, backing him up until his knees hit the couch, and he was forced to sit. You fell into his lap, gripping his chin tight, and you made him look at you as you brought the camisole up and over your head until you were sitting in your jeans and nothing else in front of him. Tom kept his eyes level with your own, and you smirked down at him, as if daring him to look at you.

You took his hands, sliding up the expanse of your thighs until they rested over your hips. His fingers played with the belt loops of your jeans before he was unbuttoning them, shimmying them down your legs until you were in nothing but lace underwear. You tossed the gun onto the floor, and before Tom could take control, you used your weight to push him onto his back, shoving him into the pillows as you sat up on top of him.

You leaned down, gripping the collar of his dress shirt tightly, and Tom swallowed hard as you laid a soft, supple kiss under his ear.

“You’re mine,” you whispered in his ear. “I made men bleed for you, Tommy. I made them scream…and cry…and beg. I made them promise they would bow to you. I made men cower in your name, and I made them pray on the Good Lord that you would deliver them mercy.” You giggled darkly, making him shiver. He was drunk on the intoxication of you, and every word was bliss. “No one touches my Tommy,” you cooed, slipping your hands into the waistband of his trousers, humming as you wrapped your hand around his throbbing length. “No one but me.”

“Fuck—” He choked out, leaning his head back. He was breathing hard now, panting. Your words had him absolutely breathless. There was not a woman in the world that could ever match your fire. “You still can’t do this shit, y/n. You still can’t do things without telling me, you still can’t—”

“Shut up,” you breathed against his lips. “I did what I had to.” You used both hands and unzipped his pants, shoving them down his legs, and Tom flipped you both over, towering over you, forcing you back into the cushions. You grunted a bit, but he held you down.

“We’re supposed to be in this together,” he growled, and you pushed on his chest, forcing him backwards, and you both stared at each other menacingly.

“Exactly,” you breathed. “But clearly you don’t trust me. We aren’t supposed to have any secrets, Tom. And then I find out you’re doing this?” You reached down and started to gather your clothes harshly, “maybe if you had just told me what was going on, I could’ve fucking helped you. But as usual, you underestimate me.”

“I’m not underestimating you,” Tom argued, picking up his shirt. He followed you upstairs, into the bedroom, where he slammed the door shut harshly. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“God, dammit, Tom, when are you going to understand that I don’t need you to protect me?!” You snapped, turning and throwing your jacket at him. “When are you going to see that I am not as delicate and breakable as you think I am?! How long have I been doing this on my own, Tom? How long? Why can’t you just…trust me?”

“I do, I do!”

You sat on the bed, tossing your clothes onto the floor. Tom shook his dress shirt out before wrapping it around your bare torso, kneeling in front of you so he could meet your eyes.

“I do trust you, love,” he promised, gentler this time. “I’m sorry if it doesn’t appear like I do, but I do. I do trust you. But the truth is, I’m…I’m ashamed.”

“Ashamed?”

“I thought we’d run the bloody world here,” he murmured, finding your hands, squeezing them tight. “But every fucking day brings a new roadblock. Some arse running the east end, another deal gone to pot…I feel so out of control here, and that isn’t what I wanted for us. I was so…Hell, I was excited to bring you here, to show you what I’ve built, but I’ve got nothing, darling. Nothing. Nothing but threats, empty promises, and problem after problem that somehow you keep cleaning up, and I…”

You put a hand on his cheek, smiling a bit. You leaned down and kissed his forehead, shaking your head.

“Tom…you’re ridiculous,” you laughed. “If everything was perfect, I would be absolutely bored.”

He sighed, a bit annoyed, and your hands found his shoulders, rubbing them soothingly.

“Tom, you should know me by now,” you brought your left hand back, wiggling your fingers where your sparkling wedding rings sat. Tom leaned down to kiss your knuckles there gently. “I adore chaos. It makes things exciting, don’t you think? What’s more exciting then coming back and showing them that London belongs to the Hollands, hmm?”

Tom shook his head, “y/n…”

“Tom, you know better than I that this business doesn’t run like a Fortune 500,” you rolled your eyes. “It keeps us on our toes. But that’s why we do this. Because fuck, Tom, nothing makes me happier than seeing men bow to me…to you,” you teased, bringing his head up by his chin. “They think they run the world here. Don’t you think it’s a little fun making them learn their place?”

Tom pursed his lips, and you leaned down to kiss them, parting them with your tongue. You kissed tenderly, your fingers going into his curls, and you pulled away slowly, humming against his cheek.

“Promise me, Tommy,” you whispered. “Promise me no more secrets.”

Tom rubbed along your bare thighs, nodding in response, leaning his head up as he chased your lips. He kissed you warmly, slowly, his hands sliding up your thighs as he took your hips into his hands and pulled you close.

“It’s fun,” you purred, sliding his shirt off your shoulders, tossing it aside. “Admit it, Tom. It’s fun making them feel afraid…small…” You grabbed onto the back of his neck and forced him to crawl on top of you as you backed up on the bed. “…unimportant. Admit it. Admit that it’s fun,” you giggled between kisses, using your other hand to shove his trousers off of him completely. You gasped a bit as he took a hold of your throat, pulling you up to sit against the headboard. He finally smiled, darkly, sucking on your bottom lip as you felt your whole body grow in warmth.

“Hmm…” He chuckled. “Aye, ‘s fun. But not nearly as fun as commanding you, sweetheart.”

“You can’t command me,” you grinned, but then he squeezed your throat tighter, and you drew your thighs together. Before you could close them all the way, Tom forced his knee between your legs, shaking his head.

“Nuh uh,” he tsked, meeting your eyes. “Spread them, y/n. I won’t ask again.”

You giggled, kissing him lightly, “and what if I don’t?”

“Oi, love,” he pressed his thumb against the base of your throat, his rough fingers drawing gasps of breath out of you. “Don’t test me, yeah? Do as I say. Spread your legs.”

“Say please.”

Tom’s eyes darkened, “I won’t ask again.”

“Try me—ah!”

Tom grabbed onto your hips and yanked you back down onto your back. He caught your hands, pinning them above you, against the pillows, and you gasped into his mouth as he kissed you hotly. You wound your leg around his waist, flipping the both of you over, and you intertwined your fingers, laughing against his lips at his bewildered expression.

“Are you trying to be in control, Tommy?” You cooed, sitting up on his hips. “Cute. You’re so cute when you think you can overpower me, you know that?”

Tom scrunched his nose a bit, his chest hot, and he brought his hand down and grabbed a handful of your ass, bringing you down on top of him to kiss again, his other hand wrapping into your hair. You let out a soft whine into his mouth as his fingers slowly made their way between your thighs, teasing you lovingly.

“You know I only allow you have the upper hand, yeah?” He hummed between kisses, and you smiled brightly. You knew he did. You and Tom had countless nights together since you had been married. Nearly all of them involved you underneath him, in whatever position he liked, letting him coax you into the most blissful orgasms of your entire life. There was just something about letting Tom Holland be in his element in the bedroom that made you absolutely weak in the knees, and you would never get over the way he could make you feel, which was ethereal and otherworldly.

There was also just something about allowing yourself to not think. You thought always. Your head was always running a million miles a minute, but here in your bedroom, you could be alone with just him. You could let Tom take control, and he would, because you needed him to. His voice would whisper praise in your ear, and you could just relax, because you trusted him like this, naked, bare, under him. You trusted him with every part of you, even the intimate parts, and he never faltered, not even once.

You came apart every single time.

“Open,” Tom muttered, and you relaxed in his arms. Despite being on top of him, Tom was in charge, and he had given you a command, and you obliged without question, your eyelids fluttering as you parted your lips for him. Tom slid his hand up your body, fitting two fingers into your mouth, and you hummed as you tasted yourself on his fingertips. Your eyes closed as you sucked on his fingers, and Tom let out a deep sigh as he watched you.

“My pretty, pretty girl,” he murmured, and you opened your eyes at that, letting his fingers go gently, kissing them softly. “You’re just bloody gorgeous, aren’t you?”

Your eyes sparkled at that, hearing his soft voice love you like it always did, and Tom adored the way your body sunk down into his. Your tense upper body relaxed, and the way the palm of his hand was against your cheek had you nuzzling into him, closing your eyes again as you breathed deep breaths.

“You are,” Tom sighed, licking his lips. “You’re beautiful, y/n. You’re my beautiful, precious angel—” You winced a bit as his fingers touched the gash on your forehead, brushed against the yellowing bruise around your eye, “and if you die, I die.”

You opened your eyes, meeting his dark gaze, and you swallowed a bit as you looked at him. The lust died for a moment, replaced with something deeper, and you could see how genuine he was being.

If you die, I die.

You nodded once, just barely, and Tom brought you close to kiss you, soft this time, just barely touching his lips to yours.

“If you die, I die,” you echoed, and Tom nodded, hand around the back of your neck as he rolled over, getting between your legs, practically ripping your underwear off your legs.

“Fuck, I can’t take this,” he said, mostly to himself. “Make room for me, love, I’m starved, yeah?”

Your eyes rolled back in your head. He sounded so nonchalant, as if eating you out was a normality. You watched as he dipped his head to meet the skin of your neck, kisses you there, letting his mouth carry him further down, until he was sucking a taut nipple into his mouth and pushing your legs open as far as they could go. The sounds leaving your mouth only made him more eager, and he didn’t stop smirking as he tugged your panties down your legs roughly, tossing them behind himself. You think your heard them rip, tear maybe, but you couldn’t be bothered. Your husband was hooking your legs over his broad shoulders, and all you could think about was having Tom Holland’s lips buried between your legs as far as they could go.

And he did just that.

Tom liked to make you scream. He knew just how, he had learned your body so well. He knew what every twitch and movement meant, what every gasp and moan to leave your mouth signaled. He had learned what could make you tip over the edge in seconds, and he had learned how to get you right to the edge and bring you back down again. Tom prided himself in knowing your most intimate parts, memorizing your quirks, and eating his wife out was no different. He knew exactly what you wanted.

Your back arched as he kissed sloppily around your throbbing clit. He smiled to himself as he slid a hand down your quivering thigh, teasing your folds as he softly lapped at your clit. Your eyes rolled back in your head as Tom made it his mission to draw shapes against your bud. He loved spelling out his name with his tongue so slowly, and he always waited to see your reaction when the tip of his wet muscle would draw that aching, wonderful O, and he groaned when he noticed how you whined at that, bringing your hands up to fondle your breasts as he slid two slender fingers inside of you.

Tom closed his eyes for a moment as he heard you cry out with delight, “there’s my girl,” he murmured. “Sound so good, love…let me hear you, you know how much I fancy your voice, yeah?”

You nodded desperately, your body hot all over as Tom stretched you out wonderfully with his fingers, slowly moving them so he could find that special spot inside of you and rub it gently with the tips of his fingers, curling them every once in a while to draw out a loud moan from your sweet lips. Tom suddenly couldn’t believe you were his; completely, utterly, eternally his.

“Fuck, my wife is so beautiful,” he breathed, kissing the inside of your thigh as he worked his fingers. “Aren’t you, dove? Aren’t you beautiful? ‘specially when you come…you’re so bloody gorgeous when you wet my fingers, baby.”

“God, Tom!” You whimpered, and he laughed heartily, a smirk on his lips as he kissed along your thigh again.

“You’re mine forever,” he mumbled, grunting as he picked up the pace of his fingers. “No one else is going to fuck this pretty pussy except for me, darling. No other bloke on this fucking earth is ever going to know how perfect your cunt is. It’s mine,” he leaned down and wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking warmly.

“Tom—”

“And you’re going to give me heirs,” Tom growled. “Aren’t you, y/n? You’re going to give me beautiful, perfect heirs…”

You choked on the moan coming out. You saw stars, your vision turning white as you came over his fingers, his lips still on you as he kissed your thighs lovingly, guiding you through your orgasm.

“That’s it, princess.”

“Fuck, you’re soaking my fingers…”

“So sweet…you taste divine…”

You sat up after a few minutes, getting up onto your elbows. You looked down at him, trying to ignore how attractive it was to watch Tom suck on his fingers slowly, licking them clean. You swallowed hard.

“Tom—”

“Mmm,” he hummed, interrupting you. “You liked that, huh, love?”

You pursed your lips, staying quiet as Tom raised himself over you, caging you between his arms. He stared down at you with dark eyes, his curls falling over his forehead, his lips wet and his cheeks flushed.

He leaned down, sucking on the skin beneath your ear, and you let out a pathetic whine as he rolled a nipple between his fingers, his wet fingers making the sensation all the more enticing.

“You like the thought…don’t you, y/n?” He whispered huskily. “You like the thought of it…” You swallowed hard as his hand traveled lowered, smoothing over your stomach, “the thought of having my baby,” you closed your eyes as he rubbed his thumb along your ribs, trailing it around your hips and back up your stomach, “you want it…don’t you?”

“D-Don’t be ridiculous, Tom, we…” You couldn’t finish. You didn’t want to sound desperate or pathetic, more than you already did, but he was right, and it was true. You were at Tom’s mercy, and the thought of being intimate with purpose had you wet all over again for him. You looked back up at him, back into his eyes, and finally you nodded silently, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck and bringing him close to kiss you. “Fuck, Tommy…you make me feel so many things…sometimes I don’t even understand them.”

Tom chuckled warmly, hooking a thumb into your mouth, smirking.

“’s alright, love. You can admit it,” he winked. “You can admit you want my baby. You can admit that you want me to bury my cock inside of you, and give you everything I’ve got…” He tilted his head to the side, watching intently as you sighed and sucked on his thumb. “You can admit that you want me to fuck you senseless…and that you want to give me the heirs that I so deserve.”

Normally, a comment like that would’ve had you smacking Tom across the face. But here, underneath him, lustful eyes staring down into yours, you were submitting to him completely. The thought made you shiver, and his words were making you hot with desire. You did want it. You hated to admit it to yourself, but you did want it, and you wanted it so badly, you thought maybe, just maybe, you would even beg him for it.

For a moment, you paused. Your hand came up and caressed his cheek, and he laid his forehead against yours, so close to you. Your breath mingled, and you bit your lip hard, studying him. Tom was your family. Tom was your husband. You didn’t need any more convincing about it all; looking up at him, seeing the way he softened to your touch, put you completely at ease. You trusted Tom with your life, and this was no different.

I fall in love with him more and more every second. How is that even possible?

You shared hot, passionate kisses for a long while. Tom’s hands were squeezing your thigh and your hip, and yours were secured around his shoulders, nails digging into the skin of his back as you encouraged him to grind against your, wet folds welcoming his cock as his tip bumped against your clit every so often, making you whine into the kisses and pull on his sweaty curls. Tom was a mess above you, teasing himself now as he gripped your hips and let you coat his length with your arousal. You found yourself gasping desperately, clawing at his back, and at the feeling, Tom knew you needed him just as much as he needed you.

You kept your eyes on his as he gripped your thighs firmly, wrapping them around his waist. His lips turned up into a dark smirk, and you ran your fingers down his face as he finally pushed into you, fitting himself snugly inside of you until his hips touched yours. Your mouth fell open as he did, and you let out a sigh as he stopped, his eyes roaming over your face to gauge your reaction. You were completely relaxed in his arms, clenching tight around him, and Tom took that as his cue that you were enjoying every second of this.

“No matter how many times I fuck you,” he pressed a kiss to your neck, “you’re still so bloody tight, huh, love?”

You let out a breathy giggle, making him smile, and you felt intoxicated by his presence. Tom was so handsome, so fit, so incredibly perfect, and your head was spinning with how wonderful he felt. He wasn’t even moving yet, and you thought if he stayed still for much longer, you might just come from how sensitive you were. But he could feel that, surely, because he finally hiked your thighs up a bit more and started to move, his hips rolling against yours so slowly.

“That’s it,” he murmured, watching your head fall back, your entire body shivering with pleasure. “That’s it, m’love…fuck…you take me so well, sweetheart…God, I can’t believe you’re mine.”

“Tom,” you let out, grabbing onto his biceps. You squeezed the tense muscle under your palms, and you kissed again, shaking your head. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

You touched his face again, and Tom thought he might lose his mind. He could feel the cool metal of your wedding ring, a stinging, beautiful reminder that you were undeniably his, and he found himself picking up the pace, cradling your head in his arms.

“Give it to me, Tommy,” you cooed in his ear.

“Yeah?” He asked, breathless, “is that what you want, kitten? You want me to give you everything I’ve bloody got, is that it?”

Your eyes fluttered as he spoke in your ear, a husky, breathy tone accentuated by his accent and punctuated by his rhythmic movements as he kept his hips steady against yours despite his chest going flush red. You nodded silently, not trusting yourself to speak, and he nibbled on the edge of your ear, humming warmly.

“You want to be full of me, darling,” he murmured. “You want to be stuffed full of me…dripping with me…you want me to fill your sweet, pretty cunt with whatever I’ve got so you can give me heirs, don’t you?”

You grabbed onto his cheeks, kissing him in response. Your throat was dry, and your body was on fire, and his words only made you spread your legs wider, and he cursed against your lips as you clenched around him at the thought.

“You do,” he chuckled darkly. “Say it, y/n.”

“Tommy—” You whined, but he grunted, slowing his hips, and you cried out in desperation, needing him to keep up his constant thrusts. “Tom!”

“Say it, love,” he ordered you, tangling a hand into your hair and tugging hard, exposing your neck for him as he sucked on the base of your throat. “Say you want me to cum. Say you want me to fill you to the fucking brim and stay there until I’m certain you’re spilling with whatever I fucking give you.”

You let out a desperate sob, clutching onto his back, digging into the tense muscles there.

“I-I want it,” you panted. “I want it so badly, Tommy, please.”

Tom had never heard you beg quite so nicely before. Tom had never heard you speak in this tone, never heard you submit so well for him. It was foreign to hear you plead, unfamiliar to see you so wrecked and submissive, but Tom thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever witnessed. You were so combative, so competitive, so authoritative in the way you carried yourself. But for him, for Tom, you were here, underneath him, begging like a good girl in his ear, and Tom thought he couldn’t love you anymore than he did now.

“Want what?”

“Baby—”

“Say it, y/n,” he growled. “Say it, or I won’t give it to you. Tell me what you want from me. Be a good fucking girl, and say what you want.”

“I want you to come!” You cried out finally, arching your back into him. He smiled as you seemed to fall apart in his arms, clawing at him, trying to get as close as possible even though you were both pressed against each other firmly. “I-I want you to come, Tommy, please…I want you to come, and I-I want…”

“Want…?”

You kissed him softly, tenderly, and Tom stilled his hips for a moment, his hands on both of your cheeks as he kissed back just as feverishly, groaning when your ankles crossed behind his back as you pulled him as close as you could, feeling the tip of his cock rub deliciously against your sweet spot.

“Want heirs, Tommy,” you breathed against him. “I want them, and I want them to be ours.”

He grinned, his eyes darting between your lips and back up to your eyes. His own eyes were dark, so dark, but they were sparkling with something beautiful. He was asking if you meant it with a smile like that, and you nodded slowly, prompting him to grip your hips firmly and start moving again, harder this time, making your whole body shake.

“So warm,” Tom muttered. “Gonna take me so nicely, aren’t you, kitten?”

“Yes, Tom,” you answered breathlessly, nodding as you wound your arms around his neck. He was close, you could tell. His eyes were screwed shut, and he was concentrating on how you felt. His body was tense, and he seemed focused, and you brought your lips close to his ear. “Come for me, Tommy. Let me feel you, please…please…” You knew he liked it when you begged. You never begged, you never pleaded, and when you did, it was only for him.

“G-ahh, shit,” Tom leaned his head back, “bloody perfect, you are…look at the way you take me, love…fuck..”

Your eyes opened wide when he reached up for you, his hand wrapping around your neck, snuggly as if it was meant to be there. You closed them again as he pressed his forehead to yours, squeezing the flesh of your throat, drawing soft whimpers from you as he fucked you harder, deeper, his skin so hot as it touched yours. Tom stuttered above you, his arm giving out just a bit, and you had tears in your eyes as he finally, finally came, filling you just as he promised, his teeth digging into your jaw as he groaned against you. The rings adorning his fingers were searing against your skin, so cold and hard, but you didn’t want him to stop touching you, not ever, not like this.

Tom never stopped, even though his body was relaxed, exhausted. He kept his hips steady against yours until he heard that signature gurgled moan leave your mouth, until he could feel you clenching so tight around him that you almost made him hard all over again.

Your eyes closed slowly, and you sighed as you felt the weight of Tom’s body gently rest on you. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, his hand leaving your neck as he rubbed down your sides, over the outside of your thighs, hooking into the back of your knees and tightening your legs around his middle.

“’m so in love with you,” he said into your ear, and you ran your fingers through his damp curls, a lazy smile coming over your face. “Fuck, I’m so in love with you, y/n.”

You caressed the back of his neck, your eyes opening again. You stared up at the ceiling with a soft, content expression on your face, and you turned your head finally and planted soft kisses on Tom’s shoulder, your fingers scratching gently over his back, soothing him.

“You do things to me, Tom,” you said finally, laughing a bit to yourself. “You do things to me, and I can’t explain them.”

He chuckled, kissing the side of your neck, “you mean the way you completely fall apart for me? How all I have to do is get you into my bed, and suddenly you’re my quiet, beautiful, sweet good girl?”

You hit his back playfully, tossing your head back as you laughed warmly, hugging him close to you.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, shaking your head. “I…” You hid yourself in his chest, holding onto him tightly. “I can’t help it, Tom…”

“I know, love,” he lifted himself up, enough that he could look down at you. “And you’re perfect.”

You both broke out into soft smiles, just staring at each other, gentle eyes looking into gentle eyes. You had done terrible things. You had hurt people today, gone behind your husband’s back, you had done things that you wished you hadn’t, things you swore you would never do. But looking up at him, running your fingers over those handsome features, you didn’t feel guilty, not even a little bit, not even at all.

There was nothing you wouldn’t do for him, and it scared you to admit it. You had said it so nonchalantly, but in truth, you terrified yourself. There was not a line you would not cross, not a life you would not take, not a soul you would not hurt. Tom Holland had you wrapped around his finger so tightly, he could break you, and you would say thank you.

Your lips parted as he kissed you, mumbling soft praise into your mouth. He was saying that he loved you, that he appreciated you, that you were his wife, that you were perfect, but there was a ringing in your ears, fear in your heart that started to choke you from the inside out.

You thought perhaps you might die trying to save him. You thought it was poetic. You thought—

“y/n, are you hearing me?”

His voice came through, and you looked up at him, blinking to focus.

“Hmm? What did you say?”

“’m sorry,” Tom repeated, cupping both of your cheeks. “I said ‘m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For…all of it,” he brushed your hair out of your eyes. “We should’ve done it together. We should’ve…”

“Yes, we should’ve,” you hummed, rolling your eyes a bit. “But we didn’t.”

“No, we didn’t.”

“I’m sorry, too,” you whispered. “For being reckless. A bit stupid.”

Sorry for being reckless, but not for what I’ve done.

He smiled, and you smiled, and you thought you saw love in his eyes. Those dark eyes, usually clouded over because of how much was on his mind, were clear and glowing, staring down at you.

“I’ll admit…I am proud of you,” Tom said softly, shaking his head. “You’re living up to your name, love. You’re a Holland at heart, you know that, yeah?”

“Oh, God, you’re rubbing off on me,” you sighed, giggling. You felt a swell of pride in your chest at the thought of Tom being proud of you. You didn’t need validation, you didn’t need his approval, but the thought that he was proud of you made you feel relieved, serene, loved. You sounded so sweet to him, laughing like that, and he adored seeing you so relaxed. You were safe, in his arms, and there was no reason for him to be anything except utterly content.

“You are mine, y/n. All mine. I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

Reckless, stupid, beautiful, it didn’t matter. Tom wouldn’t change anything.

Not then, not now, and not ever.

#tom holland imagines #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic #tom holland smut #tom holland x fem!reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland au #tom holland series #mob!tom #notorious #thnsfw

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masterjedilenawrites · 3 years

Text

Blueberries and Cowboys: Chapter 4 (Cowboy Path)

A choose-your-own-adventure style fic. Refer to this Masterlist for previous chapters and alternate paths.

Chapter 4: The Party (Cowboy Path)

Pairing: Eli x reader

Content: Drinking, some angsty pining

Length: 2.4k

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

The gala was as elaborate and ostentatious as you would expect of a formal event at the Imperial academy. It was like the whole ballroom shimmered as glasses of drinks were passed around and ornate dresses swished about in dance. You'd certainly never been a part of anything so grand from your home world before.

The sight made you pause as soon as you entered through the doors. It was breathtaking.

You let Thrawn guide you around the ballroom, barely registering his path as you took in all the shiny and expensive details around you. You were especially enchanted by the handful of couples circling around the dance floor, seemingly floating along with the music. You hadn't danced in so long... properly, anyway. Shimmying around your room in your underwear after a shower did not count.

"The music is quite pleasant," said Thrawn from beside you. For a moment, you forgot that part of the plan for the night was to substitute the names of your targets for other subjects, so any potential eavesdroppers would be none the wiser to your true intentions. Anything related to music was supposed to symbolize one half of the plan: Eva and Arden. But because you were so caught up in the spectacle around you, and your inner longing to genuinely engage with it all, you didn't immediately pick up on Thrawn's true meaning.

"It is," you said with just a hint of wistfulness. Your eyes happened to be watching one of the more gracefully dancing couples, the only signal to Thrawn that he needed to help you refocus.

He cleared his throat just loud enough to get your attention and then flicked his eyes toward the entrance of the ballroom meaningfully. You followed his gaze to see Eva and Arden had now arrived. Eli would be keeping an eye on them, while you and Thrawn would track Burdick. Your heart sunk as you were reminded, yet again, that you were not here for a good time. Tonight was about Thrawn's mission.

"Do you think Eli has noticed? The music?" you quickly supplied, hoping Thrawn wouldn't doubt your support.

"Yes, he seems to be enjoying it." Thrawn then looked to a different part of the room, where Eli was standing next to his date. Sadie. She was a tiny thing, with perfect proportions and well-styled hair and wearing a dress that left nothing to the imagination. You suddenly realized who she was, not having connected the dots before. She was in a few of your combat classes and had this weird habit of pumping her fist in victory every time she landed a good hit. You and Eli had made fun of her together. Why was he now going out with her?

"Yeah, he does..." you said absentmindedly as you watched your friend. Eli was making a show of casually looking around while really paying extra attention toward the couple by the entrance. But then Sadie linked her arm in his and looked up at him with a sweet smile, and he returned the gesture with a smile of his own. Your previous feelings of awe and fascination over this event were quickly turning into something much more sour.

"Did you also notice we have an assignment due soon?"

The comment from Thrawn made you blink away from the troubling scene in front of you. The Chiss had not been watching Eli, actually sticking to the plan and scanning the crowd for the other person of interest. Commander Burdick, who would be referred to by discussions of homework, another innocent topic. Thrawn had finally spotted him over by an hors d'oeuvre table.

"Thanks for the reminder," you muttered. A tray of drinks passed by, held aloft by a protocol droid, and you took the opportunity to swipe at one and down its contents in one go. You could see Thrawn eyeing you curiously from your peripheral, but you made it a point to not look back.

"Perhaps we should stand out of the way," said Thrawn, taking hold of your elbow and guiding you through the crowd and over to an area where several tall cocktail tables were set up. You set your empty glass on the surface of one of them and leaned restlessly against it. Your eyes kept wandering toward the commander as he munched furiously on some kind of cubed meat, glowering at all who passed by. Eventually you'd have to help make sure he was glowering at Arden long enough to maybe get some ideas, but right now, with the night only just beginning, there didn't seem to be much need for you to linger.

"This is a fun song. Maybe we could dance for a bit? Pass the time?" you asked, swirling your empty glass around in a bored manner.

Thrawn stared at you for a moment, most likely trying to determine if you were using the special code that you were supposed to or if you were actually talking about music and dancing.

"I think we should discuss the assignment that is due," he said, almost in a reprimanding tone. "It is rather important."

You swiped at another tray of drinks passing by, muttering over the rim of the glass, "Who goes to a party to talk about homework?"

You were being salty; you knew that. This mission was important and you cared about it. You cared about your friends and what this meant for them. But it seemed the more alcohol you took in, the more annoyed you grew toward those friends. Thrawn was such a stick in the mud, and Eli was apparently a big flirt. Was this really the best way to fix their problem? Was it really worth missing out on a fun evening?

Thrawn didn't seem too pleased as you downed your second drink in a matter of minutes. He cleared his throat in that way he did when he was about to lecture you. You cut him off before he got the chance.

"So what was that surprise you were talking about earlier?"

He blinked at you. "I never mentioned a surprise."

"Yeah. You said you didn't disappear, you were working on something, and that I'd see soon enough. Well? What should I be seeing?"

He reached across the table and gingerly took your empty glass from you with a frown. "You hadn't noticed? There is only one assignment."

It was your turn to blink at him. He sighed and jerked his head to where Burdick was still standing.

"I made sure his date would be delayed in arriving," he said very quietly; you almost couldn't hear him above the din of the party. "So he wouldn't be distracted."

You looked over at the Commander, not very subtle in your observation of him, so it was no surprise the man noticed your staring and frowned even more deeply.

The sound of your name caused you to snap back to Thrawn, who was circling the table to lean in closer. He seemed upset; or, as upset as Thrawn could ever seem through his calmness.

"If you have other things you wish to be doing, I would much rather you leave for them, instead of staying and causing problems." His voice was low in your ear. You sighed at his words, feeling bad for how you'd been behaving.

Just a little bit.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite student," came the voice of Commander Burdick. The man had apparently decided to come over after discovering you'd been staring at him, however, he was very clearly addressing Thrawn and not you. "I'm surprised you'd even come to an event like this."

"The Academy has provided a generous occasion tonight," Thrawn slipped out of his scolding of you and into his usual demeanor without missing a beat. "It would have been in bad taste for us to not attend."

Though it had been your staring that'd called him over, it was only when Thrawn referred to you collectively that Burdick finally acknowledged you. He gave a grunt as a sort of laugh.

"What about that scruffy little friend of yours? He doesn't care about taste?"

"Eli's here..." you heard yourself saying. You also felt Thrawn tensing beside you. You tried to give him a reassuring look as you turned to point out your friend behind you, moving about on the dance floor with Sadie. And just beside them was Eva and Arden, as you knew they would be. The two couples seemed to be trying to one-up each other with their dance moves. You quickly turned away so you wouldn't have to register how exciting and intimate it all was.

"So I see," Burdick hummed. You couldn't tell if he still had the same frown from before, or if it was a new one in response to seeing his ex with a student. "You're not a dancer, Thrawn?"

"Only when the mood strikes, sir."

"Well if you don't show your woman a good time, someone else will." Burdick took a step forward and held out a hand toward you. Your eyes grew wide, panicking. That was certainly unexpected.

Thrawn quickly, and smoothly, jumped to your defense.

"Sir, I'm afraid she is not feeling well. I have simply been keeping her company."

Burdick looked between the two of you, and then briefly beyond at the dance floor, before giving an odd smirk and retreating.

"Very well. Enjoy your... company."

The Commander turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd. As you watched the back of his head, you couldn't help but wish you hadn't frozen and had accept his offer to dance. It was probably going to be the only offer you got all night.

"What... were... you... thinking..."

You looked over at Thrawn, surprised he was still upset. He was pinching the bridge of his nose and scrunching his eyes.

"Huh? I made sure he noticed Eva," you defended yourself. "He asked me to dance, probably to make her jealous, but since that's not happening, he'll be able to focus his revenge on Arden now."

"That is quite the assumption, based on absolutely no evidence."

"There is too evidence--"

"And apparently we've abandoned all secrecy and discretion, too. Might as well announce what we're planning to the whole ballroom while we're at it."

Thrawn's piercing eyes looked down on you, looking more like fire than they ever did. You bowed your head for a few seconds, needing to escape the heat and cool down.

"I'm sorry," you said, finally looking back at him. "I didn't mean to... mess up on the homework."

You offered what you hoped was an endearing smile. Thrawn only left you hanging for a second before he relaxed just a little.

"You did not mess up," he stated, returning to his side of the table and finally taking up the drink still left sitting there. "But perhaps you should just observe for the rest of the night."

And observe you did. The rest of the evening seemed to both pass by in a shimmering blur, and crawl forward at an unbearable pace. You observed couples dancing, laughing, even kissing. You observed how the energy of the ballroom shifted from eager liveliness to unhurried intimacy as time drew on. You observed the hors d'oeuvres dwindle and the champagne lose its bubbles and the lights dim ever-so-subtly.

Occasionally you actually observed the "homework," whenever he happened to pop out from the crowd. Thrawn did most of the note-taking, pointing out under muttered breath how the commander was still fixating on his ex, how his frown seemed to change from grumpiness and anger to determination and craftiness. Whatever that meant. You couldn't ever pretend to notice half the signs Thrawn did.

But most importantly, you observed a certain shaggy-haired boy from Wild Space.....

The way he danced, somewhat stiffly, but not as clumsy or awkward as one might expect from someone who couldn't figure out a tie.

The way he seemed to so effortlessly keep an eye on his despised classmate while still paying attention to his date and all her friends.

The way he casually hung out with her friends in between dances, as if he'd always been a part of their group.

The way he held her.

The way he looked at her.

At some point, you'd finished off your fifth glass of champagne, and you were definitely feeling the effects of it. That was what you were feeling, you told yourself. Your stomach was in knots and your brow was feeling warm and your heart was beating in your ears, all because of the alcohol. It didn't have anything to do with your guilt from upsetting Thrawn earlier, or the fact that even though Eli had nodded your way a few times in acknowledgement, he hadn't once come over to make good on his promise to save a dance for you. Nope. It was the alcohol and nothing else.

"Thrawn," you said quietly, breaking the Chiss's concentration on something-or-other across the way. "Do you mind if I call it a night? I'm pretty tired."

His eyes flickered over at the amount of empty glasses you had collected beside you, but he didn't comment on it. Only nodded in understanding and returned back to his mission.

You sighed as you picked your way through the crowd that remained. Quite a few students and teachers had already left for the night, but plenty still remained, and it baffled you just how many were hoping - and fighting - to earn to a place in the Empire.

And then something caught your eye just as you made to push through the doors and out into the night. One last thing to observe.

Eli and Sadie were swaying to the slow song playing, just off the actual dance floor. It was like they were in their own world. Her hands rested against his chest, and his chin laid atop her head, and they turned in slow circles as they rocked back and forth, holding each other close. When Eli's face finally turned toward your view, you swore your insides were threatening to crawl up your throat and spill out all over the shiny floor.

His face was relaxed, content. His lips were turned upward in a pleased sort of smile you'd only seen a few times on him before, usually after he'd told you a nice childhood memory, or after he finished a hearty meal. This wasn't an act; this had nothing to do with the mission or your purpose here at this dance. He was happy, holding her.

Just as his eyes wandered from whatever peaceful place they'd been resting and locked onto yours, you finally pushed through the door and left.

#star wars #eli vanto x reader #eli vanto #thrawn #thrawn & reader #choose your own adventure #friendship #romance #friends to lovers

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sugarmaplewings-fics · 4 years

Text

Hoodie HCs 2 . . . Kinda

Pairings: BNHA boys x reader

Warnings: None, not even cursing Σ(☉_☉)

Characters: Bakugou, Kirishima, Kaminari

A/N: Ok, let’s have a little chat here.

I want to start out by saying I’m not mad, I’m just a little annoyed.

So this same anon sent the same request to someone else (see their post here) and the other author posted theirs around the day after I finished the prompt. If I hadn’t already written it up, I would have just deleted the ask and moved on, but I was already done so here we are. I’m not sure what went wrong where, but let me just say this: Please don’t send the same request to different authors around the same time. It’s not cool. Again, I don’t know everything about the situation, but it’s just really frustrating to both authors when you do things like this.

Also also, anon didn’t really follow my rules. 1. I don’t write for Shigaraki, and 2. I write for fem or gender neutral reader only (this is gender neutral). My rules are there for a reason, both for my benefit and yours, so please look over them before requesting. At the moment I’m only writing for eight people.

Anyway, mini rant over. I hope you guys enjoy these headcanons!

-Sugar

°˖✧.✧˖° °˖✧.✧˖° °˖✧.✧˖° °˖✧.✧˖°

Bakugou:

Dis boi, istg

He’s such a little pain

But you love him

And he even loves tolerates you

One evening, he was in your room, poking through your closet

You were presently in the shower, and had sent him up to your room to grab your towel you had forgotten

But let’s just say he got a little . . . sidetracked

You had so many oversized sweatshirts hanging tantalizingly from your rack

You certainly wouldn’t miss just one, would you?

After some brief inner turmoil, Katsuki pulled one down; a simple solid black

He experimentally brought it nearer to his nose, checking to see if his suspicion may be correct

Indeed, it smelled heavenly of you; your detergent, your deodorant, even down to the faintest traces of sweat and shampoo around the collar

He squeezed and balled it in his fists for a moment, debating while he absentmindedly continued his search for your towel

Soon enough, he found your fuzzy rectangular strip of cloth and, now holding two items from your closet, left your room

He made a quick stop at his own room to drop off the hoodie

Once he had cheekily made his initial delivery, he settled back into his room

He pulled your hoodie over his head, enjoying the baggy feel of it around him

Katsuki was liking this more than he cared to admit, but it didn’t matter since you wouldn’t see him with your hoodie anyway, if he had anything to say about it

Now, you did, in fact, notice the disappearance of your hoodie, and initially brushed it off

That had been the first week

Eventually, you began to cultivate your own suspicions, taking notice of how suddenly your boyfriend grew defensive (at least, more so than normal) any time you brought up the black hoodie that had formerly belonged to you

Indeed, it was time to investigate

You invited yourself over for a study session, waiting until Bakugou ducked into his en-dorm bathroom before quickly and quietly getting up

You poked around a bit, scanning for obvious hiding places

Getting back down, you peeked under the bed

Sure enough, there it was

It was then that you heard the bathroom door click and swing open and shut, then Katsuki’s footsteps froze

“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!” he shouted

“Looking for something,” you said offhandedly, reaching under to grab the hoodie

“Y-YOU CAN’T JUST SNOOP AROUND MY ROOM LIKE—”

You pulled the hoodie free, smirking at his guilty reaction. “Now how did this get down there?”

“I-I . . . I don’t know.” For once his voice is small; defeated

“You don’t, now?” You took note of how neatly he had folded the black cloth, undoing it in your hands and holding it up to see. “I’ve been looking for this for a while.”

For once, Bakugou is speechless. He’d been caught, and now all he could do was wait for your reaction and what you would do next

“You know, if you wanted this one, you could have asked,” you said, standing. “It’s not like I have a shortage.”

Katsuki had shoved his hands in his pockets, glowering at the floor in an attempt to avoid your gaze

“Does it still even smell like me?” you pondered, more to yourself since you weren’t expecting an answer. You pressed the collar to your nose and inhaled

You were able to detect a tiny hint of yourself still clinging stubbornly to the fabric, but mostly it was laced with him

A quick image of him sleeping in it flashed in your mind and you blushed, glancing from your boyfriend to the floor

“Well, you can give it back when you want,” you said, folding it up again and laying it on his bed. “If you ever want another one, you can tell me.”

You knew him by now. You know it would have been hard for him to have asked you for something like this. So, for the time being, you decided to go easy and drop the subject

The both of you went back to your studies, but this time, Bakugou was a little more silent and reserved than usual

The following month, you made sure to give him every opportunity you could to allow him to take another hoodie

You’d leave your closet doors open and leave the room for extended periods of time while he was in there, making up lame excuses for your absences

Whenever you came over to his room, you might ‘accidentally’ leave a little something behind for him

Sure enough, things would begin to disappear and reappear seemingly on their own. Even though you knew it was Katsuki, he was surprisingly sneaky about it

Finally one day, you visited him at his house over one of your breaks from school

He answered the door in a t-shirt you immediately recognized as your own, and your heart soared

You knew he did it on purpose, and the smirk he bore at your pleasantly surprised expression only offered further proof

BAKUGOU LOVES STEALING YOUR HOODIES AND YOU CANNOT CHANGE MY MIND. ONCE HE GETS OVER THE INITIAL ‘oh crap, is this weird? Dang it, I like them’ IT’S OVER

Bonus: Every time he gives them back they still smell like him, even though he’s the type to wash them before giving them back

____________

Kirishima:

It all started one particularly cold evening

He was out in a temperature just above freezing in nothing but his regular street clothes

Baby, you hot, but like . . . that’s not enough, please keep yourself warm

N e wahys, after pestering him multiple times asking if he was at all cold, he finally admitted to having a bit of a chill

“Take my jacket.”

“But I’m being manly—”

“Take it.”

“I shouldn’t be taking it from you. Really, it’s my fault so you shouldn’t have to suffer—”

“It’s manly to take care of yourself. And also to accept gifts when you need them. You’re wearing my jacket.”

After a bit of coaxing, he finally pulls it on

*cue his universe falling into place*

He just can’t get over how warm and comfortable and soft it is, and every moment he sees it around him, he’s reminded of you

He goes from one extreme to the other, and now he doesn’t want to take it off

“So are you going to give that back to me or—?”

“Actually, can I keep it for a bit longer?”

“Sure.”

Under the initial circumstances, it makes him a little blushy

But like, this is now his everything???

It’s like you’re always there to give him a little hug, and it even smells like you. He sleeps in it every night for nearly two weeks

But then it starts to lose your scent, and his mind begins to wonder what else you might have in your closet

He goes to your room and sheepishly broaches the topic, giving back the original jacket and asking if he could have another

You smile at how flustered he is, and allow him full access to your extensive collection

Bby boi is so pumped to be able to wear your shirts and sweaters, and always tries to return the favor if he can

I headcanon that he has a pretty strong personal scent, so it’s really nice to wear his clothes, or even just re-wearing your own clothes once he gives them back

He gets extra cuddly and fluffy whenever he wears something of yours as well, so REAP YOUR BENEFITS WHERE YOU CAN

____________

Kaminari:

He’s the most open with it, honestly

Seriously, having an s/o who is taller than him makes his heart do the BIG doki doki

He thinks you’re so cute! And so much fun to hug!! Yes please, sign him up

He hadn’t really thought too much about taking your hoodies or jackets, but one night, he had taken yours from you to go hang it up. Holding it up to his, it dawned upon him that they were the same size

Next thing he knew, he was raiding your closet in secret. You’d left your room to go grab some snacks for your gaming night and Denki had decided that that was the perfect time for him to strike

He wasn’t overly concerned with getting caught, but he enjoyed entertaining the idea of you finding one of your t-shirts stolen by none other than himself

He truly had hit gold, dating someone like you. Upon opening and rooting through your closet, he discovered even more clothing articles that would certainly fit him; hoodies, jumpers, t-shirts . . . .

It was almost overwhelming, to be honest. How could he possibly pick just one?

You came back into your room a few minutes later, catching him in the act of eyeing a small pile of your own clothes

You watched him silently from your door for a minute, eyes flicking from your closet to your boyfriend, who had held up an old oversized hoodie to his chest

The dots were easily connected in your head, and you smirked

“Finding something you like?” you asked, making him jump and turn around to face you. You could almost have sworn to have seen a little crackle of electricity run down his arm from his own surprise

“(Y/N)! Yeah, um, I noticed the other day that we were the same size, so I was curious about . . . what you had . . . .”

He watches your reaction, relieved to see you smirk and walk over to him

“Try that one on,” you say, referring to the hoodie

He grins back, sliding it over his head as you watched

It was so comfortable, and warm too. You had good taste

The hoodie smelled like you and everything. Denki allowed himself to relish for a moment the feeling of something of yours softly encasing him so

Yep, there was no way he was taking it off

You let him keep it, butterflies making their flighty rounds in your belly every time you glanced over at him

He looked cute in it, and the fact that he was wearing something of yours further stirred a feeling in you that he was truly yours to love

Definitely makes a habit of taking your clothing from time to time—anything he can get his hands on is his, sometimes experimenting with your differing style from his

Very very soft, 10/10 cuddle and spoon your smol bf

°˖✧.✧˖° °˖✧.✧˖° °˖✧.✧˖° °˖✧.✧˖°

Taglist: @basicaegyo @iiminibattlehero @pyrofanatic @sokkasangel @xoxopam4

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kaeyas-beloved · 4 years

Note

Hello! Since requests are open, may I request for Dazai & Chuya from bsd (separately) with a s/o who's hair is basically messed up, like knotted really really bad after months of not taking care of it because of depression. How would they handle it? Would they help her sort it out? How would they? I am so sorry if it's weird but I really need some sort of comfort. I understand if you feel uncomfortable writing this! Thanks in advance.

Hello Anon! This doesn’t make me uncomfortable at all, don’t worry :) I hope these can provide the comfort you’re searching for. I’m sorry if they’re not that good or if anything is wrong - Chuuya’s a bit more clear on what he’d be willing to do to help while Dazai’s I think you have to infer a little (I could be wrong, when it comes to your own writing these kinds of things can get confusing...[make sense?])

But anyway!! If you want anything more/changed etc. don’t be afraid to come back and ask!

Warning(s): Depression themes

~~~

Dazai & Chuuya Helping a S/O w/ Knotted Hair Because of Being in Bed/Depression

Dazai Osamu

Immediately he could recognize what was going on, all too acquainted with the bells and whistles of depression himself.

And he gets it. He absolutely understands.

Dazai has most likely been in a near identical place that you are now, in bed and unable to do anything, including taking care of oneself.

In the beginning he let it slide, wanting to gauge what kind of moves you’d make in the coming days. Is this depressive episode a short one or a longer one? Will you pop back yourself or not?

Now though, that it’s come this far, so far that if he was to run his fingers through your locks like he’s done so many times before and loose hairs follow or knotted clumps can be pulled from the ends, Dazai knows this is the time he has to step in.

“My beautiful belladonna...” his voice is devoid of all the usual playfulness as he steps into your shared room, taking a seat at the side of the bed beside your lying form. Slowly he leans forward, placing a chaste kiss to your nose, absentmindedly twirling a strand of unknotted hair that’s separated from the rest. His eyes that could be described as hazel stare into your own orbs, a serious look in them.

“How long has it been?”

“Three weeks...” there was little to no hesitation when it came to answering, you knew full well what he was referring to. It still didn’t stop Dazai’s brows from furrowing though. A beat of silence passes, nothing but the sound of your mixed breathing in the room, before an idea comes forth.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” He told you, standing and making his way into another room. When the sound of running water filled the quiet space you couldn’t help the confusion that came over you. What was he planning this time?

Minutes later and the water stopped and Dazai emerged through the open bathroom door.

Wordlessly he slipped his lanky arms under your knees and behind your back. About to question his actions, maybe even protest against them, all the words died in your throat the moment you saw his expression. It pleaded that you trust him this once, a warmth in them that tells you he’s trying to help and that he cares so much.

And you find yourself subtlety nodding, giving permission for him to lift you out of bed for perhaps the first time in awhile. Carrying you to the side of the tub Dazai set you down onto your feet. Lithe fingers started to work on taking your shirt off, movement slow and calculated, leaving the opportunity for you to stop him and do it yourself if you want.

You don’t, and Dazai continues until you’re bare. He gestures vaguely to the still water awaiting you and you dip your toes in it. It’s warm is the first thing you note as you lower the rest of your body, and it smells exactly like the bath salt that you gifted your boyfriend as a joke for his birthday.

Rolling his sleeves up, Dazai kneels to the ground, grabbing a bowl he’d placed nearby earlier and filled it. Tilting your head back, he covers your eyes as he pours the liquid onto your head, doing this a few times until your hair is thoroughly soaked before he starts to wash it. Finally, what he’s doing makes sense.

“’m sorry...” The apology is unprompted, but it just felt right in that moment. He has to help you, he should have to though... and you continue to stare blankly at the rippling water. Dazai hums, stops and hooks his forefinger under your chin, moving your gaze up to meet his.

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry for my love. You told me that it’s okay to ask for help sometimes, so let me help you like you’ve helped me in the past...” he whispered, voice soothing, “I love you my belladonna...”

He’s helping you, he’ll do things for you when you can’t - because he loves you that much... it’s okay to ask for his help...

“...I love you too, Osamu...”

Nakahara Chuuya

He saw that you weren’t acting like you usually do, but unfortunately, he didn’t connect the dots properly and figured you were just extremely tired. Maybe something happened at work?

Chuuya didn’t question it either, hoping that you’d come to him if something was bothering you... yet when you didn’t and he could visibly see the toll it was taking on you, his worry grew to the point he just couldn’t ignore it anymore. He figured that a good wash was a step in the right direction.

“Take a damn shower!” It sounds harsh, especially when his voice is just a little louder than the tone he usually uses with you, and he internally kicks himself for it, but under it lies raw emotion.

Fear, confusion. Chuuya doesn’t understand all that well what you’re going through and it hurts him to not know how he can help. But he also knows that what you’re feeling is far worse.

So, while you soak in the rain of the shower, the mafia executive calls up an old colleague. Dazai.

He’s reluctant at first, but the thought of reaching out to someone who’s a little more... experienced, someone that might have a piece of advice that could help, well, he’s willing to swallow the burning hate towards the other male just this once.

He’s grateful to hear the seriousness that drips in Dazai’s voice, and every word that the brunet says he mentally notes, taking it all to heart. After five minutes, Dazai has said all he could on the matter and the call ends.

Half an hour passes and you step out of the bathroom, fresh, warm clothes adoring your body, no doubt your boyfriend being the one who warmed them in the dryer and set them in the bathroom for you. Aimlessly you walked into the living room, the sight of Chuuya sitting crossed legged on the couch coming into view. The moment he sees you he stands, delicately latching onto your hand and pulling you back down onto his lap.

The thump of his heartbeat calms you somewhat, as well as the soothing strokes he does on your back.

Something Dazai said was that not everyone is willing to open up, even if they’re a loved one, and that you can’t always outright ask what’s going on either. As frustrating as it is for him, Chuuya remains silent, running his free hand through your still damp hair, fewer tangles than there was before you bathed.

Whether anything is revealed about your depression is completely up to you. Chuuya will listen to every syllable that leaves the lips he loves oh so much, or, if you don’t, he’ll simply continue to stroke your hair and rub your back, planting feather light kisses to your temple.

What he does regardless of if you say something or not is that he’ll stay right by your side, supporting you however he can. He’ll talk to you if you’re up for it, cuddle you, give you some space if need be, shower or soak in the tub with you if it helps, you name it Chuuya will do it.

These things take time and he’s willing to put as much time aside for you as you need.

Anything for the person he cherishes most.

“Never forget that I love you, alright? You’ll get through this ‘cause you’re strong, I know you are.”

Requests are open (as of me writing/posting this)! Make sure to check out the rules for the fandoms and characters I write for!

Masterlist (has rules/fandoms link there too)

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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something-fanfiction-ie · 4 years

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Rough Drafts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Explicit descriptions of a murder scene, argument, angst, and cursing.

A/N: Okay, so I know I said I was gonna publish this yesterday but I got Cassandra Clare’s newest book and I couldn’t put it down. I seriously love that lady. Omg. Anyways, it’s here now! And it’s angsty! And there’s gonna be a fourth part soon I promise! For real. Don’t forget to reblog, comment, send me an ask or a message and overall just adore me so that I may continue to feel good about myself. As always thank you for supporting me and I hope you enjoy!!!

[ Part One | Part Two ]

___

An incredulous laugh bursts from your lips, your nails cutting crescent moons into the palms of your hands as you try and convince yourself that this isn’t actually happening.

“Do you have alibis for your whereabouts on Monday, June eighth, Saturday, June thirteenth, and Thursday, June eighteenth?” Spencer can see your leg bouncing rapidly under the table, your eyes flying over the pictures and the expression of Emily Prentiss. You seem genuine, but he can’t trust himself to get an accurate read of you anymore.

“I, uhm, I- I wouldn’t know off the top of my head. I keep a planner, I’ll forget things otherwise.” The burst of iron in your mouth is not something you’re unused to, having chewed your cheek so badly that the skin there has broken under your teeth.

“We’ll need to see that.” Emily isn’t sure whether or not she believes that you’re guilty, watching the way you seem to unravel before her. When you look at the crime scene photos, it isn't with any pleasure, but with disgust. Your nose wrinkles a little at the bridge and you keep looking away as the blood from your face starts to drain.

Either you’re a really good actress or you aren’t the unsub.

Emily says as much as she flips through the small teal planner that you’d willingly given them. Due dates for chapters, publishing events, book signings and days for book tours fill most of the pages in your most neat handwriting. Dates you plan to go visit your mother, grocery shop, doctor’s appointments, even plans to go somewhere and write.

Everything is explicitly stated, that way you’re never unsure of what you meant to tell yourself. That is, until around three weeks ago when a handful of days are notated with an ‘S,’ followed by a random doodle. Sometimes it’s a tiny heart drawn absentmindedly while you discuss the plans over the phone, other times it’s a cartoon bunny or a top hat.

Garcia is the first to take notice of it, her fingers faltering in their constant thrum against the keyboard in front of her. She glances out of the side of her glasses, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

“Looks like lonely girl found herself a boo.”

“That makes sense,” JJ says from the chair she’s pulled into Penelope’s office from the bullpen. A pen is stretched between her hands, her posture relaxed into the curve of the stiff, government-issued rolly chair.

All the girls have gathered into the tech analyst’s room while the men take turns interrogating you. Well, all except Spencer. He just stands behind that window watching your every move with eyes like a hawk. “What doesn’t make sense is why she keeps it secret even in her personal planner.”

“Maybe she has a stalker? That could be who is doing all this?”

“Then she wouldn’t keep careful notation of everything else going on in her life. A stalker would follow her every move, not just her romantic interests. Even if he is in love with her.”

“A partner, maybe? Like the days they planned the murders or days they were acted out?”

“None of the days line up with the crimes, save for this one,” Emily leans the book toward the two women with her finger just underneath June fifth, the day Alison Crane was abducted from outside her campus dorm room. It’s the third ‘S’ scribbled into the corner of a day in the entire book.

“And there is nothing else written in relation to this ‘S’ character?” JJ shakes her head, looking for any clues that could be nestled among the loops and curls of your writing. Reid would be better at this, he was the graphology expert among them. So why wasn’t he back here helping?

“Then I guess we better try and get her to talk about it. Meanwhile Garcia, we’ll get Rossi and Reid to head over to her apartment and you can hack into her computer?” Penelope spins the chair, a flash of bright colors and blond hair. She clicks her tongue in response, throwing up a fingers gun and winking.

“Whatever you need me to do, I’m on it like sexy on Derek Morgan stepping out of the shower in a towel.”

After some arguing, and maybe just a little bit of pleading, they manage to convince Reid to join Rossi on a trip to your apartment. He can’t help but feel a little uncomfortable, standing in your living room. Not because he’d been here before, but because he’d never been here before.

The empty mugs that litter every surface, smelling of old coffee and your favorite coffee creamer (he only knows it’s your favorite because you explicitly ask for that creamer at every coffee shop the two of you have ever gone to), is unfamiliar to him. He’s invited you to his apartment at least three times. How come he had never been to yours?

Small pages and notebooks of scribbled ideas and dialogues cover just as many areas as the coffee cups do, your handwriting messy and cramped in every note. It’s almost like you couldn’t get the idea out of your head fast enough.

The bed in your room is meticulously made without a wrinkle in sight, but that could be because of the obvious bed you’ve made yourself along the salmon pink couch that stretches out in front of your TV. A multicolored crochet blanket is thrown haphazardly over the back, a pillow still slightly squished against the arm.

On the coffee table is a half opened laptop, a notebook with red and black ink scribbled in the lines, and a still full cup of coffee. Rossi makes quick work of calling Garcia and helping her get patched into your computer. It’s strange, watching her move the mouse on your screen from miles away.

Reid never stops moving, walking the length of your studio apartment with his eyes peeled for any kind of information he could find. It’s obvious that you spend most of your time in the main room, which houses the kitchen, a small dining area, and the living room. A door leading into your room branches off to a small bathroom which is just as disorganized as everything else in your house.

Hair products, skin washes, and all kinds of makeup are scattered across the sink and back of your toilet. It’s funny because every time he’s ever met up with you, you’re bare faced and your hair is still drying from the shower you took before leaving your house. The tube of lipstick he picks up makes him think he doesn’t really know you at all.

On the nightstand in your room is a bottle of water with the label ripped off and the two Rossi books you’d bought that fateful day in the bookstore. The label from the water bottle is stuck between the middle pages of one of the books. The passages in question don’t lend anything to connecting you as a homicidal maniac, let alone a serial killer.

Back in the living room, Garcia is snooping through every aspect of your computer.

“I don’t know whether or not the be freaked out by her web history. There’s a lot of murder-y questions here. ‘Signs of a post mortem amputation,’ ‘How much blood can you lose and still live?,’ ‘Most brutal ways to be killed.’ It’s creepy.” Rossi is flicking through the notebook from the table, his eyes squinted as he tried to make sense of the abbreviations and scribblings of another writer.

“She writes crime novels so it isn’t entirely strange for her to be looking at those types of things.” Thankfully, the defense of your web search history comes from the older man who looks up as Garcia delves deeper and deeper. Spencer had thought it first, but hadn’t said anything to avoid suspicion. He’s smart enough to know that the truth has to come out eventually, but he wants to be sure of your innocence (or guilt, he reminds himself a bit glumly) before he reveals your link to him.

“I’m not seeing anything she could be using to contact a partner unless her partner is one of the publishing people she’s constantly messaging via email.” At this Spencer stops, leaning against the back of the couch with his weight resting on the heels of his hands. The stance appears relaxed. He is anything but.

“Why do we assume she has a partner?” Reid asks, impatiently pushing a stray curl away from his face. Rossi glances at him curiously, otherwise undistracted from the shake the movement gives the couch.

“Oh, Prentiss, JJ, and I were looking through her little teal book earlier and the only thing not explicitly stated was just the letter ‘S.’ It’s why they came back to interrogate and they sent you guys to her house. I thought they told you.”

Spencer wants to beat his head against the wall.

“That isn’t a lead, Garcia. You have to tell them that ‘S’ isn’t her partner.” The mouse on the computer screen falters, several saved documents for different rough drafts of books or drabbles are pulled up the way you might have papers scattered about in front of you.

“What is it? Do you know who ‘S’ is?” Rossi is turned sideways on the couch, looking over the back and up at the distressed man in front of him. It doesn’t take him long to connect the dots when they make eye contact. Penelope impatiently whines over the phone.

“I’m ‘S,’ I’ve been seeing her for the last three weeks. I’m sure if you tell me the dates then every single one of them will be days that we’ve had plans together.”

“I’m sorry, what?!” Before anyone has the chance to say anything else, the door to Garcia’s office opens and a second voice filters through Rossi’s phone speaker. It’s JJ.

“Let Reid and Rossi know there’s just been another murder.”

This time it’s a fifteen year old girl. Her hair is black and wet, her lips are as blue as the sky, and she’s naked. Water droplets from her skin have soaked into the sheet of paper that was layed over her chest. The bathtub she’s in is completely empty, but it doesn’t take a genius to know that she was drowned there. The bruises on her shoulders from the force the unsub used to pin her down are dark against the contrast of her already pale skin.

...The man leaned over the tub, his eyes squinted in thought and his lips skewed a little to the side. Ryder stayed focused on the crime scene, for the most part. But even detectives of her caliber, and higher, could easily get lost in the eyes that look up at her from beneath long golden-brown lashes.

“Detective?” She blinks the distraction away, looking back at the girl, her black hair wet and spiraling like the snakes on Medusa’s head against the ivory siding of the drained tub. Ryder can’t help but wish the girl had been lucky enough to turn her killer to stone. Maybe it would have saved her.

“Agent.” She crosses her arms, looking anywhere but at the man across from her, pretending to look for any useful clues. Ryder had gotten to the crime scene fourty-five minutes before the pair of FBI Agents had walked in. The man, who had introduced himself as Supervisory Special Agent Matthew Gray, had decided to join her in the second floor bathroom. His partner, a woman named Katherine Swift, had taken to looking for clues through the rest of the house.

Agent Gray is beautiful. It’s the only adjective that seems to stick to him with certainty, every other aspect of his personality just as elusive as the exact color of those eyes. Even as short as his hair is, the golden brown tendrils are unkempt and curl every which way. Ryder has to force her hand to stay at her side and not reach up to smooth an alfalfa that does nothing for the serious expression on his face.

She keeps imagining what it would feel like if he reached out to kiss her, curling his fingers into her hair and bringing her unworthy lips up to meet his. He’s tall so she would probably have to stretch a little, but she wouldn’t mind. Not when his hands are tangled in her hair and he’s giving her the kiss she’s been silently begging for since the moment he flashed that crooked grin at her.

The imagination is so vivid that she jumps when her own partner, Detective Russo, comes around the corner of the hallway and straight into the bathroom...

The paper crinkles in the evidence bag as Morgan places it on the table, trying to ignore the daggers being glared into him on the other side of the mirror.

Nobody on the team had been very happy with Spencer when they heard the news about your relationship, Hotch had nearly snatched him by the scruff of his neck when he made to go into the interrogation room. But after several minutes of thoroughly explaining himself, Hotch had sent Morgan in. To say Spencer was infuriated was an understatement.

“Do you know what this is, (Y/N)?” You look down at it, twisting the evidence bag so that you could read the Times New Roman font you always wrote in when writing in Microsoft Word. The words cover the front and back of the copy paper, but you don’t have to read it through all the way before you know what it is.

“It’s a page from my newest book.” The bag scratches against the tabletop as you push it away from you, crossing your arms over your chest. Your face is stoplight red with embarrassment at the thought of Spencer reading this page, mostly because you had pulled so heavily from your own thoughts when first meeting Spencer to write Ryder and Gray’s first meeting. You created Matthew Gray to write about Spencer Reid in a way that felt less ‘high school diary entry.’

“More specifically, it’s from the book you just started working on about a month ago. The one that only you and your agent have access to.” Finally, Morgan sits. Before, he’d just been pacing around you the way a lioness might stalk around her prey before she launches an attack. It made you uneasy, but that was the whole point, wasn’t it?

“Do you know where we found it, (Y/N)?” His muscles bulge against his shirtsleeves when he leans them up on the table. Derek Morgan is a very attractive man, you’ll give him that, but if making you uneasy and putting you in the room with a attractive man to fluster you was their strategy then they should have sent in Spencer.

“My computer.”

“We found it on the body of a dead girl.” Another picture joins the ones already shuffled around the table. You can barely look at it, nausea and tears building in your throat at the sight of another person dying the same way you’d written in a story. When you don’t respond, Morgan continues.

“‘She was found at the bottom of an empty bathtub, a pale leg hooked over the edge of the porcelain siding, and her arms pinned to her sides in death. Bruises discolored the skin at her shoulders, and Ryder knew at first glance that her cause of death would be asphyxiation by drowning.’” He drops the paper back to the table, having picked it up to read the passage from the end of the page.

“That’s wrong,” You say, leaning back over the table to look at the paper again. Derek looks down, like the words might have changed in the moment he looked away, but the text stays exactly the same as before.

“That’s exactly what is written here.” You shake your head, pulling the bag back to you and wrinkling your forehead in thought.

“I don’t doubt that is what you read, Agent Morgan,” Your eyes fly over the page, reading the end of the excerpt with overwhelming relief. The bag sticks a little to the pad of your index finger as you tap over the paragraph in question. “But I rewrote this scene only two nights ago. It’s on my computer, I’m sure your tech analyst can confirm my claim. This girl, Bella, she doesn’t die from drowning anymore. Her hands are tied above her head to the faucet and she’s strangled. I couldn’t decide if I wanted it to be by her sister or her girlfriend.”

JJ rushes back to Penelope’s office, on a mission to confirm your statement just as you had suggested. Meanwhile, Morgan’s mind is rushing to figure out the mess he is currently sat in. You lean back in your chair now, unsure if the dizziness you feel is from lack of food or the sudden realization that they couldn’t pin this to you anymore.

“I’m not your bad guy. If I was doing this to prove to my mother that my writing is good, that I chose the right career, as your profile says, I wouldn’t change the scene in my book and not change the murder.” In Morgan’s earpiece, Hotch tells him that you were telling the truth about editing the scene two nights ago.

“Unless you planned it to throw us off track. We know about your relationship with Spencer, you’ve probably found out all kinds of things to do to keep us from catching you.”

You clench your teeth, straightening into your chair and pinning Derek down with a look you’d learned from your mother. It makes him think of his mom, your eyes narrowed and your gaze so cold that it could cause frostbite. He watches curiosily as you tilt your chin up a little, trying to hide the pricks behind your eyes and the wobble of your lip. Derek notices them, the entire team notices. They’re trained to notice.

“I want a lawyer.” You say simply, you voice is sharp and quiet but it does the job of slicing through the tension already building in the room.

“Come on, you don’t need a lawyer.”

“That’s where you’re wrong again, Agent Morgan. I do need a lawyer. Because even though I have full-heartedly trusted the justice system since I was in diapers, and even though I came to these offices willing to help your team in any way that I could, you are still trying to use me as a scapegoat instead of actually doing your fucking job and finding the bastard who is killing people in my name.

“A study from criminal law bulletin says that 10,000 people are wrongfully convicted of serious crimes every year. One in every twenty-five people sentenced to death are innocent, Agent Morgan. Just since 1973, more than 160 people were exonerated from the death penalty. That’s not even counting the people who were killed. But you sure as hell aren’t about to make me apart of that statistic because you want to waste your time trying to piece an investigation around me. That’s not how you’re supposed to do your job. So until you can remember how to do it correctly, I do need a lawyer. Thank you.”

By the time you finish you’ve leaned over the table, your index finger jammed into the wood to make your point. It feels like your chest is on fire as you slam back into your seat and cross your arms, determined to keep your silence for the rest of the time you were forced to sit here.

Everyone on the opposite side of the mirror is stunned into silence, their eyes focused on you even as Derek gathers all the things from the desk and walks out looking a little flustered himself. If Spencer was totally honest, your outburst was actually kind of hot. He has to remind himself that you may have killed eight people in cold blood.

Your lawyer makes it to the BAU in record time, his red hair expertly gelled back from his face. His icy blue eyes only cracking when he sees you sitting by yourself in the interrogation room. Spencer can tell by the way that he lowers himself on the balls of his feet to talk to you, reaching out to touch the hand that sits on your thigh, that he knows you personally. He likes you, actually. Spencer tried to tell himself that it doesn’t make him glad when you pull your hand out of his and awkwardly pat his arm.

He’s been lying to himself a lot today.

Hotch is the one to go back in the room, he was the best at dealing with lawyers. Unfortunately his best wasn’t enough to keep you in custody and soon your lawyer, who Spencer learned was named Jeremy, was walking you out of the room for the first time in six hours.

Your back cracks when you stand, your shoulders rolling back to try and ease some of the stress you’d been holding there since this morning. The sound of the door swinging open for you is almost heavenly, the feel of the air outside of the room is damn near enough to make you cry.

When you look to the side, ready to leave out the second door that leads into the hallway and away from this mess, you meet eyes with the only profiler of the BAU that you hadn’t seen that day. Spencer looks back at you with an expression that you find hard to put into words.

He almost looks sorry, the regret evident in the slight widening of his eyes, but at the same time his chin is tilted up like he is facing an enemy he has vowed to take down no matter the cost. His shoulders are squared, but his arms are uncrossed and his palms are open.

And even though you knew you wouldn’t be there without him knowing, the reassurance that Spencer knew and even suspected you is like a blow to the chest and stomach. It robs you of air, causing you to stumble.

Jeremy reaches to steady you. You shake him off, pulling your eyes from the young doctor and focusing all of your attention on the door knob.

“I’m fine, Jeremy.” Your tone of voice is more harsh than you intended but you’re still struggling to collect oxygen, even when you slide into your car by yourself, it feels like you can’t get enough air. The walk from the BAU offices to the parking lot had passed in a blur. Jeremy’s talk about staying at home and keeping your head low had gone by even faster, and now that you have time to truly be by yourself, everything hits like a ton of bricks thrown at you from a speeding train.

In the midst of your panic attack, gasping for air into the palms of your shaking hands, questioning everything about yourself and your career, you don’t register the shuffle of movement in your backseat. You’re so deep in your mind that you almost don’t notice the cool press of a gun barrel against the back of your neck until a familiar voice lifts your head from your hands.

“Drive.”

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #dr spence reid #spence reid #criminal mind imagine #criminal minds

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bitterlikesweets · 3 years

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Love Bites Ch 19

This is the nineteenth chapter of a modern/vampire AU ereri fanfic. You can also read it on Ao3. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | Special | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19

It would be a stretch to say that Eren and his older brother ever got along well. Zeke hated him. He had since the day they met.

"Met." Because Eren didn't know Zeke existed until he was ten years old.

When Eren was a little kid, he didn't know anything. His parents were the epitome of being in love. Every time they were together, his father would shower his mother in kind words and affection. He always made her smile. He would even bring her gifts every time he came back from his monthly family reunions.

His dad never got Eren anything, but that was okay. As long as he got stuff for Eren’s mom. As long as his parents loved each other, Eren didn’t mind. That was enough. Because it made his mom smile. And Eren’s mom loved Eren no matter what. Eren loved her no matter what, too.

She loved Eren more than usual during his dad’s family reunions.

When Eren asked his father why he never brought Eren and his mother along, Grisha Jaeger just said it wasn't time yet.

They never really explained to Eren how it all happened. Why things with Grisha's first family didn't work out. Zeke just showed up one day, Grisha's hand on his shoulder as they stood in the doorway.

"Eren, this is your older brother. His mom's very busy, so he'll be staying with us over the weekend."

It took Eren awhile to wrap his head around it. How was it possible for Zeke to be Eren's brother but have a different mom? Why was Zeke not living with them?

Why did they look so different?

Eren's mom was very patient. She explained about falling in love. About falling out of it. And how sometimes people are left behind when that happens. She told Eren he could still believe in love. That sometimes it ends, but a new one could start in its place.

"I might not be his first love," his mother said, "but I am his favorite."

His favorite? Eren believed that for a little bit. But he always wondered why his dad kept going back to visit his first love if that was really the case. It wasn't to visit Zeke. Sometimes their dad would still go to see Zeke's mom, even if Zeke was staying with them, babysitting Eren.

"If it wasn't for you," Zeke always used to say, "he would still be with us. He would be my dad, not yours."

Why? Why was it Eren's fault?

When did his parents start arguing in the middle of the night?

Zeke started getting nicer to Eren eventually. When Eren was thirteen and Zeke was sixteen, Zeke started to be almost kind. Saying that it wasn't Eren's fault after all. They just needed time, and everything would work itself out.

Turns out, everything "working out" meant Grisha going back to his first love. Which meant Carla Jaeger was not his favorite, after all.

It made more sense to Eren that love just didn't exist. Romantic love was stupid and fake and wasn't real.

His mom finally agreed with him when Grisha moved out.

When Eren was fifteen, he saw his brother for the last time. He dropped Eren off at his house after school and told Eren he wasn't going to come back anymore. That Zeke no longer had to pretend they were really family.

Eren and his mother got the news a few months later. Somebody broke into the Jaeger household—the other Jaeger household—and now everyone in that other family was dead. The police told them it was a burglary.

That's what they said about Eren's mom too, in the official reports. A burglary; a mother dead, and a son injured, but otherwise fine.

Eren should've realized it then. A burglary with nothing stolen. A report he'd already heard once before. He should've recognized the similarities.

But he didn't connect the dots because things were different then, with his dad. When it happened to Eren and his mother, it wrecked him. It still wrecks him now. It didn't feel real at all. And now he misses her so, so much.

When Eren was fifteen, finding out that his father and older brother were gone for good, he doesn't remember feeling wrecked or sad or missing them.

He doesn't remember feeling anything at all.

Seven years later, knowing who killed them, Eren feels…

Eren feels exactly the same.

Maybe he's been a little monstrous since way back then.

~ ~ ~

Eren wakes up to moonlight, rain, and the smell of smoke. He blinks up at the unfamiliar gray ceiling, unconsciously fiddling with the fleece blanket loosely draped over his body. He's too big for it; it's pulled up to his chest and his ankles stick out the bottom. It's strange though; he remembers dropping onto the couch with nothing but his sweater as a makeshift blanket. The curtains too. He swears that he closed those last night, and hey—Eren can hear rain, so why is everything so dry outside?

Eren sits up slowly, his eyes scanning the room with narrowed eyes. There are a few more things different from how Eren remembers them. The wooden knives and stakes he remembers putting in front of Levi’s small closet are nowhere to be seen, and there’s a light on in the kitchen. The rain sounds seem to be coming from there too.

When Eren gets up to investigate, he finds Levi sitting at the kitchen counter, a mug in his hands as he stares blankly down at his steaming drink. There’s a candle in front of him, and a little speaker by the wall at the edge of the counter.

Eren knocks on the wall, and Levi looks up, his gray eyes brighter than before, a bit more alert.

“Good night,” Eren says with a nod.

The corners of Levi’s quirk up for a moment.

“Good night,” Levi says, moving his mug up to his lips.

“It looks like I turned you nocturnal,” Eren says, pulling up one of the tall chairs beside Levi’s.

The smell of smoke seems to be coming from the gray candle in front of Levi—its label says “Fireside”—and when a single tap of Levi’s finger against the speaker causes the rain to stop, all of Eren’s questions are answered.

...All of his more trivial questions, anyway.

“I should make a midnight shift at the Kitchen just for you as revenge,” Levi says.

“Hmm…” Eren drops his chin into his hand, stroking an imaginary beard with his fingers. “Doesn’t sound like too bad of a deal, honestly. How much do you pay?”

Levi scoffs instead of answering, and Eren smiles, moving his chair closer so that he can bump shoulders with Levi. Levi leans against him in response.

“Thanks,” Levi says quietly. “For yesterday.”

Eren’s smile softens, and he presses his face into Levi’s shoulder.

“Anytime.”

“I…” Levi clears his throat. “I was pretty out of it. If I had known that you—”

Levi clears his throat again.

“You didn’t have to sleep on the couch,” Levi says, his ears getting a pink tint. “If I had known you were staying over, I’d have told you so.”

Eren’s face burns. He’s immensely grateful that his head is tucked against the fabric of Levi’s shirt and out of sight.

“O-oh. I, uh—Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind, f-for next time.”

“Yeah,” Levi mumbles. He’s leaning more heavily onto Eren, though his head is turned away. “Good.”

And then things are quiet for a moment. Eren absentmindedly shifts his face from Levi’s shoulder to Levi’s neck, a deep sort of relaxation pooling in his chest and shoulders when he does. Something about it sets him at ease, even despite the slight throb in his fangs that comes from his close proximity to Levi’s veins.

Though his bite scars do start to itch a bit. Again.

“Eren,” Levi says.

“Hmm?”

“I’ve been… thinking about some of things you said yesterday.”

An image of his blond brother’s face flashes through Eren’s mind, and he stiffens. One of Levi’s hands immediately finds its way to Eren’s back, resting hesitantly there.

“We don’t have to talk about it though,” Levi says. “If you’re burnt out.”

“No,” Eren says quickly, raising his head out of the crook of Levi’s neck and pulling away slightly. “No, that’s, uh… We can talk about it.”

Should Eren tell him? He really doesn’t want to tell him. It’s probably hard enough on Levi with that family as strangers with no other connection to him. If he finds out that that man was Eren’s dad—that the Feral King is Eren’s brother—

“Alright,” Levi says, though he sends a confused frown Eren’s way. “Just tell me if it’s too much.”

“I will.”

It’s not like it changes much for Eren either way anyway. They’ve been dead for seven years already—he thought they all were anyway—and he was never angry at that anonymous killer. His mom was devastated, and that made him sad, but…

Shit, it’s fucked up that he didn’t care, isn’t it? He was fifteen, and on TV, people were always telling their parents to go die, so, at the time, he thought it was just one of those “hormonal teenager things” that every adult in his life was always going on about. It wasn’t like he was relieved or happy when they died! He was just… indifferent.

...Maybe he should’ve taken his mom’s offer when she told him she’d take him to see a therapist if he needed one.

“That thing you said,” Levi says, though Eren’s only half-listening, “about people changing. About how not everyone does. I think that… helped a lot. For a while, I didn’t think I…”

Eren tries to redirect his brain. It’s far too late to be over analyzing his teenage brain. He thought his dad and his brother were dicks, and he never knew Zeke’s mom, so he didn’t give a fuck when they died. Is that awful? Probably. But that’s not the thing Eren’s worried about right now.

Should he tell Levi? Now that he’s thinking about it, it might be worse to keep it from Levi. If they go and try to kill those vampires who turned Eren, they’ll probably run into Zeke. Zeke will probably recognize Eren, and springing that whole “yeah, this asshole is my brother” thing onto Levi in the middle of a life or death situation is a terrible fucking idea. So, Eren definitely has to tell him. Should he tell him right now? How is he even going to explain—

“...Eren.”

Eren blinks, green eyes wide as he looks over at Levi. Levi just sighs, setting his mug down on the counter.

“I told you we didn’t need to talk about it.”

“No, no,” Eren says quickly. “That’s my bad. I don’t mind talking about it. I just… Have a lot in my head right now.”

Levi’s expression softens a little, and he reaches up to rest his hand against Eren’s cheek, the tips of his fingers settling in his long brown hair.

“We’re a fucking mess,” Levi says.

Eren can’t hold back a laugh, covering Levi’s hand with his own.

“Good thing you like cleaning,” Eren teases, and Levi rolls his eyes.

A pale thumb gently sweeps back and forth across Eren’s cheek, and Eren leans into the touch, his mind clearing a bit. His thoughts are no longer quite so fast, so frantic. It’s a bit easier not to focus on them with Levi there as a physical distraction, pulling Eren out of his own head a bit.

“What’s in there?” Levi said, shifting his hand to knock his knuckles against the side of Eren’s head. “I’ll help clean it up.”

Eren’s smile wavers, his gaze lowering.

“It might make your own head messy again.”

“That’s fine.”

Eren takes a deep breath.

“Furlan… Yesterday, when I called him, he told me the name of the Feral King.”

Levi nods.

“Zeke.”

“Zeke Jaeger,” Eren says.

Levi frowns slightly but nods again.

“I’ve… never told you my full name,” Eren says. “It’s Eren Jaeger.”

Levi’s eyes grow wide, his hand falling away from Eren’s face, but Eren hurries to grab hold of that pale hand before it can fully retreat.

“Eren—”

“Just wait,” Eren says. “Please. Let me explain.”

Levi scowls, but he keeps his lips pressed shut, even as his hand fidgets in Eren’s grasp.

“He’s my brother,” Eren says. “My older brother.”

“But I—” Levi clutches his head with his free hand. “Your… your mother—”

“No,” Eren says quickly, leaning towards Levi. “No, Levi. Not my mom. Zeke’s my half brother. We only share a dad. My mom was killed by ferals, just like I’ve always said.”

“You—” Levi shakes his head. “You talked with Furlan—You’ve known this since yesterday—why are you still here?”

“Levi, that doesn’t change anything for me—”

“Why the fuck not?” Levi snaps, yanking his hand out of Eren’s grip. “Eren, I—I killed your family!”

“Levi, no—”

Eren tries to reach for Levi’s hands again, but Levi abruptly moves them out of reach, his chest heaving.

“Don’t.”

Levi tries to wipe off his hands, his black eyebrows pulled downward into a deep scowl. Eren clenches his hands into fists, struggling to get air into his lungs.

Levi’s angry—not at him. Eren has to fix this. Levi’s hands—where are the paper towels? If he turns away, will Levi run? Does Levi even want his help? He wants to touch Levi. Levi doesn’t want that. He needs to finish explaining. He doesn’t want to go into detail about that time. Zeke, his dad—they’re haunting him like unruly fucking ghosts. He didn’t want to make Levi spiral again—He feels fucking sick, like his stomach is boiling—

“I don’t get you,” Levi snaps. “Why—knowing what I did—did to you—why are you still here?”

“Because I love you—”

“Why? Why are you siding with me over them?”

“Because they never fucking did!” Eren exclaims. “Always—it was always only my mom, just my mom—my dad never—Zeke never—”

Eren’s eyes are burning. His throat aches. He hates this. He doesn’t want to yell at Levi. He’s not yelling because of Levi. It’s because of his fucking dad, because of Zeke, because of those bastards that he was finally able to not think about after all these years—

“Why would I choose them over you?” Eren’s hands are clenched into tight fists. He feels a sharp pain in his palms and ignores it. “They never loved me. You do.”

Eren looks over at Levi, who’s staring at him, practically frozen.

“...Don’t you?”

Levi’s mouth opens and closes without words for a moment before he manages two words in a quiet, hoarse voice.

“I do.”

Eren’s eyes are still burning, aching. When his eyesight blurs, he wipes at his wet eyes. Pale hands are retreating from him when his sight is clear again—Levi reached out to him but is already pulling back. Frustration burns in the pit of Eren’s chest, and he’s reaching out before he can think better of it.

“For fuck’s—I don’t care, Levi, just get it on me,” Eren snaps, grasping Levi’s hands and covering them with his own. “It’s not like it’s going to fuck me up even more—I’m already—”

Eren goes stiff when he catches a glimpse of Levi’s face. It’s flat, masked, emotionless. Whatever anger that was in him cools immediately, and Eren quickly releases Levi’s hands, internally cursing himself for his insensitive, stupid mistake. Has he learned nothing from everything that happened yesterday? This is it. He’s fucked up absolutely everything—

“You…”

Levi’s eyes are on Eren’s hands.

“You don’t make any sense,” Levi says.

“I… I’m sorry.”

“You really… don’t care?”

Eren winces, his gaze dropping to his lap.

“That’s not what I—it was a bad choice of words—”

“It doesn’t change how you feel about me?” Levi asks, his voice a little louder, more insistent.

“N-no,” Eren says. “It doesn’t.”

“Even though it’s your brother.”

“My brother’s a murderer.”

“So am I,” Levi says, shifting his gaze from Eren’s hands to Eren’s eyes.

“Yeah, and I will be too, soon,” Eren says. “But I love you and my brother runs a murder cult that lead to the death of my mom.”

Levi stays silent, and Eren bites his lip.

“...Does it change things for you?” Eren asks. “The fact that I’m not bothered by it?”

“No,” Levi says immediately. “I just… don’t… It’s hard to believe. For me.”

“That I don’t care about my brother?”

“That you love me,” Levi says. “Because when I did that, I… I still don’t… Trust myself.”

Eren’s shoulders lower slightly, his expression softening.

“Do you want me to prove it?”

Levi frowns.

“...Can you?”

Eren holds out his hand. Levi just continues frowning at him.

“What do you see?” Eren asks. “When you have to clean your hands off like that?”

Levi’s mouth opens and shuts once before he answers.

“Blood.”

Eren's breath stutters a bit. He'd been wondering about that...

Slowly, he reaches out to grab Levi’s hand again, pulling it closer until Levi has to lean forward. Eren keeps pulling until Levi’s hand is flat against his chest, right over where his dead heart lies beneath the surface.

“Levi,” Eren says, smiling slightly in spite of everything, “I’m a vampire.”

He slowly raises Levi’s hand higher, pressing his lips against Levi’s knuckles.

“It’ll take more than a little blood to scare me away.”

“That…”

Levi lets out a deep sigh, getting out of his seat.

“That’s the cheesiest fucking shit you could’ve said.”

Eren’s face grows hot at the unexpected insult, and he drops Levi’s hand, unable to make anything more than incoherent noises of offense in his current headspace. By the time Levi has stepped closer, all Eren can manage is—

“Wha—I’m out here trying to prove my love to you, and that’s what you—”

Eren is interrupted by Levi dropping his entire body onto Eren, and Eren wraps his arms around the man’s back to stop them both from falling off of the chair.

“Levi?”

“Sorry,” Levi says. “It’s… habit.”

“You need to work on that,” Eren grumbles, burying his face into Levi’s neck again, the action immediately setting himself at ease. “One of these days I’m seriously going to get offended.”

Levi nods, still leaning heavily on Eren and showing no sign of trying to hold up his own weight.

“I hope…” Levi says quietly. “...Nothing’s able to scare you away.”

Eren smiles, holding Levi tighter.

“Nothing will,” Eren says. “I promise.”

Not the blood on Levi's hands, not Eren's dad, not the Feral King. Nothing's going to scare Eren away. He's certain of that now.

Levi sighs, and Eren’s fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt.

“What about you?”

“Hm?”

“Is anything going to scare you away?”

Levi scoffs, pulling back just enough to look Eren in the eye.

“You’re going to wish something could.”

Eren grins, leaning in to press his lips against Levi’s.

“No, Levi, I don’t think I will.”

#ereri riren #ereri #riren #ereri fanfic #riren fanfic #fanfiction #sorry this is late i forgot which day of the week it was haha

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insidetheacademy · 4 years

Text

Say You Love Me || v

pairings: peter parker x reader (both are 18+!)

summary: y/n settles down in paris and met a new friend! also peter has a surprise

warnings: wet dREAAAMS

gif credits: tomholandd

part i part ii part iii part iv part v

the flight to Paris was okay except for a baby that was crying super loud. jeez, babies shouldnt be allow to travel you thought to yourself. after you had arrived, you went straight to this beautiful cottage that was apparently the company’s property. you said goodbye and thank you to the taxi driver and took a good look at the house infront of you. this is it, you’re gonna have to spend your time in this house for God knows how long.

you dragged your suitcase in and set it aside. you explored the interior of the house before going to the backyard. it was beautiful. there was a visible river and someone who used to lived here definitely took a good care of it since theres flowers and everything that you had seen in a fairytale. you werent gonna lie, you do feel like you’re a pauper. you took out your phone and captured the photo to upload to your Instagram. you captioned it “la vie en rose”, cliché but you had planned about taking photos and making your captions in french since you got on the airplane.

you head inside to take out all of your paintings essential. you felt inspired just by looking at the view there. you took one of the chair from the garden and sit down and started painting on your easel. you startled when you felt someone tapped your shoulder, you turned around and saw a tall pale man. he looks like he’s from around here.

��hey! y/n right?” he asked smiling wide, you took out your earphone “yeah? and who are you?” you asked confusingly, “Jules? we’re supposed to be working together?” he said trying to refresh your brain but you were still confused. “did they not tell you about me?” Jules asked, you shook your head and said a small sorry. you must have slipped over the email when they said that. you feel so stupid right now,

Jules explained everything and apparently he’s your new roommate. he was supposed to help you do a big painting for Claude Monet. you invited him inside to make a cup of tea for the both of you. “so, where are you from, Jules?” you cusped your teacup, “I live 30 minutes away from here. they wanted me to be here all the time to complete the painting as fast as possible and I couldnt say no,” Jules said.

after an hour and a half of talking with Jules, you really feel right at home with him. you two just met but you really feel a connection between him. you also found out that during his free time, he’s a guitarist and does gigs here and there to make extra pocket money. he said he’s in a band thats called “The Rejects Club” you laughed hard when he told you that because it sounded so high school-ish. but in his defence, he did say that the band formed when they were still in high school.

it was close to dinnertime, you didnt want to eat as you already eat a croissant that you quickly grabbed from the airport but Jules insisted to make cook for the both of you, you couldnt say no when his voice sounded so velvety and is like a warm cup of coffee with marshmallows on top. you were sitting on the couch with the both of your legs on top of the coffee table scrolling through instagram when Peter replied to your story, “how’s Paris so far?” he asked, “it was tiring but tomorrow’s gonna be more tiring,” you said.

whatever Jules was cooking definitely made your stomach growl with anticipation. you werent hungry but whatever he was making definitely made you hungry. you stood up from the couch to look at what Jules was cooking and it was pasta. to be accurate; an aglio olio. it smelled so delicious. you wanted to help so you took out the plates from the cupboard and set it down on the table.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

“you know I love you right?” Peter said his lips nearing yours, you looked into his eyes and nodded. the kissed turned into a passionate and fiery kiss. he had your body against the wall, he was cusping your jaw with his left hand and the other underneath your shirt, you let out a moan and he squeezed tits.

“jump,” he said through the kiss and you obeyed not wanting to destroy the moment that you were having, he sets you down on the silk bed and continues to take of your clothes, he kissed from your collarbones to the place that you needed him the most, “y/n!” someone said, but you were so lost you thought it was Peter that was calling you but the familiar new voice kept coming closer and closer as you woke up.

you woke up with sweat forming on your forehead and your alarm ringing so goddamn loud, “jesus, are you okay?” Jules asked, “what time is it?” you looked around frantically trying to look for the clock, “its 10:30am! we were supposed to leave the house 15 minutes ago, y/n!” your eyes went wide and picked a floral strap dress and a cream coloured turtleneck. you went to the shower without having second thoughts.

you put your clothes on and quickly grabbed your shoes along with a pair of socks and your handbag. you locked the door and ran to Jules’ car. you were breathing heavily as you strapped your seatbelt on. “I can’t believe we’re late!” you said flabbergastedly, “yeah, I know! what time did you even go to bed?” Jules was clearly annoyed. seems like he’s the type of person to arrive right on time.

“I slept right after we had dinner! I don’t know why I couldn’t hear the alarm. God, I feel so stupid” You put your socks on and your shoes. You took out your lipstick and put them on. “Who is Peter, anyway?” Jules asked absentmindedly, you looked at him trying to find out how he knew that name and in hopes that he’s just fucking around but he’s not.

you closed your compact mirror, “he’s a friend of mine,” “a friend, huh?” Jules scoffed, “I didn’t know a friend moans another friend name in their sleep,” your face flushed with red as he said those words. “what the hell, Jules?! I could’ve went days without knowing that you heard me having wet dreams about my friend!” you cover your face in shame. you couldnt believe that he had hear you moaning Peter’s name

“Oh my gosh, I feel like I could just bury myself right here,” you said, “Relax, I’m not going to tell anyone,” Jules said taking your hands into his, giving you a warm smile.

you two had arrived at this building that was filled with paintings but not by those famous painters just paintings by painters that were starting out. “Ah darlings!” you heard a middle aged woman walking towards you with both of her hands wide open, obviously ready to hug the both of us to death.

“you must be Ms y/n!” she cupped your face and kissed your cheeks, what a weird way to greet somebody but thats how it is, “and you must be Jules!” she took a step back and took a good look of you and Jules’ faces. she introduced herself as Mrs. Autry. she walked the both of you around the office and explained about how everything works.

“I am so excited for the two of you to work with us,” she smiles warmly, “let me know if you need anything sweethearts!” she bid her goodbye and went to another direction. you and Jules walked to the nearest café and sat down there. you ordered a frappacino whilst Jules ordered a latte.

every now and then you somehow were reminded of how you dreamed of Peter. not only dreamed of him but in such an inappropriate way. you don’t like him anymore, you just don’t know why he’s haunting you this badly. should you stop being friends with him? it feels so awkward now that you dreamed of him banging you. “so what should we do?” Jules voice brought you back down to earth, you stuttered trying to come up with something.

he could tell by the look in your eyes that theres something wrong, “you know you can tell me anything right, y/n?” Jules said, he’s definitely good in reading someone’s body language. “i wont judge, y/n,” he reassures you, you took a deep breath and let everything out.

everytime you talked he would listen, he’s there for you, always looking into your eyes to keep the conversation going, you also mentioned about how Peter was a dick when he found out you were coming here, Jules said “what a dick, do you want me to punch him if he ever comes here?” Jules offered you then laughed at his attempt trying to make you feel better.

you both went home and went straight to each other’s room because you were so tired. you didnt realised how much walking there was gonna be today. you took out your phone and saw MJ messaged you, “hey!!! I have great news! I’m coming to Paris next month!” you smiled to yourself, woah, did MJ missed you that much already?

you typed back “I know you miss me but you don’t have to, you know?” “Haha, very funny, y/l/n,” you chuckled and asked her “why are you coming here?” a three dots appeared and her response was “I just wanted to go there and experienced a real trip. not like when we get to go there and it was cancelled,” you still remember when the school trip cancelled going to Paris because apparently they got “upgraded” to go to Prague.

you smiled when you remembered thats how you found out Peter was Spider-man. “well, you’re going to love Paris,” you replied to MJ. you also gave her your current home address in Paris so she can visit you! she thought it was a lovely idea.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

“can’t you please to do this for me, MJ?” Peter begged MJ, basically down on his knees. “fine! but if everything went wrong do not blame me!” MJ gave in. Peter was planning to meet you in Paris but he wants it to be a surprise. something you’re going to remember till you’re dead.

Peter have missed you so much and he swore he could go crazy if he couldn’t see your face for another month. Peter was so excited that you gave a thumbs up and that you even gave MJ your address in Paris. he wonders to himself what could go wrong?

“there, I’ve done it, now can you please leave?” MJ crosses her arms, pissed that Peter hadwoken her up in the middle of the night because he couldnt keep it in his pants about his “love” for you. atleast thats what MJ teased him about. he never quite really admit it but MJ could see it and told him that he’s not fooling anybody with those goo goo eyes.

“thank you, MJ. i’ll find a way to repay you. i promise.” Peter said while crouching on her window, “you better, Parker, or you wont see the light of day ever again.” MJ threatens jokingly at Peter. he laughs and there he goes, he shot his webs to another building.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

a/n: hi sorry i know this is short and boring but i have so much on my plate right now but to make it up, I’ll try to post the next chapter tonight or tomorrow! again so SORRY its boring skdjsks but please do leave your thoughts!

say you love me taglist:

@imawkwardandhereweare @canyonmoonspidey @thebadassbitchqueen @thequeenreaders @averyfosterthoughts @a--1--1--3

#marvel cinematic universe #mcu #peter parker #peter parker angst #peter parker x reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland #actors

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staticscreenwriting · 5 years

Text

All you have to be is here - Part 12

Synopsis: Billy has fucked up and has to do 60 days of community service at a home for troubled kids and youth. Working with the kids there makes him learn a lot about himself. Also there’s a girl there his age who has a phenomenal smile and who is way too nice to him.I guess I should mention there’s a lot of angst in this. Talk of substance abuse later on, physical abuse, emotional abuse. All that kind of gnarly real life stuff. It deals with kids and teens struggling with a a shitty family life so be aware of that.

Part 12 of ? (Slight mention of smut)

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10 //

Please help a girl out by reblogging. Thank you

♥Attention ! If you wanna be tagged pls send me a message or an ask it’s easier and faster for me than going through the tags of each part every time. Thank you :)

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

I never really ever felt so adored before Never really ever felt this type of vulnerable Don’t have to hide, don’t have to fear All you have to be is here Never really ever felt so adored before And I said I wanna feel like this forever Even if forever’s just for now We’re on fire, let us burn As the outside world, it turns We are here and alive In our corner of time Forevermore

There’s a crying kid on the airplane two rows behind him and a woman loudly bickering to her seat neighbour, right across. It’s loud and stuffy and the seats are well small.

None of it matters though, because Billy relishes in this moment. He’s finally on his way home. Even if it’s just for a few days, his heart already feels much lighter from just the thought of it.

The ever present anger coursing through his system, is but a mere memory in the back of his head, as the plane starts to move.

“ Are you excited ? “ (Y/N) asks from beside him. His initial reaction is an overwhelming urge to roll his eyes. What a silly question. He’s been looking forward to this day from the moment his dad had first told him about their plans to move to Hawkins. California is home. It’s bright suns and soft mornings and piano melodies carried by the wind all the way from the living room down to the beach.

It’s scuffed up knees and sweat and waves so big they made young Billy speechless as he watched them crash against the shore, a look of curious fascination on his face.

Billy really wants to roll his eyes at the question, throw her some sarcastic comment and make that the end of it. He knows it comes from a good place though, a place of care and worry and — unfiltered joy.

She’s genuinely excited for him. No one’s ever been excited for him. Not to this extend.

It also comes from a place of anxiety. It’s hidden and if you don’t know what to look for, you wouldn’t realize it. Billy knows though. She’s told him before, casually slipped it into a conversation. “ Yeah, I’ve never flown before but, no big deal.”

But it is a big deal. It’s a huge deal.

So taking that all into consideration, he doesn’t roll his eyes at her. Instead he takes her hand in his, placed a kiss on her forehead and grants her a smile. It’s a “yes” without having to say a word. It’s a “everything’s gonna be alright.”

And he believes it. He truly believes it himself.

His eyes wander back towards the window as the airplane lifts up into the air. The world down below gets further and further away with every second, every blink of an eye. Houses that towered tall above his head just moments ago are now but tiny tiny dots.

Billy has expected to feel some kind of way once they’re up in the clouds. Insignificant. Like one small dot in an ocean of shapes. One dot that makes no difference to the whole picture whether he’s there or not.

He expected to feel small. Instead, it all feels weirdly liberating. To see how much world there is to discover. How much life there is yet to be lived. To see that Hawkins, too, is just a dot. There’s so much more out there, he doesn’t have to be confined to this shitty little town that makes him feel like he’s stuck in a perpetual state of anger and frustration.

The world is, literally, at his feet right now. And now, he’s no idiot. He knows the world ain’t his fucing oyster. There’s things he’ll never get to do. But it’s nice to let yourself dream every once in a while. And what better time than while up in the damn clouds.

______________________

Driving along the Californian roads he knows so well is a strange feeling. The car is different and, to a certain extend, the boy driving it is different too. The roads are the same though. They feel so familiar.

Yes there’s a mix of emotions swirling around inside of him. It feels like he’s hardly been gone and yet it feels like a lifetime has gone by since he’s last driven along these roads.

There’s a sparkle in (Y/N) eyes, he notices as he glances over towards her. She looks gorgeous as the sun falls through the window and onto her skin. Like a scene straight from a postcard. Perfect. Flawless.

“ So you said, we’re going to stay at a beach cabin. Isn’t that like, super expensive ? “ she asks, leaning back in her seat and swaying along to the music ever so slightly.

“ Ah I got a good deal. “

H doesn’t tell her that this good deal comes from knowing the woman who rents out these beach cabins. That she once found him crying by the beach, blackeye and nosebleed perfectly on display. She told him then, after giving him cookies and cleaning him up, that he would always have a place to stay whenever he needs it.

She’s keeping her word.

There’s some traumas you don’t have to share, and maybe he should, but he doesn’t want to. Some traumas you just live with. You grin and bear and hope that one day when things get better, they won’t weigh so heavy on you anymore. That one day they turn into dusty memories that only flatter around your head every once in a blue moon.

So this one he’s keeping to himself for now. Because right this moment, though it still feels heavy on his chest, it doesn’t really matter. He’s home, driving along familiar roads with a girl that makes his heart do silly things.

_____________________

The beach cabin is small compared to the other ones lining the coast but to Billy and (Y/N) it is more than enough. There’s a living room with a little porch connected to it, looking straight out onto the beach. A small kitchen, a bathroom with a shower and a big bathtub. Billy would be lying is he says he hasn’t thought of all the things they might be doing in that tub.

The bedroom though, is the most breathtaking of all the rooms. It’s all softy blues and whites and light grays. Like the ocean on a peaceful sunday morning captured in the confines of one small beach cabin. There’s huge windows that allow you to look straight at the sea as you lay in bed. He can’t wait to wake up to this view. Can’t wait to wake up to it with (Y/N) in his arms.

“ This is insane. I absolutely love this ! “ (Y/N) exclaims as she throws herself onto the bed with enthusiasm. “ I wish we could go out explore, like right now. But I am so exhausted. “

They’d been up all night, packing the last of their stuff and taking a taxi to the airport. It’s only once she mentions it, that Billy realises just how tired he is. Though he knows there’s no sleep coming for him anytime soon. All his senses, all his emotions are running on overdrive right now. It’s an abundance of memories clashing with so many ideas of what these next few days might hold. His head is too loud to even think about sleep right now.

“ How about you go take a nap and I’ll go get us something to eat. How’s that sound ? “

“ So domestic. What a gentleman “ (Y/N) jokes, coming over to wrap one arm around Billy’s neck and absentmindedly play with a button of his shirt with the other.

“ Gentleman, huh ? I’ll show you how much of a gentleman I can be later “ Billy replies then lowers his head to level his lips with her ears, softly breathing against her skin, making goosebumps appear. “ when I fuck you into this very mattress. We can even watch the waves while we do it. “

“ So romantic “ she quips but there’s a very prominent red hue coloring her cheeks.

“ Jesus, did I make you blush. “

“ No. “

Lies.

“ Alright. Whatever you say, babe. Go have a nap. “ he says and stirs her towards the bed, giving her ass a little tap “ you’ll need the energy later. “

____________________

Some upbeat spanish music is playing from the overhead stereo as Billy browses the isle of some tiny bodega in one of the many side streets away from the more touristy areas.

There’s two sandwiches in the little plastic bag hanging from his arm, but that’s only enough to keep them fed until dinner. He knows he’s gonna stock up on at least a bit of food. He also knows his girl needs her coffee in the morning.

His eyes move along the shelves stocked with all kinds of foods and drinks, as a voice speaks up from beside him.

“ Hargrove ? “

It’s a voice he hasn’t heard since the day his family left for Hawkins. He remembers the last words this voice ever said to him. They’ve been flowing through his head many many times. They were usually followed by so many questions. The loudest of them all, all but screaming at him. “Why don’t any of them call ? Why don’t any of them care ? Why doesn’t he care ? “

Johnny Foster stands as lanky and tall as he always did. His shaggy brown hair falls into his face with every move he makes and his shirts seems to swallow his narrow frame. There’s a baseball cap on his head in an attempt to keep his unruly hair in place, and the pair of beat up sneakers still have Billy’s name scribbled onto them, alongside those of all their other friends.

Johnny hasn’t changed a thing since they day the Hargroves left. Billy doesn’t know if this is comforting.

“ Hargrove ! It’s you. Hey man. “

Before he can even say a word, he’s wrapped into a big hug. Johnny is the human equivalent of some over excited golden retriever puppy. He smells like ocean air and pot.

“ Man. I didn’t know you were gonna be home. You should’ve called !”

It’s then, that Billy is shaken from his thoughts. He should’ve called ? They should’ve ! Johnny and Dylan and all the others. None of them did though. So why should he.

“ You didn’t. “

“ Didn’t what ? “

“ Call. “

Johnny’s face screws up in confusion. “ Yeah I did. I talked to your dad and you stepmom a few times. You were never home. “

It’s like cold ice water running down his spine, as Johnny throws those words at him. He did call and he did care. Everything he thought he had come to terms with, is now but a lie. An intricate web of deception, woven to keep him isolated from the few happy things in his past.

God, he fucking hates Neil. And Susan.

“ I take it you didn’t know that. Hey man, I’m sorry. “

“ Not your fault. “

“ So you’re home ! Are you back permanently ? “

Yeah. He’s home. And it feels like it. The pressure, the weight, te sadness. It’s all dulled and muted here. There’s been hurt and pain here too, lots of it. But the cause of most of those things is now so many miles away.

“ Not for now. Just for a few days. It’s my girl’s birthday. “

Johnny takes a double take, eyes wide in surprise “ Your girl, huh ? Like an actual committed girlfriend, kinda girl. “

“ Mmh. “

“ Damn, Billy Hargrove has a girlfriend. Indiana changed you, man. “

He says it not with malice though, not even with mock judgement. It’s a fact. One that’s undeniable and unshakable. Billy doesn’t think Johnny knows even the smallest amount of how much Indiana has changed him. Or maybe not the state itself. Maybe it’s what came with it. The people. The girl. The feelings.

“ Guess so. “

“ She cool ? “

It’s such a Johnny think to ask. Some of his other friends from California probably would’ve asked if she was hot. Maybe even more crass things. Not Johnny. Johnny doesn’t care about superficial things. Johnny cares about people in the way a dog does, or a little kid. Are they nice? Are they fun? And most importantly, are they cool ?

“ Yeah, Johnny. She’s real cool. “

“ Bring her around, dude ! Let me call the others and set up a bonfire down by the beach. Like old times. “

“ I don’t know. “

It’s not that he doesn’t want to. It’s just a lot. Seeing his old friends again. Some of which aren’t the way Johnny is. Aren’t forgiving and sweet and goofy.

“ C’mon, Billy. I wanna meet your girl. I’m your best friend I should get to meet her while you’re here. And I know the others want to see you too. We missed you, man. “

And maybe that’s all it takes. To know he was being missed. By the same people he spend month believing had just forgotten about him.

“ Alright, yeah. Let’s do it. “

As Johnny smiles his goofy, little boy smile. Billy thinks maybe he missed his friends too.

_____________________________

(Y/N) lets out a passionate moan of absolute satisfaction. Sex with her, it’s just different. Especially here. With the ocean and the beach as a backdrop to her bouncing on his dick like her life depends on it.

Her skin is soft, so fucking soft. And she feels so warm around him. The light from outside casts an ethereal glow around her. She looks like a goddamn angel as she rides him.

Her breasts bounce as she moves in a steady rhythm, fast, rough, hard. In a way that seems almost pornorgraphy if it wasn’t for the innocent smile of pleasure on her face. She’s a fucking goddess. In all ways possible.

The way her body shakes and twitches let’s him know he’s doing a good job. That he’s bringing her close. Closer. Always closer. She places a sloppy kiss on his lips as she comes undone around him, squeezing him in the most delicious ways. And how can he possibly hold it together at that. His moves are sloppy and uncontrolled but he's so desperate to chase the high, to follow her over the edge. And when he does, god — he’s straight to heaven.

Their sweaty bodies stick to each other, as (Y/N) slumps down on the bed next to him and places lazy kisses up and down his neck, actively killing him little by little. If this girl knows just how big her power over him is, he’s positively screwed.

Than again, getting screwed by her really isn’t the worst case scenario now, is it ?

“ Why are you smiling so big, huh ? “ her voice comes out husky and rough.

Billy hasn’t even realised he’s smiling. Not actively. But really, what is there not to smile about. He’s home, with his girl, giving and receiving great orgasms, while the waves crash against the shore in a peaceful rhythm.

“ Because I’m happy. “

And it’s not a fleeting moment then, like it usually is. His happy moments in Hawkins are few and far between. Not here. It’s been a constant state of bliss since they got off the plane.

“ Good. That’s all I ever want you to be “

“ Are you happy ? “ Billy asks her and pulls her closer to his body, if that is even possible.

“ I’ve never been happier. “

That is all he ever wants her to be.

__________________________

The bonfire casts a glow of gold an red across the beach. There’s people mingling everywhere and most of them have stopped by Billy over the course of the night, catching him up on their lives and asking about his.

Some of them, he is indifferent about and some of them he’s missed so dearly. (Y/N) stands by his side, smiling and laughing and cracking jokes. And then Johnny comes up to them, with his usually slagging walk. Like his legs are too long for his body.

“ Hey, guys. “ he slurs, obviously having had a cup or two of the punch already.

“ (Y/N), that’s Johnny, my best friend. “

It’s not really a lie. He’s his best friend. The thing is, (Y/N) is his best friend too. And they’re both important for many different things. He loves them both for completely different reasons.

It’s also kinda cheesy to say his girlfriend is his best friend, so he keeps that to himself. He doesn’t have to say it for her to know. It’s a mutual feeling.

“ Johnny, this is (Y/N). My girlfriend. “ It feels great to introduce her this way. Not weird as he had expected. It feels — right. More right than anything has felt in a while.

“ Aw, man. You’re gorgeous. You sure you wanna stick it with this screwball ? I mean, yeah he’s got a great ass but, the hair ? the mustache ? You sure ? “

Johnny is the only person that gets to say there things about Billy without having to fear any repercussions. Because they don’t come from a place of hostility or ill will. That’s just what friends do. It’s loving banter. It’s friendship.

“ Ah, you know. He’s being really good so far. I think I’ll keep him around for a while. “ (Y/N) replies and then the two of them fall into a joking conversation full of laughter and smiles and drunken hiccups from Johnny.

Billy, then, thinks that this is what his life should’ve been from the start. Going to a party by the beach. Watching his girlfriend and his best friend joking around. Smiling. Laughing. Happy.

There’s a warm feeling spreading through his chest. One of complete and utter content. If moments where photographs, he would take a million pictures of this one. To hold it close forever as the moment his life truly begins.

____________________________

It’s many, many hours later as Billy walks along the beach by himself, plopping down onto the sand a small distance from the bonfire. The party is winding down a little further up the shore but most of the people are either asleep on the floor, in their cars or have already left a while ago.

The world feels peaceful around him. Quiet and serene. Bad things happening, pain and hurt and anger — It all seems to far away here. As if this is a bubble he gets to live in for a few short days. A bubble showing him how good a life can be.

He knows that soon the night is giving in to the blinding light of a rising sun and with a day gone, the inevitable pop of the bubble gets closer and closer. But he’s positively tipsy right now on punch and love and life. And he doesn’t wanna think about Hawkins. About Neil. About what might happen with his mom.

He just wants to be. For one moment he just wants to be alive without having to worry about anything else.

A soft touch shakes him from his daydream, as (Y/N) drops down into the sand next to him. Their eyes are on the horizon but their hearts are with each other. Always.

“ I like your friends. “

“ Yeah ? That’s good. I think they like you too. “

Really, how could anyone not like her? She’s phenomenal in every aspect.

“ You know what else I like. No — what I love ? “ she continues.

“ What’s that ? “

“ The way you are, since we arrived. So — light. You smile more and you laugh more and you’re goofy and fun and I haven’t seen you scowl. Not even once. “

Billy hasn’t expect her to notice. He noticed a change in himself, sure. But he thought it was more of an inside change. For a second it makes him feel uneasy. Vulnerable. Showing your emotions to other people can be dangerous.

But then it sets in, that this isn’t Hawkins and this isn’t Neil and he can be vulnerable and he can show emotions. There’s no shame in it and there’s no fear of any consequences.

The only consequence coming from it might be (Y/N) showering him with even more love in return, and that he can surely live with.

“ I love you, (Y/N). “

It’s still strange to say it but some things mean so much, they’re worth saying even if it’s scary.

“ I love you too. “

See ? Totally worth it.

The sun slowly rises in the east behind them, it throws hues of blues and pinks across the city, across the buildings and palm trees and streets of people waking up. California mornings are spectacular for they feels soft and magical. And maybe it’s a memory clouded in pure and utter nostalgia, but that’s how they always felt to Billy.

It still feels this way now. Though magic comes from many places these days. His friends. His girl. His home.

“ Hey, baby ? “

“ Hmm ? “

“ I think I wanna go see my mom the day after your birthday. I think I want her to meet you. “

(Y/N) kisses his cheek, then his lips, then smiles “ Okay. I’m with you every step of the way. “

The morning sunshine makes her shimmer in a golden glow and Billy wonders how his heart is ever going to hold together when the time comes for them to leave ?

__________________

taglist:

@babygal-babygal / @anxiousamandapanda / @imjusthereforsupernatural / @chhhcherybomb / @tomarisela / @noodlenerd101 / @xxcxrolinexx / @bippity-boppity-boopa / @mcrmarvelloki / @silver-winter-wolf / @thecrowclubsmanager / @theroyalbrownbarbie / @salemlysi / @asheseiler / @stra-vage/ @ssstutteringbbbill / @biliyonce / @addictofsupernatural / @angelophany / @charmed-asylum / @xxemoluverxx / @killer-queen-xo / @1lluminaticonfirmed / @rebel-broken-angel / @ayybtch / @dean-jace-doctor / @sarai-ibn-la-ahad / @amesishappy // @your-dreams-are-strong // @blazin-writes // @sgt-morgan

#billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagines #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #billy hargrove x reader

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s13e06 · 4 years

Text

Recuerdos Perdidos Pt 2

Draco Malfoy / Female Reader

Harry Potter AU

Warnings: swearing

Words: 3.6K

Pt 1, Pt 3, Pt 4

Chapter 2

When you felt yourself begin to wake the first thing you noticed was how cold your skin was. Your body felt stiff and frozen as you began to rise slowly; a whimper escaping your lips as you did so.

Taking a look around you realized that it was still pitch black outside. You assumed that not much time had passed since you’d fainted.

You moved to rest your hands and knees while taking a few deep breaths before attempting to stand up again.

This whole thing was starting to freak you out a little bit. Nothing made sense and yet there was an obvious case of cause and effect here.

You couldn’t claim to be a detective, you were certainly no Nancy Drew… and you also couldn’t pretend like you were some kind of genius. But it certainly didn’t take one to put two and two together here.

The blonde boy in the photos, this mansion, and the three images that flashed through your mind before fainting. They all had something in common and they all had something to do with you. Like some kind of repressed memories that your mind was keeping you from knowing about. Hence the pain and fatigue. But even though that all made sense to an extent…. You’d certainly never heard of anyone experiencing such intense physical pain when trying to remember something. Usually, they just wouldn’t be able to remember, right?

You didn’t know why your body was reacting this way. You’d only connected the dots so far but unfortunately, there were too many missing pieces.

So what would you do next? What should you do next, is probably a better place to start. Part of you wanting to just rush to the door of this creepy looking mansion and demand some answers. But, you knew logically that that wasn’t a good game plan. You were sure that whoever lived there wouldn’t appreciate such a rude awakening.

Considering that the sight of this place caused the pain to come back, you could assume that the boy in the photos most likely lived here. But the question was did he still live here? Or like you was he only visiting?

The only thing you could really be sure of at this moment was that any longer out here in the cold and you were sure to get sick. That would be a setback that you really didn’t want to deal with right now.

Giving one last glance back to the house as you stood up, you turned to head back to your grandparent’s house.

Shuffling back in your home you felt immense relief come over you as the warm air enveloped your cold tired body.

Your body was screaming at you to just collapse right there on the old plastic-covered couch and let sleep take over. However, you knew it would be best to take a hot shower before going to sleep. After all, you were quite dirty, you noted while glancing down at your clothes.

Walking into the bathroom that was attached to your bedroom you began to undress slowly. Recalling what had transpired out there you couldn’t help but feel a little scared about what you might find out next.

As you stepped into the shower and let the hot water wash over your body you let out a long and exhausted sigh. You recalled the three images you’d seen before fainting.

A white rose. The detail of it in your memory was so vivid as though you’d stared at it for hours once before.

You weren’t sure what this white rose meant to you specifically but you did know their meaning in general. A single white rose was a symbol of love. As though to say “you are the only one for me”.

The thought of what that could be implying brought heat to your cheeks. How is it possible that there was a whole romantic period of your life that you couldn’t even remember? God, this was frustrating.

Then there was the second image. A small brown box with delicate carvings. There wasn’t much you could figure out about that one. You wish you could see what was inside it but given that it was only a fragment of a memory… there was no way to know. For now at least.

The last image was by far the most perplexing to you. A long smooth stick held in a pale hand pointed right at you. Was it a weapon of some kind? You couldn’t understand how something small like that could do any physical damage though, it wasn’t even sharp. Really what it reminded you of was a magician’s wand. Especially with the way it was being held. But that… that didn’t make any sense.

You laughed out loud a little in disbelief at your ridiculous thought. A magician’s wand, really? What was someone casting a spell on you? How silly.

Well, whatever it was it seemed to be significant enough to breakthrough your repressed memories.

Shutting off the word you slipped out and began to towel off. Wiping the fog away from the mirror you looked at your reflection absentmindedly.

In the morning… you were going to go back.

When you awoke from your deep sleep you glanced lazily to your bedside clock. The time read 11:30 am. A bit of a late start to the day but considering what happened last night you weren’t surprised to have slept in so late.

By the time you were finished getting ready and heading down the stairs, you realized that you were actually alone in the house. That was a bit unusual.

Heading into the kitchen you saw a note stuck to the fridge.

“Y/N,

I hope you don’t mind that we let you sleep in a bit. I’m sure the jet lag must have gotten to you. Help yourself to the rolls and cut fruit on the counter. Your grandfather and I popped out to the town for a bit and should be back no later than 4 pm. See you then!

Love, Nana”

You smiled at the note before taking a few pieces of bread and eating them quickly. You didn’t have any time to waste. Only a few hours before they’d be back and you knew what you had to do in the meantime.

Clutching the pictures in your hand you made your way back to the mansion.

The whole walk there you debated on what you would say to anyone you may come in contact with. Would it be best to just tell the truth about what was happening or would that just make you look crazy? Maybe it would be better just to take it slow and start by befriending whoever was around. Assuming that someone was around at all. But given that it was such a large house someone was bound to be home right?

Hopefully…

Your questions were soon answered though as you drew closer to the house. Standing outside the gate was a man. You couldn’t see his face but you could see his figure.

He was stood straight, back to you as he stared up at the sky.

You glanced up yourself wondering what he could be looking out but found nothing interesting to be seen. Maybe he was just lost in thought.

Once you were stood about 10 feet behind him he seemed to notice your presence because in a rather dramatic show of things he spun around to face you.

Now that you could see his face you noticed that he didn’t look too happy to see you.

He appeared to be about your age, very pale skin, and strikingly blonde hair.

“Can I help you with something?” he asked, annoyed.

Wait. There was something about this man. Something familiar.

You stared at his features and replayed the sound of his voice in your head.

Then there it was again.

The pain.

“Hey, are you alright?” he asked while stepping a little closer. Clearly able to see the way you were doubling over in pain so suddenly.

At the sound of his voice, you felt the torment double in intensity. You fell to your knees in front of him as tears began to form in your eyes.

Suddenly you could hear a voice in your head.

It was his, calling your name and laughing.

But when you looked at him in front of you he wasn’t speaking at all… only staring in shock.

“W-who are you?” you asked weakly before collapsing completely, darkness once again closing in on you.

When you woke up you felt… warm.

Blinking a few times to let your eyes adjust you took in your surroundings.

You were laying in a large bed in a very large room. The interior was dark but expensive in taste, to say the least.

Where were you?

You remembered feeling the pain again while outside in front of that man. You must have fainted after that. So how did you get here?

Slowly sitting up in the bed you threw your legs off the side and hopped onto the floor. Someone had taken the liberty of removing your shoes and placing you in bed. Most likely had to carry you all the way here as well. But who? The man from outside?

Reaching into your jacket pocket you pulled out the photos again, studying them for the millionth time. This was definitely the same person. He had been right there in front of you and yet you couldn’t even speak to him without falling unconscious. It was as if your mind became completely overwhelmed with his sudden presence.

You had to see him again. You were so close to finally getting some answers and you mentally cursed yourself for fainting at such a crucial moment.

Just when you were about to reach the bedroom door it opened on its own.

Your hand stopped midair and to your surprise, it was the man from before standing right in front of you.

“Oh good you’re awake,” he said while giving you a gentle once over.

You only nodded slightly before retreating slowly back into the room.

He walked in and shut the door behind him. The air between the two of you was awkward and judging by the way he was glancing at you timidly… he knew who you were.

Enough of this nonsense. You needed answers and fast before you pathetically passed out again.

“N-not to sound rude or anything but I’d like to know exactly who you are.” You started trying to muster up as much of a tough guy voice as you could “For some reason I know you, I just can’t remember how and it hurts every time I try to.”

The man looked at you with a slightly shocked expression before a smirk quickly replaced it.

“I’m glad to see that you haven’t changed much,” he said with a small chuckle while taking a seat in the chair located next to a large dresser.

Following his movements closely with your eyes, you chose to make your way over and sit on the bed again. At least this way if you fainted again it would be a soft landing.

“So you do know me then,” you said feeling a little bit nervous.

“I could never forget you, Y/N” he replied with a sad smile.

His words sounded so sweet and yet his face was so sad.

“Well, it seems that I’ve forgotten you. But it doesn’t make sense as to how… all I know is I found some pictures with you in them. But I don’t even remember your name” you frowned.

“It’s Draco… Draco Malfoy” he said after a moment of deliberation.

“Draco Malfoy” you repeated softly as a stabbing pain rushed through your head again.

”Does it hurt?” he asked, looking over you with concern.

“Incredibly so” you laughed trying to lighten the mood a little.

“I’m afraid that’s my fault…” he admitted while casting his eyes away from yours.

“What do you mean?” you asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

“I suppose it won’t hurt to tell you now. You did confront me rather boldly after all.” He laughed “I honestly never thought I’d see you again though… at least I was hoping I wouldn’t”

You frowned at his last words. What was that supposed to mean?

“We met before when you came here on holiday five years ago. We became fast friends but you had quite a nasty fall just before you left. When you woke up you didn’t remember me at all and since you were leaving soon I felt it was best to keep things that way.” He told you a little too calmly. “Perhaps the pain you’re experiencing is your body remembering the impact due to facing pieces of your lost memories. That’s why I feel it may be my fault for not helping you remember before you left”

Looking down at your lap you thought over his words carefully. Although that explanation mostly made sense… a few things didn’t add up.

Bringing your head up to stare into his silver eyes you quickly caught on to what was happening.

He was lying to you.

If he was set on telling you this version of events then you were just going to test how fast he could make things up.

“Do you mind if I ask you something then?” you asked trying not to give away that you were testing him.

“Of course” he replied quickly, putting on a friendly smile.

“When parts of my memories came back I saw a few images of objects flash through my mind. I was wondering if you could maybe help me to make sense of them?” you asked with a gentle smile.

“I’ll do my best,” he said looking just the slightest bit unsure.

“The first thing I’d like to make sense of is a rose?” you said, sitting up straighter.

“A rose?” he asked seemingly confused.

“Yes, a single white rose to be exact” you reaffirmed.

Draco shifted a little in his seat as he stared back into your eyes unmoving.

“Ah yes, I think I remember something like that. My family has a garden out back and you often liked to visit it. That must be what that’s about.” He said thinking thoughtfully.

You studied his movements as he spoke, trying to detect any telling that he might have had. But you were coming up with nothing… maybe he was telling the truth?

“Interesting… I did always like gardens.” You smiled at him “The next one I’m curious about is a small brown box. It had detailed carvings surrounding the outside but I don’t remember what it is or what’s inside”

At this Draco’s face wavered for just a moment as if being overcome with emotion ever so briefly.

“That… I, unfortunately, know nothing about, sorry” he shot you an apologetic smile.

How interesting…

“I see… well, that’s ok, I suppose I can’t expect you to have an answer to everything” you laughed lightly, still not buying his story. “But there is one last thing I was curious about,” you said while glancing down at his hands which rested neatly on his lap. They were rather pale.

“Let us hope I have an answer for you on this one” he offered you up a grin, which you returned before letting out your last question. This one was sure to catch him in a lie.

“There’s this… stick-like object. Long and smooth, clearly carved to look that way. Held in a hand that looked quite like yours. The best way I would describe this object would be to compare it to… a magician’s wand” you finished with a questioning look.

Watching what little color he had slowly drain from his face you knew that you’d caught him in a tough spot. This reaction also confirmed your suspicion that this wand-like object wasn’t just some prop toy.

“That… I don’t know anything about that. It must have been someone else. I’m not even sure what you’re talking about, to be honest. Such an object… I have no knowledge of it.” He told you while his brows furrowed together ever so slightly.

He was lying to you right now. You knew it for sure. It was his hand holding the wand-like object and he obviously knew something he didn’t want to tell you. This whole thing was starting to piss you off. Why was he lying to you? What was he hiding?

One thing was for certain. Either he told you the truth right this instant. Or you walk out and never come back. There was no point in wasting your time on somebody who didn’t even want you to remember them.

Standing up from the bed in one swift motion you stepped towards him menacingly. You weren’t certain that he’d feel even the littlest bit intimidated by this move of power on your part but you would use the current height advantage to the best of your ability for now.

“Listen here, Draco. I don’t know who we really were to each other or what really made me lose my memories. But I know that you’re lying to me right now. I’m not an idiot and don’t appreciate being treated as such. I know you know more than you’re letting on and I can’t understand why you’re keeping it from me. But if you have no intention of ever telling me the truth then I think I’ll just take my leave.” You huffed down at him.

His eyes widened in surprise as he stared up at you from his seat. His mouth opened slightly as he began to search for the words to respond to you.

“Y/N, I-I'm sorry I don’t know what you want me to say. I’ve told you all I know” he mumbled out, clearly backed into a corner.

He was still insisting on keeping up the lies. You couldn’t really place the feeling that rushed through you as you looked down at him with disappointment. But the next thing you knew you felt the all too familiar sensation of hot tears streaming down your face.

This was too much. Everything felt like it was crashing down on you. Pulling you under and every time you’d get a gasp of air something else would shove you back down. Why was this all happening to you?

At the sight of you crying Draco immediately stood up and reached out a hand to you as if about to try and comfort you. But without even thinking you harshly slapped it away from you.

“Don’t you dare touch me when all you’ve done so far is lie to me. I fly all the way here after I find some weird pictures in my parent’s attic. I thought that someone here must know what happened and why I can’t remember. But so far all I’ve gotten was a bunch… a bunch of fucking bullshit! I wouldn’t have even found those stupid pictures if my parents hadn’t died. If they were still here I wouldn’t even be bothered with trying to solve this mystery. But they’re not here! They’re gone and they’re never coming back and all I wanted was to find an answer to this one thing. When everything else in my life is falling apart I thought that maybe I could at least fix this. But I can see now… that I’ve just wasted my time here. But don’t worry cuz I’ll be lea-“you couldn’t even finish your words before you were pulled into a tight embrace.

Your body stiffened at first from the intrusion but soon you felt yourself relaxing as you relished in the feeling of his warmth. You felt your body begin to shake a little as your cries turned into sobs. This was so frustrating. The person who caused all this was also the one who was making you feel safer than you’d felt in a while. There was something about being in his arms that felt so familiar to you.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I hate myself more than anything for what I had to do to you but since that day, not a second has passed where I didn’t think of you. I did it for you, hoping that you’d live a better life away from me but in the end, I suppose it was selfish of me wasn’t it?” he whispered into your ear as he held you tightly.

His words didn’t make any sense. What did he mean “what he had to do to me,” you thought. This was all becoming too much to handle. Your head was beginning to spin again and you felt like you had to get away no matter what. No matter how much a part of you desired to be held by him longer.

Standing your ground you brought your hands up between your chests and pushed him away firmly.

“None of this makes sense. Your words are contradicting each other and I can’t handle this anymore. Whatever we were to each other… whatever you supposedly had to do to me… it must not have been that significant to you seeing as you can’t even bring yourself to tell me the truth” you said to him harshly.

He looked at you sadly but didn’t say a word.

That’s all the confirmation you needed.

Turning quickly you began to stalk towards the door, ready to leave Draco and all the mysteries behind you in this room forever.

But just as you had pulled the door open you heard a desperate voice call out from behind you.

“Y/N, please wait… please. I’ll… I’ll tell you everything” he choked out.

You turned back to face him, carefully taking in his appearance. Looking at his face you saw just how emotional it had become.

For once… he was being sincere.

“Ok,” you said, silently shutting the door again and crossing your arms over your chest.

His body visibly relaxed at this.

“I’ll listen”.

------

AN:// Thank you all for the encouragement regarding this work! I know it's just starting out but I hope that you all find it enjoyable enough. Please share any thoughts you might have with me, I love to hear from you all!

#Draco Malfoy #Draco #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter au #harry potter imagine

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sanktnikolais · 4 years

Text

Finding the Right One (Part II)

PART I PART II PART III

Summary: A trap had been set for them, and they easily fell for it. What would be the outcome of the event?

Word count: 5286

The next morning witnessed Zoya’s sour mood when she attended her first class at nine in the morning with a deep frown and an aura that screamed “try talking to me and you’re dead”. Though it might have been her everyday expression, but this particular morning was a different one.

“You look like you’re about to punch someone,” David mused.

“Trust me, I’ve been contemplating about it.” Zoya wrinkled her nose as she reached for her thermos, and ended up stopping midway. The mentioned container apparently wasn’t there and was still with Nikolai since yesterday morning. “The lack of my morning dose of caffeine is definitely helping with the punching thought.”

David chuckled. “Just try to hold yourself from hurting your table.”

“On it.”

They were currently at the very last row of their Mechanics class, dreading the lesson about Torsional Stress. It was the lecture that they had been discussing for about two meetings already, and it only got shittier from then on.

It was the weight of yesterday’s news and class that added to the pounding of Zoya’s head when it came to her mind all of a sudden, and she desperately wished for a coffee to miraculously appear in front to soothe her soul.

Waking up late for her first class on a Tuesday rarely happened—she was always an early riser. But when your group mates were nowhere to be seen, and there were still things needing to be added to your research paper, Zoya knew that switching to nocturnal mode was inevitable. She stayed up until three in the morning to finish the paper herself—all the while thinking of different ways of murdering her group mates—so she decided to close her eyes for a moment.

Apparently, that moment became several hours.

That lead to Zoya waking up twenty minutes before nine and barely having time to do all her morning rituals before leaving her apartment.

Her phone screen lit up beside her notebook, and it caught her attention from being glued at the figures on the board. She frowned at the “Sobachka” name of the one that messaged her, and it took her a second to realize that it was Nikolai. Zoya remembered him changing the nicknames in their chat some time ago.

Uh hey, it said.

She continued to frown as she typed. What is it? I’m in class.

Good news and bad news. What first? Then another message followed a moment later, Pls choose bad news first.

Zoya sighed exasperatedly. Just spit it out, Lantsov

There was a short pause on his side. It stretched for about a minute, and then, I broke ur thermos

What the fuck

She put a hand to her temple and began rubbing it, trying to keep the pounding from getting worse. She supposed she could kill Nikolai after her headache finally stopped and she was in her angriest state.

A message followed soon after. Well good news is… Another pause. SIKE HAHAHAHAHAHA

Zoya closed her eyes and counted to three. Then ten. She should’ve expected this trap from Nikolai himself—she knew him too well to be pulling off jokes like these. Sometimes she questioned the fact that this was the same person who could charm almost everyone, say the worst punchlines, and exasperate the shit out of people.

Just a quite long scratch on the lid tho but nothing too serious

I’ll still kill you later

That’s so sweet, truffle :”>

Zoya shut her phone with a huff and went back to focusing on the writings on the board, which now occupied the half of it. She cursed lowly as she tried to catch up with the numbers that seemed to be endless.

“Was that Nikolai?” asked David.

“The one and only,” Zoya muttered in reply—she suddenly remembered him saying the exact words last night—without looking up from writing in her notebook.

“Gave you a hard time again?” David wondered, a knowing smile plastered on his face.

“He always does.”

“What can I say, you’re his favorite person.”

Zoya snorted. It was starting again. “Favorite person to annoy, you mean.”

“That too.”

“You and your girlfriend always say the same thing.”

“Trust me, we only say the things we know and see.”

Zoya scoffed but said nothing more, knowing that arguing with David would just prolong their discussion about the aforementioned blond and it would only lead to him saying that she should start dating and some other shit.

Her hookups and pleasure escapades weren’t unknown to them—Nikolai had been the first one to know about it. While there were times that they wouldn’t mind one bit, there were far too many times with one of them saying that Zoya should come in terms with her “obvious” feelings for her president and just tell him the truth.

It had become tiring as time went by because there wasn’t really anything to tell.

Their professor stopped writing on the now-full board and gave them a nod. “We’ll continue this next meeting. Class dismissed,” she said curtly.

Zoya raised an eyebrow as she glanced at her watch. It was five minutes to eleven, much to her shock. And David’s as well.

“Seriously, blink a few times, and then the two hours of Mechanics is over,” David muttered with a frown. “I’m starting to think that we shouldn’t blink during those two hours.”

Zoya nodded grimly. “Truly. I cannot stress that enough.”

“You getting an early lunch?”

“No, I still have to finish something in Sep. Maybe at twelve. I still have an hour.”

David got up from his seat and shrugged his backpack on. “Don’t stress yourself too much.” He gave Zoya a mock salute. “I’ll see you later, general.”

Zoya wrinkled her nose at the nickname. It was a known nickname among them that was meant to annoy her at times, the name originating from her strict, play-by-the-rules attitude when they started running the council and her downright practicality. Apparently, they knew when to exactly use it to irate her.

“Scram, Kostyk,” she muttered, shooing him away with a dismissive hand.

The man chuckled and gave her a final wave before leaving the room. Zoya stuffed the things in her bag and left the room as the students from the next class started pouring in through the doors. She decided to head down to her usual turf, which was the library, and finish the problem set she had been working on for her Separation Process major in the past week.

More than an hour into her task, Zoya received a message from Genya. Usually Zoya would just ignore the notifications coming in from her phone. But the pounding in her head made her want to look away from what she was doing.

Lunch out?

Zoya was almost done with her work, but she entertained the idea. She usually ate at past one in the cafeteria to save time from travelling to and from the campus to eat lunch.

She typed back a reply. Now?

Yep, I already reserved a table at Carveya.

You know really know which place to drag me, Safin.

I do my best, Nazyalensky 😉

Fifteen minutes later, Zoya found herself sitting by the table nearest to the window in Carveya reserved under Genya’s name, and yet the other woman still wasn’t there. Genya wasn’t the type to be the later one to come to meetups, and Zoya could only count on one hand how many times the redhead was late.

The small restaurant was thankfully warmer inside, or else she would have had to bear an hour of shaking because of the constant coldness in the places she went to. Only a few people were currently around, despite the fact that it was lunch time. The place was popular among the students of their university, being the nearest affordable dining place with a high-quality tasting menu.

Zoya furrowed her brows as she checked her phone, and looked at the last message sent almost a minute ago that said, almost there. It was already thirty minutes past twelve in the afternoon, and it was a good thing that her next class was at three.

Hurried footsteps resounded behind her, and Zoya turned her head just in time to see the person coming towards her table was definitely not Genya.

“You’re so not my favorite nerd anymore, Kostyk,” he was saying as he glared down at his wallet and violently thumbed through its contents. “I had to shower for two minutes tops and grab the nearest shirt I could find—”

Their eyes finally met, and Nikolai abruptly stopped talking. He squinted as his hand absentmindedly tapped around his chest for his thin-framed glasses and slipped it on. His gaze sharpened and he recoiled back slightly, mouth agape.

“Oh, you’re not David,” he said in exasperation. “Too pretty to be David.”

Zoya took in his demeanor—his hair was obviously windswept like someone decided to drop a mess of blonde hair on his head and it stuck out in different directions, his long-sleeved shirt was rumpled and unevenly tucked into his gray slacks, and he looked like he just ran away from something bad he did.

How can he still look good? Some part in the back of her mind said, and Zoya shoved the voice back to hiding because she was not thinking of that.

“Why are you here?” she demanded, an eyebrow shooting up to her forehead.

“I can ask the same question to you, truffle.” Nikolai looked around the place before turning back to her with a frown. “Where in the saint’s name is our favorite nerd?”

“What’s going on?”

“He told me to come here and pay for his bill because he forgot his wallet—”

Zoya closed her eyes and rubbed a hand to her temple when she finally connected the dots. It didn’t even need a genius to figure that one out. That nerd and his girlfriend—

A snapping sound jerked her out of her tired thought and she opened her eyes to see Nikolai looking at her with worry, his eyebrows furrowed. “You alright, Zo?”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Sure, I’m just planning a murder in my head.”

“Oh, perfectly normal, I’d say. But really, have you seen David anywhere here?”

Zoya looked at him incredulously. How could he be one of the smartest minds in their department and yet still not be able to comprehend obvious things? It made her want to include him in her murder plan. “You’re still going to ask that?”

Nikolai gave her a puzzled look, and he looked so innocent that Zoya didn’t know if he was just pretending or just downright oblivious. Or dumb, she added in thought. “Uh, yes? Maybe he’s already washing the dishes in the kitchen as the mode of payment—”

He was cut off when someone in waiter’s uniform approached their table with a huge grin on his face. His name tag displayed “Isaak”, and the way he looked at them with glinting eyes suggested a not-so-good intention to Zoya.

“Welcome to Carveya!” the waiter Isaak greeted a little too enthusiastically. “Fortunately, you have been chosen as our lucky customers for today and everything on the menu is on the house.”

Nikolai held up a hand, his face becoming even more confused. “Uh, what—”

“Please, have a seat.” Isaak ushered—forced—Nikolai down the seat, the grin never leaving his face. He clasped his hands together afterwards. “Now that everything looks settled, may I take your—”

“Coffee,” Zoya said with finality, cutting the waiter off, and the grin on his face suddenly disappeared. He opened his mouth as if to say something more, but Zoya continued, “Black, no sugar. The strongest one you can make. Probably enough to keep me up for a week. Can you do that, Isaak?”

Isaak obviously paled, but managed to return his grin albeit not being as bright as earlier, and it looked more of a grimace rather than a smile. She was about to say something snarky to the waiter, but she decided that she was already too tired to even say anything.

Besides, she knew Isaak. Being a regular in the place for years would surely familiarize her with almost everyone working there. She could only guess that two of her rather favorite people made the younger waiter their accomplice, knowing that Isaak was the usual one to take their orders whenever they went there.

“I’ll take the same as hers, I guess,” Nikolai said, his eyes flickering between the two and looking a little frightened at the sight. “Yeah, I’ll take the same.”

Zoya lifted a brow at the waiter, and Isaak practically ran off. She huffed and turned back to the table, facing the blond boy across from her. Nikolai’s eyebrows were furrowed, as if he were scrutinizing her inside out.

“Did you really have to scare his ass?”

“Trust me, I was still holding back.”

Nikolai winced. “Remind me again not to do something that might piss you off?”

“Do you want it to come with a punch?”

“Surprise me. Just not somewhere in the face, it’d damage my handsomeness.” He paused, and then he frowned. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing the strands that fell on his forehead away. “What’s happening again?”

Zoya could only roll her eyes as the man’s obliviousness brought an ungodly amount of exasperation to her whole self that made her want to reevaluate her life decision of being friends with him. “Our favorite nerd and the redhead set us up.”

“What do you mean they—” Nikolai stopped, the crease on his eyebrows disappearing as a look of realization dawned on his face. Finally. He slumped back further into the chair with a dry laugh. “That’s screwed up.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Knowing those two, they’re the best ones when it comes to planning. And they’re probably not going to stop until they achieve what they wanted. I’m surprised you out of all people fell for this.”

Zoya suddenly gave a laugh, which she rarely did, but a memory flashed in her mind and she couldn’t help it. “Oh, I just remembered the last time I was duped by those two,” she said, her tiredness slowly dissipating.

Nikolai deadpanned, trying his best to look stern, but failed as usual. He raised an accusing finger at her. “Don’t.” He scowled and Zoya gave him a sly grin. Then he whined, “No, don’t remind me of that.”

The scene played in her mind clearly—David and Genya were able to lure her to the rooftop of the science building and locked the door leading to the stairs as an “end of the school year” prank on her that she wasn’t aware existed at that time. It had been one of their milestones to be proud of because they were able to “pull a prank on Zoya Nazyalensky”.

Unbeknownst to Zoya, she hadn’t been the only one stuck up in the place and it was already occupied by none other than Nikolai Lantsov himself—but it was a sulking Nikolai Lantsov she had seen.

Apparently, the blond was mulling Alina Starkov’s rejection to him, and he had stated that he was never rejected before and said other petty reasons to be sulking.

It ended up with Zoya kicking him rather solidly and telling him to stop being a “dumbfuck”, and she would never forget the look of shock that had been etched on Nikolai’s face. They were only acquaintances at the time, both being the top of their respective classes, but it still didn’t stop her from berating him about his whining.

Somehow, that started their close bond up to today.

Though he’d never admit it aloud until now, Zoya knew he didn’t exactly want someone to see him in that state. But she did, and she would always have that ace against him.

“Funny how nothing’s changed even after years,” Zoya commented, and she had to relish Nikolai’s protesting reaction because he was almost never riled up. “Still a dumbfuck.”

Nikolai grimaced, but amusement only filled his eyes. “Harsh.”

“Honest.”

“If you’re honest, then can you admit that I’m actually unfairly handsome?”

“I should’ve known better than to fall for Genya’s trap.”

“And risk not seeing me earlier than necessary today?”

“You’re an idiot, Nikolai.”

Their coffees arrived at that moment, and Zoya took the scalding drink, not minding if it burned her tongue while taking a sip, and the strong taste of the brew kicked her senses awake. The coffee tasted better than she expected.

Nikolai reached for his own mug. “You’re that desperate for caffeine, aren’t you?” he asked, his head slightly inclined to the side.

“Calms my thoughts.” Zoya tipped her mug a little as a gesture before putting it down. “Care to join my assassination plan?”

The blond sputtered on the rim of his mug and he set it down, wiping his mouth on the edge of his sleeve. “I thought you said it calms your thoughts down?”

“Isn’t that the point?”

“Well, I suppose I can help you with that. I’ve never showered that fast in my life.” Nikolai shrugged. Then he leaned forward with his hands clasped in front, resting his elbows on the table. His hazel eyes held a glint of curiosity and playfulness. “I’ve been meaning to ask. Why do you never date, anyway?”

The question seemed to trigger a memory, and it flashed in front of Zoya’s eyes. She didn’t want to remember those times again. “We both know why,” she stated simply.

“The same reason?”

“I guess.” She shrugged back, then she raised a knowing brow at him. “What about you? Why do you never date?” She gestured a hand in the air. “You sure do have tons of fangirls, and fanboys, on campus.”

Nikolai chuckled lightly. “I’d rather find someone who has the same insights as I have,” he replied, his eyes having this faraway look like he was daydreaming. “I guess I just haven’t found the one yet.”

Zoya eyed the blond carefully. Nikolai was probably the biggest sap she ever knew, and she probably couldn’t blame the guy. He was the type to believe that “improbable” things can always happen, always trying to find the light on things, while Zoya grew up being downright practical and believing in the reality.

“You’re probably thinking I’m a sap again, aren’t you?” Nikolai huffed. “Come on, truffle. It’s not all that bad to believe there’s someone for you.”

“When it comes from you, it’s that bad.”

Nikolai only raised a brow as if he was challenging her, and Zoya accepted by crossing her arms in front of her and staring right back. “You have to do better than that, Nazyalensky.”

It made her a tad bit surprised. Usually it was Nikolai who backed down from their stare off contest. “Your point being?”

“Let me prove you wrong.”

Now that piqued her attention. Being the practical one did have its perks too—she was rarely proven wrong. She knew what challenges she would take, and most of the time it ended with her as the victor.

Zoya could only hope that this was one of those challenges.

“Humor me, Lantsov.”

Nikolai grinned, leaning back into his chair comfortably. “Let’s make a deal.”

She raised a brow at that. Genya setting them up had already been a pain, and striking a deal with Nikolai would probably be another one, and definitely much bigger. But yet again, the fact that she was close friends with him already came with lots of headaches and twists—plus the need of endless patience—in her everyday life.

What could be different?

“This better be good.”

“It will be, truffle.” He paused, looking at her expectantly as if he were giving her a chance to back out. But Zoya had already been in, and she wouldn’t back down from it. “We’ll help each other find our own ‘right one.’”

It almost made her want to laugh, but then she remembered this was Nikolai’s way of proving her wrong and it would be downright rude. Though she knew the odds were on her side, Zoya supposed she would entertain his idea. “Alright, dear president, how do we do that?”

“Find someone that might fit our ideals.” Nikolai held up a finger. “Just a sec.” Then he proceeded to fiddle with his wallet and took out a small piece of paper.

She frowned as he began to write something down on it before giving it to her a good whole minute later. “What is this?”

Zoya stared at the piece of paper Nikolai gave her. She read the writings, and looked up at him in disbelief. The blond boy across the table would be the literal death of her—if she didn’t kill him first. She should’ve known this was a bad idea, especially when it came from him of all people. Too late to back down now.

“Are you serious?” she said, holding up the paper. “The ideal list? What are you, in middle school?”

Nikolai gave her the barest of shrugs, pushing himself back to the chair in a more comfortable position. “What about it? It’d be easier for you to find someone,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, a carefree smile that screamed all-Nikolai evident on his face. “Aren’t you glad that I’m making it easier for you?”

Zoya snorted. “You’re obnoxious.”

“Thank you. I’d take that as a compliment from one of my favorite people.”

“You’d rather not.”

“Trust me, truffle, I’d rather take it.”

She rolled her eyes and frowned at the paper in her hand again. There were three things listed below the extravagant handwriting of “The Ideal List” and she had to narrow her eyes as she read it again. The symptoms of another migraine were already coming her way.

Smart.

Generic one, but fair enough. Golden Boy’s intellectual capacity was the sky. Though he could be dumb like most of the time.

Sporty.

Zoya wrinkled her nose. “You could’ve at least used the word ‘athletic’, Lantsov.”

Nikolai sputtered. “That was what I was thinking earlier!”

Smoky hot.

“Why am I friends with you again?”

“Because I’m charming?”

“Try harder.”

Nikolai bowed his head a little, looking at Zoya above the frames of his reading glasses, his eyebrows slightly creased. She had never accustomed herself to how good he looked when he started wearing glasses at the start of their third year, but Zoya would never admit it out loud. It would just boost his ego and she would probably never hear the end of Nikolai teasing her about it.

“These are all generic ones,” Zoya said a moment later, trying to distract herself from the intensity of his gaze. “Don’t be surprised with the ones I’ll find.”

“There’s actually a fourth one, if I remember it correctly.” Nikolai gestured a finger down, a sheepish smile appearing on his face. Then he hesitated, inclining his head to the side. “I did write a fourth one, didn’t I?”

Zoya looked back down at the small paper, and there indeed was a fourth one written at the very bottom part of the surface and it was definitely smaller than the other three that it was almost unreadable unless looked at in a very close distance.

Could probably handle my restlessness.

She felt a sudden tinge of pain in chest, and she had to release a breath to make it disappear. What was that just now? Zoya tried to ignore the feeling and eyed the writing on the paper again. “The last one’s quite a catch. This is going to be hard.”

“It’s fine, I just don’t want to burden anyone with this.” He gestured vaguely at his head with a light laugh.

Though he said it jokingly, Zoya knew him too well to notice the underlying meaning of his statement, the faraway look in his eyes as he talked, and the slight hunching of his shoulders. She knew about the insomnia, had known about it when he opened up to her one time long ago, and she could only imagine the weight he had to carry for years yet he still had a positive perspective.

I figured I’d disturbed you enough in the past week. His words echoed in her mind, and it became clear to her.

Nikolai was the type of person that was always ready to offer his help and be someone you can rely on, but would never ask for anything back. Even when he’s already the one crumbling and in need of help, he’d still be able to give himself.

It was one of the traits that Zoya had witnessed him develop for the past years, and there was a part of her that wanted to be at least one of the people that could reach out and catch him whenever he fell.

“I’ll see what I can do, Lantsov.”

“How about you?”

“What about me?”

Nikolai waved a hand in a wild gesture. “Aren’t you going to tell me what characteristics you want for a partner?”

Zoya mocked a laugh. “As long as the person you find is not as revolting as you, I see no problem,” she replied.

“You wound me, love,” Nikolai said, feigning a hurtful expression, a hand on his chest. But she could see the amusement clearly in his eyes. Ever the dramatic and sappy one.

She winked. “I do my best.”

Now she could only hope that this whole ‘deal’ wouldn’t end in a disaster. But knowing the luck tied to her, Zoya knew it would be impossible to expect that kind of result.

She supposed she would really kill Genya and David for setting them up. But for now, she had something to deal with.

The drive back to the campus was rather a quick one, with the time being less than fifteen minutes to Nikolai’s next class and he had to basically let the car fly along the roads to get into Ravka in time.

Zoya wasn’t really paying attention to it for most of the time—though she did scold him for disobeying a few traffic rules that could’ve caused them more trouble—because she was too busy deciding which one she would beat first between their two council members.

“Okay, I’d know that face you’re making from anywhere,” Nikolai said, effectively snapping Zoya out of her thoughts as he was steering the car to the parking space he spotted. “Don’t beat them too hard, yeah?”

“I can’t promise that.”

“Alright, then. I’ll help with hexing David a little until your tremendous amounts of rage dissipates.”

They both got out of the car, with Nikolai in so much of a hurry that he tipped backwards as he pulled his bag out from the backseat, and Zoya fought a laugh from erupting.

The blond noticed it and sent a scowl to her direction. “I would be saying at least ten reasons why I’m this clumsy right now if I wasn’t running late.”

Zoya chuckled darkly. “Then it’s a good thing you’re running late.” She raised her arm up and tapped on the watch on her wrist. “Move your fucking ass. Four minutes.”

She watched in triumph as Nikolai cursed under his breath and bolted to the other direction, only to stop after several steps and turn back.

Nikolai jogged back towards her as he was pulling something out of his backpack. “No compliments supposedly to you for laughing at me just a minute ago, but really, you saved me yesterday.” He handed her the thermos she had been dreading for the whole morning.

True enough to what he texted her earlier, the container did have a long scratch on the lid, painting the gray surface with a white line. Zoya deadpanned, raising the thermos to his face. “Really?”

He gave her a nervous grin that almost looked like a wince. “That’s on me, it slipped from my hand last night. Apologies.” Nikolai shrugged his pack back on his shoulder, half-turning and almost readying to bolt to the building. “There’s coffee in it as a payment, but it’s only instant. I swear to the saints you make the best coffee brew.”

He gave a final wave and took off, giving her a rushed “See ‘ya!” over his shoulder as he disappeared from her line of sight.

Zoya only gave a light laugh to the direction the blond disappeared before she was walking back to the council room. She still had two hours to spare before her next class and she was contemplating whether to go back to doing school work or just take a break.

The odds were surprisingly on her side today, and Zoya was able to spot Genya alone in the council room.

The redhead didn’t seem to notice her—she was too busy glaring at the laptop in front of her—until Zoya shut the door with a loud bang, and Genya almost jumped out of her seat. She gave Zoya a knowing grin, and the raven-haired had to admire the bravery of smiling before her probable end.

“I never knew you’d stoop so low, Safin,” Zoya told Genya, crossing her arms. She gave her a narrowed glance. “I should be hexing you right now, and it’s a surprise that I’m not. I must be getting really soft for you.”

Genya laughed heartily, her eyes wrinkling as she did. “I know you love me, Nazyalensky,” she said, and then she leaned forward and rested her chin on her intertwined hands. “How was it, though?”

Zoya huffed. “Disastrous.”

“Elaborate.”

“He didn’t stop talking.”

Genya frowned. “Isn’t that normal?”

“A good point, but he had been rambling about the deal we made and I swear one more word from him—” Zoya stopped talking when a movement distracted her, and she noticed that it was Genya suddenly raising a hand up. “What?”

“What deal?”

Zoya was a bit taken aback, realization dawning her as her mind played back the words that she’d just said. Now she had been the one rambling, and she let the emotions take over her words. “Oh, you know, the deal with one of the major sponsors he had been talking to for the upcoming event,” she lied smoothly, though she was already berating herself in her thoughts. “In the end, it was a total disaster, and I can’t believe you two were able to dupe me again into walking right through one of your schemes.”

Genya raised a brow, a sly grin slowly appearing on her face. “Last time I checked, you and Nikolai became close enough to share a drink from the same cup—”

“Oh, for the saints’ sake—”

“—and to be on each other’s speed dials—"

“Alright, stop.” Zoya sighed exasperatedly before pointing a finger at the redhead. “I’m letting this one slide, Safin. But I’m still beating David up when I see him.”

“I’ll tell him to stop coming to his Mechanics, then,” Genya said, amusement obvious in her voice. She shook her head. “You’re impossible, Nazyalensky.”

Zoya mocked a sweet smile. “Only practical, my dear Genya,” she corrected.

The redhead only gave another laugh in return before turning back to her task on the laptop, a comfortable silence filling the room afterwards. Zoya almost let herself slip earlier, and she was thankful that she was able to reason out something else to cover up for that slip. She supposed she’d see how far this ‘deal’ she’d agreed to would go before she’d tell Genya about it.

Perhaps some other time.

#zoyalai #king of scars #grishabigbang #gvbbfic #happy new year!!!!#zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #these idiots lololol #gvbbcreation

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starrybethany · 5 years

Text

Mat Barzal: Part 2

Word count: 2064

Sunshine, cotton sheets, and two arms wrapped around my waist greet me as I wake up.

I shuffle to wake my aching bones and Daniel makes noises from behind me.

“Morning, babe,” he greets me in a groggy voice.

“Hi Daniel,” I get out through a yawn. I turn around in his arms to face him.

His stone blue eyes welcome me and I lean in to leave a peck on his lips. When I pull back, I see a smirk replaced my lips.

“You know, I don’t have work today…” His hand slides lower on my back.

“But I do,” I protest, pulling back and scooting to the edge of the bed, which causes him to whine. “Hey, we can have a date night tonight.”

“I can’t, I’m having dinner with the boys,” my boyfriend informs me as I start to get dressed.

“So I’m left on my own?”

“Sorry, babe.”

“It’s fine, I’ll just pick up McDonalds or something.” I leave the door open to the bathroom as I start my makeup.

“But you don’t even like McDonalds!”

“Well it’s the only thing I pass on my way home from work,” I admit, capping the tube to my lip gloss before walking back into the bedroom.

I slide on my white vans before leaning over the bed to kiss Daniel quickly. He decides that it shouldn’t be a quick kiss, it needs to be a long kiss, and puts his hand on the back of my head, destroying my already messy ponytail to press my face closer to his.

“If you wanted a longer kiss you could’ve just said so,” I say with a giggle as we pull away.

“Have a great day at work, babe.”

“Yeah have fun lounging around,” I respond, fixing my ponytail as I head out the door.

“Let me get that for you,” a kind voice offers from behind me.

“Oh, thank you,” I respond graciously, stepping back so the person could open the door to the Barclays Center.

“You’ve got a lot of stuff there,” the pretty blonde states, motioning to the two cardboard boxes that occupy my arms.

“Yeah, I’m new and still moving into my office,” I inform her. “Figured it’d be better to just do one trip instead of having to go grab stuff and then having to leave to grab more stuff.”

“Hey, I get it,” the girl responds.

We start to head down the same hallway.

“So what do you do here?”

“I’m a payroll accountant, I’m in charge of the money and taxes and everything like that.”

“Are you serious? I couldn’t imagine doing that much math every day,” she gapes.

“Yeah, I like math-“Something in the box in my left arm moves and a picture frame at the top of the pile falls to the ground.

She bends down to grab it for me and picks it up to show a picture of me and Daniel.

Daniel is sitting on a chair and my arms are thrown loosely around him. I’m leaning down to kiss his cheek and he’s smiling widely at the camera.

It’s the first photo taken of us. I went to Daniel’s house to meet his family for the first time and his brother took this picture of us. It’s been one of my favorites ever since, and we’ve taken plenty of pictures in the five years we’ve been together.

“Who’s this?” The girl asks curiously.

“Oh that’s my boyfriend, Daniel,” I tell her.

“He’s cute.”

“Hell yeah he is.”

She laughs at that and falls to a stop at the locker room doors. “I have to see my boyfriend now. It was nice to meet you, um-“”Y/N.” “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Sydney.”

“See you later, Sydney.”

I trudge a little bit further to my office, setting down the boxes on the bench with a sigh of relief.

The picture frame is the first thing I put in my new office.

I frown at the stack of papers sitting on the side of my desk. They’re bothering me. And they’re not even doing anything. The work wasn’t hard, don’t get me wrong. It’s just- Joanne told me to put them in her office when I’m done filling them out. And well, I’m done filling them out it’s just that I don’t know where Joanne’s office is.

I sigh, deciding now is a better time than any to leave my office and figure it out.

With the stack in hand, I close my office door and turn around to see Hailey and Barry Trotz having a conversation at the end of the hallway.

“Y/N, hey come here,” Hailey waves me over with a friendly smile. “Barry, have you met Y/N? She’s the new payroll accountant. Y/N, this is Barry, I told you that he’s the coach.”

“Yeah, nice to meet you,” I shift the papers to rest in the crease of my elbow and extend my hand for Barry to shake.

“How are you liking it here so far, Y/N?” He questions curiously.

“This is a dream come true. Me and my boyfriend love hockey so we’re both ecstatic I got this job,” I explain, absentmindedly eyeing the brunette at the end of the hallway.

His spandex are tight on his thighs and his workout T-shirt hugs his torso nicely which makes me swoon on the inside. Goddammit, I have to get out of here.

I shift the papers to my other arm, making sure that my inner wrist is on the inside so my tattoo can’t be seen.

I nod as Barry responds even though I’m having an inner conflict.

“Hey, um, where is Joanne’s office?” I inquire.

“Oh, just go down this hall,” Hailey points down the hall Mat is loitering in. “Turn right, go straight, and her office will have her name on it.”

“Thank you. I should get these papers to her now, it was nice to meet you,” I smile at Barry before starting down the hall.

It’s just a boy, it’s just a boy Y/N. Hey, you date a boy! You even live with a boy! But not your soulmate… Your soulmate is a whole other story.

Oh my gosh, how long does it take to pass him? Keep your eyes on your feet, don’t look up. But why are you blushing so much? How embarrassing. Why is he still looking at me? I can feel his eyes on me. Look at Hailey, she’s prettier than me.

That cologne- what cologne does he use? I’ve never smelled that before. It smells so manly but not overly manly. Wow, Barzal, you’re perfect.

“Y/N you missed the turn!” Hailey calls down the hall.

My head snaps up and it takes everything in me to look past Mat to Hailey, who points down the hall next to me.

“Oh, uh, thank you,” I stumble through the words, turning down the hallway.

I really need to get better at getting my emotions in check.

“Wake up, baby. Come on, you have to get ready for work now. Do you want me to make you some scrambled eggs or something?”

“Mm,” I roll over in the bed, blanket sticking to my arms and clothes sticking to my body with the help of a deep sweat. It’s then that I notice the body heat near my head and a face hovering over the side of mine, placing kisses on my cheek. “Get off me, Daniel. Damn.”

I hear him huff in resistance yet he backs away from me.

“Why the hell is it so hot?”

“It’s the hottest day of September. Plus we don’t have air conditioning, remember?” My boyfriend explains.

“Damn New York expenses, can’t even afford an apartment with decent utilities,” I grumble, yanking the duvet off of my body and sitting up.

“So do you want those scrambled eggs or not? I have to leave for work in ten minutes so-“”Yeah, scrambled eggs would be great. In the meantime I’m gonna go take a shower and wash all of this sweat off of me.”

We go our separate ways and I take my shower.

I’m standing in my closet picking out clothing when something dawns on me. I can’t wear a long sleeved shirt or a sweatshirt today because it’s so hot out. So what can I wear? I bite my lip nervously and head over to my jewelry box. All I have is dainty, cute little bracelets. Maybe if I pile all of them on my wrist Mat won’t be able to see my tattoo? I click on the bracelets and notice that they all slide down my wrist, still showing my tattoo to the world.

Well, maybe I could wear a sweatshirt. How often do I actually see him? Plus I could just hide in my office the whole day and wear it when I leave the room. And it could be a light sweatshirt so it’s not actually that bad…

“Babe, what are you wearing? It’s ninety degrees outside,” Daniel comments from the kitchen table as I emerge from the bedroom, dressed and ready for work.

“I’m actually not that warm.”

“You were just complaining about how hot it is.”

“Well my body got adjusted to the temperature.” I give him the look letting him know that we’re done with this conversation.

Halfway through my scrambled eggs, Daniel leaves for work. I shortly follow.

“Do you have something on underneath that sweatshirt?” Hailey asks as soon as I walk in to the Barclays Center.

“Yeah, why?”

“Our air conditioning just broke so it’s going to get pretty hot in here,” she explains.

I just nod, trying to hide my horror inside. I was counting on this place to crank up the air conditioning so I actually need my sweatshirt, not the opposite. Also, does that mean I get no air conditioning today? Not at work, not at home? A girl needs to cool off.

Some other random people make comments to me about my sweatshirt as I walk past them and I reply with short responses, trying to keep the conversation to a minimum so I can go to my office as soon as possible and pull off this damn sweatshirt.

And it turns out that I didn’t even need to wear it. I don’t run into Mat once on my way to my office. I mumble to myself angrily as I take off my sweatshirt and throw it onto the bench with the half-empty boxes and some presents some of my new co-workers have given me.

Adrenaline freezes in my veins and my movements stop. I quickly turn my gaze to look out of my office window into the hallway and notice it’s empty. If something saw my little fit, they would for sure know that something’s up. And I don’t want anyone to get suspicious.

I start to get to work on the papers I have to fill out and file and glance up once and a while to make sure nobody is watching me and can see my wrist. They might know Mat’s soulmate tattoo and connect the dots, so I don’t want anyone to know at all.

By hour three I really have to pee. I’ve been drinking water all day to keep up with the hot weather and it's finally catching up to me.

Now I have a big decision to make. Do I risk it and leave my office without my sweatshirt on or do I pull it over my sweaty torso to go to the bathroom? I will admit, this decision is based more on emotion (and the dying need to pee) more than logic so I decide to go without my sweatshirt.

I peer outside through my window first, searching up and down both sides of the hallway multiple times before deciding to make my move. I take five minutes in the bathroom to do my business and then peacefully retreat back to my office.

When my hand is on my doorknob, opening the door to get into my office, is when I hear it.

It’s just a quiet, “Oh.” Yet it catches my attention and makes my heart tighten.

My head turns to the right and my stomach drops.

Mat Barzal has noticed the bumblebee on my wrist.

#nhl imagines #mat barzal imagine #nhl imagine #mat barzal #new york islanders imagine

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katjacksonbooks · 4 years

Photo

So we’re back on the “What are you polyamorous triad couples up to?” train.

The answer is sex.

Have a short, hot, mildly emotional check-in with my favorite Baker, Fire Chief and Police Chief in a town so small no one can find it on a map.

And if you’ve interested in knowing more about how these three met and fell for each other, feel free to read the Welcome to Sea Port series, all $0.99 and in Kindle Unlimited.

Bedtime Routine

Mary hated sleeping alone.

She hadn’t had to in years, and apparently, she’d been very spoiled by it, so much so that her normally warm and cozy bed seemed big and cold now that she was in it alone instead of pressed against Knox or Santos. Or both, on those nights where she ended up in the middle.

Even Cat-leen had deserted her, but Mary couldn’t blame her. Her cat had an entire late-night routine that as far as Mary could discern included snacking on her food, dumping a few of her toys into her water fountain, and sleeping in Knox’s favorite armchair. Her routine was the same, and she clearly didn’t care that Mary’s wasn’t.

Mary sighed and sat up in bed with a frown. She reached for her cell phone on her bedside table and dialed Knox.

“Shouldn’t you be sleep?” he asked instead of hello.

“Shouldn’t you be at home?”

He chuckled softly, and Mary’s back relaxed. She hadn’t even realized it was tense.

“Believe me, I’d much rather be home than sitting in this damn fire station alone,” he said with a yawn.

“No calls, right?” she asked, trying to keep the fear from making her voice shake.

“No calls, sweetheart. This is all just a precaution,” he said.

Mary had heard that last sentence from Knox and Santos so many times over the last month that the words were starting to grate on her, not for any other reason than that eventually, it wouldn’t be a precaution.

It was easy to keep herself together during the day. While Knox and Santos slept, Mary spent hours in their kitchen baking and coordinating food deliveries to houses around town. Now that the bakery was closed, she kept in contact with Bria and Charlie through Facetime. Mary and Bria had split up their baking duties. Bria was working on her bread recipes — including gluten-free, whole wheat, and soon enough, even some sprouted options — while Mary worked on the sweet treats. They were both very busy.

When Willie had first closed the non-essential shops, Mary was worried that her bakery would go under just when it was starting to flourish, but online orders had surged for a while. But as shipping had slowed, she’d shuttered online ordering to focus on local deliveries around Sea Port and in some neighboring local towns. It worked.

At first, Mary was concerned that she wouldn’t be able to find work for Charlie, but the entire food box delivery was Charlie’s idea. They’d all been on Facetime when Bria had said Sully was worried about her own business, and Charlie had asked if Sully still had coffee to sell, because her aunt was running low. Charlie had brokered that sale through text message and then added, “Hey Mary, my aunt wants to know if you can make her some pecan cinnamon rolls. She said she’ll give you her entire SSI check for a pan.”

They’d laughed, and then an entire informal economy had formed, with Charlie as the hub connecting people with groceries — she even managed to rope in the local dairy farm — and recruiting a bunch of bored out-of-school teenagers to collect the items for each boxand deliver them with as little contact as possible. She’d even gotten the mayor to divert some of the gloves and masks she’d been able to buy to the delivery kids once the town implemented stay-at-home orders. Mary had been mildly amused by how nosy Charlie was, but her business — and a bunch of others in the county — would probably ride out the pandemic based almost solely on the fact that Charlie was in literally everyone’s business all the time. Who knew!?

Mary hadn’t ever thought that she’d be living through a pandemic, and a few years ago, she’d have said — if asked this incredibly strange question — that if it happened, she wouldn’t want to be in a small town that no one could find on a map. But now that they were all living through a pandemic, and she was in a tiny dot of a small town, she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

She baked all day, and she Facetimed with her friends and family all around the country, coordinating with her great-aunts, Santos’s brothers, and Marcus to make sure that everyone had someone watching over them. And even though Mary still wasn’t talking to her mother like she used to, they’d begun texting daily just to check in, and she acted as the go-between for her parents, fielding her father’s slightly panicked calls about her mother’s wellbeing and then translating them into calm text messages to discern what her mother needed; which her father then promptly either ordered or ran out to the stores to buy and deliver to her door before she even woke up.

Life was stressful, but having something to do — actually, lots of things to do — made the day-to-day of this situation easier. That was the days; the nights were an entirely different story.

There were some great things about being in a relationship with the chief of police and the fire chief. The Sea Port crime rate was mostly bored kids breaking things, breaking into places, or painting graffiti on things, especially now when they didn’t have much to do but sit in virtual classrooms. And while lots of businesses had been hit by the youths, Mary’s bakery hadn’t, and she attributed that primarily to the fact that the entire town knew she was Santos’s girlfriend.

Blessings to the town gossip mill.

And while Knox’s expertise on building codes came in handy, Mary often thought wistfully of the privilege she had to have fucked all over the town’s small firehouse. She loved everything about Knox, but holding onto the fire pole for dear life while he fucked her into a stupor was a surprisingly comforting pre-pandemic memory. Once this was all over, she promised herself that they’d do it again but with Santos this time, and that could usually chase away the blues.

But hands down, the worst part of dating two of the town’s small cadre of first responders, and the heads of their departments at that, was that the mayor only trusted them to work the most stressful shifts. So, while Mary was baking and sourcing ingredients around the town and county, Knox and Santos were usually passed out in their bed. And just when she was winding down for the day, they were showering and putting on their uniforms to head out for the night.

Mary took the smallest comfort that Knox hadn’t had many calls at night, and since there hadn’t been a reported case in Sea Port yet — knock on wood — he was mostly on hand just in case. Santos spent most of his shifts in his car, driving around town and making sure that the bored kids weren’t out causing annoying, if understandable, chaos. Meanwhile, she spent a good portion of the night bored and alone without them, and her traitorous brain started to worry, mostly about their family members and friends who were all over the country.

And she didn’t want to worry about that; she didn’t even want to think about those scenarios. She didn’t want to wonder how they’d get to them or if they could even afford to. She didn’t want to think at night. She wanted to fuck away her anxiety and then sleep like a baby who didn’t even know the word “pandemic”, but she couldn’t.

“That silence sounds like you’re worrying,” Knox said in a light tone that she knew he was affecting to keep her calm.

“Maybe a little,” she admitted.

“Mmmhmm. Hold on.”

Mary frowned as the line went quiet for a few seconds. She stared at her lock screen — a picture of her, Santos, and Knox under her great-aunts’ pecan trees from last Christmas. That picture seemed like a century ago.

“You there?” Knox asked.

“Where would I go?” Mary snarked.

“So you’re in a good mood,” Santos breathed.

Mary smiled at the sound of his dry sarcasm and Knox’s affable chuckle. “Shut up. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Santos breathed in a warm voice. “Just so fucking bored. The middle schoolers don’t even have the decency to be yelling at each other across the street tonight.”

“Don’t say that too loud. I’m sure those little hoodlums can hear you,” Knox said.

“I’m surprised they haven’t tried to get together in the woods,” Mary mused absentmindedly.

Santos sighed, and it was the weariest thing she’d ever heard. They heard the crackle of his radio. “Poole, can you ride out to the Freeman farm?”

“Sure, boss. Am I looking for anything in particular?” Max Poole, Santos’s newly promoted lieutenant asked.

“Yeah. These damn kids. Make sure they aren’t congregating out there.”

“Shit,” Poole breathed.

“Yeah,” Santos said.

“Sorry,” Mary whispered.

Knox burst into a laugh that made Mary’s gut clench with need, not necessarily sexual, just the desire to hear that laughter all over her skin.

“You sure you want to have kids?” Santos asked.

“A whole fucking misbehaving gang of them,” Knox said through his laughter.

“Like a basketball team, or…?” Mary asked.

“Football. Soccer,” Santos corrected.

Mary rolled her eyes, but she was smiling so hard that her eyes were closed. She yawned and settled back onto their mattress. Their bed was still empty, but she burrowed under their blankets and didn’t feel so cold.

“We should get started soon, then,” Mary hummed.

“You been talking to Ms. Pearl?” Knox asked.

“Yes,” Mary said, “but Santos’s mom is apparently working on a christening dress? It’s very frilly.”

Santos muttered under his breath. Mary’s Spanish was terrible, even though she’d been working on it now that she had a little more free time, but even she knew what “dios mio” meant.

“Well, since we’re starting, let’s start,” Knox said.

“Pretty sure we need to be together for that to work,” Santos said.

Mary could just imagine him rolling his eyes and Knox rolling his eyes in return.

“Practice makes perfect,” Knox said. “What are you wearing, sweetheart?”

Mary squinted her eyes shut in excitement. “Shorts and a t-shirt,” she said, already wriggling out of the former.

“What would you be doing if we were there?” Knox asked. His voice wasn’t warm or soothing anymore, it was hot with seduction and promise. He knew exactly what he was doing when his voice sounded like that; the way it turned them on.

“What would you want me to do?” she asked. She’d already bent her legs to plant her feet on the mattress and spread her knees wide. She was stroking her pussy, her fingers lightly tracing up one lip to circle her clit and then down the other to play at her opening.

“Santos?” Knox asked.

He grunted in response. Mary wondered if he was stroking his dick through his pants or if he’d taken himself out.

“Use your words,” Knox said. His breath had quickened, and somehow, Mary knew that alone in the firehouse, he’d dispensed with the foreplay and was probably already stroking himself like Mary was.

The line was quiet for a bit as they waited for Santos. “Get your toy,” he finally said.

Mary licked her lips and pressed a finger into her pussy to the first knuckle. “Please be more specific,” she huffed.

Knox’s laughter was thin, airy. He sounded close, and that made Mary’s breaths quicken.

“I want to be inside you,” Santos breathed.

Mary pushed another finger inside herself. “God, be more specific,” she moaned.

“I don’t need to,” Santos said. The sound of his zipper was loud through their connection.

Knox grunted.

Mary smiled at the sound of them. “So I should choose?” she teased with a tinkle of laughter.

They both grunted this time, and she laughed. She tapped at her phone screen with her free hand to put their call on speaker and then practically ripped open the closest bedside table. She sighed, only finding lube and Santos’s reading glasses.

“Wrong drawer,” she mumbled. Knox and Santos were apparently too preoccupied to answer. She rolled to the other side of the bed and pulled open the drawer to find a bullet vibe. She personally would have preferred something long and thick, but beggars can’t be picky, especially not when the sound of one of her men spitting into his hand came through the phone.

“You two better not come without me,” she warned, licking the cool metal of the bullet and then settling back onto the bed.

“Did you get a vibrator?” Santos asked in a strained voice.

“Yeah, just a bullet, though.”

Santos grunted unhappily.

“Can we stay on track, please?” Knox asked.

“Oh yeah, yeah,” she said, spreading her legs again.

Mary slid her thumb across the slide to turn the vibrator on and settled the bullet over her clit. She arched her back and moaned happily. Santos grunted again, but it was Knox’s keening moan that made her nipples hard.

“Fuck,” she breathed and shoved her fingers back into her pussy.

The room filled with the hum of Mary’s vibrator, her moans, and the slightly distorted sounds of Santos and Knox’s moans as well as the gentle rasp of their hands on their own bodies. They fucked themselves together, moaning and grunting and panting, while they thought about finally being together; dreamed about what it would be like when this was all over, and they could get back to something like normal.

“I’m close,” Knox breathed.

So was Mary, but she slowed down and took the pressure of the bullet off her clit, sliding it across her lips in gentle strokes. She moved her head closer to the phone so she could hear every scrap of sound of Knox’s orgasm. She knew Santos well enough to guess that he’d probably done the same.

And Knox did not disappoint. He never did.

His heaving breaths turned to moans as the sound of his dick fucking his fist got louder and faster, more desperate. “Fuck,” he said and then groaned long and loud.

Santos was much tamer. He always was. But as soon as Knox’s groan subsided, there was a shuffle of fabric on his end of the phone and then a series of grunts.

Mary had never stopped fucking herself with her fingers, and the wet slap of her hand against her sex was as frantic as her nerves had been just a few minutes ago.

“Now you,” Santos said, having the nerve to give her orders when he could barely speak above a whisper.

Mary might have pushed back at him, but Knox didn’t give her the room.

“You heard the man,” he ground out. “Let me hear how you’re going to come on my dick as soon as I’m home.”

Not that she needed the encouragement, but she really fucking loved when Santos got demanding and Knox talked dirty to her. She didn’t even need to move the bullet back to her clit to come. She arched her back, cried out, and then when her legs were shaking, she turned the bullet vibe all the way up to the highest setting and moved it over her clit. Her orgasm transformed from a gentle shudder to a violent shake as she gushed all over her hand.

Somewhere in the middle of all that, she was certain that one, or maybe even both Knox and Santos had grunted out another small release along with her, but she was too far gone to be sure. They were mostly quiet on the phone as Mary wrung herself out, alternating between just her fingers and then the vibrator as well to let one orgasm roll into another and then another.

Her men listened in silence as she came and came, only stopping when the batteries on her vibrator began to give out.

Mary turned over in bed, her fingers still stuffed inside her clenching pussy, and her eyes drifting closed.

She yawned, and Knox laughed, “Well, we got that part down. Next on the list is actually getting in the bed together, and then this baby-making thing can get on the way.”

Mary smiled and yawned again. “Deal. I’m tired now.”

“Good,” Santos said. “Go to sleep. We’ll be there when you wake up.”

“Leave your clothes in the mudroom,” she said, a sharp shot of panic pulling her back into consciousness.

“We know, babe. Calm down,” Knox said calmly. “Go to sleep, and maybe I’ll wake you up with my tongue.”

Mary pumped her fingers in and out of her sex and began to drift again. “I’d like that,” she remembered saying as she fell soundly to sleep.

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