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anjelicawrites · 4 months

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Hello! May I request a pvert!michael gavey x reader being roommates and their power goes out during a winter storm so they have to share the bed for warmth and things gets pretty steamy in the shared bed... thank you!

Hi nonnie! This came out far longer than what I thought it would be! I hope you like it!

NSFW and 18+ only under the cut!

Warnings: reference to Michael x the agoraphobic girl, kissing, scratching, fingerfucking, p in v sex, dry humping, Michael being a bit darkish at the end.

The start of your second year in Oxford had been horrendous, from having to switch from your college to another, while all your friends remained there, to having been moved where that asshole Michael Gavey lives.

You should have nothing against the guy, you two have more things in common than almost all of your peers, yet you find him the personification of everything that irks you: the flaunting of his, admittedly, brilliant mind, his superiority complex and his complete disregard for social norms. His reasons for not liking you are a complete mystery.

You two try as hard as possible not to cross paths with one another, luckily enough your two degrees have just one class in common and you don't study in the library he goes to, preferring to walk a bit further and be with your friends. Even in the common room, you and Michael have managed to not to stumble upon one another, synchronizing your schedules so that, whenever one is using the room, the other is somewhere else.

Obviously the universe has to play another one of its sick tricks and disrupt the, fragile, harmony of your life, in the form of: the worst snow storm of the past ten years, the power going out and you struck in the college with him. Everyone is out for the weekend, but you and Michael, having both to study for a mid - semester test for the only class you two share.

You know he has no friends, not since Oliver Quick decided that hanging out with Felix Catton and his people was far more entertaining than the ramblings of a math nerd and you feel like Michael has dodged a bullet there, you don't know why. You are on your own because all your friends are on a week - end trip to London; you would have been there with them, if only the professor hadn't decided to be a bastard and move up the test date.

Your chagrin notwithstanding, you had a plan, which consisted of: sealing yourself in your room, heating turned to the max and study all day so you could watch some telly the night, or read one of the new books you bought and didn't have the chance to open, yet. A splendid plan indeed, which worked perfectly on Friday and is crushed on Sunday, when the electricity stops working, all of a sudden, with a pop.

You lift your head, almost giving yourself a whiplash, when the lights go out, all of a sudden and you can't hear MTV in the background anymore.

"What the hell?"

Uselessly you try the switch on the small lamp on your table and try to turn on your laptop: everything is dead. With a curse, you wrap your fleece night gown around yourself, and venture in the hall, where you discover that all the lights are off. You lock the door behind you, not wanting to disperse the warmth accumulated, in case the heating dies as well, and venture to the common room which is, predictably, dark.

"Look what the cat dragged in."

Comes from behind you and you jump around with a scream, hand clutching the robe. That fucking creep Gavey! There's some sort of power outrage and, of course, he's the only one around!

"Fuck you!" You pant, your heart is beating like a drum in your chest. "The feeling is mutual." He responds, his usual disdain in his voice.

Why in the name of all is holy does he hate you so?

You two stand in the dark, like two imbeciles, eyes locked, neither of you wants to be the one to ask the predictable question.

"Is someone else here with us?" You cave, in the end, sick and tired already of the whole situation.

Gavey stares at you, if possible, with even more contempt in his blue eyes.

"Afraid of being alone with me?" "No, you utter cretin. I was simply wondering if there's other students in the same predicament we are, or if the person in charge is around." "Everyone else is out and I haven't seen Mr. Collins."

You curse inwardly. As much as you don't like Michael, you two need help and are not going to find it in the common room.

"Let's go." Gavey turns his back at you. "Maybe he's in his office."

Begrudgingly, you follow him. You don't have that many hopes to find the man, it's too late, but maybe he's still around, because of the snow.

The light from the windows dwindles, forcing you and Michael to navigate the corridors and stairs carefully, until you two stand in front of Mr. Collin's office, the door locked.

You feel like banging your head against the wood, and you'd do it, if Michael weren't around.

"We need to contact him. Let him know of what's going on." You say, dejected. "Do you still have the information package given to you when you moved here?" "Yes, sure. Don't tell me smartest nerd of his cohort lost his!"

There's disdain in your voice but, hey! Not once he's ever been nice to you, why should you?

"Mine is in the drawer of my desk, in my room, on the last floor. Do you truly want to walk there in complete darkness?"

You're glad there's almost no light, or he'll see the embarrassed expression on your face: how is it, that you always manage to pass for a dimwit when you're in his presence?

"How do you know where my room is?" "You said it yourself. Smartest of his cohort. Now, shall we go?"

You want to punch him, you should punch him, maybe sheer, brute force will make him stop treating you like an imbecile.

"Since you know where I live, I hope you can make your way in this darkness. I am not waiting for you."

On purpose you slam your shoulder against him when you walk down the hall: you can't stand him and why are you struck in whatever this is with him?

You two walk in silence, fingers brushing against the paneling on the walls to keep a steady course, feet treading carefully on the stairs as you two descend in the creepy silence of the deserted college.

You have to try a couple of times, before you manage to open the locked door, the warmth, still trapped in the room runs a shiver down your back: you hadn't notice how cold the building is. Luckily enough there's isn't many trees outside your side of the building and the light can stream through your windows, helping to illuminate your room and the snowy, lunar landscape outside.

You head towards the bookcase near your desk, you're pretty sure you've stashed the college information booklet with all the random bits and bobs in the box on the top of the bookcase. You have to grab the chair to hoist yourself up and go to your tip toes, since the cardboard has been pushed all the way back.

"What a nice burrow you've made for yourself."

Again, Michael's voice makes you jump out of your skin and almost fall off your precarious perch. With one hand around the box, you turn to see that creep walk leisurely around your small room, his fingers touching gently your possessions; he scoffs at the fairy lights you've hanged on the wall behind your bed and he has the gall to open the wooden box where you keep all your different teas and take a sniff! You're torn between surprise and rage at the way Michael feels entitled to touch your belongings, it's like he's leaving a stain everywhere his hands touch.

"You made yourself home." He says, with that note of pity and contempt he seems to reserve for you and you only. "This is my home, Gavey." You retort. "Yes, I have noticed. Mirrors your...personality."

It's the way he says it that makes your blood boil. Yes, you like to have stuffed animals and pretty pillows on your bed! You have your small breakfast nook and use it during the weekends, when you don't have to rush to class! And yes, you are the kind of basic bitch who loves fairy light and cute animal gadgets! What is wrong with that?

"If you don't like it here, you're free to climb up your tower and contact Mr. Collins on your own!"

This seems to sober him, you reckon he doesn't want to face the chill and the pitch black of the corridors.

"Have you find it?" There's still contempt in his voice, at least he's stopped touching your belongings!

You don't answer, you simply jump down from the chair, booklet in hand.

Your mobile phone sits on the desk. In the sea of bullshit that today has been, at least the battery of your Nokia is still full and the light of the screen is bright enough to illuminate the booklet. Michael stands by your side as the two of you are bending over the desk, busy with finding the phone number you two need, maybe he's too close to you, but you don't notice it, worried as you are by the whole situation.

Mr. Collins answers the phone and is of no help.

"The blizzard damaged the power lines." He says over the terrible connection, his voice fills your room. "They're working on the issue but there's no saying how long it's going to take!" "We can't just sit in the dark for days!" You say, trying not to sound too panicked. "Not days, love." Mr. Collins tried to soothe you. "Probably the whole night. Do you have enough blankets and a duvet?" "What for?"

You and Michael stare dumbly at one another, then a terrible realization hits the two of you.

"The heating system is electronically controlled. With the power down, the furnace stops working for security reasons."

You want to scream. Mr. Collins sounds so calm and controlled, probably sitting at home, heating on, while you're struck in your room, which will become unbearably cold during the night. Michael curses.

"Who's with you, love?" "Michael Gavey. We're the only two people in the building." He answers. "Look after one another, my boy." Mr. Collins says. "The furnace has already shut down but it will take a while for the heath to dissolve completely. You two should be fine, as long as you keep your doors closed and use all the blankets you have."

When the conversation ends, you turn your head to look at Michael, who is hovering over you, even with his back partially bent over the table, one hand planted next to your phone. Being so engrossed with the problem at hand, you just realize how much in your personal space Michael is and, is he smelling your hair?

"What?" He asks and looks genuinely surprised at your cross expression.

You take a deep breath. The poor lad, as off putting as he is, is in this sinking ship with you and you are a grown ass person who doesn't take their frustrations on another person. Michael was probably standing too close to you, but you two have bigger issues to face.

"Nothing. I simply hate all of this." "Me too."

Yes, he's definitely invaded you space, but he looks miserable in his too thin jumper and this situation is not something neither of you know how to handle. As Mr. Collins said, you two should look after one another.

"Do you have enough blankets?" You ask. "I have my duvet. Why?"

You are not surprised: the guy carries his stuff around in a crumpled Tesco bag, he probably doesn't care about buying pretty things for the sake of it, like you do.

"I was thinking about how cold it's going to become in a few hours. Are you going to be all right up there?"

You can't read Michael's expression in the dark room, the moonlight streaming through your windows has panted a mask on his face.

"I should be." He shrugs. "Warm air travels upwards." "Are you sure?" "The laws of physics don't change."

If he's trying to be a smart ass, he's failing. He looks awkward, standing with his arms down his body and the striped pants he's wearing, harmless and absolutely incapable of looking after himself. He's probably as worried as you are, but he's not letting you see it, you two are not friends and you two have to navigate this problem alone, no adult in sight to take the reins.

"Help me Michael." You say.

You know you're going to regret what you are about to propose, but you are not an asshole, not even towards him: the power outrage is far more important that you two not liking one another for whatever stupid reasons.

You grab the chair and put it near the wardrobe, before hoisting yourself up to grab the box you keep there.

"What are you doing?" He sounds surprised "Just take this!"

The box is heavy, your arms tremble with the effort to keep it over your head, while you turn around. With a huff you give it to Michael, who has to take a couple of steps back when he realizes how big the thing is.

"What do you keep here? Stones? The bodies of your enemies?"

Jesus Christ, you think, he doesn't know how to crack a joke to save his life!

You don't answer and direct him to put the cardboard box on the bed, where you proceed to open it, before starting pulling out all the blankets you've stored there.

Michael stares at you with genuine surprise on his face, not that you're looking at him, engrossed in emptying the box before you two die of hypothermia.

"You do like to be cozy!"

There it is again, the judging tone. You should kick him out of your room for it.

"Michael, don't make me regret the offer I am about to make." "Which is?"

Again, the moonlight doesn't offer enough light to read his face and he's standing too close to you for comfort, but you tell yourself he's socially inept and there's little else you two can do now.

"Let's share the bed. We can put all the blankets on and wait until the power comes back."

He stays silent for such a stretch of time that you don't know what to think.

"Did you make this?"

His fingers curl around the first crochet blanket you ever made. The thing looks crooked and it's not a perfect rectangle, but it was the first piece you ever finished on your own.

"I've picked up knitting and crocheting last year." Why do you feel like you have to justify yourself? "It's a grandma hobby" "At least I have blankets. Do you want to go freeze in your room?"

Michael doesn't answer and starts spreading your collection of throws and quilts on the bed.

"It's still a grandma hobby." He reiterates. "At least I have a hobby. What do you do in your spare time?" "Read books about maths." "I might be a grandma but you are boring." "Mathematics is not boring!" "I said you are." "At least I don't have the same hobbies my nan has." "That's rich coming from the guy who dresses like his grandfather!"

You two finish preparing the bed bathed by a dense silence. Why does he have to be an asshole all the times? You've extended your hand to him and he has the balls to shame you for what you like to do in your spare time! You hate when intelligent people act like they're entitled to be rude. You are not MENSA material the way he is, but you are brilliant and are always nice to everyone, even to him! He should, at least, do the same! Not touching your things without your permission and not even say that he's sorry! Instead, he is laying in your bed, warm and cozy, under the covers you've made with your 'Grandma hobby'. He's such an asshole and you hate that, of all the people in your college you are in this mess with him!

The bed is not made for two people to share, which means you two have to lie closer than what you'd like, good, because you two can share body warmth, bad because it feels strangely intimate. You've had your sexual experiences, a couple of times you've woken up in a stranger's bed, fuzzy on the details of how you've managed to get yourself there, none of the experiences ever felt as weird as trying to fall asleep with your back to Michael, who is attempting to arrange his long limbs in order not to touch you.

With all his moving, Michael is driving you insane and has already kicked you by mistake in the shins.

"Are you done?" All the pity you felt for him has already flown out of the window. "I can't find a good position." "Me neither! But I'm not squirming like a pinned worm!" "Well then, I was trying to avoid this!" He stops moving about, letting his legs fall against yours and one arm attached to your side. "Happy now?"

He sounds exasperated.

"At least I can try to sleep!" You answer, already done with him: this is the last time you are nice towards him, from tomorrow he gets treated like the asshole he is, power outrage be damned!

It's the cold that awakens you that, and the raging erection against your arse.

You don't know what time it is, having left your mobile phone on the table after the call with Mr. Collins. It's probably the middle of the night and whatever issue the blizzard has caused, hasn't been resolved yet.

"What the hell, Gavey?!?"

You kick him in the attempt to distance yourself from his cock and he wakes startled.

"What happened?" He stares owlishly at you, his glasses folded on the bedside table. "Check your pants, that's what happened!"

He doesn't move for a second and then simply readjust his position to keep his hips away from you.

"Not my fault." "You can, at least, say you're sorry!" "What for? I don't control my dick!" "Oh bollocks! You should say you're sorry anyway! I didn't want to wake with your cock against my arse!" "You got your panties in a bunch when I was trying to find a good position! Now you're angry because I have an erection. Check your priorities and this would have happened with anyone, by the way!" "As if you've ever slept with thousands of people!" "I've slept with more girls that you did!" "Somehow I doubt it!"

Oh, the look of surprise in his face is worth being awake, in the cold, because of his cock. Not to brag, but you've had your experiences with girls as well, since you've enrolled into Oxford. You're still unsure if you like boys more, but you're pretty certain your body count is far higher than his.

"You should do something about it."

He sounds angry now, why? Gone is the surprise on his features, replaced by a darkness that makes you distance from him.

"What do you mean?" "If my hard on is such an issue, you should do something about it."

OK, you think, what is happening all of a sudden?

"Go do something yourself!" Despite the cold you can feel burning embarrassment spread all over your body. "I'm not the one fussing about it." His big hand curls around your wrist to tug at it. "You are. It's only logical that you do something about it."

You lie frozen on the spot. You would have never expected the night to evolve this way, for your act of generosity to become this.

"What are you going to do, Gavey? Force me?"

You try to put on a brave front, knowing full well that you could never stop him if he decides to take advantage of you; he's scrawny, but stronger than you are.

"No. You'll just have to fall asleep with my hard cock next to your arse. Not that I am complaining."

The slap resonates in the silent room, your hand stings where it connected with his cheek.

"You're a pig, Gavey!" "Hit me all you want." He responds calmly, turning his head to face you. "It doesn't change that you're the one embarrassed, not me." "You have no shame, haven't you?" "I didn't decide to wake up with an hard on, I'm simply not making a tragedy out of it, like you are!" "I'm not!" "Then why are you playing the shy virgin? Haven't you slept with more people than I did?" "You wish I slept with you." You retort.

He eyes you trying to assess your curves hidden by the layers of fleece you're wearing and then scoffs.

"Don't get your hopes up. There's plenty of hotter people out there." "But you want me to wank you." "Only because me having an erection offends you. With that gone you can stop clutching your pearls." "Oh, now you're in for it, Gavey!" You Grab him by his horrid jumper to pull him closer to you. "Stop painting me like some sort of blushing prude!" "Make me." He says.

In the darkness you can't see how enlarged his pupils are, but you can feel his cock swell when his hands pull your hips closer to his.

You know you should let all of this go, laugh in his face, perhaps, and then try to sleep, but you've never been able to refuse a dare, never in your life you had ever backed down from a fight, you're not going to start now, not with him involved!

You crash your lips against his, kissing him aggressively and he responds with equal ferocity, one hand in your hair to keep your face slanted against his. He bites down your lower lip and you moan, hips kicking against his erection, while his tongue invades your mouth, possessive in his attempt to make you submit.

You're not letting him have all the control, not when you can curl one leg around the side of his hip to ground your cunt against his erection, forcing him to cease his attack, his head turning to the side, a long whine escaping his pretty lips. Why do the assholes have the loveliest mouth and eyelashes?

You turn him on his back, your hips working his, your cunt sliding against his trapped erection: you want him to come into his pants, you want to punish him for being such an asshole. Shame him, even!

You pin him on the bed, your hands on his shoulder so you can ground faster against him, your cunt wet and safe in your pants as he moans and tries to buckle under you, his torso tries to arch when you get the angle perfectly and reduce him to his baser instincts, to his rough cock trapped under layers of clothes, the pain of it sliding against the cotton of his briefs and the pleasure curling at the base of his spine.

He doesn't want to let go like this, like a schoolboy, but you've put all your weight on his hips and are grounding and grounding against his cock, your lower lip trapped between your teeth doesn't stop your whines when his head bumps against your clit, your pleasure becomes his and he comes in his briefs, panting and moaning, small whines of overstimulation when you don't stop moving. But your whole weight is not on his hips anymore, and that's your mistake.

His mind is still hazy, the pleasure you've subjected him to is like a cloud, but he's not going to have a better chance at getting the upper hand than now that you are breathless and moving lazily over him.

Like manacles, his hands curl on the meat of your hips and he turns you on your back and uses his legs to keep your nice and spread, his fingers slide inside under your panties to find your cunt.

"Let's see what we have here." His voice is still laced with the pleasure you've given him but holds an edge that makes you shiver. "You're drenched." "Says the pot to the kettle."

Two of his long fingers in your cunt erase any more smart comments on your part, his thumb on your clit has you moan and and arch under him. He's found that spot easily and bullies it mercilessly, the same way you did his trapped cock: you're going to come for him and then he's going to fuck you the way you deserve.

You grab at him, your nails scratching down his jumper, high pitched squeals of pleasure leave your open mouth, you look at him desperate, small tears gather at the corner of your eyes as his fingers fuck you faster and force your walls to accept their invasion, and he moans at the thought of your muscles wounding around his cock, sucking him in, strangling him.

"Michael!" You beg, your legs tremble, hips pumping fast to follow his punishing rhythm. "Come, now!"

You don't know what breaks you, his fingers or his thumb on your swollen clit, or maybe the command in his voice, the knot in your belly snaps and you come with a shout, back arched to the point of pain, eyes closed that don't see his dark expression.

You're trying to catch your breath, eyes still closed when you feel Michael's fingers at the hem of your pants as he tries to undress you.

"I'm too tired." You slur. "I'm not." One of his hands takes yours and puts it on his erection. "I'm not done with you."

Reflexively your fingers curl around his manhood, your brain truly realizing how well endowed he is.

"Do you have a permit for that?"

High on endorphins you has a terrible sense of humor, not that he cares, he wants your cunt, not your brain.

"I just need a condom." "Bedside table. Small box."

Michael stares at you, spread out and already fucked out on the bed, how beautiful and tempting you are, he only wishes he could see you naked, lick your skin and bite every inch of your body, until you beg him to stop, suck on your tits until they're bruised and your nipples over sensitive. Eat your cunt until you pass out and wake you up with his cock fucking you. He has to curl his hand around his base, or he'll come in his pants, again and he doesn't want to waste his erection like that, he wants you to milk him for all he's worth.

You're staring at him under your eyelashes, who would have thought that math nerd extraordinaire Michael Gavey could give you an orgasm that made your legs tremble?

He's pretty, you realize as you observe him bathed by moonlight while he rummages through the contents of your bedside table, long fingers and a shapely nose, a truly breathtaking chiseled face; if only his personality were better, he could have all the girls fawning over him!

"Oh Christ!"

You realize you've said it out loud when he smirks with one hand at the base of his impressive cock: he's going to split you in two.

"Pull your pants down." "I'm cold." You whine. "Bloody hell what a pain you are!"

He hasn't undressed, he has just pulled his trousers and underwear down enough to free his straining cock, you do the same and shiver: whatever heath the furnace had maintained, is now gone. You're grateful when he pulls the covers over your bodies, after he's made his way between your spread legs.

"Go slow, please?" His impressive manhood truly scares you, you've never had something that big inside of you.

He regards you with an unreadable expression. Part of him wants to punish you for the way you had made him come, but he wants you to enjoy what he's about to do or he'll never get a chance at doing this ever again, if he's hurt you.

"I will, relax."

He tries to use a gentle tone with you, something that doesn't come easy to him, the trust he sees in your eyes makes him want to make fun of you like he always does, but his cock is pulsating in his hand, it hurts and strains towards your wet cunt. Nice and slow, he needs to go nice and slow.

You whine when his broad head pushes inside your drenched hole, your hands instinctively go to his chest to push him away and he stops, letting you adjust to his size before he starts pushing in, short movements that open you up slowly with squelching sounds and moans of pleasure.

You sound better than any porn he's ever watched, all desperate, as if he's hurting you, your whines go to his cock, your muscles apply the perfect amount of pressure and he almost topples over the edge. He has to stop midway to breath and concentrate, a difficult task with your sinful hips moving slowly against him, your hole truly tries to suck him in, the way he had imagined. You want him as badly as he wants you and that excites him beyond belief.

He's so thick it feels like he's splitting you in two, yet your cunt hungers for him, your muscles clench around his him and you have to relax, let him open you up to his invasion, mold your cunt to accept his cock, feel every nerve spark with pleasure as he enters you and every inch of his manhood slides against your walls.

You arch your back when he bottoms out, his hips flush against yours as your last brain cell marvels at the way your hole has sucked him in completely: you're so full and stretched like never before that you'd purr, if you could.

A long whine escapes your lips when he bends forward to cage you with his arms, his eyes observing every small expression dancing on your features, the pleasure he sees only enhancing his desire.

His first pushes are short and slow, he testes your reaction and almost chokes on his tongue when your hips start following his, your muscles curling around his erection.

"Faster Michael, please!"

Your fingers find the skin of his back, your nails rake down his spine, the small pain spurring him on to fuck you with deeper and faster pushes, his lips hovering over yours, as he drinks down all the delicious sounds you are making, your cunt a squelching mess around his cock. He just needs to adjust his aim and he finds your g-spot, your whines make him bully it with faster pushes that have you squirm under him, your legs curling impossibly tight around his hips, his cock forcing your muscles to open, to take it like the whore you are, his whore.

You've lost control of your body, the only thing you feel is his massive cock in your cunt, pushing against your g-spot and his thumb on your abused clit, both movements fast and unforgiving as you try to beg for mercy, for pleasure, deaf to his words of praise and degradation, to him demeaning you for needing his cock, for liking the way he's fucking you. Nothing else matters but the pleasure burning through your nerves, but the coil in your belly that's curling and curling, until everything goes white and you come, the hold of your cunt so tight that Michael follows you with three deep pushes and a moan.

Michael is tired and wired up at the same time. His body is wasted, yet he can't fall asleep the way you did, all curled up against him, trusting and cute, with your hair around your head like an halo and one hand in his. Fucking the agoraphobic girl had been a great way to learn how to pleasure someone, if he has to go by the all the delicious sounds you made, sounds he wants to hear again and again, until whatever hold you have on him disappears. He knows he is not in love, he is not hardwired for that, but feels this unspeakable attraction towards you, this need to possess and consume you to his heart's content; the power outrage and him challenging you the chances he couldn't waste to slip through your walls and use your good heart and your pride to get to your cunt: you have been so easy to read from the moment he had started studying you like he would a mathematical problem. Now the real issue is to find a way to make this arrangement last, love or not, he's hooked on you and he's not going to let go, not until he's sated and can stop thinking about you and imagining you while he's having a wank: you've been the star of his spank bank from the first time he's seen you, despite your sunny disposition towards the word, the very thing that irks him. Michael knows he needs you out of his system in order to ignore you the way he does all his peers, having you as many times as he needs the only solution to the problem at hand. And you will, he'll make sure of that.

#answered #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x y/n #michael gavey

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aclowntiny · 9 months

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Hihi

I’ve been thinking of requesting something for a while and saw ur recent post which reminded me to. Congrats on 400! ☺️

I’d like to request a meeting pirate!Ateez reaction, or if you’re not vibing with that Ateez sharing clothes with their s/o (either s/o wearing their clothes or them wearing their s/o’s clothes, I think both are cute!)

Thanks so much for your work and no pressure at all! Your stuff always makes me happy when it comes up on my timeline 🫶🫶

Thank you so much sweetie! Yes, I’m so glad you requested ☺️ that makes me so happy to hear you don’t even know 🥹🥹🥹💕💕💕 I love this idea so without further ado…

(I’m sorry for how delayed this was! The other one will just be on a separate imagine hehe 🏴‍☠️)

Ateez Sharing Clothes With Their S/O

Hongjoong

♡ Oh you know this man will lend you anything out of his closet you need to complete your look 👀 If you’re down for it, Hongjoong would enjoy being the one to dress you just to admire how amazing you look and hope you see it too! Every time he dresses you he tries to balance things he wants to see you in, your own style/tastes, and of course including at least one piece of his!

♡ Seeing you in his jacket? Heaven. You are not accepting any jackets from any other men, only his 😤 but don’t worry he’ll smile so big and give you heart eyes the whole time he drapes it over you, handing the other member’s jacket back.

♡ The more pieces he lends you, the more you appear outwardly his, and that makes his heart go crazy. He’ll get extra affectionate and protective, wrapping an arm around you and placing kisses on your cheek. “That looks better on you than on me,” he’ll tell you with a cheeky grin, sliding his arm around your waist.

♡ Slides a ring off his hand and onto yours 💗

♡ But also highkey if he likes a piece of your jewelry he may ask to borrow it!!! What, it would go perfectly with these shoes!

Seonghwa

♡ Some of Seonghwa’s clothes just become yours because he gives you his sweater when you’re cold and then lets you keep it 🥺

♡ Sweaters are his favorite because you look so cute and cozy in them! Especially if the sleeves are long on you and you do sweater paws, that’s just the cutest thing in the world to him! He’ll sometimes hold your hands through the sweater paws so you both get warm hands~

♡ Goofball steals a pair of your fuzzy socks one day because he likes them and you tease him that ew, don’t take those, now they’re ruined, but in reality the pattern just suits him more and he looks so cute in your fluffy little garments that you have to give him a kiss~

♡ You two basically trade pieces of jewelry, like he gets one of your favorite rings and you get one of his- it's yours and Seonghwa's version of swapping sim card trays!

♡ If you put on one of his shirts without him knowing, he'll come up behind you, arms snaking around you, and start teasing you. "Well, this is a nice shirt- where did you find this, hm?"

Yunho

♡ You didn’t know there was an upgrade to being given your boyfriend’s jacket but here we are: being given your boyfriend’s suit jacket.

♡ Yunho and you were attending a formal event and, well, he had a suit jacket and you didn’t, so when you got cold, he was draping you with designer formalwear of all things. You couldn’t help reaching up to feel the shoulders, smiling shyly. “You look great, maybe you should keep it.” Yunho winks, then laughs in spite of himself.

♡ You prefer his jackets, he prefers your scarves. What, they smell like you and are way softer than his big ol thick one?

♡ Sometimes you, instead of looking through a mess of clothing or just because you need a shirt, you grab one of Yunho’s button-ups and throw it on.

♡ Yunho.exe has stopped working. His hands will be on you faster than you can say Timbuktu 👀

Yeosang

♡ You got this huge fluffy wonderful robe drapey fleece cloud of a garment for bedtime when it was cold, and little did you know your boyfriend was going to fall in love with it.

♡ He asked to try it on, and the moment it covered him he pulled it tight, falling backwards onto the bed in bliss. Sure, you’d bought it for yourself, but Yeosang looked so cute, how could you say no?

♡ Compromise achieved: Yeosang wears the open-faced fleece wonder, you just lay on his chest and get wrapped up in it too 🩷

♡ You jokingly stole one of his sweaters as ‘revenge’, pulling it on to see how he reacted, if he fought you on it.

♡ Spoiler alert: he did not, only burst into a shy, loving smile and pull you into his side for a hug, telling you you’re so cute 🥺 you should’ve known with how much it takes to make him mad!

San

♡ Does that corny thing where he wraps both of you in one long scarf. You can hardly walk but it’s ok because San is so cute as he nuzzles into you from above the soft knit 💔

♡ You also wear his gloves a lot because you forget them so San throws an extra pair in his pockets just for you! His gloves are way softer than yours anyway.

♡ One day, you throw on one of his infamous muscle shirts and flex, both of you laughing but also…San’s lowkey blushing at the sight of you like that 🤭

♡ All of a sudden he’s stammering out ‘u-uh if you want that you can keep it. I mean it just looks really, really good and…’

♡ Since you liked his winter coat last season, he starts shopping for another in your favorite color and material so you can steal it. Smiles with such joy and pride as he drapes the garment over you, helping you into the sleeves, and you gush over how cozy it feels and how much you love it. Mission success.

Mingi

♡ You needed a shirt one day after swimming, so Mingi gave you an extra t-shirt. Joke was on him, though- you just wanted a Mingi shirt 😈

♡ The next time you guys hang out, you’re wearing it and his jaw drops at the way it fits your body, having not really seen it beneath the night sky and your towel the first time.

♡ Arms go right around your middle immediately, you are trapped in Mingi’s embrace don’t try to get out it’s impossible 😤 well ok it’s possible but then he’ll be sad 🥺

♡ Starts lifting it up slightly as if he thinks something different from usual is going to be under there lmao. Smiles so wide, loving, cheeky, and blissful all in one almost no matter how you react to that.

♡ You start surprising him by stealing his clothes and wearing them since you got such a good reaction the first time! Most of the time he just lets you keep them as long as he can get his hands on you~

Wooyoung

♡ Bro he steals your clothes

♡ Loves the way they smell! If you can’t see each other for any extended amount of time beyond, like, a few days or a week he wants something of yours to have with him because your scent helps him fall asleep. Also guilty of cuddling your clothes and pretending you’re there 😅

♡ He loves putting his clothes on you, especially tighter stuff from on-stage, and then telling you how hot you look in them! Buys you similar things to keep afterward even if you just wear them for him 👀

♡ Lives for corny couple outfits, so expect him to buy two of things so you can both wear it or give you something of his so that he can dress to complement! You'll probably have to stop him from straight-up just buying those corny shirts that say 'yours' and 'mine' or 'I'm his! I'm hers!' type of stuff because Wooyoung that's silly!!!

♡ You give him one of your favorite bracelets he's mentioned liking before to wear so he has a piece of you and Wooyoung just melts. Never takes that thing off unless he's showering or something. No other bracelets exist in Jung Wooyoung's eyes.

Jongho

♡ You guys are engaged in a jesting war over jacket custody

♡ He gave it to you one cold evening and you loved it so much, you joked about never wanting to give it back and he protested, laughing as you pouted, and you dug in your heels until you two were laughing like dorks over nothing. Now you two alternate wearing it a lot, but Jongho remains insistent that it’s his, you just take care of it.

♡ He steals and tries on a hat of yours one day, and as much as you laugh you think it suits him pretty well; suddenly the hat gets joint custody too.

♡ It may sound odd, but he gives you an old necklace of his he doesn't wear much anymore because he likes more traditional gifts like jewelry and then you'll have a memento of him! You're like sorry this is way less sentimental I got you a new watch lmao but don't worry, he needed one and he loves it 😊

♡ The one day you grab one of his shirts, though, something snaps in him and he can’t stop staring. You ask him what, starting to apologize for taking it, but he just shakes his head and holds up a halting hand. “No, don’t be sorry. I really like seeing you this way,” he says, eyes sweeping before meeting yours again.

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #matzbear #requested

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mrs-illyrian-baby · 6 months

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The Old Gods and the New - Chapter 6

A Crown of Flowers | Loki x Reader

When the effects of your telepathic connection to Loki become more and more apparent, neither of you can hold yourselves back from acting on your feelings. Release is just what you need to discover more about your past, and Loki makes a decision to ask his brother for help.

Warnings: 18+ sexual content, flirting, dirty talk, innocence kink, striptease, p in v, unprotected sex, slight dom/sub undertones.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist | Loki Masterlist | Masterlist

The more Loki tried not to think about you the more you seemed to creep into his thoughts, by the end of the day he was sure you were doing it on purpose and he excused himself early to hide away in his rooms.

Though he was sure some of the images that made his way into his mind were deliberate, there was also an unconscious sense of your continued presence, even when you weren’t around. He could tell when you’d fallen asleep, a deep sense of calm weighing him back into his own bed, he knew when you were excited or tired, hungry or confused, the feelings tickling him like dejavu.

He lay naked on his bed, staring at the blank white ceiling, images of you swirled through his mind, painting images of you tangled together, the room bathed in the orange glow of the sunset. He could see you laughing on the sofa, climbing into his lap and then your naked body, writhing above him, below him, trapped by his hands, by his magic - it was never ending, a barrage of want, need, desire.

Maybe Loki would’ve been able to stave off his feelings if you weren’t so primal, despite your innocent appearance he had seen your memories, he knew where your lust could lead and he was desperate to follow you there. Since you’d begun to share your thoughts you’d been sharing your body too, pushing your hand into his and snuggling into his side at every opportunity, much to the disdain of the Avengers.

With a grunt, Loki readjusted his pillows and attempted to move his thoughts to something other than the soft curves and dips of your body.

Paperwork, bad plays, out of tune music, Thor’s singing - it wasn’t working, whatever he thought of he thought it would be better if you were there with him. You’d help him with the dull tasks delegated to the Princes, you’d make fun of the terrible plays with him, you’d join in with the terrible musicians and sing along with Thor. If you were with him, there was nothing that could not be endured.

What would it be like if you were there with him? If you stayed in his rooms after dark instead of sticking to your curfew the Avengers had imposed.

What would you wear if you were here? Something simply, stylish, comfortable, like your current day time clothing. Would you wear his shirts to bed and let him hold you, would you feel soft beneath his touch, brushed cotton and fleece. Would you wear something tantalising to please him? Would you wear nothing at all, content to be bare before hi? Would you remove your clothes slowly? Would you want to be in control, or would you let him? How would you speak…beg…moan…?

“Curse the Norns and the Nine Realms.” Loki thumped a hand onto the comforter, that was the exact opposite of what he was supposed to be thinking about, he was supposed to be keeping a level head, not dreaming of you like an adolescent.

Yet, he knew what he wanted. He wanted you in his colours, writhing beneath him in gold and emerald, begging him for more, asking for his guidance, his permission. He wanted to be the one to bring you back to yourself one slow thrust at a time until you were bound together.

There was a gentle knock on the door.

“Who is it?” He called.

“It’s me, can I come in?” You whispered. Loki pressed a button on one of Stark’s ridiculous controls and the door swung open, the corridor behind you was as dark as his room, so you appeared in shadow.

Loki quickly covered himself with a green silk robe and sat higher on the bed.

“Loki?” Your voice was soft and quiet, your face half covered by the darkness of the room.

“Yes?” He attempted to keep his voice steady, dropping his tone low and rough so that you wouldn’t suspect that he’d just been imagining this exact scenario.

You stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind you, your simple white night dress moved around you like smoke, clinging to the swell of your breasts and drawing attention to your bare legs.

“Hi,” you smiled, that innocent and friendly smile that had him feeling hot beneath the cold silk of his robe.

“Good evening, darling.” He drawled, allowing himself a small smile, the lonely evening melting into this new encounter, comfortable and safe, he relaxed further into his pillows.

But you remained awkwardly at the door, your hands behind your back, rocking on your toes, unsure of how to go on.

“Not that I don’t enjoy your company, Ásynja , but is there something I can help you with?” Loki cocked his head to the side, examining each minute movement of your body.

You seemed to think and then blurted out, “you know your thoughts are really loud.” You bit your lip, dropping your eyes to the floor.

“Are they? Were you practising?” Loki tried to keep his cool, perhaps you hadn’t seen all of his fantasies, but he couldn’t help the twitch of his lip as you fidgeted more.

You took a breath, stealing yourself. “Yes.” You looked up then, locking your eyes with his, so intense that Loki sat up against the headboard, hands clasped in his lap.

“Did you see anything interesting?” Loki moved his long hands across his lap, adjusting the folds of his robe to cover his growing arousal.

You paused again and while he felt the flush of your arousal filling the space, you were still nervous. For all your projections you still couldn’t voice your feelings despite the ‘help’ he’d provided at your first meeting, you’d never been able to ask for it again, even when he was sure you were aching and desperate for him too, pressing yourself into his side or squirming in your chair beside him.

Instead of answering you utilised your new found talents to grow taller, heels appearing as you stepped forwards and pushing you onto your toes, emerald silk falling around your curves, a corset pushing your breasts high over the stiff boning and a gold crown appeared, nestled in your hair.

Loki had been imagining you this way since he’d created your first set of clothes in the medical bay, he’d itched to run his hands around your waist, over the ribs of the corset, pulling on the satin ribbons, but it was the crown that had his cock filling between his legs. You looked like perfection, as if the crown was an undeniable part of you and he hoped, whatever happened next, it would remain.

“Well, I thought you might enjoy this?” You turned slowly, giving him a full view of the dress, skimming over your bottom and tickling your legs.

Loki looked you up and down; for the first time you truly looked like the Goddess he was sure you were, and it sent a ripple of desire through his body. He shifted, trying to hide the way your mere presence in his bedroom had his cock hard and his body wanting.

“An excellent start Ásynja .” Loki crooked a finger, beckoning you forward. As you walked the folds of your dress melted away, leaving only the corset cradling your breasts, a pair of French knickers brushing the tops of your thighs and the crown atop your head. Through the thin lace Loki watched as your nipples pebbled, he wanted to taste them, to suck each bud into his mouth through that fine lace until you were arching into his touch.

Loki waved his hand, lighting candles along the chest of drawers and bedside tables with his magic.

“A start?” You questioned, pausing in the middle of the room.

“Indeed, a start, have you not been teasing me for days? Let me have my fun.” Languidly he let his gaze fall and rise over your body,

“Teasing you?” You asked, fingers dancing over your body as you looked down over yourself, turning from side to side as if the source of your teasing might reveal itself. When you looked back at him your smile was playful. “I would never tease you.”

“Yes, teasing. You forget, I can see inside of your head too. How much of that innocence is left?” He sat forwards, examining you.

You continued to approach, but sidestepped the bed and reached out for a candle instead, fingers playing with the flame, it tingled over your skin without burning you before dying with a swirl of smoke when you pinched it. You waved your hand again and the flame reappeared.

“Don’t deny yourself, darling, I can see what you, truly, desire as well.” He whispered, “if you would like, you can have it.” Loki turned his hands palm up, opening his arms in invitation.

“As can you.” Under your touch the lace at your thighs vanished in speckling of glittering, silver magic.

Loki reached out to you, guiding you onto the bed and into his lap. A familiar position now, although only in his wildest thoughts had you presented yourself like this, and he knew that they’d be consuming you too.

Tentatively, you reached a hand out to Loki’s cheek, his skin like cool porcelain beneath your fingers, glowing in the candlelight. Loki pulled you even closer, sliding his hands over the tight laces of your corset.

“Comfortable, Ásynja ?” His tongue swept over his bottom lip, if this was all this was going to be, you in his lap again, searching for your own release, then he may die, but he would certainly die happy.

“Uh huh," you wiggled, hands on the collar of his silk dressing gown, tugging it open to reveal the lean muscles of his shoulders, "are you?” Your eyes didn’t meet his, instead taking in the neat lines of his chest, the dark hair that curled over his pecs.

“I find myself a little…warm,” he offered “perhaps you could help me?” Loki lifted one dark eyebrow, fixing you under his gaze.

Your fingers toyed with the silk, and you bent your head to his shoulder and breathed him in, running your nose from his collar bone, over his pulse and behind his ear. You felt him shiver under your touch, his hands tightening on the firm waist of your corset. Loki smelt warm, expensive. You had become used to the smell of Asgardian leather that lingered around him, but you could tell he had recently bathed, a deep scent of amber and spice mixed with clean, fresh lavender, lingering on his collar.

“Is that better?” You whispered, pushing the fabric off his shoulders.

Loki pulled the robe off, magic forgotten in exchange for the lust that he had kept carefully tamped down.

You faltered, breathing heavily as you skimmed your hands over Loki’s bare chest, finger tips dipping into the gaps of his muscles.

You had done this before, had seen it in your memories and believed in the sensations that your dreams brought you. You had even allowed Loki to pleasure you when you first met, a thought that made your toes curl with embarrassment. Yet there was no other physical memory there, you were unsure about what it would truly feel like to take the god before you, to have his, buried inside of you. And here he was, real and thick and long, pulsing in your hand.

Loki felt you hesitate, despite the pressure you were applying to him, and placed his hands gently on the wide curve of your hips, feeling the dip of your waist and the dimple of your lower back. He felt terrible, something about your nervousness only made him harder, precum beading and spilling from the rosy head of his cock onto your fingers.

Yet it felt right, that he was destined for this moment with you, that it was his responsibility somehow and a wave of passion crested, rose and crashed inside of him.

“Let me take care of you, my Ásynja ,” Loki rolled you onto your back, bracing his weight on one arm, in an effort to support his weight away from your body. You lay back, so fragile beneath him, waiting, wanting. Your hips moved, his name slipping from your lips like a midnight prayer.

“Loki.”

He sat back on his heels, admiring the glow of your skin, running his fingers up the inside of your legs slowly until he reached the thin silk clinging to your wet folds.

“Loki!” You moaned again, begging, his fingers barely touching you.

He had touched you here once before, but it had been hurried and, to Loki’s mind, medicinal. He had sensed the power building around you and had subdued it for a time. But now it was back, filling the room with the scent of spring blossoms, warm days and cooler evenings and crackling fires easing the day into evening.

Loki surrendered to it. With a roll of your hips you rubbed against his fingers and they slid inside, curling into you.

“Keep saying my name like that and I won’t be able to help myself.” Loki bent down and pressed a heated kiss to your parted lips, peppering kisses across your cheek and neck, kissing and nipping while he tried to keep his hips from rutting into the bed.

“Good God, yes,” you panted, “god that’s…” your eyes scrunched shut in pleasure, your hands fisted in his long hair.

Loki bit back a smile, God indeed, focusing this attention on tipping you over the edge and into ecstasy, the fabric of your panties was still damp against the back of his hand as he slid in another finger, pushing against the delicate bundle of nerves inside of you until you screamed his name.

Your legs twitched, thighs gripping his hand as your orgasm took hold of you, your body rippling with pleasure, his fingers still buried inside.

“That’s it ”Ásynja .” Loki tried to pull his hand away, expecting you to leave now that you had once more taken the release you so clearly needed from him.

Instead you remained sprawled below him, reaching for his cock again.

“Please, Loki, please.” You begged, your voice hoarse.

Loki peeled your ruined knickers from your legs, settling your ankles on his shoulders. He bent over your writhing form, folding you back until you were displayed for him. Your hands clung to his arms, digging into his pale skin and leaving red crescents in their wake. You were all too aware of how you must look to him, wet and desperate, begging him for more. But you no longer felt embarrassed, it was freeing to show this side of you to another.

Suddenly the room was too hot, the flames on the candles burning high and casting tall shadows on the plain walls of Loki’s room.

Loki steeled himself against his lust, determined not to take things too quickly now he finally had you in his bed. He took hold of his cock, hard and ready, and slid the weeping head gently through your folds. You gripped him tightly with one hand and bunched the pillow below your head with the other, using it as an anchor to keen and arch below him, your hips moving in tandem with his own, pulling him deeper until your hips were flush together.

Loki waited, pushing damp hair off your brow, sweat dripping from his as he held back. He told himself he was waiting until you were truly ready, but he was also waiting for your sweet voice to ask him again, to beg him to fuck you.

“Please,” you whispered, hips circling slowly, “I need you, please, Loki, I need you to help me,” your voice, so quiet, like the sad prayers you had sent to him while you were locked up. It was everything he needed, all that he’d dreamed of since he’d seen you in that cruel glass prison, he could resist no longer.

“I don’t want to hurt you, my darling,” Loki cooed. With one hand on your raised legs he held you tight against him and began a slow, torturous pace. You squirmed against his grip trying to move faster against his hold.

“You won’t hurt me,” you insisted, clawing at the long fingers that held you tight, still sticky with your arousal.

Loki increased his pace, but only slightly, enjoyed the drag of his cock against your fluttering walls and the way you fought against his hands. Your own fingers were now clawing at him, your hips jerking upwards with each thick inch of himself that he allowed you.

“Ásynja , are you that desperate for me?” He laughed, low and deep and the feel of it vibrated through you.

“Yes, yes!” Your hips pushed back against him.

“Trust me,” he whispered in your ear, suddenly snapping his hips forward, unable to contain his lust. You gasped, shocked, hands dropping to the pillow either side of your face, your mouth open. “Is this what you need?” His pace was punishing now and you stopped fighting back, pliant, drunk beneath him only able to hum your agreement and chant his name as you came apart for him.

The scent of you was overwhelming, filling his senses and making him dizzy, the heat of the room was unbearable, as if flames were licking up the walls and consuming you both. Beside you the candles spluttered, wax pooling on each surface in ivory white puddles before dripping to the floor. Then finally the bedside lights flickered on, glowed brilliant white and popped, leaving you both in darkness.

Loki moaned, an almost feral growl from deep inside of him and spilled everything he had, his cum leaking from between you and coating your thighs with its abundance.

You fell asleep together, Loki’s long limbs wrapped around you, cradling you. Sleep was deep and your dreams were vivid, tangling with Loki’s during the darkest part of the night…

You saw yourself, younger, in an echoing, stone palace. You looked so young, blossoming beneath your dress as you watched. You were angry, tears pouring down your face and collecting in your hands spilling onto the stone base of one of the huge pillars that held up the higher levels of the palace lining the corridor itself. You had perched yourself here to hide, a hand reached out.

“Estrid?”

“Loki?”

He was younger too, the lines of centuries not yet drawn upon his alabaster skin. He was unblemished, no war wounds or family pains had yet harmed him. And he had used a name, Estrid.

“Come down.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Talk to me?” His voice was earnest.

You looked up at him and allowed him to lift you from your hiding place, even in your dream his lithe strength was a comfort and you buried your face in his neck, hands in his hair, legs around his waist to hide your tears.

“They’re going to send me away again. Move me again,” you sobbed.

“My father?”

“Yes, and my family too. Mother said I’m not safe but that’s not it. He hates me, Odin hates me and he wants me gone, I’m sure of it.”

Loki stroked your hair, equally stricken. How could he lose you when you had only just been returned to him.

You woke at the same time, sitting up panting and hot, still naked from the night’s activities.

Loki reached out for you, pulling you back down against his naked chest as if in a trance. His hands danced over every part of you he could reach, checking that you were still there with him. You tangled their legs together, one hand in his hair, the other over his heart and felt it beat steadily.

“Did you see it too?” You whispered

“Yes,” his voice wavered, it was nothing like the gentle lilt in your dream or the deep timbre he normally used. This voice betrayed the fear that he felt, that he couldn’t explain.

“We knew each other? Before?”

“That was Asgard, that was the corridor outside of the bedrooms, mine and Thor’s. But I have no recollection of you being there.” Loki removed one hand from you to rub across his eyes, hoping the vision would reappear.

“In my dream, I had a name.”

“You did.” Loki looked at you, cupping your cheek and feeling your eyelashes flutter against his thumb. “Estrid.” He whispered.

“Estrid.”

Like magic, the veil over your memories fluttered, allowing you a feeling of what is was like to be Estrid, young and petulant, scared but loved.

“Can I still call you Ásynja ?”

“Of course.” You smiled at him, placing a kiss against his lips. “That’s just for us.”

“Agreed.” Loki nodded, but he still felt troubled, his own memories of stirred, and it disturbed him how much had been hidden. What else had he forgotten? First Hela and now you, Estrid.

When he’d seen your memories you’d been alone, here on Midgard, but in his dream he had found you in the corridor of the Royal bedchambers, how had you even been permitted to enter?

He steeled himself against his worries, determined not to frighten you any further.

You kissed the frown taking form on his forehead. “Maybe it was just a dream?” You offered and Loki agreed.

But you both knew there was something deeper that you had yet to discover. You lay together, watching the sun rise, correctly, today, through the gauzy curtains of his bedroom. The walls, where he had imagined flames licking the night before, had the faint darkening of soot and the candles had melted into the plush carpet.

In the following days you became bolder and Loki wondered if confidence was something you had ever truly lacked. Had you merely been toying with him this entire time?

He was not going to protest, though, when you began sneaking into his room at night, sitting in his lap like a throne at any given opportunity and taking his hand boldly whenever you were together.

But every night the dreams continued. Your mind was full of Asgard, running along stone flags and manicured gardens. Meeting Loki in secret and planning childish tricks together. The scowl on Thor’s face when he saw you both approaching, his mother holding you close while you cried. The feel of his hand as he caught up to you and the damp grass beneath your feet.

You had sat among the wild flowers outside of the palace, twining them together, and made two head dresses.

“Kneel,” you demanded, smiling. And Loki had fallen to his knees willingly to be crowned with dandelions, cornflowers and forget-me-nots.

He rose, and placed a tiara of daisies and buttercups upon your head.

“They’ll crown you for real soon, I suppose,” Loki touched the delicate loops and curls of the stems at your temples.

“I don’t want them to, if that’s what you’re concerned about.” You couldn’t look at him but he knew there were tears in your eyes nonetheless.

“Why not?”

“Then I’ll have to leave and go home, be a Queen, work. I want to be with you always.” You breathed and in your dream you climbed into his lap, your skirts billowing around you and covering his legs while you kissed him, grass stains appearing on your knees and his back.

After a week of dreams Loki decided the best thing to do would be to speak with Thor. As much as he loathed asking his brother for anything, he was in your memories so you surely must appear in his.

“Brother I would love to say that we all spent happy times on Asgard,” Thor thundered, sprawling himself out on the vast couch that took up most of the Avenger’s living area, “but I have no memory of the little one joining us in our childhood.” He shook you by the shoulder, a gentle admission that he was telling the truth, rather than trying to shut you out. He llooked thoughtful for a while, when Loki mentioned that the dreams had revealed your name, Estrid.

“Valkyrie might be able to tell you something, she knows many stories of Asgard. If she can not complete this story then she must know someone who can, perhaps we should visit Tonsberg?”

“An excellent idea, brother,” Loki agreed, standing and buttoning his suit jacket politely, “I’ve grown very weary of this tiresome place, and I believe Ásynja could use a change of scenery.” He held his hand out, helping you up from the cushions and then tucked your hand into his arm.

“Yes! We can use the bifrost again, Val and I have -” Thor started to pace excitedly but Loki held up a hand.

“Maybe we use a Midgardian aeroplane instead,” he turned his attention to your frightened face. There was no way you were travelling over the ocean by magic rainbow bridge

Thor looked between the two of you and then gave a disappointed sigh, shouldering Mjölnir he huffed, “fine.”

<<Part 5

Part 7>>

#Loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki/reader #Loki x Reader #Loki fanfic #Loki series #loki marvel #Loki x you #Loki/You #loki fanfiction #Loki smut #The Old Gods and the New

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 5 months

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The Princess & The Playboy (Part 5)

Summary: While meeting Dean's parents went smoothly, the reader's may be a different story. Meanwhile, Dean confides in Eric he knows a secret of his that sheds light on Eric's past actions and the boys set their plan in action...

Masterlist

Pairing: NFL Quarterback!Dean x Pop Star!reader

Word Count: 6,500ish

Warnings: language, family trauma/angst, kidnapping

A/N: 👀

_________

Dean POV

I woke with a jerk, eyes flashing open as a small surge of adrenaline coursed through my veins. I sighed, closing my eyes as glimpses of a nightmare ran through my mind. I was honestly surprised at how long I’d gone without one.

I wondered if Y/N ever had that recurring dream about not being able to get to Max in time like I did with Sam. I turned in bed, scooting closer, searching for her warm body to curl up against. When my arm reached out to find her though, all I discovered were cold sheets. My eyes popped open again, the clock on her nightstand showing it was almost six in the morning.

I was due to get up in half an hour but Y/N could sleep in. Given how she’d told me just last week she was a night owl, my thoughts wandered to not so great places.

Either she was missing or she was so stressed about her parents visit she was losing sleep over it. The fact she lived in fucking Fort Knox led me to believe it was the later.

I stretched in bed before wandering over to the closet, smiling at the previously empty side. I stayed over most every night, even if the most intimate thing we did was a cuddle. We hadn’t officially said I had a drawer or anything like that but I had a space in the closet for some personal items. Mostly it was fresh underwear and socks but Y/N had hung up a few things that hadn’t belonged to me. Just things she thought it’d be “nice to have” around.

Including a dope ass robe that looked way too freaking comfy on the chilly morning. I threw it on and wrapped my arms around myself, humming as the fleece warmed my cool skin. I wasn’t exactly a robe guy and suspected this thing cost more than some people’s rent, but it did feel damn good.

I trudged through the dark house, ears perking up as I made my way towards her home gym. Piano notes filled the air and I saw light spilling through a cracked door, a soft melody breaking through the quiet.

“Endless,” breathed out Y/N, smashing her fingers against the keys, her eyes closed, face contorting like she didn’t like that sound. “Endless,” she sang softly again, moving her fingers to a lower note, her face less critical.

I didn’t want to disturb her and tried to close the door. Unfortunately, it was enough to prick her spidey senses because next thing I knew, a hardcover notebook was smacking me in the forehead.

“Oh my god!” she gasped, covering her hands with her face as she shot up. I rubbed my temple and picked up her papers, Y/N moving my hand away before I even straightened up. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine, sweetheart.” She guided me to the couch in what looked like a studio, taking off quickly and returning in less then thirty seconds with a small first aid kit. “I’m fine, I swear.”

She ignored me, dabbing a cotton ball with alcohol before lighting pressing it against the cut. I winced, Y/N frowning as she found a butterfly bandage and stuck it on.

“I am fine,” I said again, taking hold of her cheeks, smiling sleepily before pecking a light kiss on her lips. “I promise.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. I shook my head, pulling her to sit in my lap.

“I’m not. You’re kind of a badass. Plus with an arm like that I’m thinking we get you in as backup QB. If you ever got sick of singing, I got a job lined up for ya.” She didn’t smile like she usually did when I teased her though. “What’s wrong? It’s one little bump is all. No biggie.”

“I woke you up early and you need your sleep and now I’m sure you have a headache on top of that and I have my stupid parents coming in this afternoon and you’re not going to be to stay over like normal because god knows what they’ll say and I’m so behind on the next album already and-”

I put my hand over her mouth to stop her, Y/N blinking as tears welled up in her eyes. Fuck, she ripped my heart out when I saw her like that.

“Listen, listen,” I shushed her, Y/N wearily watching me. “I am fine and I’ll tell you if I’m not. You are exhausted, honey. You have not caught up from when you were on tour for half the freaking year. I want you to go back to bed and I’ll talk to Eric, make sure your morning gets cleared. All I want you to do is get some sleep. Someone from your team can grab your parents and entertain them until tonight where I will come over to have dinner with you and then I will stay over like always. You’re not going to worry about any other shit. Promise?”

She closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around me in a deep hug. “My parents stress me out whenever they visit. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, don’t say sorry,” I said, pressing my lips to her ear. “I just want you to get some sleep. Now do you promise?”

“Promise,” she mumbled, burying her face in my neck. She sighed softly and it was only a few beats later I realized her breathing had evened out, fast asleep. My girl really was at the end of her rope. As gently as I could, I carried her out and upstairs, tucking her into bed before changing. Downstairs, I filled up my thermos with coffee and made Y/N some pancakes she could reheat for lunch later.

“Good morning,” said Eric quietly. I glanced left, his body drenched in sweat, most likely from the gym. “You’re up early a lot.”

“My day starts at eight on the dot, sometimes sooner. I get fined if I’m late,” I said, taking a mug from beside the sink and filling it up for him.

“Thank you,” he said, taking a long sip. “You guys get Tuesdays off, right?”

“Yeah but I normally work it and review game film. Gotta set a good example for the team.” I wrapped up the pancakes on a plate, putting a sticky note on top. “I turned off Y/N’s phone. She needs to catch up on sleep. I know she’s busy but please let her sleep late today and cancel any morning meetings she has. And make sure her parents stay away until this evening. She’s worried about them and I told her I’d be here when they get here.”

“Can do.” I nodded, washing up the pan and taking another sip of coffee. “Dean.”

I turned around from the sink, Eric leaned back against the counter. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry again for how I treated you before. Y/N’s always deserved someone good. I’m glad she finally has that with you.”

“Thank you,” I said, holding out my hand to him. Eric shook it, a quiet beat passing. “Do you think you and Sloane have a chance of working things out?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t even want her forgiveness. I just want her to know my reasoning and that I regret it. I just need her to know that I never thought she was weak or incapable and especially that I didn’t string her along. I always loved her. Even if I fucked it up for good.”

“I’m no relationship expert but why didn’t you go to her in the hospital?” I asked, Eric taking a seat at the island with a sigh. “Like, is there any possible reason you could tell Sloane about why you left?”

“You blamed yourself for your brother’s abduction when there logically was no reason to. For years you did.” He stared me down and nodded. “Now imagine that feeling of guilt but you know you fucked up. The intel was bad and you were distracted and imagine Sam or Y/N were taken, beat to hell, every inch of skin battered. And it was 100% your fault. Your job was to protect them and you screwed up. Would you be able to walk in that room and sit there, your mistake staring right back at you?”

“Were you abused as a kid?” Eric’s eyebrows shot up fast before his jaw clenched.

“What the fuck kind of question is that?” he snapped.

“Survivors often blame things out of their control on themselves because they’ve been conditioned to,” I said, raising my chin. Eric closed his eyes, rubbing his temples.

“You did a background check on me,” he mumbled.

“I didn’t use Sloane for it if it makes you feel better. No one knows except me and I plan on it staying that way. I wanted to know who the fuck you were was all.” Eric nodded, inhaling sharply. “Does Sloane know about your dad?”

“No and it doesn’t matter. I screwed up-”

“You probably ran away because you’re conditioned-”

“I’m a fucking solider, Winchester. My sack of shit father has been dead and gone for a very long time. I did not run away from Sloane because of some childhood trauma crap. I was a shitty person. Case closed.”

I stepped closer, looking down at him with a hard face. “Y/N and I were barely adults when we got our trauma and it’s still inside us. Don’t you fucking dare try and say it had no effect because it did. It made you a protector. It also made you expect Sloane to do or say awful things to you when you did go in that room. You’re smart enough to know I’m right.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Eric grit out, shooting daggers at me. “I wasn’t there when she needed me and that’s that.”

“Do you know why Y/N let me in? Because I talked to her, because I was vulnerable. Big bad bodyguard and you’re too scared to tell the girl you love all your secrets.”

“So what? I tell her and nothing changes so what’s the fucking point? I still hurt her.” I grasped his shoulder, shaking my head at him.

“Buddy, we both love two badass strong women. You’re right, Sloane could tell you to fuck off. Or she can finally understand and maybe forgive you. A guy like you isn’t the bad guy, no matter how much you tell yourself.”

Eric lowered his head, his shoulders rising when he breathed deeply. “I can’t. I’ve never told anyone. Shit, my own sister doesn’t even know.”

“Well you can practice with me if you ever decide you do want to,” I said, patting his back. “Take care of Y/N for me today.”

He hummed, Sloane waiting out front by my SUV when I left.

“What are you doing here so early?” I asked. Sloane rubbed her eye, opening the car door.

“I was working on understanding Y/N’s security protocols,” she said, still rubbing her eye.

“At six in the morning?”

“I wake up early. Is that a crime?” she snapped, her eyes red rimmed. I glanced back at the house, Sloane glaring at me. “What?”

“You overheard me talking to him, didn’t you.” She kept my gaze, only a slight tick of her jaw giving her away. “You’re in jeans and a t-shirt today.”

“So what?”

“So maybe your outfit choice doesn’t have to be the only change you make. You could talk to him-“

Sloane held up a hand. “I am not talking about this with anyone, including you. Understand?”

“And the world thinks I’m the emotionally immature one around here,” I mumbled, sliding into the passenger seat. Sloane slammed the door shut and I winced. I could only hope the rest of the day turned around.

Late Afternoon

“Winchester.” I blinked my eyes, noticing the conference room was mostly cleared out. Benny waited by the door as I grabbed my playbook and quickly followed after. “You alright, man?”

“Yeah. Just need to get some sleep,” I yawned, my phone buzzing in my pocket. My agent was having a field day today, fending off offers left and right from companies wanting to capitalize on my recent popularity. Thankfully Brad was a good guy and he knew what I was and wasn’t willing to endorse.

And any mention of Y/N meant they got an automatic rejection. No questions asked. I wasn’t about to profit off the fact people knew she was my girlfriend.

My phone buzzed again and I reached into my pocket, surprised to see Eric calling. “Uh, hey. What’s up?”

“What time do you get done with work?” Eric asked. I shrugged, waving for Benny to go on ahead of me back to the locker room.

“About an hour. Why?” Eric sighed. “What’s wrong?”

“Listen.” The phone got quiet for a moment, faint footsteps in the background. But then I heard it. Heard it loud and clear.

“Liars and cheats and oh you dirty, dirty sneaks! Like I’m the stain on your perfect life making it bleak!” Y/N sang loudly through the phone, her voice raw while her fingers slammed piano keys.

The noise dissipated, Eric clearing his throat. “Good news, she wrote a song for her record this morning. Bad news, her parents showed up early on their own and they had a massive blowout. I guess they saw the cake you guys made for Max and freaked.”

“...You wouldn’t call me with this unless you were concerned, would you.”

“Girl’s always used music to process her feelings. But she’s sort of bawling in there and I’ve promised in the past to not interfere when it comes to her parents.” I ran my hand through my hair and sighed. “She’d rip my head off and probably yours if we went in there and talked to her. She’ll either be calmer in an hour or be halfway through another song.”

“I’ll be there in forty five,” I said, heading for the locker room. “Don’t tell her.”

I could feel his hesitancy on the other end. “Did you say not to tell her you’re coming over?”

“Yeah. Let her stay in her studio. I need to talk to her parents. Alone.” Eric was silent for a beat and then another. “Tell me the truth, buddy. Does Y/N exaggerate about her folks or do they say some fucked up shit to her sometimes?”

Eric breathed heavy, a door closing, the sounds of the outdoors surrounding him. “They already don’t like you. Her mom called you a man whore and her dad flipped that she wore your jersey the other night. So I guess you got nothing to lose.”

“I don’t give a fuck if they like me. But they will change their act if they want to be part of their daughter’s life. They can’t hurt her like that everytime she sees them.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked you, kid,” said Eric, opening a car door. “I’ll pick you up at the stadium.”

“I distinctly recall you hating my guts.” Eric scoffed, a sliver of a smile on my face. “Oh, I forgot. You loved me from the start, right?”

“Don’t push it, Winchester,” he said. “Get back to work. I’ll see you in a few.”

One hour later I was bouncing my knee in the passenger seat of my truck, Eric pulling into Y/N’s driveway. If my conversation with him over the past twenty minutes was anything to go by, Y/N had been far too kind regarding her parents.

They’d blamed her for Max’s kidnapping. Said it straight to her fucking face when she was eighteen years old. She was a kid and they told her it was her fault. Seven years later they told her they wished she was the one that was dead and they were burying. Called her a brat and diva for being upset on the day of Max’s funeral. Blamed her for paparazzi invading their moment. Blamed her when she tried to talk about Max or hear stories from when they were kids, told her not to speak his name, not when she screwed up his life. The day they “buried” her brother, their relationship had been done for good. They had no problem taking her money though, playing the warm set of parents when they needed to.

Y/N was not about to be forced to hide in her own home just to get away from people who clearly didn’t give a rats ass about her.

A strong hand gripped my shirt collar as Eric parked, my gaze shooting over my shoulder.

“Hey. I fucked up because I was too protective of Sloane. I don’t want that to happen to you,” he said. I nodded, Eric still leery. “She still loves them, Dean.”

“I know. And if she hates me for what I’m about to do, then she hates me. But her parents need a wake up call and I’ll be the bad guy. Like you said, they already hate me so no harm no foul.”

“They’ve been by the pool,” said Eric, dropping his hand. I slid out and gave a nod to a few of the security guys in the shack I recognized. I walked around the side of the house, nerves flaring up like this was a freaking super bowl for some reason. Sure, I’d like it if Y/N’s parents were friendly and she had a good relationship.

But she didn’t deserve their shit. I just hoped it didn’t turn into a screaming match immediately.

I inhaled slowly as I found the older couple relaxing under the umbrella on the patio.

“Hi, I’m Dean Winchester,” I said as I approached, both their heads turning toward me. “Y/N’s boyfriend. I think the three of us need to talk.”

“Excuse me son but I don’t think we have anything to discuss aside from the fact you're not the kind of man we want dating our daughter,” said her father. I sat down in an open chair at the table, leaning forward with a smile.

“See that’s funny. You think you have a right to have any say in your daughter’s love life. Regardless of the fact the media portrays me as someone I’m not or that your daughter is thirty two years old, you think you have the right based on what? That she’s your flesh and blood? As if you gave an actual shit about her. It’s just us, no need to pretend.”

“What the fuck is your problem?” said her mom, voice on the edge of something dangerous I didn’t like. “Who the fuck are you to say that crap? Of course we love Y/N-”

“There you go being funny again,” I said, narrowing my eyes, looking between them both. “I would never blame my daughter for something that wasn’t her motherfucking fault. I wouldn’t wish her fucking dead or call her names or forbid her from speaking of her missing brother. I certainly wouldn’t snap at her for making a cake to celebrate her brother. If you two really hate Y/N that much, just stay the fuck away. I’m sure she’ll keep giving you as much money as you ask for.”

To my surprise, they didn’t get angry. Y/N’s mom simply stood and wandered off towards the pool, holding a hand over her mouth. Meanwhile, her father closed his eyes, lowering his head.

“At least you have the decency to not lie about it,” I said. “You people are fucking disgusting to come into your daughter’s life like nothing’s wrong when you’ve hurt her as much as those kidnappers did. He was her little brother. She knows she was late to pick him up. You have no idea how hard she’s working to start to feel like it was simply something out of her control.”

They were both silent, still not looking at me.

“Where the hell were you two? Why wasn’t it your responsibility? Why not the parents of Max’s friend? The police? The damn kidnappers? Why’d it fall on the shoulders of an eighteen year old girl? Because you’re weak people, that’s why. It’s why you keep blaming her. You have no idea how lucky you are she’s strong. Telling her you wished it was her in the ground? She might have followed up on that, you morons. She deserves to be able to remember Max openly. She deserves to believe he’s still out there somewhere, even if you don’t. She deserves parents better than you two. I’m only sorry I wasn’t here sooner to say it to your faces.”

I stood up and headed for the back door, her mom making a sort of hiccup sound.

“We never forgave her for not picking Max up on time,” she whispered, lowering her head. “When she gets…I get so angry at her when she wants to bring him up.”

“So much of our lives changed because she wanted to sing. Our privacy. People always offering fake tips about Max. It hurts so much and we keep blaming Y/N for that pain,” said her dad. “We know we shouldn’t but we don’t know how to stop.”

“Try some fucking therapy,” said Eric, walking around the near side of the house, my eyes darting to his. “This is your official notice. You are both banned from this property and contacting Y/N until further notice. Pack up your things and you will be escorted to your hotel.”

I stared at him wide eyed, Eric raising his chin, ignoring me.

“Now!” he barked. Y/N’s father rose slowly, something steely about him.

“My daughter ask you to do that? Because I’m not leaving without her wanting me gone,” he said. Eric stepped closer, getting in his face.

“My job is to protect Y/N from threats and I am sick of you two coming in here every year and fucking breaking her heart. Get some damn therapy and deal with your shit or never, I mean never, fucking contact her again. You want something, you deal with me. Now get the fuck out.”

Roughly five minutes later Eric and I watched them both be driven down the driveway, my eyes still stuck on him.

“Keep staring like that Winchester and I’ll think you have a crush,” said Eric, giving a satisfied nod when the gate closed again.

“You said you’re not supposed to interfere with her parents.” Eric shrugged, giving me a smirk.

“She wants to fire me, she can. But those assholes send her spiraling and I’m sick of standing there and watching it. Kiddo was a fucking shell for months after what happened the day of the funeral.”

“I thought I said I had it handled.” Eric spun around and headed back for the house. “Eric.”

“Just cause you can do something on your own doesn’t mean you have to,” he said, opening the door, holding it open. I slid past him into the foyer, Eric patting my shoulder. “Go take care of her. I’ll face the music later.”

“Doesn’t seem your style to hide,” I said, Eric spinning back around to head out, pausing in the doorway.

“I have an appointment…therapy,” he said quietly. “Probably going to be a waste of time.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Eric shrugged. “I’ll put in a good word with the boss for you.”

“Just focus on taking care of her. I can wait,” he said, leaving and pulling the door shut. I closed my eyes and ditched my bag by the base of the stairs, walking quietly down to the studio.

I knocked once, poking my head inside, frowning as I found the room silent.

And Y/N nowhere in sight.

I flinched when a pair of arms wrapped around my waist, a small body hugging me tight. “Y/N, we should-”

“The team in the shack texted I should watch the security video in the back. I heard the whole thing.” Her head burrowed between my shoulder blades, squeezing me hard. Soft, mumbled cries filled the air, my heart aching for her. Slowly, I turned in her embrace, her face hiding away in my chest when I came to face her. I gently shushed her, one arm around her back, one around her shoulders as I tucked her head under my chin.

“I’m sorry I upset you but I’m not sorry I set them straight. You don’t have to put up with people that won’t take accountability for their actions. So be mad with me and Eric but we saw how much it hurt you. We don’t regret it. The only-”

“You think I’m mad at you guys?” she whispered, raising her head, puffy, red rimmed eyes staring back. A quiet laugh slipped past her delicious lips, her head shaking as she laughed harder. “You’re such a goof, Winchester. That was…that was what they needed to hear. Thank you for saying it when I couldn’t.”

“Maybe they’ll get some help for themselves and things can get better,” I said, even if I didn’t believe they would. I’d happily be proven wrong but I wasn’t counting on it. Y/N shrugged, not seeming to have faith in the idea herself. “Can you play me something?”

“I just wrote two new ones,” she said, catching my head shake. “What’d you have in mind?”

“Nothing particular. Just want to sit and listen to you poke around if that’s alright.” She smiled, taking my hand and leading me inside. She left me at the couch and wandered to the piano bench, rolling her shoulders with a heavy inhale.

“You like rock and grunge,” she said, tapping a key, her head cocked as she did it over and over. “Think I could pull off a few alt rock songs?”

“You can do whatever the hell you want to, sweetheart. Pretty sure you could throw bagpipes in a song and make it go number one.” I caught her smile as her fingers started to dance, hips starting to sway in her seat.

“Normally I come up with music before the lyrics,” she said, something rhythmic and heavy in the air. “You know people think because I’m the pop princess that’s all I listen to. Never would think Metallica inspired a good number of songs on the last album.”

“You partial to Zeppelin?” I asked, her smirk stronger, the puffiness around her eyes going down.

“Everyone loves Stairway and for good reason but I’m a Kashmir girl,” she said, my eyebrows raising. “Surprised?”

“No. Think I fell in love with you a little more is all,” I chuckled, getting up and taking a seat on the edge of the piano bench, watching her fingers move quickly, a hint of both songs coming through. “I am sorry about your parents, sweetheart. I wish things were different.”

“Me too,” she said, flurrying her fingers before abruptly pulling back. “But I won’t ever completely forgive myself for Max as long as they’re in my life. At least how they are right now. S’like Sloane said, even if you're strong, sometimes you want someone else to be strong for you.”

She bumped my shoulder, a coy smile sneaking onto her face. My hand found hers, clasping them together. “We take turns and it’ll work out how it’s supposed to.”

Her head rested on my shoulder, nodding once. “I don’t want to be sad anymore today. Do you want to go out to dinner?”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” I said, kissing her temple. “People will probably take pictures of us though.”

“I really don’t care anymore,” she said, squeezing my hand. “If I want to go out with my boyfriend, that’s what I’m going to do.”

“That’s my girl.”

Sam POV

“Eek! Y/N and Dean went out! In public!” squealed Cecilia from the kitchen island, showing her phone to Sebastian’s event planner. The woman in her mid-thirties gave the phone a passing glance, probably wishing she could plan a party for one of them instead of fucking Seb.

He was even more of a dick whenever it got to close to him hosting one of his stupid ass parties at the house.

But the piece of shit’s desire to mingle with the rich and famous on a regular basis meant Max and I had a real shot at our plan working. I worked at the end of the island, near the open planner with a tentative guest list, my back blocking the camera.

All I had to do was slip the piece of paper from my pocket into the planner and hope the event planner added Y/N and Dean to the list without too much thought.

Without getting caught of course.

And assume that the super detailed planner lady would just go ahead and invite two of the most popular people on the planet right now willy nilly.

That was all assuming Max didn’t get caught in his part of the plan. Or too hurt. Or dead.

Shit, we really were laying it on the line for this one.

A few moments later, we all heard the loud thud, our heads snapping towards the front of the house. I moved fast, taking the split second opportunity to place the paper in the planner. Then I was off the second Max groaned, playing the role of concerned friend.

Sebastian knew how close we were, that we considered ourselves brothers. Even if we were both scared shitless about the consequences of breaking a rule, he knew I’d abandon my “job” duties to go to him if he was hurt. So I rushed through the front hall to where a few security guys were already surrounding a grunting Max on the floor.

“I’m fine,” grit out Max, even though we could all see the growing bruise on his cheek. Shit. He wasn’t supposed to hit his head. He tried to sit up, a few of the security guys urging him to stay down. Ironic considering they were the ones they’d kill us if we ever got caught.

“What the fuck…” said Seb, coming out of his office, staring at the scene before him.

“He fell down the stairs, boss,” said a guard, Max brushing the guy off and sitting up, wincing a bit.

“I said I’m fine,” said Max, his movements proving that was a lie. He was hurt. Hopefully just bumps and bruises. But that was key.

If we wanted a believable story, one of us had to get fucked up in the process. And unfortunately for Max, he was beyond shitty at rock papers scissors and had to take the fall. Literally.

“He needs to rest,” I said, forcing my way into the crowd, helping Max to his feet with another wince. I didn’t wait for a response and started taking him towards our room, Seb’s tsk making us both freeze.

“Andy, make sure he’s alright and then Max should rest the remainder of the day. Sam, I trust you can complete all unfinished chores yourself?” he asked.

“Yes sir,” I said, reluctantly letting Andy take my place and help support Max. I watched them disappear down the hall, Seb turning to another guard, Frankie.

“Explain yourself.” The guard stared at Sebastian, his thick swallow heard loud and clear. Sebastian stepped closer, until his nose was jammed right against the young guard’s. “Why the fuck did you punch my house staff in the face after he fell?”

I stared at Frankie, Sebastian smirking when he saw my face.

“His knuckles are scrapped, Sam,” he said, turning back to Sebastian. “Question is why the fuck do you think you can touch my fucking property?”

“The guy doesn’t respect me,” said Frankie, finding his voice. “Doesn’t laugh at my jokes, don’t call me sir.”

“He knows his role and abides by it. You on the other hand need a reminder,” snapped Seb. “Sam, dismissed.”

I quickly went back to the kitchen to finish my vegetable prep. On the one hand, Frankie was about to have a world of shit thrown his way which normally I’d feel bad about. On the other, I hated his guts and he’d hit Max for no damn reason so he deserved what was coming to him.

“Take a tylenol in six hours and ice that ankle,” said Andy, patting Max’s shoulder from where he looked him over. We shared a quick look before Max headed for our quarters, the event planner shaking her head.

“That’s why I always say you need a stair runner on those grand staircases, be damned the design.”

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” said Andy with a role of his eyes. Cecilia eyed me up and down before looking at her phone.

Weird…

“What do you think about maroon?” asked the planner to her just as I caught Seb storming across the hall to his office.

Yeah, today was not about to be Frankie’s day.

It was late when I finally finished with the chores. I was a better cook than Max so I normally handled dinner and prepping snacks and lunches. But doing all of Max’s cleaning on top of all of mine meant I was exhausted and starving for my own dinner.

“Sam.” I turned my head in the dim hallway, Sebastian sitting in his office, sipping on a glass of what I guessed was very expensive whiskey. “Come in here, please.”

I swallowed. The last time I had a late night conversation in that office, I was being branded by the poker in the fire place. God, if he was going to kill me hopefully it’d be fast.

I entered the room, pulling the door shut when he waved his hand. “Yes, sir?”

“How’s Max?” I clasped my hands behind my back, lowering my gaze.

“I haven’t seen him yet. I’d assume he’s resting.”

“You’re a hard worker, Sam. Always appreciated that about you. Max too,” he said, standing with his glass. He spun slowly, taking a sip. “You know what I like most about you boys though?”

Oh God. I was so dead.

“You’re loyal,” he said with a grin. “Sure, it took us a little bit to get there but you were young men. I made plenty of mistakes when I was twenty too. Now…now you boys know your place and I haven’t done a single thing to either one of you since. That’s the kind of trust I know we have. It’s loyalty. Something I seem to be lacking with some of my men.”

I raised my head, Sebastian finishing off his drink.

“Frankie’s…no longer with the operation. That kind of boy wants my head. All he sees is how to get rid of me. And I won’t say I liked the way he looked at my daughter.”

Okay. Good news, Frankie was dead and buried out in the woods out back. Bad news, Sebastian was in one of his killing moods which normally didn’t stop at one body. Mob bosses were like that.

“It’s too bad you and Max aren’t suited for this kind of work. You’re the kind of boys I could trust to be successor,” said Seb, refilling his glass from the bottle on the desk.

“That’s very flattering of you sir,” I said, his chin raising.

“Those are my issues to deal with though. You and Max on the other hand, I can promise that even when I step down and am long gone, you’ll always have your places in this organization. You were a big investment and it’s paying off. I don’t want all that effort to go to waste,” he said, clasping my shoulder. Fuck, I could literally taste the bile pooling up from my gut.

“Thank you sir,” I said quietly, fighting back a shake when he ruffled my hair.

“If only Cecilia were a man. This kind of work doesn’t lend itself to women…although she does have enough rage inside her to handle it,” he said, walking over to his desk, my eyes widening for only a split second when I saw the planner there. “She fucking slipped that singer and Dean Winchester’s names on the guest list. Can you believe that? The balls on that kid.”

Fuck. It didn’t work. It didn’t-

“I guess it’ll make her happy though,” he sighed, cracking a smile when he looked at me. “And I wouldn’t mind meeting Dean Winchester. I bet I could get him to sign my jersey in the game room.”

“I know how much you enjoy the LA Wolves. I know your work is…stressful,” I said carefully, Seb allowing it. “Perhaps Miss Cecilia wouldn’t be the only one to get some happiness out of the guests.”

“This is why I like you, Sam. Always looking out for the big guy,” he chuckled, nodding his head. “She practically begged when I asked her about it earlier so I suppose if I get a benefit out of it too that’s a happy accident.”

I forced a smile, Seb humming to himself.

“Alright. Go and tend to your friend. I have work to do.”

“Yes sir,” I said. I was quiet in the house as I made my way to our room, closing our door with a quiet thud. Max sat up from the twin mattress, a shiner on his eye and some bruises covering his arms and legs but otherwise in one piece. “It worked.”

“It worked?” asked Max, a smile growing on his face as I nodded. “It fucking worked!”

“Yup. Now we just got to hope they accept,” I said, kicking off my shoes. “Although…we may have a problem with Cecilia. Dickface confronted her about the names, thought she slipped them in. She covered for us. The way she looked at me in the kitchen earlier, I think she knows I did it.”

“The kid is smart and knows her dad’s in the fucking mob. Maybe she’s got a gut feeling something’s not right. Let’s just hope she keeps her mouth shut until after the party,” said Max. I tried not to worry about her right now. I think she knew enough to not say anything.

“So now we just wait for them to accept a random ass invitation to a party for a guy they’ve never heard of.” I sat down beside him, Max still all smiles.

“Have a little faith, Sammy. We made it this far. Who knows? Two weeks from now we could be free men.”

Free or dead. One way or the other, I had a feeling our stay at the Sebastian household would be coming to an end very soon.

_______

A/N: Read Part 6 here!

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