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kayxleeee · 3 years

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Tony Stark: Are We Fighting?(Tony x Reader)

Warning: Sexual implying if you squint. Tony being cute and you being mad at him for a second.

A/N: Y’all this is my favorite, I love Tony fluff.

Summary: Tony’s in deep water after you notice the “head of security” watching your every move for an entire week straight. The only problem is, it’s date night, and can you really stay mad at someone with that face?

Word Count: 2k+

*NOT MY GIF* Don’t copy my work !

The aroma of tomato sauce and Italian herbs wafted the air around you immediately as you swung the large front door open, walking in. Tonight was date night, you were starving, but you had a serious bone to pick with the conniving genius. You kick your heels off and make your way through the foyer greeted by dimmed lights, a candle lit living room, soft romantic music playing, and an excessive amount of rose peddles leading up the grand staircase.

Nice touch Stark.

You look at it all in awe, but try to snap out of it, because you meant business tonight.

“Tony?!” You call out wondering where he was.

“In here.” He says peaking his head through the kitchen entry way, wiping his hands dry on a dish towel. “You look ravishing.” He says as he makes his way over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist giving you a quick hug and kiss on your forehead. “This isn’t too much is it?”

This was probably the best one yet. You were delighted at his efforts to make date nights memorable, especially since you hardly saw him. He had either been busy being an avenger or down in his lab working his life away. You were also very busy yourself running Stark Industries. Between the meetings and work related calls, it was a very rare occasion when you and Tony could just enjoy each others company. So this was when weekly date nights were born; Just a time to catch up and be together and have unadulterated quality time. You sigh taking it all in. Tony always does them well, especially when he is trying to make up for something. The dimmed lights, roses, music, candles, even his cologne— god, did his cologne smell good, intoxicating even. You could swoon right then and there the atmosphere was the definition of romantic and relaxing and here you are ready to uproar it all.

Damn, right.

“Told you date night would be extraordinary tonight.” He smirks taking your silence as a sign that you were pleased, while wiggling his eyebrows up and down. “Be back in a sec, get comfy.” He says giving you a wink before turning away.

He makes his way back into the kitchen to finish up whatever he had been doing previous and you follow him. He turns around and gives you a weird look, scrunching his face as he sees you following behind him. Those dazzling brown eyes weren’t going to get you this time, you were still mad— Maybe not as mad as you were before coming through that front door, but still upset enough to confront the issue right now.

“So something interesting happened to me today.” You say setting your purse on the kitchen counter as Tony strategically plates the pasta he made.

“Oh yeah?” He says maneuvering through the kitchen. “And what might that be kitten?” After he’s done, he turns to you popping an olive into his mouth, as he leans against the counter behind, ready listen attentively.

“Well I was ya know working my little ass off, minding my business… Ya know as I do every single day. When I noticed a very attentive Happy Hogan, watching my every move.” You say eyeing him suspiciously as he smiled innocently. “I thought to myself, now I’ve been seeing Happy in all sorts of wacky places this week, why would he do something like that?”

“I donno, why babe?” He says dusting his hands together for no particular reason looking everywhere else, but your face.

“Mmmh- maybe he’s just being his old paranoid, overbearing self this week. Watching my every move for no apparent reason.” You say testily, you already know Stark put him up to it.

“Happy is very dedicated to his new position. Didn’t you hear? He’s head of security, babe. He’s gotta be eyes and ears.” He sighs, now moving from his leaning position to begin pouring two glasses of bubbly. “That’s our Happy for ya."

Of course you heard, and of course Tony was the one who appointed him, and of course Stark Industries did not need that.

“Oh jeez golly! Eyes and ears on little ol me?” You say in a fake sarcastic souther bell accent.

He raises his eyebrows, and gives you a well justified laugh, because that accent was horrendous.

“Did you send happy to spy on me or what Tony?” You say getting to the point.

“No.” He says shaking his head from side to side frantically like a child who’s just got caught stealing from the cookie jar. “Nope, I don’t recall.”

“You don’t recall?” You scoff. “It’s a very simple thing to remember doing Tony. Did you say oh Happy please spy on my faithful, loyal, beautiful, loving, girlfriend?”

“Um— are we fighting?” We're not fighting are we?” He sighs genuinely unsure.

You didn’t want to fight or argue either, but he was getting on your nerves beating around the bush. You already knew he did it, you just needed to know why.

“Sure, we aren’t fighting Tony.” You say annoyance booming through, hoping he would just come out with it. He was definitely pushing your buttons. “Now did you send him?”

“ I don’t recall.” He says again now putting on a fake ‘thinking’ face.

“You don’t recall asking him?! Okay, well I am sure if we give him a call that might jog your little memory.” You grab your phone out of your purse quickly dialing his number. “Mmmh I think you’ve been hit on the head entirely way too many times, ya know since you can’t recall events.”

Before you can press the dial button to call Happy, Tony swiftly reaches over the counter where you are standing and snatches the phone from your grip, ending the call before it’s made.

“Okay, listen baby, I think we’re fighting, and I don’t want to fight tonight.” He says with pleading eyes putting his hands up in defense.

“Tony!” You yell at him going to where he is standing in the spacious kitchen. “You're not answering my question and you should have thought about that before asking Happy to spy on me!” Which I’m not understanding what for! Just say you don’t trust me and leave it at that, why play all these games?!”

His face flattened.

“Okay, kitten, listen it wasn’t like that. I do too trust you.”

So he did put Happy up to it— of course he did.

“You better explain or I’m Leaving Tony.”

He sighs heavily, shame settling on his features.

“Happy brought up this guy? Aldrich Killian, said you dated him a while back?" “Oh my go- you don’t trust me!” You exhaust throwing your hands up and turning on the heels of your feet ready to retreat out of the kitchen.

“No!” Tony quickly follows behind you. Come on babe, let’s talk about this!” He says grabbing you by your shoulder gently spinning you around.

“Tony you’re doing a lot of the talking, and only digging yourself in a deeper hole.” You say crossing your arms.

“Okay, let’s back track, I trust you, with everything I own, my life even. I’ve just been overwhelmed and overthinking recently. I can’t say what I did was right, but in the moment I didn’t feel it was exactly wrong either.”

“In the moment Tony really? What moment did you realize I needed to be spied on like some convict? What moment did you realize you didn’t trust me alone at work with some guy, I hardly ever dated by the way!”

“Okay, okay! I did not send him to spy on you, I sent him to keep an eye on you.”

“Same shit Sherlock and I don’t appreciate it ! You say you trust me but tis is definitely not how it’s coming off.” You huff in annoyance, trying to grab your phone from him again, in which he manages to keep it away from you snacking his free arm around you. “Give it back now, I’m leaving Tony!”

“Would you stop getting mad?!” He huffs. “Just- it’s not a trust thing baby. It’s a safety thing.”

“I wouldn’t be getting mad if you’d just tell me the truth and stop beating around the damn bush. I’m over it anyways, I’m going to be leaving now, so give me my phone and let me go.” He rolls his eyes and pulls you into him closer. “No you’re not leaving , stop being dramatic.” He says holding onto you tight, still holding the phone away from your grasp with his other hand. You scrunch up your face about to say something, about his remark, but he quickly says. “And don’t be mad that I think you’re being dramatic about this.” He says to ensure he digs himself out of being in trouble over that stupid comment.

He continues, “You already know I trust you so don’t give me that. I did all of this because I love you.” He says holding you close and swaying the two of you slightly to the music that is still playing softly in the background.

“Not the because I love you speech.” You say rolling your eyes, hands resting on his chest trying to create distance between the two of you, but he just pulls you back into him. “You are so annoying.” You comment on the action, surrendering to his grasp.

“No it’s not like that, I just needed to make sure you were safe. No malicious thought behind it or intent, I swear. I just wanted to make name you are safe at all times.” He says softly with a sigh as he feels that you’ve calmed down.

“Why wouldn’t I be safe at work?” You say looking up at him. He now sets your phone down on the near by counter and places the hand to your face, caressing your cheek.

“Anyone can be in danger anywhere honey, I’ve learned that the hard way— and if I were to loose you? Well let’s just say for my sake and peace of mind, I might of let fear cloud my judgment and asked Happy to keep an eye on you. No spying, just an eye. You know how he gets.” He looks deeply into your eyes and you could tell he was telling the truth. “I’m sorry, okay?” He leans into you just enough to rub his nose against yours playfully. “Do you accept my apology?” He says in a child like voice, giving you puppy dogs eyes.

He was so cute.

“Okay fine, I’m hearing you.” You say caving in. “But you’ve gotta stop him from following my every move— if I’m going to the bathroom, I don’t need him right out the door.” You huff.

“Done, you got it, Happy is officially barred off of bathroom duties. Can we kiss and make up now?” He says this as his lips ghost over yours and you happily lean into the kiss, knowing full well it was long overdue after how hard he worked to impress you tonight. This kiss was sweet and sincere, while also deep and romantic.

“I love you.” He says after breaking the kiss.

“You're a pain, but I love you too.” You both laugh before you give him another kiss.

“Now are we still fighting?” He smirks after pulling away a second time. “Just wanna double check before I invest.”

“You're so annoying.” You laugh rolling your eyes playfully. “No we aren’t.”

“Good because our spaghetti is getting cold and our chardonnay is getting flat.” He says intertwining your fingers and spinning you around to walk into the living room. “And you look entirely too good to keep this on all night.” He says referring to your outfit. “I can’t believe you were going to call Happy.”

“Well how about next time, you don’t play with me.” You laugh ready to enjoy your dinner.

“Oh, but honey, playing with you is my favorite thing to do. I especially love it when you scream my name.” He smirks giving you a wink.

Comments, Questions, Opinions :)

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#tony stark x reader #tony stark drabble #tony stark fluff #tony stark #tony stark x black!reader #tony stark x black reader #tony stark x y/n #tony stark imagie #tony stark smut #reader x tony #avengers x reader #black reader x avenger #tony stark x you #i love you 3000 #tony stank #mcu fanfiction #marvel #mcu bwww #tony stark imagines

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whimsicallyreading · 3 years

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You Don’t Even Go Here

Day Two for Rowaelin Month

A college AU

Aelin grins mischievously as she walks up the stairs of the men's dorm at Terresan University. The teal-blue waffle iron clutched under her arm.

Aedion didn't really need it. It had been on the fifty-percent-off rack at the supermarket, and he'd simply thrown it in the cart for good measure. Yet, when Aelin saw the box for it laying the hall, she'd seen opportunity.

It had hit her harder than she'd thought. Aedion leaving. They'd been raised like siblings but grew up something closer to best friends. It wasn't fair that he was nearly three years older and ready to leave when she wasn't prepared for him to go.

Aelin had cried the whole car ride home. Then when they finally got back to the house, she'd called him right away. He could hear how teary she was and happily obliged her call. Narrating his actions as he went about setting up his dorm room. He teased her about missing him, but she could tell that he missed her too.

So, armed with an excuse to visit him, Aelin made the hour-long drive to visit her cousin.

Aelin was halfway up the stairs but not paying too much attention to her surroundings. She was too busy repeating Aedion's room number over in her head because no matter how many times she checked her phone, it just wouldn't stick in her head. Maybe if she'd focused a little more on the things happening around her, she wouldn't have crashed into a half-naked man.

A solid and calloused hand darts out and grips her shoulder before she can go tumbling down the stairs. Its twin desperately clutching the towel wrapped around his waist.

Aelin looks up apologetically, and her jaw nearly falls to the floor. His white hair was still damp from the shower and swooped over the top of his head, and his biceps were too large for Aelin to wrap both hands around. An intricate tattoo coils elegantly from a cheekbone and down the length of his body.

He was a man indeed. Nothing like Chaol or Dorian or any of her junior friends. This was a new breed of man. The apex kind. Aelin is pretty sure she looks like a deer in the headlights, and she's too busy ogling him to understand the words he'd been repeating to her.

"Are you okay?" His eyebrows are furrowed as if he's afraid he'd literally struck her stupid. Aelin felt that wasn't far from the truth.

"Yes, sorry," she apologizes as she steps back, suddenly very aware of how in his personal space she was. "I wasn't paying attention. You just caught me by surprise."

Aelin was definitely panicking. Where was her swagger when she needed it most? Why would it choose now to abandon her?

By some miracle, he doesn't seem off-put by her awkwardness. In fact, a smile curls the edges of his lips, revealing a set of dimples that made her heart stumble.

Gods he had dimples.

"No, I ran into you. It's my fault. My name is Rowan.”

He holds out a hand, and Aelin shakes it clumsily. "I'm Aelin."

"Aelin." She loves the way her name rolls off his tongue. "I haven't seen you around before. Are you a freshman?"

Oh no. Aelin's eyes widen, but she recovers swiftly and smooths her features out. Rowan thinks she's a student. Not some crazy high schooler too emotionally dependent on her cousin.

"I'm actually a junior," Aelin laughs at his perplexed expression. "I don't go here, though. I'm just stopping by to drop off some things my cousin forgot."

White lies. What was a white lie worth? Aelin likely wouldn't ever see him again, and is it so wrong for a girl to enjoy some harmless attention? If Aelin spent more time thinking about it, she probably wouldn't like the answers she'd come up with, but that was neither here nor there.

"Is that a waffle maker?" Rowan's green eyes glint with amusement.

"My cousin loves to eat. What year are you?" Aelin crosses her fingers that he's the same age as Aedion and not a senior or something. Her cousin would murder her if he found out she flirted with a man five years older.

"Don't we all? I'm a sophomore, a bit younger than you, I suppose." Rowan drags a hand through his hair. "Listen, I know you came to see your cousin, but maybe I could get your number, and we could get a cup of coffee before you head out?"

Was this really happening? Aelin inwardly squealed with excitement. Lysandra would die when she recounted this story later. "Sure."

Just as she pulled her phone from her pocket, an all too familiar voice materialized behind her. "Aelin?"

Aedion smiles as he lays eyes on his beloved cousin. He takes a couple steps down the stairs, and that grin quickly fades as he sees the naked man.

Oops, she'd forgotten that detail.

"Rowan?" Aedion's eyes harden as they lock on Rowan. "Why the hell are you ogling my cousin with no clothes on?"

"You know him?" Aelin swears under her breath. She cannot believe her luck.

Aedion laughs coldly as he sizes up Rowan, "He's my roommate, but he's about to be a corpse. Why are you perving on my seventeen-year-old cousin?"

Rowan's looks between the bewildered. "You said you were a junior?"

Aedion laughs harshly as Aelin blushes. "I am...just in highschool. Not college. I told you I didn't go here."

"I didn't realize I was rooming with a pedophile," Aedion grabs Aelin and pulls her to his chest. "Was he bothering you?"

"Pedophile?" Rowan's dimples have disappeared, and he looks at Aedion disturbed. "I'm only nineteen!"

Aelin shoves away from Aedion's boorish grip. "The only one bothering me is you."

Rowan's cheeks are flushed red as the full impact of the situation they were found in dawns on him. Damn it if Aelin didn't find his blush endearing. He is a solid chunk of muscle. How is everything he does so cute?

"Look, I just got out of the shower, and I bumped into Aelin. It was an accident. She was just on her way to give you your waffle maker-"

"You brought my waffle maker?" Aedion cuts Rowan off, eyeing the box under her arm.

That's when Aelin sees it. The twinkle of mischief in his eye and the forced concern. Aedion was playing her. He obviously knew Rowan wasn't a creep and saw the perfect opportunity to cause chaos. Aelin scowls at him, and that spark grows brighter. It's moments like this she wonders why she ever missed her cousin in the first place.

Aedion tugs the box out of her grasp and smiles. "Wow. This is perfect timing. Vaughn and Fen were just talking about making breakfast for dinner." He looks at Aelin and forces a frown. "If I'd known you were coming, I would have invited you, but it would kind of be rude to bring a guest now."

"What?" Aelin sputters. She drove all this way, and he was really going to ditch her? It was embarrassing, but tears prickled at the edges of her eyes. He was an ass, but she obviously came because she missed him, and he didn't even care? She really thought they were closer than that.

"Yeah. Sorry, Lin." Aedion points at Rowan, who was just standing to the side, thoroughly uncomfortable. Yet, despite the awkwardness, he hadn't left. "Hey, you owe me one for creeping on my little cousin. Earn my trust back and see that she has something for dinner and gets to her car safely? She has my phone number, one bad text, and your ass is grass."

Aedion tosses her a wink, and it's all Aelin can do to keep from outright gaping. Rowan looks stunned, his eyes darting between the two Ashryvver's. They settle on Aelin for a moment too long. Some of the tension eases from his shoulders, and he smiles. "I think I can manage that."

"Good." Aedion turns back up the stairs pats the box. "Thanks for bringing it to me, Lin. I'll call you tomorrow, don't send me to voicemail."

Just like that, her cousin, a walking, talking agent-of-chaos, disappears back to wherever he came from.

"So," Rowan starts, "If you want, I know a perfect Italian place we could swing by, my treat seeing as I plowed into you."

Aelin frowns and fiddles with the end of her necklace. "You aren't upset that I lied?"

"You didn't lie." Rowan chuckles, a deep sound that sends a shiver of delight down Aelin's spine. "You don't go here."

Aelin tilts her head as if she's deeply considering the offer. "I suppose it couldn't hurt. What's good there?"

"They have an awesome kabob." Rowan tugs his towel tighter. "It's my favorite."

It's Aelin's turn to laugh. "Isn't that just meat on a stick?"

"Let's go, and I can show you how profoundly wrong you are," he moves to take a step down, but Aelin stops him with a hand to the shoulder. "What is it?"

Aelin points to his towel, "I don't think they will serve guests without pants."

The flush that Aelin loves his back full force as he scrambles the other direction up the stairs. "Shit. Give me five minutes. I'll be right back. Aedion better have not locked out or I swear-"

Rowan's embarrassed tirade quiets as he charges up to his dorm to change. Aelin smiling as he goes. She can't believe she's going out to dinner with a guy like that.

Opening her phone, she sends a quick heart emoji to her cousin. He instantly replies back with one of his own. Aedion may have moved to college, but he still had her back at the end of the day. Even if it wasn't in the most ideal way.

Rowan comes back down the stairs moments later, and she's not disappointed by what she sees. He took the time to put on a flannel shirt and comb some gel through his hair. While the view without clothes had been pleasant, Aelin could definitely appreciate this look too.

"I'm ready if you are," Rowan extends an arm to help her down the stairs.

It's such a fussy, old-man move, and she loves it.

"Let's go."

#rowaelinmonth #rowaelin month #throne of glass #rowaelin #fanfic #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #tog #fluff #college au #day two

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restapesta · 3 years

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Mickey had no idea how the fuck Ian even fell.

One minute, they were walking along the sidewalk, the next, Ian's ankle was twisting and he was toppling down onto the rough pavement right next to Mickey's feet.

"I'm fine," He grit out through clenched teeth, but he struggled to get up as Mickey tried to haul him up by the elbow.

There were people around them staring--Westside assholes who needed to mind their own business in Mickey's opinion--but Ian simply ignored the eyes following his every movement, a tinge of red coating his cheeks.

"I'm okay, seriously," He repeated, and he gestured for Mickey to loosen his grip on his arm.

Mickey complied reluctantly. "How did you even fall?"

Ian shrugged, and the first step he took ahead had him wincing in pain.

When Mickey balked at him with wide eyes, he just said, "I used to be an EMT. This is nothing, just a bruise forming probably."

The 'just a bruise' part didn't ease Mickey's worries--and neither did the pained expression on Ian's face as they moved forward.

Ian's face was scrunched up and he was limping, unable to even hide the fact the fall hurt him more than he initially thought.

"Man, we need to get that checked out."

"No, Mick. It probably just has to do with my past injury. It's the same leg I broke last time."

Mickey maneuvered them to a bench that was facing the park they were passing. Ian went without protest, practically skipping on one leg to the polished wood. "Just more reason to go see a doctor."

"Since when do we see doctors, Mick?"

"Since we got insurance," Mickey slowly placed Ian's leg across his lap, prompting Ian to settle back against the side of the bench. He cuffed his husband's jeans.

Ian probably knew more about injuries and fractures than Mickey did, since he used to be an EMT and all--but even Mickey, who had his fair share of broken bones, knew this was more than just a simple bruise.

The 'simple bruise' was turning a deep shade of purple on the lateral side of Ian's ankle, and the tissue around it had to be swollen. Mickey chanced a glance at Ian who was staring at his ankle with a sullen look on his face.

"Fuck," He muttered.

"Doctor?"

Their eyes met and Ian's were narrowed in disdain at the prospect of it. "Yeah."

Mickey was about to slap Ian's leg on impulse, but he stopped mere seconds before when he realized what the fuck he was doing. Instead, he just made sure the foot on his lap didn't move an inch.

"Guess we need to call the ambulance."

Ian shut his eyes in pain at that, and Mickey stifled a smile as he took out his phone to dial 911.

---

The first thing Mickey supposed he would hear upon entering the hospital room Ian was in were the words 'it's not that bad', or even, 'don't baby me mickey'.

Both possibilities were stupid when Mickey remembered the fact that Ian literally fractured his ankle like a little kid, and deserved to be coddled, at least as a reprimand for his clumsiness.

But instead, when Mickey entered through to door, he caught sight of Ian's leg propped up on a pillow on the bed, as Ian just stared blankly at it. His face was lax and devoid of any emotion, and--

"He's on high drugs." The doctor confirmed as Ian finally whipped his head up to look at who the doctor was speaking to.

When his eyes landed on Mickey...

It was the widest Mickey had ever seen him smile.

"Mickey!" He exclaimed like a kid in a candy store. "Mickey, come here!"

Mickey moved slowly to the bed as he listened to the doctor say, "It'll wear him off in ten minutes or so. Just stick with him until he falls asleep."

Ian was grinning from one ear to the other, and Mickey felt laughter bubble up in his chest.

Certainly a fucking improvement from the grump he had trudged to the hospital.

"How you holding up?" He asked his husband who was suddenly getting lost in thought while he ran his eyes appreciatively over Mickey's figure.

It was as if in slow motion--his eyes moving down from Mickey's eyes, lingering on his chest, abdomen, crotch, and thighs--and then up again, eyes staying glued to the thigh and crotch area the most until his green eyes met blue.

Mickey was about to tease him for it, drugged up or not, when Ian said, "Are you taken?"

Mickey choked. "Am I what?"

Ian seemed to be talking to himself. "I think my husband wouldn't mind if I took you to bed, like, wow."

Mickey pretended not to notice the heat in his cheeks. "I think your husband would mind you taking anyone to bed, even me."

Ian thought about it, tongue poking out against the side of his cheek. "You're right." He finally said. "He's really possessive."

Mickey scoffed, wanting to disagree, but Ian continued. "It doesn't matter how hot you are." He looked away indignantly. "I won't fuck you because my hot husband is enough."

I'm your hot husband, you dumbass.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes." Ian nodded his head viciously.

Mickey took steady steps towards Ian, and his husband's eyes followed him warily. The second it was in reach, Mickey glided his hands over Ian's thighs. The redhead shuddered at the touch.

He must've already forgotten about his hot husband because he was grinning mischievously. "Mickey," Ian drawled out. "Come here."

"What about your husband?"

"My husband's a really good kisser, but I think you are too."

Mickey blushed again.

Ian pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before Mickey could even figure out a response.

Ian was smiling contently when he pulled away. His eyes were lit up with happiness.

"Hot and a good kisser." He said. "Wonder how you are in bed."

"My husband doesn't have complains."

"With that ass, I wouldn't either."

They were still staring at each other, and Mickey was a second away from telling Ian to just get some shut-eye, when, all of a sudden, Ian's face crumbled, a look of complete and utter devastation seen in his features. Mickey blanched.

What the fuck was going on? Was Ian in pain? He was just about to call for the nurse--press the red button next to the hospital bed when--

"I just cheated on my husband." Ian sobbed, actual tears streaming down his face. Big, heavy tears poured from both eyes, overflowing on Ian's cheeks.

Mickey would've laughed had Ian not been wailing in front of him.

"Ian," he tried, pushing Ian's hands away that were shielding his face in shame. "Ian, I am your husband. You didn't cheat on me."

Ian sobbed. "No. My husband's dark, handsome, average height... He has the sweetest smile, a really hot body, an amazing sense of humor..."

"Ian, fucking look at me, do I not seem familiar to you?"

Ian looked up, eyes pinched. "You're not as grumpy as Mickey, you're just a fraud."

"Well fuck you too!"

Ian looked surprised at that. "You're really Mickey?"

Mickey frowned, all in hopes Ian would calm down, because fucking hell. "Yes, I am really Mickey."

"The one I married?"

"You know another Mickey?"

"I need to test you."

Mickey's eyes were wide as saucers. "Test me?"

"What's my favorite food?"

"You don't remember me, how would you remember your favorite food?"

Ian didn't relent. "What is my favorite food, fake Mickey?"

The answer came easily. "It's that stupid lasagna from the Italian place near our apartment."

"Hm. What's my favorite position in bed? Only the real Mickey would know that."

"Seriously? Face-to-face. Anything else?"

"Do you want kids?"

Mickey was too stunned to answer, and those seconds of hesitation were apparently answer enough to Ian.

He nodded. "Yeah, okay, you are Mickey."

A moment of silence ensued, followed by hiccups on Ian's side, and a slight shock on Mickey's.

Then came a blinding smile. "Mickey."

"Ian." He sighed exasperatedly, mind already off the questions.

"Mickey..."

And then he passed out.

Fucking hell.

---

"Did I do anything weird while I was under?"

Mickey glanced at Ian from the corner of his eye. He was sitting on their bed, leg propped up.

He shrugged. "You sobbed because you cheated on me."

Ian's face was confused. "I didn't cheat on you."

"Oh, yeah you did," Mickey teased with a smile on his face. "You kissed me who you thought was incredibly hot."

"What?"

"First you said you wouldn't because your husband was enough. But then you did and you cried because you cheated."

Ian stuffed his face in his hands, groaning. "That's so embarrassing."

Just like in the hospital, Mickey pushed his hands away, gazing straight into his eyes. He chose not to tell him about the questions--those were for another time.

"I don't know if I should find it endearing you would only cheat on me with me, and that you would fucking cry about it later, or get mad because you would cheat on me."

Ian groaned again, pressing Mickey against him. "Fuck you. I'd only cheat on you with you when I'm drugged up. You're the only one I find good enough to cheat on you with."

"I'm gonna get a seizure."

Ian laughed, kissing the crown of his head. "Then shut the fuck up and pretend it never happened!"

With a feigned heavy heart, Mickey sighed and agreed. "Sure."

"Thank you."

"Don't think I won't tell Lip about this."

It was only Mickey's luck Ian couldn't walk that he managed to escape before Ian strangled the life out of him.

All the while, they laughed.

#gallavich #gallavich drabble #drabble #fan fic #gallavich fan fic #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #stupid humor #hope this is as funny to you as it was for me #also gallavich week is coming #hope you guys are ready #can't wait to read what ou guys come up with

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abbysfrenchbraid · 3 years

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Daring - Chapter 2

This is part two of my Abby Mordern!Au, you can read Chapter 1 here.

Masterlist

Abby and the reader have dinner at Abby's place. There is music playing and referenced, so I'd recommend you listen to this playlist with all the songs playing in order as soon as the date night begins. About 10k words.

CW for alcohol consumption, mention of death/murder, mention of dubious consent (and possibly terrible grammar. It's 10pm, I just finished this, I don't have a proofreader atm)

Thyme and Tree Bark

“Don’t mess this up, airhead. Take care!”

“Yeah, yeah. Bye, idiot!”

You closed the door behind Mark as he vanished down the stairs and headed straight for your bed. Though you were less wobbly on your feet after devouring half of a perfectly cheesy pizza with just the right amount of jalapenos, it had thrown you straight into a food coma. Your angel of a brother had come over at noon with two chilled cans of coke and a large pizza from your favorite Italian place and not even ripped open the curtains as he usually did. Instead, he had thrown himself on the bed right next to you, handed you a slice, and demanded you start talking.

Of course, he already knew about Abby and your embarrassing shyness when it came to the buff blonde, so he was extremely proud of the progress you had made with your excruciating crush. You both agreed that Abby had definitely invited you over for a date this week - alone, without Manny there - and that it had to mean she was interested, too. He had laughed about the little bar stint when Abby had shut down your flirt with the hot waitress in an instant and was now 100% sure this was going to go great. As long as you kept it together and didn’t ruin everything. As you often did. This needed some tactical planning.

Mouths full of cheesy delight and laughing at each other’s stupid ideas, you and your brother had come up with a fairly foolproof plan. You would text Abby in 1-2 days, keeping it cool and asking when you should come over. Then, you would suggest making cocktails at home, already granting a fun activity and something to loosen the mood. You would keep it casual and bring over some nice liquor and maybe a bag of chips, perfect for watching a movie. You’d try to keep the conversation casual and try to speak mostly about Abby, asking lots of questions so you didn’t get tangled up in speaking about yourself. If you steered the conversation toward movies, you could watch something exciting and maybe even scary together so you could cuddle up on the couch together. And well, if you got that far, things would probably fall into place naturally. Foolproof. Y/N-proof.

You groaned as you reached over to grab your phone from your nightstand. You had a message from your mom asking if you wanted to come over for dinner next weekend and an email from your professor who wanted to submit your last essay to some kind of grant application. You’d have to answer her later, your head still felt like it was filled with cotton. Instead, you sent Leah a message.

-Hey, you still alive? There’s leftover pizza and coke over here.

Five seconds later, there was a delighted squeal at the other side of the wall and you heard the click of your roommate’s door before yours opened and Leah tiptoe-danced inside, beaming at you. She was wearing nothing but an extremely tight-fitting cropped wifebeater and a khaki thong, accentuating her long legs as she leaped right onto your bed and almost made you fly as her weight hit the mattress. You tried not to stare at her perfectly toned abs as she opened the gigantic carton and held up a slice of pizza over her head, letting the tip dangle in her mouth before biting down with a moan that made you snort awkwardly.

“Good morning, you animal.”

Leah just moaned again, making a grabbing motion with her hand and pointing toward the second can of coke on your nightstand. You laughed silently as you handed her the cold can, condensed water running down the sides and wetting your fingers. You wiped them on the blanket. The tall brunette swallowed hard and took a sip of coke.

“Good morning, womanizer.” She grinned widely. “I’m so proud of you, man. This is the first time I’ve seen you in action and I can safely say Abby was just as surprised as I was.”

You buried your face in your hands.

“Oh god, was I that obvious? Did I do anything inappropriate? I thought it went well, but now I’m not so sure.” You spread your fingers to peak at your roommate who was currently chewing on a ginormous bite, tomato juice running down her chin. No manners, that girl. She just shook her head and made a noise somewhere between protest and encouragement.

“No, you were fine,” she said with a full mouth, “very tipsy, but cute. I hope you remember Abby inviting you to her place.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

You ran your fingers through your hair, immediately getting stuck in a tangle of knots. God, you needed a shower.

“Yeah, I already went over it with Mark. We made a plan so I won’t embarrass myself.”

“Good. I hope it goes well, you two would be cute together. Hot, even. I mean, no one can deny the allure of those biceps. And her ass?! Godly.” She easily evaded the kick you aimed at her ribs, laughing and slapping your shin away.

“Come on, let’s not act like you’re not ogling her every chance you get. I am, too - the woman looks like a greek goddess!”

“That’s enough,” you giggled, aiming another playful kick in her direction but only lightly hitting her in the thigh. “I know what she looks like.”

“Right. And soon, you’ll hopefully see a lot more of her.” This time, Leah jumped off the bed before your toes could sink right into her side. You tried to suppress a grin as you two stared at each other for a moment before Leah sat back down cross-legged and began eating the last slice of pizza.

“I mean,” she said casually, “you have seen more of a woman before, right?”

You grabbed your coke and turned it in your hands before answering.

“Yeah, I have. It wasn’t… It wasn’t all that, though. Just one time and we were both so nervous it was just awkward.”

Now Leah looked at you with a mixture of shock and pity.

“Come on, Y/N. Only once? You’ve never seen stars because of a woman’s tongue? Never screamed into a pillow because of some skilled sapphic strap game? Never lost your mi-”

“Leaahhhh!” You groaned, feeling blood shoot into your cheeks. “No, okay? I… I made the other girl cum, but for me, it was just… it was too unfamiliar and I didn’t know her well enough to really let myself enjoy it.”

Suddenly a thought crossed your mind and you felt your eyes open wide.

“Wait. Has Abby…? Is she..?”

Leah paused mid-bite and thought for a second.

“Well, she does have experience with men, obviously. As far as women go… I honestly don’t know. She’s dated a few, but it never went longer than a couple of weeks. I don’t know how fast things go with her and she’s never gone into detail with me. I have to ask Nora about that.”

“Don’t you dare! She’ll know this is about me and tell Abby!”

“Oh come on, I’m interested, too.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll tell you so you know what to prepare for, win-win!” She nudged your foot and gave you a mischievous half-smile.

“For god’s sake, do what you must.” You finished your coke and threw it perfectly into the bin beside your desk. Leah gave you an impressed nod. “And now I desperately need a shower. There is a literal nest on top of my head.”

“True,” Leah said and stood up, stretching her limbs as she walked to the door. “Thanks for the pizza. I’m gonna ask Jordan if he wants to come over, so don’t walk out naked if you don’t want a threesome.” She winked at you before closing the door, but a small part at the back of your brain knew that she wasn’t completely joking. You sighed and swung your legs off your bed. No point in lying around, it was past 3 pm anyway.

Grabbing your phone, a shirt, and some clean boxers, you headed for the bathroom. You took your time showering, detangling the mess on your head with lots of conditioner, humming along to Marika Hackman’s cover of I Follow Rivers as you stood under the hot stream of water and brushing your teeth for at least five minutes while waiting for a hair mask to do its magic. When you stepped out of the shower, the bathroom was filled with hot steam and you felt like a whole new person. You slipped into your fresh clothes and held the blow dryer to the mirror until your reflection was clear.

So. Here you were. Finally, you had spoken to the woman of your dreams and even flirted with her. She may have even been jealous of your short conversation with Ellie, the bartender. Tomorrow, you would text her, you would be brave and cool and not at all awkward. As you collected your clothes off the floor and took your phone, you suddenly realized something that would destroy your entire plan. You didn’t even have Abby’s phone number. Why hadn’t you asked her? Of course, you could ask Leah for it, but Abby would know because she knew she hadn’t given it to you. It would be a lot less cool and casual. Fuck.

You stepped into the hallway and ran straight into Jordan. Perfect. Good thing Leah had warned you.

“Oh, hi Y/N! You doing alright after all those tequila shots?” Jordan’s face was open and kind. You immediately relaxed. Just a guy, not a threat.

“Better than I thought I would, actually. What about you?”

“Well, I sent them back out the way they came as soon as I got home.” He grimaced and shrugged. “Just glad I’m still alive, to be honest.”

You had to laugh. “I’m glad, too. Leah would have been devastated.”

“I hope so.” He grinned back. The silence between you stretched a little bit too long.

“Anyways, I’m gonna see what she’s up to. See you later?”

“Yeah, sure!” You said, relieved that he didn’t make it awkward. You quickly slipped into your room and sank down on the bed, composing a text to Mark.

-Minor hiccup - I don’t have her number.

His reply came immediately.

-Shit. What now?

You let yourself fall back on the mattress and covered your face with your arm. Your phone vibrated again and you lifted it up, hoping for a brilliant idea.

-Hey, this is Abby. Are we still on for next week?

You almost dropped your phone on your face. For a minute, you just stared at the message. Then you rolled over onto your stomach and screamed into your pillow.

-Hi Abby. We absolutely are. Y/N.

You tried to suppress a fit of giggles as you texted your brother.

-Nvm, she just texted me.

-Omg what!! Play it cool, don’t answer yet. What did she say???

-Oops already answered. Still on for next week.

-Incredibly casual lol. Whatever, good for you!

-Shut up!

Another text by Abby came in and you actually started drumming your feet on the bed with excitement.

-Tuesday? I could cook for us

-Very impressive, I’ll bite. What time should I come over?

-Very clever. 6pm? Any allergies?

-Vegetarian, hope that’s okay. 6 is great, text me your address?

You watched the little text bubble pop up and vanish again for a good minute, getting more and more nervous for her answer.

- No problem. 2425 Constance.

There was nothing else to do but scream into your pillow again.

The next two days went excruciatingly slow. You spent the rest of your Sunday in bed, watching a terrible zombie movie and later ordering curry because you couldn’t be bothered with preparing any food. As it got late, you suddenly heard a knock on the wall. At first, you thought it was accidental, until the knocking started to continue in a steady rhythm. With a death glare that you hoped would reach through the concrete, you plugged your headphones into your laptop and continued watching your movie.

On Monday, you threw yourself into art history coursework and caught up on your studies, emailed your professor, and spent three hours on an essay about the depiction of blood in paintings of Judith beheading Holofernes. Lovely subject. Even though you got through a lot of your tasks for the day, you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at your phone every 10 minutes to see if you had missed a message. Of course, nothing came up. Around 4 pm, your phone buzzed and you leapt for it only to find out it was Leah asking you to buy toilet paper later. At 6pm, you shut off your laptop and grabbed your backpack to go grocery shopping.

Standing in the liquor store you realized you hadn’t asked Abby about cocktails.

“Looking for something in particular?” the elderly lady behind the counter asked. It seemed to be her own shop and to have been hers for a while, judging by the elegant wooden shelves and the warm, nice feeling of the room instead of neon lights and rows of white metal.

“Uh, yeah, actually. I have a date tomorrow and I thought we could make cocktails, but I forgot to ask what she likes. So now I don’t know what to bring.” You gave her an apologetic half smile. She stood up from her seat behind the register, growing not even 2 inches standing compared to sitting and made her way over to you. Her eyes twinkled behind thick glasses that made her look a little bit like an owl.

“Well, dear. I don’t know if I would go straight into the hard liquor on a first date. On my last first date, we had a delicious red wine, a Merlot. Couldn’t that be something? Are you going to eat anything?”

“Oh yes, she said she’d cook for us, but I don’t know what exactly.”

The shop owner gently put a hand on your arm and guided you to a shelf of dark bottles.

“Well, Merlot goes well with any food, so I think it would be perfect. Cocktails come later, when you dress up and go out together or after a night of theater.” You felt a surge of warmth spread through your chest. Theater? Well, why not? For a second, you began to trail off, imagining Abby in a perfectly tailored suit, you at her arm just as dressed up, every head turning as you entered the room and ordered Gin Tonics at the bar during the break. The voice next to you pulled you back to the present.

“If you’re cooking at home, wine is the thing to bring, trust me.”

“I trust you,” you said with a smile as you took the bottle she handed you. The label was a creamy white, with beautiful golden letters. Hopefully this wouldn’t bankrupt you. “Thank you for your help.”

The shopkeeper sat back down in her chair with a sigh and typed into the cash register. 15.99$. That wasn’t so bad. You paid and gently put the bottle inside your backpack.

“You know, you should come by soon and let me know how it went. I think that Merlot will bring you good luck. My wife and I still have it every Sunday.” Your head snapped up and your eyes met that charming, smart twinkle again, flashing at you out of dark brown irises. For a moment, all of the things you wanted to say were stuck in your throat, then you just broke into a smile.

“That’s wonderful, ma’am. I hope I can have that, in the future.”

“Of course you will, dear.” She really sounded like she meant it. A small lump suddenly appeared in your throat.

“Thank you so much. I wish you all the best.”

“Go get her!”

You laughed and waved at her again as you exited the shop, taking the warmth and comfort of it with you and tucking it right beneath the bottom of your heart and the top of your stomach where you knew it would fuel you for a few days. You had already decided that you would come back and make it your mission to befriend that old lady. What a wonderful woman.

Only 23 hours to go. That night, it was almost impossible to fall asleep.

You got through the next day by once again banning any thought of the evening from your mind and diving head first into your assignments. You were going to lead a discussion on different planes of language or communications in women’s art and literature and reading up on the historical differences between male and female narratives, beginning with the ancient poet Sappho. It was an exciting topic, something you were extremely thankful for. Otherwise you might have been looking at your phone every 3 minutes instead of every 20. Of course, no message from Abby.

The bottle of wine was standing on your nightstand, reminding you of your plans with an exciting tingle in your stomach. At 4pm, you gave up on doing anything productive. You spent forever in the shower, stealing some of Leah’s expensive pink body scrub, shaving everywhere and regretting it immediately because you felt stupid for assuming anything, entertaining the but what if thoughts while you thoroughly lathered your entire body in Leah’s shampoo and shower gel and spending a good 10 minutes just standing under the hot water because you weren’t ready to leave that fantasy yet. When you stepped out of the shower, the bathroom was an actual steam bath and you could hardly see the door through the thick waves of wonderfully scented fog. You took your time stealing some more of Leah’s skincare products, having come to the conclusion that if she noticed anything and scolded you for it, you might as well try out the whole arsenal.

When you finally opened your closet door, feeling luxurious and clean and fresh, it was 5.10pm. What the hell were you going to wear? You and Mark had agreed on casual, but what the hell did that even mean? You decided to ask him.

-Help!!! Freaking out over my outfit, need a definition for casual

-Jeans and T-Shirt, just your standard outfit. Imagine meeting me for sushi.

-I’m bringing red wine. It seems wrong to bring wine in jeans and a t-shirt..

-What happened to cocktails?? Trust me, keep it simple. You don’t wanna turn up in a dress and she opens the door in sweatpants.

-I don’t think I’ve ever seen her in sweatpants. Ughh fuck I don’t have time for this. Jeans and t-shirt it is. Lesbian grandma recommended wine, I’ll tell you about it tomorrow x

-Go get her x

You quickly slipped into some black jeans that were just the right amount of tightly fitting around your ass and a white shirt with a tiny pomegranate embroidered on the front. Then you put on your jacket and quickly threw your wallet, phone and keys into a tote before grabbing the wine and putting it in as well. With a last look into the hallway mirror and a yelled goodbye to Leah, you rushed out of your apartment.

The evening air was not as cool as you had expected and the sun was just about to set. On your way to the train station, you typed out an on my way! message to Abby and quickly deleted it again. No sense in sending it now when you hadn’t spoken since Sunday and were about to see her. The train ride was annoying, the wagon stuffed with commuters and some guy trying to convince you the apocalypse was upon you all. Zombies, not the last judgement - something different at least.

During the walk from the station to Abby’s house, you were sure it wouldn’t take much more for you to actually start levitating. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your throat was so cramped up it was hard to breathe. When you pulled out your phone, your fingers were actually shaking. Jesus Christ, get a grip. 5.58 pm.

And there it was, 2425 Constance. Just a normal suburban white house, like any other in the street. It actually seemed a bit weird, Manny and Abby living here in the midst of what seemed to be a family neighborhood with real adults . Then again, they both weren’t in college, so you supposed they actually were real adults. When you walked up to the front door, you could hear faint music from inside - jazz? You wouldn’t have guessed she was the jazz type, but then again you knew almost nothing about her. Right. Ask questions, keep the conversation about her. Be cool.

You knocked.

Abby opened the door, a wave of warm air hitting you from inside. It smelled delightful. Her face was slightly flushed, her lips parted as she took in a deep breath. She had tied her hair back in a low bun, but a few strands had fallen out and framed her face. One was standing up in a funny angle.

“Hi, Abby,” you said, trying to keep your voice level and not stare at her body. Fuck, she had dressed up. And she looked hot.

“Hi!” A smile slowly grew wide on her face. When she realized that she was blocking the door, she quickly shook her head and stepped aside. “Come in! Can I take your jacket?”

Oh God, this was hopeless. You already knew you were hers. Thanking her, you took off your jacket and she hung it in a closet next to the entrance. When she turned around, you got a chance to admire her fully. She wore wide dress pants that perfectly accentuated all of her muscles, topped with a loose white shirt with wide sleeves, reminding you a little bit of a pirate. Her jewelry rounded off the pirate look and you had to bite back a grin. She raised her eyebrows at you.

“What?” Her cheeks were still slightly red, but you attributed it to standing in a hot kitchen for probably the last hour, judging by the variety of smells overlapping and mixing together, already making your mouth water.

“Uh, I brought wine,” you said and held out the bottle. Eloquent as always. Abby took it and whistled through her teeth as she inspected the label.

“That looks classic. The sauce I made has some wine in it as well, this is perfect. Thank you, what a great idea!”

You were overwhelmed with her generous praise and didn’t know where to look, so you settled on her hands. You had always sneaked looks at her hands, at the way she held a glass or drummed on a table or clasped them when she was intently listening to someone. They looked strong and rough from work, but there was also a delicacy in their movement and you were sure her touch could be as gentle as the brush of a hummingbird flying past. Realizing you were staring, you tore your gaze away.

“It smells delicious in here, I can’t wait to see what you cooked.” You followed her into the kitchen, where she placed the bottle on the counter and took a corkscrew from a drawer. A big red pot was standing on the gas stove over a tiny flame, the lid still hiding its contents. Your stomach suddenly growled loudly into the silence.

“Someone’s hungry.” Abby gave you a side glance and an amused smirk as she screwed the silver device into the cork. “Everything’s already set, we can get started right away.”

You covered your eyes with your hand for a second before laughing.

“Yeah, I kind of forgot to have lunch earlier and then I figured I’d just wait so I could really savour this.”

“Smart thinking. I made patates au vin , a vegetarian version of coq au vin which is chicken in wine. It’s basically potatoes and vegetables in a thick brown sauce, served with some good rustic bread.” You couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling back at the thought of getting to eat home cooked french cuisine made by Abby in a few minutes.

“Oh my God, say that again.” You could barely stop yourself from moaning. Abby laughed and opened the wine with a loud pop.

“Here, take this over to the dinner table. I’m right behind you.” You took the bottle and followed her nod into the dining room. The wooden table was beautifully set with big and small plates, glasses for water and wine, candles, two blue glass bottles of water and a bowl of salad topped with what looked like apples, pomegranate seeds and feta cheese. You carefully placed the bottle of wine next to the water bottles and stepped aside for Abby, who came out of the kitchen carrying the heavy pot and placed it on a cork coaster in the middle of the table.

“Wait, let me just…” she trailed off as she grabbed her phone from the sideboard and changed the music. A saxophone led a jazz band into the song before a beautiful female voice set in, soft as butter and filling the room like the smell of roses. The voice was familiar to you, but you couldn’t quite place it. As Abby sat down, the music came to a crescendo before breaking off, the voice setting in again with a soft

is it a crime?

“Who sings this?” you asked as Abby opened the water bottle and filled your glasses.

“Oh, it’s Sade. She was my dad’s favorite.”

And I want you to want me too, the woman sang, and your eyes met over the table. You swallowed. Was? Not the right time.

“Sade? Oh, she sings Smooth Operator, right? I know that one, but I never checked out more of her music.”

Abby smiled at you and opened the lid of the pot.

“Yeah. This is the Promise album, my favorite. She is a force.”

A wave of steam erupted from the pot and you bent forward to look inside. Thick, roasted wedges of yellow potatoes lay in a bed of orange and purple carrots, mushrooms and tomatoes in a thick brown sauce, a stalk of thyme on top and a bay leaf poking out from the sauce. You weren’t sure if you were drooling, but you didn’t care.

“Abby, oh my God! This is fantastic.”

A spark had lit in her eyes when she heard you say her name. She elegantly stood up again, grabbed a serving spoon, and held out her hand for your plate. You watched her hands again as she plated an array of vegetables for you and used the spoon to draw a little sauce heart on the rim of the plate. Your ribs felt two sizes too small around your chest. This woman was actually going to be the death of you.

“Thanks,” you quietly said and waited as Abby helped herself to a plate. She sat down and gestured toward the small basket with thick slices of grey bread with a dark brown crust.

“Help yourself. Bon appétit.”

After a few moments of eating in comfortable silence before you showered the blonde in an array of compliments, this time not able to refrain from moaning when you bit into a tender, sweet purple carrot, the conversation began to flow. Abby complimented the wine, you talked about your studies, Abby told a few work stories in which both she and Nora were involved, you told her about your close relationship with your brother and she bittersweetly reminisced about her upbringing as an only child with a single dad. It had just been the two of them, moving frequently because of his changing jobs in different hospitals. He had been a neurosurgeon, and a brilliant one at that, but always humble and ready to help wherever he could. Abby sat up straighter when she talked about him, her chest actually swelling with pride when she told you about one time they had rescued an injured horse that had run away and been hit by a car in front of them.

“I think I was 16 back then. It’s one of my favorite memories of him. It actually wasn’t long before…” Her eyebrows moved into a frown and she bit her lip, pushing a small piece of onion around her plate. Fuck, maybe it would have been easier to talk about you, after all.

“We don’t have to talk about it. You can tell me when you’re ready.”

She looked up and you expected to see tears, but her eyes were full of love and her face smoothed out into a gentle smile.

“No, it’s okay. I’m still working on it, and part of my therapy is telling people who don’t know yet. You know, I don’t really have a lot of friends.” She suddenly laughed, easing the tension at the bottom of your lungs. “That sounds stupid, of course I do. I have Manny and Nora and Leah and Jordan and Owen, I guess. But the thing is, they all knew me before. I haven’t really made friends ever since my dad.. passed away. The idea of needing to open up to someone about all this so I can develop a real connection and friendship with them is just a lot to bear.”

“The mortifying ordeal of being known,” you mumbled, more to yourself, crumpling up your napkin in one hand.

“Sorry?”

“Oh, it’s this quote from a New York Times article that has been floating around the internet for a while. ‘If we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known’.” You looked up at her and inhaled deeply. “It’s something I’m also terrified of. Although it seems kind of stupid sometimes, because compared to you for example, I don’t really have a good reason.”

Abby looks at you like she’s just discovered something extremely interesting. She takes a sip of her wine before answering, her silver rings blinking at you in the candlelight.

“It’s not at all stupid. I’ve always been very careful with who I open up to, even before my dad died. It’s horrifying, laying yourself bare for a person, putting yourself on a silver plate and handing it to them and saying there, now do with it what you wish. Maybe they’ll look at it and say no, thanks. Maybe they’ll call everyone and say hey, look at this mad woman with her twisted insides, isn’t that funny? Maybe they’ll see it and think, I can do this, and then after a few years they suddenly realize they actually can’t and you’re way too much and so they leave for someone with a more simple, prettier silver plate. Maybe they’ll even take a few pieces with them as they go.”

She didn’t sound bitter as she said it, and she didn’t look terribly sad either, more as if she was making an observation about something she was mildly interested in. You didn’t know what to say except for show me your silver plate, please show me your all, and I will devour it, savor it, keep it with me forever. But you stayed silent, your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.

“I’m quite the handful, am I? Sorry, I shouldn’t have thrown all this” - she gestured toward herself - “at you during our first date.” Then her eyes widened as she realized what she had said. “Fuck, sorry, I just assumed… you probably don’t…”

Finally, movement came back into you. You jumped from your chair and were next to her in a few paces. She lifted a hand and you took it in yours.

“Of course this is a date,” you said gently and smiled at her. “Otherwise why would I have been this nervous for the past three days, thinking of nothing but you, constantly checking my phone to see if you texted me? And I brought red wine, come on.” That brought a smile to her face. She chuckled lightly.

“So I haven’t just ruined everything?” The hope in her eyes was mixed with real, honest fear.

“No, of course not. I’m glad you’re being open with me. You know, I planned not to reveal too much about myself tonight, fearing I would scare you away or say something stupid and make you suddenly lose interest.”

The current song ended and a soft, funky beat came on. There it was again, that twinkle in Abby’s eyes. Your hands were still clasped around hers and she made no move to pull back.

“Well, now I can’t wait to see what you have in store for me. Lay it on me. Over dessert, maybe?”

You raised your eyebrows.

“There’s dessert? You’re going to have to roll me out of here later.”

She laughed, warm and genuine, and the pride you had felt back in The Closet filled your chest again. You would do anything just to be the one to make her laugh every day for the rest of your life. She got up and you both started clearing the table together.

Never going to know

What fate is going to blow

Your way, just hope that it feels right

Could that Sade lady be any more on the nose? You risked a glance at Abby, who was smiling to herself. You followed her into the kitchen and she opened the fridge to produce a large glass dish, showing the several layers of biscuit and white cream, topped with dark cacao.

“Tiramisu? Seriously Abby, how much time did you spend in the kitchen today?”

She gave you a crooked grin before exiting the kitchen.

“Took the day off.”

You just sighed and went back into the dining room.

Such a fine time as this

“Here.” Abby handed you a small plate with a piece of her gourmet tiramisu. Your fingers brushed against each other and you both paused for just the blink of an eye.

What could equal the bliss

The thrill of the first kiss

You sat down and grabbed the small fork left next to your wine glass. On second thought, you took another sip of Merlot. It really was exquisite.

“Buon’ appetito,” you said and sliced off a perfect edge of tiramisu. The soft, coffee-drenched biscuit fell apart on your tongue, mixing with the heavy vanilla-flavored mascarpone. “Did you know where the name tiramisu comes from?”

Abby lifted her fork to her mouth and softly closed her lips around the piece of creamy dessert. You were entranced, watching her hand sink down to the table again, then her jaw moving and flexing as she chewed. She raised her eyebrows questioningly and you cleared your throat, taking another piece on your fork.

“ Tira mi su is Italian for ‘pull me down’. It’s the last thing you eat after dinner and the thing that makes you tired, pulls you right into the food coma. In restaurants, it rounds off the meal and guests will probably leave in the following hour because they feel they’re ready to go home.”

Never as good as the first time

Natural as the way we came to be

“Oh,” Abby said, her voice quiet. She looked up at you through dark lashes. “And are you going home after this?”

“No.” You said it without thinking, only knowing what was true in your heart. “I don’t want to.”

“I’m glad.” Taking a deep breath, Abby straightened up, then reached a hand across the table, her palm facing up. You stared at it for a fraction of a second before placing your hand in hers, feeling something fall into place inside you. The glances you exchanged said so much more than you could possibly dare to say out loud right now.

You used your free hand to stab the last piece of tiramisu. This time it was Abby who was watching you with hungry eyes as the fork vanished between your lips and emerged clean.

“This tiramisu could be the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my life,” you said after swallowing and Abby’s fingers twitched ever so slightly around your hand.

“Thank you. I’m really into French and Italian cuisine, as you may have noticed.”

You leaned back in your chair, careful not to pull back your hand.

“I couldn’t do it, honestly. Spending so much time in the kitchen. Especially not with a job like yours, on your feet all day. I’d probably survive off of pasta and takeout.”

Abby smiled and began slowly drawing circles on the back of your hand with her thumb. You were already hyper-aware of how your blood rushed through every vein of your body, a side-effect of the red wine, but now it came to a roar in your ears.

“I guess I need some kind of hobby besides lifting weights. It calms me down. And it’s not just about the end result, about getting to eat something, but also about picking the right ingredients, taking my time cutting them up, trying new recipes with new flavors, and learning more about food and culture, and honestly about myself. It’s like meditating.”

“That sounds…” you were at a loss for words, “unbelievable? I’ve never heard someone talk about cooking like that. And I’ve never felt that way about it, too. I guess I’d like to, though. It sounds nice.”

Abby brushed her thumb over your knuckles.

“Well, I could show you.” You tilted your head slightly. “I mean, we could cook together. Next time. If you want to?”

Sade’s voice, smooth as polished wood and dripping with honey cut into the moment.

How could I have doubted

Honey, it's with me that you belong

“Yeah, I’d love to. What do you have in mind?”

“Do you like lasagna? We could make a vegetable lasagna and substitute the meat for soy. I could show you how to make a béchamel.”

You laughed and squeezed her hand.

“I love lasagna, although I have no idea what a beshmel is.”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” Abby’s face was glowing with happiness.

As the last two songs of the album played, you helped Abby clean up the table. You got into an argument about doing the dishes - Abby said she’d do it later but you insisted you would do them now or at least help because so far you had not lifted a finger.

“Come on, Abby, please let me help?” You tried your best doe eyes at her. She grinned and playfully slapped your upper arm.

“Okay. But I’ll put on different music.”

She vanished to the dining room while you began filling the sink with water. A high note filled the room before a man spoke.

You broke my heart / 'Cause I couldn't dance

You didn't even want me around

And now I'm back / To let you know

I can really shake 'em down

Abby stepped into your field of vision. The music set in, a delightful 60’s rock and roll melody, and Abby began dancing toward you with tiny steps and shaking shoulders. She was lip synching to the coarse voice of the singer and reaching out her hands for you. Snapping out of your frozen position, you shook your head, grabbed her hands, and were immediately twirled through the kitchen. A squeak escaped you as Abby pulled you back toward her and with another pirouette, you almost slammed into her chest. You both laughed out loud, continuing to dance through the kitchen with big, overexaggerated moves, flailing your arms and shuffling your feet across the tile.

I can do the twist

Now, tell me baby

Do you like it like this?

You quickly began singing along to the simple lyrics and both of you were giggling at each other’s dance moves. The next song was Stand By Me and you both settled down, beginning to clean the pots and dishes. You did the washing while Abby dried off the pieces you gave her and put them back into the right cupboards. Both of you were swaying and humming along to the music.

During the second chorus, both of you began belting along, filling the kitchen with the wonderfully familiar sound of slightly drunk women singing together. As the song ended, you both comically froze and waited for the next song to set in. When it was La Bamba by Ritchie Valens, you both continued singing along and showing off some probably terrible salsa moves. You were done in no time and Abby took your hand, pulling you into the dining room and sliding across the wooden floors with you. Your stomach hurt from laughing and you couldn’t stop smiling.

Next came the bittersweet Be My Baby by the Ronettes, a song you remembered from your childhood, vague memories of your parents slow dancing together after another terrible fight. You swallowed down the hint of bitterness creeping up from your stomach. Instead, you looked up at Abby, almost a full head taller than you, and dared yourself to step forward. You placed your right hand in Abby’s and your left on her tricep, coming unbearably and exhilaratingly close. Abby put her hand on your back, right below your shoulder blade, warming you through the fabric of your shirt. Your faces were incredibly close, her breath warm on your nose, and you could have counted every single freckle on her beautiful face. There was a slim ring of gold around her pupil, complimenting the green of her iris. She was breathtaking.

You couldn’t take this any longer. Should you kiss her? Everything inside you wanted to, but you couldn’t bring yourself to close the last inch of distance. It felt like wanting to do a handstand but pulling back at the last second every time because of a deep fear of failing and hurting yourself. It was terribly frustrating.

Instead, you leaned your head against the round muscle of Abby’s shoulder, turning your face toward her chest and pressing your temple to her collarbone. You could smell the herbs she had used to cook earlier in the fabric of her shirt, but her skin smelled like pine and something else, earthy and dark, like tree bark or wool. Abby rested her chin against your forehead and her low hum of contentment vibrated against your cheek.

A light waltz melody began, Unchained Melody, a song you knew from some commercial and had listened to for a few weeks straight after.

I need your love

God speed your love to me

You smiled to yourself and could sense Abby was doing the same. You kept slowly turning, dancing through the candle-lit room and swaying side to side. The band set in louder and you lifted your head again. Abby’s eyes were fixed to yours, but you couldn’t stop yours from wandering lower, finding those perfectly pink lips, hanging open ever so slightly. Your hand wandered upward, along her shoulder, and to the back of her neck. As the last verse of the song began, you stood on your tiptoes and brushed your lips against her. Abby inhaled sharply, her fingers spreading on your back and pressing against your skin. You gently pressed your lips to hers again and this time, she kissed you back. You dug your fingertips into the back of her neck, desperately wanting to come closer, to pull her down to you, hell, you would climb her like a tree if you had to.

Feeling courageous, you stuck your tongue out and ran the tip upward over her lips. Abby instantly reacted, opening her mouth for you and greeting your tongue with hers. She tasted like wine and cacao, and faintly like thyme. Releasing your hand, she wrapped her arms around your waist. You reached up and buried your hand in her hair. She gasped into your mouth. You tucked that sound away for later, swearing to yourself you would make her do it again as often as you could.

A few seconds of silence between songs were disrupted by your wonderfully frivolous wet kissing sounds and a small whine that escaped you when Abby’s hand wandered lower to cup your ass. The first guitar chords of Nights In White Satin vibrated through the air and Abby grabbed you tightly before lifting you off the ground and wrapping your legs around her hips. She carried you over to the dining table and set you down.

The dramatic crescendo in the song you loved so much began.

And I love you

Yes I love you

Oh, how I love you

The singer’s voice filled every corner of the room, his declaration hovering above you, the high voices of the background singers ringing in your ears and Abby’s hands everywhere, her body leaning over you, her hips pressed between your legs. You flexed your legs to pull her in closer, almost falling apart when Abby let out a low moan and rocked her hips forward against you. Then she suddenly slowed down and broke the kiss.

“Wait, let’s talk for a second.”

You kept your legs clamped around her, but relaxed back a little, brushing back a strand of hair from her forehead and giving her an encouraging nod to go ahead.

“I haven’t… I’m not that experienced with - with women. And generally. And I don’t want to rush things and do something wrong and lose you. I don’t really know how this works and I want to do it right.”

Her hands on your waist tightened slightly. You gave her a shy smile.

“Me neither. I’m scared, too.” You surprised yourself with your openness. “How about we take this slow, then? Talk about everything openly? And just go one step at a time?”

Abby nodded and pulled you closer again.

Holding Back The Years began playing.

“One kiss at a time.” She gave you a gentle peck on the lips.

“Oh, really? I would have never picked you as the sappy type,” you laughed against her lips.

“You wouldn’t?” She acted shocked. “Let me remind you of how I took the day off to cook a gourmet french dish for you.”

“True.” You shrugged and pulled her in for another kiss. “It’s probably the muscles. With those guns, you can do anything and still be taken seriously.”

Abby snorted and you realized that had been the wine talking. For a second, you were mortified, then she scooped you up again, holding your body with one arm as she ran her free hand through your hair.

“Oh, those? You know, they’re specifically for carrying you around all day. Anything for my - princess.” You had very well noticed the little pause there, but you decided not to say anything yet. Instead, you lifted your chin and eyebrows, imitating what you thought a royal would look like.

“Well, what does that make you? You’re obviously not a prince. My lady knight?”

Abby nodded solemnly.

“Sworn to protect and defend you. And to carry you wherever.”

“Well, do you have a sofa you could carry me to?” You tightened your hold on her shoulders and leaned in closer again.

“Of course, my lady.”

Abby carried you through a doorway at the back of the dining room into a cozy living room, equipped with a large sofa and a gigantic flatscreen tv, two vintage armchairs, a wooden bookshelf with at least 100 books, and a desk facing the window, medical books spread across the surface. The blonde sat down on the sofa and you knelt left and right of her hips, straddling her as you gave her another soft kiss.

“You know,” you began, “I’ve been crushing on you for months now. I thought you had absolutely no interest in me. I didn’t even know you liked women.”

Abby’s eyes widened at your confession.

“Shit, I had no idea. You weren’t exactly forward, you know. The first time we met, you already had this pull on me. But you were so shy and I didn’t want to jump you or annoy you, so I tried to keep my distance and wait if you would come around.”

“You have Leah to thank for that. Me coming around. I kind of forgot to come out to her until karaoke night and she told me you were dating women as well. She knows I’ve been a hopeless case when it comes to you, but she wanted me to figure this out on my own.”

Abby thought about this for a second.

“Yeah, Leah probably only told you because she knew I liked you, too. I haven’t been that open about dating women in the past, just because talking about dating in general was weird with Owen and Mel around and I also just don’t like everyone knowing my personal business.”

“I get that.” You nodded. “As I said, I hadn’t even been out to Leah. Mostly because I haven’t dated anyone in forever and the last time was a disaster not worth talking about.” You winced at the memory.

“You wanna tell me anyway?”

You thought about it for a second, then you climbed off Abby’s lap and laid down on the sofa, resting your head on her thigh. Her fingers immediately began brushing through your hair and massaging your scalp.

“Well, I met this girl during a freshman party at a sorority house the weekend before my first semester in college,” you began. You had felt weirdly out of place, but were determined to speak to at least one person. A few hours and an almost-lethal amount of tequila later, the girl you had talked to all night had dragged you into one of the bedrooms. You both had no previous experience, were extremely drunk and it was already 5am. You had fun making out and were both eager to try more, but it had been more out of curiosity than desire for each other and so the experience had not ended in the expected bliss of lesbian sex. Rather, she had come pretty quickly and afterward she'd begun crying and told you she had a boyfriend, and you had gotten dressed and fled the house. After that, dating in college was not really something you thought about much.

Abby listened to your story with interest and sympathy, laughing at a few parts and stroking your hair as you told her about the end of that fateful night. She felt deeply sorry for your experience of strangeness and betrayal, immediately promising to you that she would always tell you what was going on inside her head and what she wanted.

“Like you just did,” you smiled at her. “That was brave. It’s what I should have done that night.”

“I mean, I had a few weird moments, too, before I learned to speak my mind.” Abby’s gaze unfocused and she frowned as she clearly recalled some not very pleasant memories.

“Wanna tell me, too?” you asked, keeping your voice light. She nodded, looking down at you again.

“I mean, there's Owen, obviously. That didn’t work out well and now he is with Mel, leaving me wondering if he was interested in her while we were still together. After we broke up, Nora and I went on a little bender.” Your heart jumped into your throat. Did Abby and Nora...? A wave of jealousy rose from the bottom of your stomach, but you forced yourself to keep your calm, smiling at Abby as she continued.

“We spent every weekend at a different bar, and one of them was actually at The Closet. Nora was making out with a woman in actual overalls” - she snorted - “and I just hung out at the bar, drinking Long Islands and not brave enough to make eye contact with anyone. And then the bartender started talking to me.”

Suddenly realization dawned on you. You sat up and stared at Abby.

“Wait, Ellie? The short-haired one?”

Abby grimaced.

“Yeah. We talked for a while and I came back the next week with Leah and Jordan. They didn’t even notice I was spending a lot of time at the bar. Ellie and I met for coffee a few days later and I mentioned my dad and she got really quiet and strange. Turns out, she’s related to the guy that murdered my dad, so...”

You were pretty sure your heart stopped for a moment, all the air in your chest building up pressure as you tried to figure out how to breathe out. Abby noticed and gently guided you to lay back down, continuing to weave her fingers into your hair.

“It’s okay, Y/N. I’ll tell you the whole story another time. So yeah, Ellie and I. It was horrible, but we still stayed and talked for a while. She couldn’t tell me a lot about what happened, but she had no idea that I even existed and she was about to have a panic attack over it all. I helped her calm down and then she felt terrible for reacting so badly when it should be me panicking and I just told her that there’s nothing any of us can do now and we should probably leave it at that.” She sighed. “I hadn’t been to The Closet until a few days ago. I only came because I knew you’d be there.”

“Fuck, that’s terrible,” you mumbled. “I don’t think I could have gone back there. I’m still glad you did, though.”

“Me too,” Abby said, her voice gentle and honest. She leaned down to kiss you, deeply and passionately.

You stayed on the sofa for the next few hours, talking about school crushes and gay awakenings, about women constantly hitting on Abby and her being confused for a long time. She told you more about her relationship with Mel and you started to actually resent that woman. Who did she think she was? You told Abby about living with Leah and about your current research projects and she listened intently, asking a lot of questions about the art you were analyzing. You began diving into queer art and Sappho and your theory on the different languages of different social groups. Abby actually gave you some great new ideas and some good questions you couldn’t yet answer and you were actually beginning to look forward to writing tomorrow.

As the clock moved past midnight, it became clear you would have to leave at some point soon. Abby had to get up at 7 in the morning for a 10-hour shift, and you had stifled one too many yawns. You were cuddled up on the couch, kisses interchanging with long, deep conversations and more kisses.

“I can accompany you to the station,” Abby suggested as you looked up the departure times on your phone.

“You don’t have to. That’s sweet of you, but I’ll find the way.” You kissed her for her generosity, but she pulled back.

“Honestly. I don’t want you walking alone. I’ll go with you.” A sheepish smile appeared on her face and she did a tiny bow. “My lady.”

You rolled your eyes and got up, making your way to the entrance hall. Abby gently helped you into your coat and put on a black bomber jacket, a strange but hot combination with her fancy pants. She opened the door for you and you stepped out into the cold night together.

You held hands on the way to the station, stopping at every corner to make out, laughing together, and making plans for your lasagna night. You would come over on Thursday, promising to yourself you would finish all your coursework until then. Manny would come back on Friday, so you’d have the house to yourself again.

You arrived at the station way too soon, but your train was announced to arrive in two minutes. Heavy-hearted, you flung your arms around the tall blonde and she wrapped hers around your waist, lifting you up for another deep kiss.

“I can’t wait to see you again,” she whispered against your lips.

“I’ll even dress up next time,” you mumbled and she grinned at you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything but jeans and a t-shirt. I’m excited.” Well, now you had to go shopping. Leah would be delighted to go with you.

You pressed a last kiss to Abby’s lips before unwrapping yourself from her arms as the train rolled into the station. As you stepped away, she caught your hand and pulled you back for another one, cheekily running her tongue over your bottom lip. You sighed and kissed her hand, wrapped firmly around yours, before stepping back and boarding the train. You waved at her through the window as you departed and watched her stand on the platform until she was out of sight.

Letting yourself fall into one of the seats, you pulled out your phone and texted your brother.

-We kissed!!!! Call me when you can

Then you texted Leah about shopping tomorrow, just able to send the text before your phone vibrated with a new message.

-You looked beautiful tonight. I’m the luckiest person in the world.

You tried to keep your squeal as quiet as possible. A woman a few seats ahead of you briefly looked up from her phone.

-Can’t believe I have a personal knight who will carry me wherever I want to go

The reply came in seconds.

-Anywhere and anything you want. Text me when you’re home!

-Can I text you before I’m home? I miss you already :(

You had to wait a few minutes before your phone vibrated again. This time, Abby was calling.

“Sorry, I was cleaning up and getting ready for bed.” She sounded a bit breathless.

“No worries,” you said. “What are you wearing for bed?”

Abby let out a surprised laugh.

“Really, now?”

“I’m serious. I want to imagine being with you.”

“Well, I’m wearing a gigantic black t-shirt with a ton of holes and boxers.”

You closed your eyes, envisioning Abby’s thighs straining against the hem of her shorts and the soft cotton of her shirt that you could bury your face in. She would smell like nature and like home somewhere far away.

“I wish I was there.” You noticed you were sounding desperate. Fucking hell, were you about to turn into a 13-year-old? You could hear the smile in Abby’s voice when she spoke.

“I wish you were here with me, too.” She paused for a moment. Then, “Do you want to sleep over on Thursday?”

“Uhm -” you had to think for a second, remembering you only had dinner plans for Friday with your mom. Before you could answer, Abby cut in again

“Fuck, am I rushing you? I didn’t mean - I just thought it would be nice, falling asleep together. But I totally get if that’s -”

“Abby! Of course I want to stay over!” You clenched your free hand into a fist, punching your thigh a few times in order to divert the explosion of energy inside your chest.

“Oh, thank god,” Abby’s shaky laugh was heart-wrenching. “I thought I messed up already.”

You stood up to exit at your station.

“No, not at all. I’d love to fall asleep with you.”

The way to your apartment was over faster than you wanted it to be.

“I’m home now. I think I should hang up, Leah is probably sleeping.”

“Yeah, don’t wake the monster.” Abby chuckled.

“Good night, Abby. Tonight was incredible.”

“Good night, Y/N. You’re incredible. Sleep tight.”

Author's note: Thank you so much for your comments and kudos! If you'd like to support me, you can buy me a coffee here

#abby anderson #abby tlou #abby tlou2 #the last of us 2 #tlou abby #abigail anderson #abby fic #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson fanfiction #ellie #ellie tlou #leah tlou #jordan tlou #owen moore #owen x mel #mel tlou #owen tlou #abby x reader #abby anderson x reader

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rhysismydaddy · 3 years

Text

Casual Ruin Pt. 3 (Elriel)

Elain’s part of the Damnation Series.

Part 1 | Part 2

God help yall this shit was a rollercoaster to write

________________________________________________

~Elain~

For a second, no one breathes, let alone moves.

Azriel’s hands are steady as he grips the gun, body lined with tension, eyes so cold I shiver. The barrel’s close enough that if I leaned forward an inch, it’d brush my forehead.

The man next to him holds a cigarette halfway to his mouth, looking at me like he’s never seen a woman before and has absolutely no idea what to do.

And me? I’m frozen in place, horror rushing through my veins and mixing with the shock to create a nauseating cocktail I’m not sure I’ll survive.

It’s the brutalized man in the chair slumping over and hitting the floor with a loud thud that finally snaps us out of our momentary haze.

Azriel blinks and throws the gun to the side so hard it makes a dent in the wall, the stranger drops his cigarette and reaches for me, and I sprint like my fucking life depends on it. Because at this point, I’m pretty sure it might.

What the hell did I walk into?

I race up the stairs toward the garage, where less than a minute ago, I’d heard Azriel’s voice and gone to surprise him. By the look on his face when he turned around, I’d at least succeeded in that.

I can practically feel the man behind me, can tell he’s reaching a hand out to grab me.

I’ve never been a violent person in my life, but with the amount of adrenaline coursing through me, I don’t even question the urge to use the wine bottle in my hands as a weapon.

It breaks over the man’s head, but unlike in the movies, he doesn’t go down immediately. However, he does lose his balance enough that with a firm shove to his chest, he goes crashing back down to the hellhole I’m running from.

I make it to the garage and slam the door to the basement closed, locking it for good measure. Then I drag the heavy workbench next to the line of pristine cars over in front of it for even better measure.

I refuse to let myself stop and think, because I’m pretty sure if I do, I’ll break down into a pool of tears and never get up. I’m running on nothing but adrenaline, and I know I’ll crash soon, but I force myself to keep going.

For a moment, I’m tempted to steal one of the cars to get away, but the sound of angry Italian shouts behind the locked door makes me hesitant to waste any more time.

I also definitely don’t have time to call the cab driver that dropped me off and beg him to come back.

The fear and terror don’t give me time to doubt myself as I take my heels off, take off up the driveway, and pray I’m fast enough to escape the devil on my trail.

~Azriel~

“Get that goddamn door open,” I shout at Luca, who’s dripping wine all over the place and has a gash on his forehead from where little Elain Archeron shoved him down the stairs.

I almost fucking shot her in the head. Her.

Dolcezza mia. The girl I’m stupidly obsessed with. The one who’s always quick to smile--the same one who sighs when I kiss her and lights up when I walk into the room.

I almost shot her between those beautiful brown eyes, almost snuffed them out forever.

I run a hand over my face, listening to the sound of Luca throwing himself into the door repeatedly. “I’m trying, boss, but I think she pulled something in front of the door.”

Smart.

Fucking annoying as hell, but smart.

If I wasn’t so damn pissed at myself for not locking the basement door behind me and allowing her to find us down here, I’d be mildly impressed.

Two of the most dangerous men in Italy, trapped in the basement like idiots.

I pull up the app to track her phone--which was originally for her safety, not because I’m a complete stalker--and see that she’s on foot, going behind the houses instead of down the road. She probably thinks I’ll drive by her while she gets away right under my nose.

“Fuck,” I mutter, sending out a text to all my neighbors to tell them not to shoot the beautiful young woman trespassing through their properties. She has no idea the people around us have security systems better than the President’s. “Luca!”

“Working on it,” he grunts back.

“If that shit isn’t open in the next twenty seconds, you’re going in the incinerator after this asshole,” I warn, nudging the dead body on the floor with a boot.

The threat must work, because a second later, there’s a loud bang and the telltale sound of the workbench from my garage toppling over. “Got it!”

I storm up the stairs and tell him, “Run interference with the neighbors and local police. Anyone talks-”

“Got it,” he interrupts, grabbing his phone to start threatening people.

Pulling up the app again, I track the path she’s on, curse when I see she’s headed to the bus station about a mile from here, and take off after her.

Technically, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if she got away. She’d probably go to the police and tell them what she saw, not knowing that Marco, the deputy on duty, has been on my payroll since the day he passed the police entrance exam.

Having done her civic duty, she’d probably try to recover from the trauma of what she saw, eventually finish her classes and move on, and leave. Forgetting all about me in the process.

Technically, for her, this option would not be the worst thing in the world.

But in my head, it feels worse than being stabbed. In my head, there isn’t a question about it.

I’m going after her.

There’s this weird, itchy feeling in my chest I’ve never felt before as I run and run and try not to think about the look on her face as she saw the body fall to the floor.

I realize the feeling in my chest as panic, something I haven’t felt since I was a teenager getting booked for stealing my first car.

She knows.

She knows, and the look on her face... she looked at me like I’m a monster.

And fuck, maybe that’s true. Maybe I am beyond saving.

But having her look at me, and having her take away the easy smiles and bright eyes I’d grown strangely accustomed to... it feels like being robbed.

And it makes me panic.

So I’ll chase her, and catch her, and do whatever I have to do to get her back.

Because I need her, and damn if I’m going at this alone.

After a surprising amount of time, I see the thin outline of her off in the distance, sprinting like the devil himself is chasing her.

I take a deep breath and try to stay quiet, but it’s hopeless. Like she’s the one with the tracker on me, she can tell the second I’m close. I can see it from the way her shoulders go stiff and her pace increases.

“Elain!”

I call out again for her to stop, because I don’t want to tackle her and risk hurting her. She ignores me and keeps running, turning behind the coroner of one of my dealer’s house.

That sticky, awful, panicky feeling in my chest grows as she disappears from sight, and without thinking, I follow.

Which, if I had been thinking, I never would’ve done, because shit like this leaves you open to attack.

Which reminds me: I’ve now broken all three rules for this woman, because I don’t have a single weapon on me to defend us if something happens.

I hit the ground hard enough the wind rushes out of me and my stupid brain rattles around in my stupid skull.

Blinking through the blur, I look up to find Elain standing over me with an empty metal trashcan raised like a bat, ready to strike again.

I need to explain, need to talk to her, but all I can seem to say is her name.

“Elain,” I croak, trying to force air down my lungs.

As my vision clears, I notice she’s crying, beautiful face streaked with tears and dirt.

She pauses and looks at me, like the sight of me knocked on my ass hurts her just as much as it does me, then shakes her head to clear it.

She throws the trash can at me and turns to flee, but I know I can’t let her go, at least not like this. Grabbing her ankle, I yank her down to me, making sure she lands on me instead of the ground.

She screams, the sound scraping away another layer of the trust we’d built, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so desperate in my life. Elain flails around, but I use my weight to pin her, trying not to hurt her.

She has to let me explain. She has to.

I hate what I’m about to do, but the only other option I have is making her pass out the old fashion way, which I know I could never bring myself to do.

The second the needle goes into her neck, she goes stiff underneath me, looking at me with wide, panicked eyes.

“You drugged me,” she sobs, the betrayal in her voice making my chest hurt.

I brush the hair off her face, press my forehead to hers, and start telling her things I haven’t told another living soul.

I’ll never hurt you.

I’m sorry.

~Elain~

Am I dead?

Why does it feel like I got hit by a bus?

Where am I?

These three questions rattle around in my brain at the same time, all demanding answers, as soon as I open my eyes.

And the weird part is... I don’t have any.

I have no idea if I’m alive or dead, but the headache I have that seems permanently settled behind my eyes points to the latter.

I blink the haze in my brain away and realize I’m at my house in bed, but my extend of knowledge seems to stop there.

There’s a voice in my head whispering something, but it’s too quiet for me to understand what she’s saying. All I know is that I feel like I need to do something, need to get out of here.

I rub my sore eyes and see there’s a note on the bedside table, written in precise, calm handwriting I recognize better than my own.

Come downstairs.

He’s here? I thought I went to his house, not the other way around.

The blinds are closed, but when I make my way to the window and peak out, I see a dark night sky, the moon reflecting off the water and making everything seen calm.

What the hell happened to me?

I start to leave the room, intent on going downstairs and asking Azriel that very question.

Except as I’m passing by my closet, I see something.

Something small and so inconsequential, I almost don’t think anything about it.

Like I’m in a dream, I feel myself walk over to the corner of the room. I feel my knees hit the floor, see my finger extend to the floor and touch the tiny drop of liquid that caught my eye.

I pull back and look, and somehow, I’m not surprised to see that it’s blood.

The floors are dark enough I shouldn’t have been able to see it from so far away, but it’s like a part of me was looking for it.

And that’s when it comes back to me.

Coming to surprise him, seeing the door in his garage, going downstairs... I press a hand to my mouth and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to fight the tidal wave of nausea washing over me.

I remember seeing the blood first and wondering if someone was hurt, then coming further into the room to find myself in the middle of a nightmare. If I wasn’t so strangely sure it had been real, I would think it was a horror movie.

The man strapped down had been so brutalized, I doubt I would’ve recognized him even if I’d known him my whole life.

I remember running without a thought more, giving into the fight or flight impulse to get the hell out of there.

I remember hitting Azriel, seeing him fall to the ground and looking up at me with those deep, wounded eyes that will haunt me more than the torture he inflicted on that poor man.

Eyes that told me everything and nothing at the same time.

I remember looking into those eyes and crying at the pain in them that was surely reflected in my own.

And then nothing.

Why don’t I remember? How did I get back here?

I’m sorry.

I finally recall that last whispered promise, and if I hadn’t already been sitting on the floor, I would’ve fallen to my knees as I realize what happened.

He drugged me.

Azriel, the same man who slow-danced with me in an empty restaurant and drove me along the coast and held me in his sleep, drugged me.

And he’s downstairs.

I start to hyperventilate, because I don’t know what to do or what he’s planning to do. Why is he still here?

What am I going to do? Should I call the cops?

I realize I don’t have my phone, probably a countermeasure on his part.

I also realize there’s no way for me to run. I remember how fast he’d caught me, how easy it had been for him to render me useless.

There’s no escaping him. Not if he’s already down there waiting, evil plan cooking in his mind.

I have no other option, unless I want to stay in this room for the rest of my life.

So with confidence I don’t feel, I walk downstairs.

I find him sitting at my breakfast table, leaning back casually and sipping a cup of coffee despite the late hour.

The moonlight clings to him like it loves him, playing off of his sharp cheekbones and illuminating his features. His face is carefully blank, but there’s a flicker of something as he looks at me, something that seems almost like relief.

He’s calm and collected and everything I’m not, and it pisses me off. My world’s on fire, yet he’s sitting here like nothing’s wrong? And he’s drinking my coffee?

I stomp over to grab the stolen drink, then sit across from him and cross my arms.

And wait.

Because I sure as hell am not talking first.

He stayed because he has something to say. I don’t have anything to say to him.

For a long time, we just stare at each other, because he’s apparently playing by the same rules.

Then he accepts his defeat, sighs, and asks, “Why did you come to my house last night?”

I purse my lips, narrow my eyes, and try to stop myself from throwing the coffee in his face.

Because he said that almost like an accusation.

Like the problem is that I came over unannounced, not that he was torturing someone.

“I’m not justifying that with a response,” I eventually tell him.

He gives me a hard look. “Answer the question.”

Something about the entirely male way he demanded that, like he expects a response immediately, makes me tilt my head and ask so sweetly I almost choke, “Why? Are you going to torture me if I don’t?”

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, showing the first sign of imperfection I’ve ever seen from him. “What you saw-”

“Was horrifying, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

He acts like I didn’t even speak. “-was something I meant to keep private from you.”

I don’t tell him that’s pretty fucking obvious at this point.

Instead I ask, “Why?”

I’m not sure why I want to know, but it suddenly feels important.

He doesn’t takes his eyes off of me as he says, “Because you’re you. You shine so brightly it should be illegal, and you look at the world like it isn’t a terrible place. I didn’t want to take that from you.”

My throat feels uncomfortably tight all the sudden, but I clear it and say, “Well, you did.”

His jaw clenches, and he looks down. “I know. If I could go back and walk away, I would. Shit, I told myself I would more times than I can count. But I just... couldn’t. And I couldn’t tell you either. I wanted to, but I didn’t know how, Elain.”

The sound of my name on his lips makes my heart finally start beating again, but I still call him on his lie. “That isn’t why you never told me. You never told me because you knew I’d hate you the second you did.”

“Maybe,” he admits, looking back up at me. “But now you know, and I’m glad you do. You know everything now.”

It’s my turn to look down, because while I’d wanted to know the real him, I’d never imagined I’d find something like this.

“No, I don’t. I don’t know anything, because you haven’t explained anything.”

He tilts his head. “What needs explaining?”

I ask the obvious question. “Who do you work for?”

“Myself.”

Once again, I don’t feel like justifying that with a response. He still isn’t saying anything that explains what I saw or why he’d do that to someone.

If he isn’t going to say anything meaningful, I’m not having this conversation.

Eventually, he seems to realize this. Because he says, “I’m Capo of the Sicilian Outfit of the Cosa Nostra, Elain.”

I bite my lip so hard I taste blood, trying to keep my emotions in check. I don’t know how to feel, other than confused and angry.

“Any other questions?”

“Why did you drug me?”

If he just wanted to talk, he could’ve dragged me back to his place or maybe just say that. Not chase me down like a rapid animal.

“You were panicked, and I didn’t want to hurt you. I needed time to explain, needed to tell you this was never the plan.”

There’s something else there, and I narrow my eyes in a silent demand for him to continue.

Azriel sighs and admits, “My neighbors are business associates-” aka fellow criminals, “and I didn’t want them to hear you yelling and come to... investigate-” aka kill me, “or watch me get knocked unconscious by a twenty-four year old woman with a trash can.”

I give him a smug smile, more than ready to give him a repeat of that show, and try to decide what else to ask.

But before I get the chance, he says, “I don’t see why this changes anything.”

My mouth falls open.

He doesn’t see- is he serious? “You’re joking.”

“I’m not known for my humor.”

I’m still stunned into silence, so he tilts his head and asks, “Why does it matter? Why does what I do make me a different person?”

When I don’t answer, he says, “It doesn’t. Nothing I do will ever come near you. You won’t ever have to see it again. I promise.”

“It’s not about seeing it! It’s about knowing what you do when we’re not together. You kiss me goodbye, then go home and... there is absolutely no way I can go back to what we were doing before. You killed someone, Azriel.”

He straightens his cufflinks and shoots back, “He deserved it, Elain.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.”

“First off, murder is illegal. So is torture, which from the way that man looked, you’d definitely been inflicting on him. Not only is it illegal, it’s wrong! He was an innocent human being-”

“He wasn’t innocent.”

I keep going. “You aren’t judge, jury, and executioner! You-”

He’s on me before I can finish, sliding a hand over my mouth and leaning over my chair.

God, the man is fast. Has he always been that fast, or have I just never noticed?

“Let me explain something to you, Elain. On this island, I am. I decide who’s guilty, which he confessed to being. I decide the punishment, which was a bullet to the brain. I’m the executioner, and I pull the trigger myself, because I’m not a fucking coward.”

I fight his hold, trying to push him away, but he doesn’t even budge.

“I play by different rules, bellissima. Just because you’ve never been exposed to them, or my world, doesn’t mean it hasn’t always existed. I’m the judge, jury, executioner, and the goddamn king.”

A shiver goes down my spine at his words.

He pushes my head back, forcing me to meet his eyes. “And it doesn’t matter.”

I shake my head, bite his finger, push at his chest. But it doesn’t do any good.

“It doesn’t matter, because like I said, we live in two different worlds. I’d never let mine impact yours.”

I want to tell him that isn’t the problem, but his hand is still on my mouth.

“Have you even asked yourself why you’re not afraid?” he asks out of the blue, surprising me.

I stare blankly at him, no longer fighting, waiting for whatever he’s about to say.

“You’re scared of what I do, but you aren’t scared of me. Not really. If you were, you never would’ve come down those stairs.”

That’s why he looked relieved, I realize. He was worried I’d be scared of him.

Everything he’s saying makes sense, which makes no sense at all.

Because if he’s right, and he certainly seems to think he is, it begs the question... why aren’t I scared of him?

He seems to see my ask myself that, because he answers it a second later.

Eyes growing softer, he murmurs, “It’s because you know I’d never hurt you, nor would I let anyone else.”

I remember him whispering that right before I passed out. I’ll never hurt you.

He comes so close I can see the individual flecks of green in his dark hazel eyes. “I may do terrible things, and I’d do terrible things for you, Elain, but I’d never do them to you.”

“So you aren’t afraid. Just angry,” he concludes. Then he looks at me like he did the other day in the sea behind his house, right before he called me his. “Do you know why you’re angry, Elain?”

Currently, it’s because he’s explaining my emotions to me, which has to be the most male, obnoxious thing that’s ever happened in all of history.

But I have a feeling that isn’t what he’s talking about.

And I have another feeling that I’m not going to like what he’s about to say.

I take another glance at the look in his eyes and realize what he means, starting to fight again. I push at his chest and hands and try to get him to not say the words I know he’s going to.

It doesn’t work.

“You’re upset,” he says a moment later, slow and sure like always, “because I lied to you. You feel betrayed, like you don’t know me. But that isn’t why you’re angry.”

One hand on my face, the other in my hair, he holds me perfectly still as he whispers, “You’re angry because you were falling for me.”

I press my eyes closed, trying not to hear the words he’s saying as if that’ll make them any less true.

But it doesn’t, because they are true.

Every easy smile, midnight whisper, and lingering kiss he’s given me in the past month has given him a permanent place in my heart, and it hurts to have that all feel like a lie.

It hurts to look at him and not know if I recognize the person holding me.

A sob escapes me, which seems to confirm what he said, and he takes his hand off my mouth to wipe away a tear.

His brow comes to rest against mine, and I breathe him in, unable to stop myself.

There’s a war happening inside me, and it distracts me enough I don’t stop him from pulling me closer.

My heart plays me a montage of the past month, showing me countless moments where I’d been so positive I’d found paradise, so positive I’d found someone I could trust completely. It tells me Azriel has always felt like home, like something so inexplicably right I don’t even know how to describe it.

But my brain reminds me the hands cupping my cheeks softly are covered in blood and gunsmoke and victims’ tears. It tells me I’ve never really known the man I’m currently begging myself not to have feelings for.

The battle inside of me rages on, and I cry harder, not even knowing who I want to win.

It only gets harder to choose as he murmurs, “Ance io mi sto innamorando di te.”

I’m falling for you, too.

I don’t know what to do or feel or think, and I’m so helplessly confused it makes me want to scream.

Yet even though I’m confused, something about this makes sense. Something about knowing what he really does for a living makes everything in my head just click.

The way he’d redirect the conversation whenever I asked about his job. The way I’d always suspected him of hiding something about himself from me. The way every movement he’s ever made with me has been lined with restraint.

He could hurt me, has had the opportunity for months, but he never has. He’s always been careful with me, has always held and looked at me like I’m something precious to him.

My brain starts shifting to his side of the argument, and I can feel my morality ripping to shreds under his hands.

Before I can think, I shove him away, getting to my feet to point at the door. “Get out. You lied to me. You’re a murderer. A monster.”

Feelings or not, I know I can’t do this. I can’t just ignore what I saw, what he’ll continue to do. So he needs to leave.

He doesn’t.

Azriel just leans against the kitchen island counter and pulls out a cigarette, lighting it as he watches me for a long moment.

“Maybe I am,” he says eventually around a mouthful of smoke. “But just because I’m a monster, Elain, doesn’t mean I can’t give you what we both know you need. Nothing has to change.”

It already has.

“I don’t need anything from you.”

“No?”

“No.”

He prowls toward me, the intent shining so clear in his eyes I take a step back for every one he takes forward. My back hits a wall, and he traps me between it and himself, caging me in with strong arms.

The line between right and wrong, good and evil, seems to blur as he gets closer and closer, and by the time we’re sharing air, I don’t know which way is up. All I know is him.

He takes a deep inhale of his cigarette, tips my head back with his thumb, and then breathes the smoke into my mouth.

It should be disgusting, considering I don’t smoke and make it a point to avoid cancer-causing products in general.

It should be. But it isn’t.

It’s the opposite of disgusting.

There’s a buzz in my veins that has nothing to do with the nicotine, and I realize too late that he’s the vice I can’t quit.

I’m too far gone, too addicted already.

He pulls back slightly, tucking the still-burning cigarette behind his ear. His eyes burn with intensity, and his dark hair and shoulders are surrounded by the smoke clinging to his shoulders like a shadow.

He looks like the villain of a movie I never even knew I wanted to watch, and it physically pains me to have him this close and not be touching him, so I put my hands on his chest, fingers fisting in the expensive material of his suit.

His are on the wall by my head, bracing himself as he leans in and slowly licks a line across my lower lip, like he’s tasting me.

My want for him is a tangible thing, and I have to ask myself if he’s right. Does it matter what he does, when he makes me feel like no one else ever has? Do I care enough to stay away from him?

“You don’t need me?” he asks again, so close his lips brush against mine.

I shake my head, even though I know it isn’t the truth. I do need him, and that’s why this hurts so damn bad. Why this betrayal cuts so deep.

Even though we’re so close he’s nothing but a blur, I can feel his eyes on me, burning a hole through me.

And then he says something that changes everything.

“Well, I need you,” he whispers, so softly it breaks my heart.

I’m lost.

I’m so goddamn lost in him, I forget everything we were talking about, forget everything he’s done.

My knees go weak, and I cling to him, pulling him into me as I slip down the wall.

His lips crash against mine, and I know instantly that this is him. This is all of him. I finally know exactly who he is, and he doesn’t have to hide anymore.

It’s probably our hundredth kiss, but it feels like the first, and I’m drunk on it, drunk on him.

Hands in my hair, he kisses me like he wasn’t lying--like he needs me.

My hands pull tighter, until there’s not an inch between us, and he makes a low sound in his throat. His are on my waist, gripping me tightly and telling me he wants this just as much as I do.

The restraint from before is all but gone, and I tremble at how much power is in his grasp, how small and fragile it makes me feel in comparison.

My willpower crumples further, like a napkin in his fist, as his tongue teases mine, making me chase him for more.

Azriel pulls my lower lip between his teeth, pulling it between us as he draws back. It’ll be bruised tomorrow, but a sick part of me likes that he’s leaving his mark on me.

“Say it,” he say roughly, voice deep and scratchy with lust.

I don’t get a change to say it, or anything else, before he’s kissing me again, running his hands up my back and into my hair.

“Say it,” he demands again.

Maybe I’m not as lost as I thought, because I know what he wants but stay silent, refusing to give it to him.

Because I can’t.

Everything he said tonight makes sense, but I just... can’t.

He kisses me again, a lingering kiss that makes my chest ache, and almost pleads, “Say it, Elain. Say it doesn’t matter. Say you need me.”

The air grows thick as I stay silent, because it’s response enough.

His eyes narrow, and even though everything inside me begs me to, I don’t stop him as he steps away.

“Only two more months here, and you want to spend them lying to yourself?”

I hadn’t even thought about the fact that I’m leaving so soon, but I don’t let myself get distracted. “I’m not lying to anyone.”

Except it feels like I am.

A smile pulls on his lips, but it isn’t friendly. “You’re fucking lying, and you know it. You know it doesn’t matter, you just can’t admit it, because then you’d be like me.”

Heart pounding, I shake my head, but he keeps going. “Fucking a monster would be condoning the devil’s work, right?”

He takes a step in, catching my wrists as I try to push him back, pinning them above my head, and laughing.

“You saying you don’t want me is the most pathetic lie I’ve ever heard, carro. ”

“Azriel-”

Mouth next to my ear, he growls, “You’re really telling me if I slip my hand between your pretty thighs, I won’t find you wet and ready for me?”

I push against his hands and look away, all the confirmation he needs.

He tsks, feigning disappointment.

I close my eyes and fight my response to him with everything I have. I try to tell myself it matters, that what he does disgusts me, but it doesn’t sound believable to even myself at this point.

“I could prove it to you, make you come right here and now, but I don’t think I will.”

I’m breathing heavily, two seconds from passing out at the intensity and violence in his voice.

“I think the next time I fuck you, Elain, you’re going to have to tell me you need me just as much as I need you. You’re going to tell me you want me, and you’re going to beg me for more.” He licks up the side of my neck, and I press my lips together to hold in the moan that wants to escape. “You’re going to tell the goddamn truth, and you’re going to fucking apologize for lying to me in the first place.”

I glare at him, silently conveying that that will never happen. He lied to me. I’m not apologizing for shit.

He sees that and everything else in my gaze, and he shakes his head slowly.

“I’ll get your confession, Elain,” he promises, going to the door and almost ripping it off its hinges as he opens it. “I always do.”

___________________________________________________

Part 4

@perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @bamchickawowow @live-the-fangirl-life @ireallyshouldsleeprn @nahthanks @highqueenofelfhame @autophobiax @rowaelinismyotp @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @inardour @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace @elorcan-trash @loosingdreams @januarystears @emikadreams @swankii-art-teacher @thedarkdemigod @full-tilt-diva @biggestwingspan-az @bookstantrash @mari-highladyof-feels @pilesofriles @teddytdr

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #acomaf fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #elaine irwin #azriel #elriel #elriel fanfiction #elain x azriel #elain x azriel fanfiction

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its-me-im-coraline · 3 years

Text

Regrets // Victoria De Angelis

words // 1557

warnings // angst, mentions of abusive relationships (not details)

pairing // Victoria De Angelis x GN!Reader, Ethan Torchio x Platonic!Reader

author's note // taglist here. please only let me know if you want to be tagged on that google form so i know what to tag you on, thank you

I KNOW I MADE HER LOOK LIKE AN ASSHOLE BUT MY ANGSTY ASS NEEDED SOMETHING LIKE THIS TO BE ABLE TO WRITE THIS FIC SOOO... I LOVE VICTORIA, I DON'T THINK SHE'S AN ASSHOLE AND THE WHOLE I BULLY YOU MEANS I HAVE A CRUSH ON YOU TROPE IS STUPID IN EVERY OTHER OCCASION BUT IN FANFICTION ITS FINE

also i changed the original tittle because i didnt like it that much

request // yes

summary // Reader is Ethan's best friend and because of that they are around the band a lot. Maybe a hint of jealously, a toxic partner and a visit at the hospital will be enough to change their relationship with Victoria from hate to love. Or maybe the love was there all along.

The first time the two met each other was right after the band finally united. Y/N’s had been Ethan’s best friend for years now, making the fateful meeting inevitable - as well as the obscure amount of time they would have to spend around each other. If anything, the drummer was attached to the hip with his best friend, tagging them along to every show, many rehearsals (there was even a suggestion to come with him on Måneskin’s European tour - it would be a nightmare if they did).

Victoria did not take long to adopt a defensive mode against them, one that not even she could decipher. Maybe it was the way they were just always there, like leech attached to her bandmate, or maybe it was that annoying way they dressed, all out there and attracting her attention, or maybe it was that stupid girlfriend of theirs that just had to make it known they were a couple. She really did get on Victoria’s nerves a awful lot. She was nice, not going to lie, just maybe a little too nice - ickly nice, she’d say. She wasn’t sure why but that girl simply made Victoria’s gut drop every time.

For years, as that relationship lasted, Victoria and Y/N would butt heads, always at each other’s throat with something to say and complain about. What are they doing here again, the bassist would ask over and over again. Just here to piss you off, Y/N would say, walking to Ethan. Other times it’d be the opposite. It just always was… a mess.

Everyone could see the situation the two found themselves into but no one could do anything. No, not until they opened their own damn eyes.

The dislike between the two only grew stronger and stronger as time passed by, with their insults getting worse. Truth be told, no one expected it to get that bad, and now they just hoped to stop.

For a while, Y/N was facing some drama in the relationship, some that could end up pretty bad. Not few were the nights Ethan would get a phone call in the middle of rehearsal, sobbing heard even beyond his phone. Please, please come get me Ethan. I don’t think …. The rest was inaudible for Victoria, not that I care, she would remind herself, moving on with her work.

On occasion she’d joke about it to Y/N. What? Trouble in paradise, cucciolo? Oh well. Deep down she knew she should not say that but she could not control herself. Y/N was pretty put together some of those times, others they’d just snap with no regard to anything. Just shut your fucking mouth, they said once adding a few profanities to explain their anger.

After the fourth time it happened the blonde had gotten genuinely angry. “Ok, enough. Close your phone, Ethan,” she spat out, almost snatching it off his hand. “They can wait.”

“But-”

“No! They have cut short three out of our four rehearsals this week! This is the fifth rehearsal, Ethan, their fourth time! They’re a big kid now, they should not need you all the time.”

In time she would regret those words but in that moment they seemed appropriate. She had grown exasperated at their constant interruptions. Well, most of the time they were not really disturbing - they’d call on a break or just cuddle with Ethan on a break, at a time they had for the solemn reason of relaxing - but Victoria would not admit that. Not to herself and not to anyone.

“Ok.” Ethan whispered the words, silencing his phone with a heavy heart. He had a bad feeling, that he knew for sure, but he did not feel like fighting with the blond bassist.

The hours they worked passed by quickly, feeling more like quick moving water, their session was simply flowing. It was now quiet, maybe around three in the morning. 2.58 AM read the clock on the table. Ethan was sure his best friend was sleeping by now. He’d shoot them a text and then go to sleep as well - lord knows he needed it. Well, not everything always goes as planned.

Victoria was by him when it happened.

His phone started to ring while he was about to walk to his room. Y/N. If he was not concerned earlier that night there was no way he was not now. It was not common for them to call at hours like this, if anything they were usually asleep by eleven, maybe even twelve.

“Pronto. Che? A- cazzo, sì, sì. Sto venendo ora.” showing off my italian lol

“Ethan? What happened?” She was not sure of her feelings in that instant. Why was she even asking him? She did not care about them, right? But no, no, it was not worry. It was fear of guilt. And worry, but that she was not aware of.

“Y/N is at the hospital,” he breathed out, “they- uhm… Their ex hurt them - thank god their neighbor was there and heard what happened. Oh my- if-if-if he was not there Y/N-”

Victoria could not stand seeing her friend like that. She believes that she’s never once seen Ethan this emotional - not negatively emotional, that is. He always keeps his composure so well but this time it just was not possible. The blonde just stood there now, holding Ethan in her arms, whispering comforting things to him, hoping that he’d calm down a bit.

“I-I should’ve answered the phone Vic… It- I could have prevented this. Oh god, it’s my-”

“Ethan no! If it’s anyone’s fault here, it’s mine. I should not have snapped like I did.”

“I- yeah. Yeah, you know what, yeah, it is your fault.” He was sad, he was anxious, he was angry… A whirlwind of emotions really, and Victoria’s statement made him target it to her. “It is your fault Vic, with that-that stupid, stupid, conflict you two have. I’m leaving.”

“Where are yo-”

“To the hospital! Where the fuck else?” Ethan’s voice was rising by the second, as his blood started boiling in his veins. He knew he could not drive there, but he was not about to say it.

“I’ll drive you-”

“No. I can do it on my own.”

“Please. It’s the least I can do.” Victoria’s eyes were cast to the floor, unsure of what else to do. She knew that things were taken too far this time, the least she could do was drive her friend to the hospital.

The drive there was quiet. Neither knew what to say. Victoria was feeling guilty, afraid, and even worried about Y/N’s well-being, regardless of whether she could she tried to focus on the road. More injured people would not be helpful. Ethan on the other hand was fuming. He was angry out of his head; at his blonde friend, at himself and most of all that bitch, Y/N’s ex. She was the one to cause all of this, all of it, even problems he was not aware she was the cause of.

As they arrived there there was even more trouble on their way. He’s not family, he’s not a spouse, neither is Victoria. It was always like that. They would not let them pass if they were not either of those things but, god bless that man, the nurse that called him showed up, recognizing the voice and assuring the nurse, on the front, that he was indeed the only person on their emergency contacts, they had to pass. With a lot of complaining they were finally let to pass.

When they walked in the room Y/N was laying on the bed asleep and at first both their minds went to the worst case scenario. “I have given them some painkillers for now. They’ll be ok but some injuries cause severe pain -” he was walking outside along with Ethan.

Victoria was now left alone in the room with Y/N, although it felt as if she was looking at a photo of them rather than the real life Y/N. “I’m sorry,” was all she could say, the only thing that felt right to do at that moment. “It’s my fault -oh my it is! Ethan, he-he wanted to respond to the call by I-I got so angry!” She cried out, now grasping Y/N’s hand. “I can only hope he can forgive me. Hell, I hope you forgive me. It’s my fault you’re-”

“It’s not, Victoria.”

“You are awake?”

“It’s not your fault. I was already here when I called the first time. Neither of you could have changed a thing.” They were so calm - maybe it was the painkillers, she thought. “Thank you. For the apology I mean.”

“Yeah. I, uh, I’m sorry for everything Y/N. I-”

“Hey, stop! It’s ok. What’s by is by,” they laughed, never missing the opportunity to joke. (you know, bi - by… terrible pun)

“I, uh,” she paused, thinking of what to say next. She remembered a small chocolate bar in her pocket. She was about to eat it when the call happened. “I don’t know if you’re supposed to eat chocolate but I know you like it.”

“Oh my, it’s my favorite,” they gushed, prompting Vic to come closer.

“Come, sit, sit! We can share it.”

“Yeah, I guess we can.”

tag list: @bieberhoodforever @tabi-toast @ginny-lily @moriro-da-regina @the-killer-queenie @makapaka11 @teenyweenynightghost @superchrystaldrug

#måneskin #måneskin imagine #måneskin fanfic #måneskin x reader #victoria de angelis #victoria de angelis imagine

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thran-duils · 3 years

Text

Lost in Zero Gravity (P.11)

Title: Lost In Zero Gravity (Part Eleven) Summary: Fem!Reader x Mob Boss!Tony Stark x Mob Boss!Steve Rogers. Reader is a call girl who runs high end parties. She catches the attention of Tony Stark who invites her back to his room with his friend. She might have performed too well because she becomes their new favorite play toy and they don’t like to share. Words: 4,360 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Smut, prostitution, infidelity, angst, domestic violence, stalking, possessive behavior

Part Ten || Part Twelve || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

“I… just got involved with some guys and it got… weird,” you told your friend, Asa. You were playing with your pasta, moving it around your plate with your fork. The two of you were having lunch at one of the cheaper Italian restaurants near your grandparent’s house in their suburb. But it was damn good food; you had filled up on soup and calamari before your main course had even arrived.

“’Some guys’?” Asa pressed.

You met her eyes and said, “I got involved with a lot of guys if we wanna be accurate. Too many. But yeah, there are two specifically that I am—WAS seeing. Exclusively.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to be embarrassed about that. Fuck, I would do it if given the opportunity. You know I would. You were making bank,” Asa told you and you cracked a smile at her support. She took a bite of her food and pointed her fork at you, “Okay but… two? Exclusive? Did they know about each other?”

“Yeah… they did,” you admitted. “It was part of the deal.”

“Hmm,” Asa murmured. “You were getting dicked twice over and I can’t even find one.” You laughed, picking up a forkful of pasta and taking a bite. It was too good; you ignored your full feeling. “But, weird how?”

“One of their wives walked in on me fucking them – in my apartment, that they paid for, by the way – and punched me,” you told her bluntly. Asa rose her brows, stalling her chewing. She swallowed slowly and you muttered, “Yeah.”

“Oh, that kind of weird. I’m totally familiar with that. You know, in those situations, what I would normally do….” she trailed off because she started to laugh and you followed her lead, feeling the tension slowly leaving you. She reached across the table and grasped your hand. “I’m sorry. Is that what…” she gestured at your face and you nodded. She breathed in relief. “Not that it’s any better but when you said you got involved with two guys, I was thinking… you know, the worst. But fuck. You getting socked because they were cheating? That’s some bullshit.”

Another mouthful and you mumbled, “That’s what I thought. And they were acting like I was overreacting by being upset about it.”

“Are you kidding?”

“I wish I was.” You shifted in your seat and sighed heavily. “I… never mind.”

“What?” Asa pressed.

“I just think they were… using me as a replacement for their own marriages.”

“Well, yeah…” Asa said slowly.

“You don’t get it,” you exasperated, and she closed her mouth, paying attention. You shrugged sharply, “I mean, they would come over and do things with me. Like… cuddling on the couch, napping together on the couch. Watching TV shows. Buying pets together. Just talk to me as I cooked dinner. It was… intimate. Like something they were missing from their relationship that wasn’t just sex. Does that make sense?”

“I mean… yes?” Asa answered. “Look, that happens all the time. People catch feelings. Even when you’re not supposed to.”

“This was a definite not supposed to.”

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Catch feelings?”

You shoved a forkful of food in your mouth, staring down at your plate.

“So, you did. And you only left cause the wife?” Asa asked seriously.

“Look, I don’t like that I like them,” you said meeting her eyes again and she cocked her head curiously. “They’re not the type of men to ‘catch feelings’ for. And there’s a lot of… complications to them having those feelings of attachment to me. They’re not nobodies. Celebrity status if we are going to be frank and that status gives them a lot of power. They might not have hit me but they sure as hell locked me in that apartment because they know no one can stop them from doing it.”

Asa was staring at you from across the table in shock.

“So, I don’t like that I started to like them because they were nice a lot of the time and did me… a lot of favors for my betterment. But I wanted to get away from the situation after that last fucking issue because they obviously have a lot of problems going on at home. I didn’t want to get drug into it any further.”

Silence fell between the two of you for a few moments before Asa told you gently, “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“I’ll get over it. We are going out for drinks tonight, so I’ll be able to drown my feelings in that rum.”

Asa laughed and said, “Always the rum.”

<><><>

“She’s not in there,” Daryl said coming back to the SUV, climbing back into the passenger seat in the front. Tony, Steve, and a handful of other men were in the back of the SUV, Terrence driving. “I circled the house and could not see her in any of the windows. So, I went to the front door and her grandma answered and I asked her about Y/N, telling her I was looking for her because we were supposed to meet up tonight. The old woman is way too trusting. She told me she was down at this bar called Unicorn?”

Steve pulled his phone out, googling it.

“Looks like it’s two stories. That should be a fun hunt.”

Tony and Steve had both refrained from texting her or calling. That was not their style. If she ran off and was not contacting them, then that was only compounding on top of the transgression. There was no way they were going to reach out and try to build a bridge; she had already burned it. If she called or texted, of course they would answer. But that was on her. She was the one that had made the stupid decision to leave them, and she was going to pay for it in full.

<><><>

“Would you look at that,” Terrence chuckled.

The group of six men had found a booth against the wall on the first floor. The place was packed, the line to the bar ridiculously long but they were not there for drinks. They were there to collect their prize.

“What?” Tony asked, sighing. He was already annoyed to high heaven about having to be in this dive of a club.

“She’s right there,” Terrence said which caught everyone’s attention immediately.

Terrence pointed Y/N out, waiting in line at the bar with another woman, almost to the front. Fishnets underneath high-rise shorts barely covering her ass, a black plain top, and thigh high black boots.

A guy came up behind her, much to everyone else’s annoyance in line and wound his arm up before smacking her ass super hard. As she jolted forward, Tony was already halfway out of his seat, Steve’s hand shooting out to stop him.

Y/N whipped around and glared before her grimace fell recognizing him and the guy burst out laughing. She slapped him in the chest and started laughing too. She leaned forward and took the straws from his drink into her mouth, sucking.

“Must know him…” Daryl said.

They got to the front and Y/N and the other girl leaned on the bar, smiling flirtatiously at the bartender. The friend ordered and the bartender cocked his eyebrow. She said something else, and he looked at the guy behind them, who waved. The bartender nodded before going to line up six shot glasses.

The friend handed over her cash and they picked up the shots between themselves, the guy having finished his drink, leaving it on the counter which the bartender took. They made their way back through the crowd towards the stairs to the bottom floor.

“Guess we are moving,” Steve told Tony. He looked at the other four and said, “You lot stay here up here.”

<><><>

Dragging Mia back from the pinball machine and a guy she had been flirting with, you sat her at the table. She whined the whole time and you told her after the shots she could go back but she needed to take the drinks with you guys because you had been gone for so long. She scolded you for guilt tripping her.

Plopping down in your seat, your eyes happened to scan the bar. Your breath froze seeing Tony and Steve staring at you from across the room, sitting along the wall on a couple of stools. If looks could kill, you would be stabbed on the spot. Even in the moving lights you could see the anger painted on their expressions.

They had not tried to contact you at all. You had taken that as a sign as they had accepted you backing out of the relationship. But they had traveled here, tracked you down. That sent the complete opposite message of accepting it.

Forcing yourself to look away back at the table, your friend Mia shoved one of the shot glasses to you. You tried to keep your breath steady, trying to not look worried.

“Here we go, Y/N,” Asa told you, winking from across the table as she held up her shot glass. “Down the hatch goes third. And fourth for me and Joel. But third for you two.”

“Yeah, we are not idiots. We pace ourselves,” Mia retorted. “Plus there’s a dude over there and I wanna be sober enough to possibly get some tonight.”

You were definitely going to need this shot after having seen them and knowing you were definitely in some deep, deep shit. Maybe you should have gotten a second shot. Hindsight was 20/20.

The four of you took the single shots, before Joel and Asa took their second ones. Joel’s eyes closed and he breathed deeply. “That was rough.”

“Maybe you should’ve spaced them out?” Asa teased, completely unbothered by hers.

“Fuck off,” Joel laughed, taking a swig of his water.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” you told them over the music.

“Oh, me too!” Asa said, hopping up before you could stop her.

Your mouth fell open, trying to protest but she was already gesturing for you to take her hand. You shot a look over at Tony and Steve, seeing they were still very much keeping a glare pointed at you.

She yanked you up from the table, you stumbling in your boots. She held you around the waist, shimmying with you away from the table to the beat of the music – a song you actually liked, “No Other Way” by SHAED–, laughing joyfully as she held you close.

“Let’s go make some friends in the bathroom!” she exclaimed.

That caught you off guard and you actually laughed. “Isn’t that how it always is?”

You hoped to god that Tony and Steve did not approach your friends at the table or think that you were trying to escape out a back door or something. You worried there were other men there – actually, you knew they had other men there. They would not be here alone. You shot another look over your shoulder as Asa danced with you, catching their gaze again before you disappeared into the crowd towards the bathrooms.

You went first to the stalls, pretending to go so you were able to ditch her. Feeling guilty, you left the bathroom, pushing your way through the crowd.

They were still waiting at the table, their eyes fixed on you as you approached.

You stood in front of them, throwing your hands out, and you asked afraid, “What are you doing here? I left the key. I didn’t take anything.”

Steve cocked his head and turned his gaze to Tony, who had not taken his eyes off of you. More burning into you now than before at what you had said.

Tony blinked, finally looking away from you to look at Steve, giving a light laugh. A laugh laced with contempt at that.

“’Didn’t take anything’,” Steve repeated, matching Tony’s humorless chuckle.

You did not like the way they were toying with you. Forcibly, you told them, “I didn’t. I swear.”

Steve’s arm lashed out, his hand wrapping around your wrist in the blink of an eye, yanking you to him. You were pressed in between his legs and he made sure to squeeze to keep you in place. His expression was murderous.

“Y/N… you are an asset. So, you did take something. An unbelievably valuable thing.” You tried to pry your arm away from him and he only squeezed harder, and you gasped. He was far too strong, his grip crushing.

“I know we didn’t tell you because it seemed… irrelevant?” Steve said, searching for the right word. “But, sweetheart, you belong to us. Just like you belonged to Tatiana.”

“I…” you stammered, confused.

“We bought out your contract. Actually, paid her even more than what was owed. And along with other things, you now have all that indebted to us. So, when I say that you are an asset, you understand what I mean now, correct?”

You felt sick, your gaze falling. You had gone to Tatiana thinking that she was releasing you from the contract when she let you run off. Or what you thought was letting you run off… that she had forgiven your debt. But that was not the case at all. You had fucked up without even knowing it. You had crossed them, and it was not a surprise they had come to get you on top of everything else you had explained to Asa earlier this same day.

Steve grasped you underneath your chin to force you to look up at him. His tone was firm, low, “What’s going to happen is you’re going to go and collect your clothes because I’m guessing there’s some cute shorts and bras in there that I like seeing you in considering the amount of clothes you took with you when you stole away.” His fingers dug in and you winced at that, his eyes flashing at the mention of you leaving again. “I know you got scared but that doesn’t excuse what you did. You have a mountain to climb to be in our good graces again but trust me, the reward will be more than enough if you show some good behavior up front by not putting up a fight. Your grandpa’s medicine can be paid for.” You stared at him in shock, and he chuckled, “Yeah, we looked into that ailment. Tony can get that pretty fucking easily. What a happy coincidence, isn’t it?”

That was digging a bigger debt to them, but it was for your grandpa. And it was not like you could run away from this.

Thickly, you told him, “I understand.”

Steve let go of your chin and his thighs loosened on you. “Go say goodbye to your friends.”

<><><>

“I can do it by myself,” you said from in between the two of them when they pulled into the driveway.

You already spotted your grandma sitting on the front porch on her swing seat. It was already eleven o’clock but she was a night owl, especially loving sitting outside and reading her books after your grandpa had gone to bed. You sorrowfully thought that you wished you had spent more time reading to him this afternoon since you were going to avoid waking him up now to say goodbye.

“You’ve got fifteen minutes,” Steve told you stiffly.

You bit your cheeks to hold back an argument, regretting yet another thing, wishing that you had not gone out tonight. But the scene at the club could have happened here and maybe that should be silver lining. Having time alone to pack up and say goodbye to your grandma was better than the alternative.

She noticed you walking up the stairs and she put her book down. “You’re back early.” You could not help but snort and she smiled in return. “I wasn’t expecting you back until probably early morning. If you are anything like I was in my youth and I know you are.” She furrowed her brow and asked, “Where’s your purse?”

You had left it in the car. Sighing, you stopped in front of her. “I gotta pack my stuff up and go.”

“Wait, why?” she asked hurt.

You sat down on the seat next to her and said, “Something came up.”

“Y/N, you’ve only been home for a couple days,” she protested. “We haven’t seen you in so long.”

Grasping her hand, you said, “I… it’s important. Not that you guys aren’t, of course. But it’s urgent. It’s something with work.”

“What could be so pressing there?” she asked you confused. She looked back at the SUV in the driveway, narrowing her eyes seeing Terrence and Daryl in the front seats. “Who are they?”

“Um, they work for my bosses,” you said in explanation. “They’re going to drive me.”

She cocked an eyebrow and asked, “You get to have drivers…? What kind of restaurant owners have drivers on hand?”

You heard car doors close, and you looked up alarm. That was nowhere near even three minutes. You got up quickly and moved towards the stairs to try to stop them from coming up the sidewalk to the porch. Steve and Tony were coming up the cement and you stopped in the center of the walkway defensively.

“That wasn’t—” you started to say but Tony cut in forcibly.

“Just wanted to make sure it didn’t take longer than fifteen because it looked like things were going to get dragged out. Why don’t you walk back with us and introduce us to your grandma before you go inside and get your things?”

He was not asking. Sucking your teeth, you turned around pissed off. You had wanted to do it alone and not have them involved.

She was watching you curiously from the other end of the porch as you walked back up with the two of them. You made to go towards the door, but Tony reached out, grasping your arm tightly, in warning. You stopped and turned towards her by the screen door. You just wanted to get this over with and get out of here without them talking to her.

“My friends are gonna help me pack, grandma.”

“Grandma…?” Steve asked expectantly.

“Margaret.”

“Pleased to meet you, Margaret,” Steve said politely. He walked over to her, holding out his hand. “Steve Rogers.”

Tony did the same, introducing himself. She was looking up at them in awe.

“Wait…” your grandma said, looking between the two of them. “You… you’re Avengers.”

“Sure are,” Tony beamed before he walked back over towards you by the door. He gave you a little nudge towards the door and you took a step before you heard the excitement in your grandma’s voice.

“Iron Man and Captain America. Oh, no wonder the two of you have drivers!”

She had paid very close attention to them after the attack in NYC since you had been there when it happened, and she had been terrified for you. She had become a fan that they had saved the city and essentially you as a byproduct.

“She works for us,” Steve told her, flashing his million-dollar smile.

“Oh?” your grandma asked confused, shooting you a look past him. You had told her you were waitressing, and she was no doubt wondering how that fit into working for them. “Do you own the restaurant then?”

Steve looked over his shoulder at you, a cruel glint in his eye. “A restaurant?”

“Yes. Where she’s waitressing,” your grandma continued. “She said it is a high-end place on the upper east side. Not that I know what that means. I have no knowledge of the city but I’m assuming it’s an affluent neighborhood?”

Steve licked his lips, a smirk tugging at his lips as he watched you. You gave him a pleading look to just go with it, to just lie. Yes, he owned a restaurant. Just say it.

“You wanna tell her what you really do for a living?” Steve challenged much to your horror.

They wanted to humiliate you. And you thought dreadfully, to the point that you might possibly never be able to face coming back here again to look your grandma in the face.

“No,” you snapped instantly.

Steve turned fully towards you, looking dangerous all of a sudden. Just like he had the first day in the apartment when you had told him to fuck off. He stalked up to you, glowering down at you, his back to your grandma.

“You wanna rephrase that?” he breathed lightly, knowing she would not be able to hear him.

You felt anxiety flooding in your chest. “Don’t…” you warbled.

“Own it. Say it, Y/N.”

Tony was at your back, Steve in front, holding you in place. You were not going to escape this.

“I’m your whore,” you rasped in a voice barely above a whisper, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“Now, now, watch your language in front of your grandmother,” Tony scolded in a murmur from behind you. “We have nicer words than that don’t we?”

You cleared your throat and said louder so she could actually hear, “I’m your… assistant.” Steve cocked his head, his eyes narrowing threateningly. He was not going to let this go and you wanted to sock him in the face. Your voice shaking, you said, “Fine. Courtesan. I am your courtesan.”

“Hmm, yeah that’s a good word for it,” Tony praised you quietly.

Steve looked satisfied and shrugged, “I don’t know what was so hard about saying that.” He turned back to your grandma, shrugging again.

Your cheeks burned with shame at your grandma’s expression when you stole a look. Her whole demeanor had changed seeing how theirs had when you told them no and learning what you actually did, hearing it from your own lips. Your eyes were watering then, wanting to crawl into a hole and just die from the embarrassment.

“I don’t like when people lie and especially to their elders in their family. It’s quite rude,” Steve explained to your grandma, who was blanched now, all wonderstruck she had had for him a moment before gone. “Speaking of rude, I do apologize for the short visit and I have to admit that is our fault. We have a trip planned and it was supposed to be a surprise for Y/N but she left before we could go on it, let alone tell her about it. And we do need to be hitting the road.”

Tony added, “I need to use the restroom before we go. May I, Margaret?”

Swallowing sharply, your grandma said weakly, “Yes, of course. Go ahead.”

“Perfect. Thank you,” Tony told her. To you, he asked, “You can show me where it’s at, right?” You nodded and he gestured for you to start walking. Steve told the two of you he would be in the car. Tony nodded in acknowledgment and as he passed, he asked your grandma, “Do you want me to grab you anything to drink while we are inside?”

“Oh, no. I’m quite alright.”

Following behind you closely, Tony kept at your back you walked through the house. Tears spilled over, devastated that they had not just stayed in the car. And thinking now your grandma probably despised you. You wanted to turn around and slap Tony across the face just like his wife had done.

You stopped outside the bathroom, wiping sloppily at your cheeks to get the tears off, and told him, “It’s there.”

“Where are you going to be, love?” he asked, taking in your face, seeing the tears. You pointed at the guest bedroom and he said, “Stay in there until I’m done. Don’t go anywhere.”

Tearfully, you turned back towards the guest bedroom and went to work gathering up your clothes you had tossed around the chair your suitcase was sitting in front of.

Tony took your suitcase from you and walked out of the house. “I’ll take this to the car. Goodnight, Margaret.”

She said nothing, watching you coming up to her timidly.

“Why?” was the first thing she rasped out to you.

“I…” you said, stammering. Your lip warbled and you gave a shuddered breath trying to keep control. “It started as protection as first… from an abusive ex.”

“Doesn’t look like much of an upgrade,” she said sadly, her eyes glossy now too seeing how distraught you were.

“I know it doesn’t look like it. But it is. Trust me,” you said, a few tears escaping, and you wiped at them. “Seriously… trust me on that.” You exhaled sharply and shook your hands, trying to shake off the emotions. “I’m gonna be fine. I promise. I’m sorry I lied to you. Really.”

She did not say anything for a few moments before she asked quietly, “They are very powerful, aren’t they? I mean, they are superheroes.”

“Yes.”

“Seems that quote about Lincoln was right. About testing a man’s character by giving him power. Apparently it’s for the ages.”

You choked out a laugh, caught off guard by her quip. She was still as sharp as she always was; able to read a situation for what it was. She knew how big the power imbalance was between you and them. Essentially anyone and them.

She reached out, holding your hand, holding it tightly. “I’m not mad at you for lying. And I’m happy you came back home for the time you did. You can always call me. Do you understand that?” You nodded and she let your hand go. “Go. I’ll tell your grandpa there was an emergency.”

“Thank you. I love you,” you told her leaning down to give her a tight hug. You did not want to let go.

“I love you too,” she told you, giving you an extra tight squeeze in return.

Pulling away, you turned away from her, not wanting to look back afraid that you would just run back to the chair and curl up there. You instead stared ahead at the SUV to where the door was waiting open for you to hand yourself back over.

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @icant-hangout-imdrumming @oceaniamaddness @multifandom-superlover @imsonick @holl2712 @here4thefanfics

#tony stark x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark tony stark #dark steve rogers #dark marvel #dark marvel fic #my shit

99 notes · View notes

mcwriting · 3 years

Text

Lost in Rome

hello, friends! Ever since "La Vita Dolce," I've wanted to write something else involving Italy and at least one Italian phrase, and so this lil story was born! Hope you all enjoy!

Ship: Tom Holland x Reader

Word Count: 1488

Warnings: mentions of drinking, vv slight language

★

You had been walking around Rome for what felt like an eternity.

(It had only been like 30 minutes)

You knew the bar was right near Piazza Navona, but you'd only been to that part of the city one other time, having been staying south on the other side of the river in Trastevere.

You felt embarrassed knowing you were dragging your friends around the city without much of a guide, but you were too stubborn to admit that you were actually lost.

"Maybe we should've gone to Bar San Calisto again. It was cheap and close but noooo. I just had to look up a 'best bars in Rome' list" you thought as you continued to trudge on.

Not only were you lost, but you also didn't have the ability to look up where you were going, since you'd decided to go cheap and not buy an international plan or a vpn, choosing to only using wifi so you'd "stay in the moment."

That moment seemed stupid now that every marble wall and cobblestone street started to meld together in your brain as it continued to darken.

A trip to Rome was something you'd been wanting to do for years, so when your university offered up the chance to go study abroad for 4 weeks, you immediately began scrounging up the funds to go, even scoring a scholarship based on the fact that you'd taken Italian classes in school.

You'd only been there a week but thankfully had bonded with your roommate before even going, having struck up a conversation at the informational meeting the semester before. Since then, you had also bonded with those in the room next door, them sticking to you as their translator.

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore, stopping.

"Okay, look, guys. I'm really sorry but I literally have no idea where we are," you admitted, feeling guilty. Everyone else smiled.

"That's okay! This place is beautiful! I'm sure we'll find it eventually," your roommate, Olivia, said.

"Yeah. Didn't you say it was at Piazza Navona?" Aaron, one of your neighbors, asked. You nodded. "Well as long as we can find that, then we're basically there!"

After some wandering, your group found itself in the square in front of the Pantheon, which was a step in the right direction, but you were determined to actually find the right place.

There was a hotel right there, so you quickly stepped in to ask the desk worker to point you towards the Piazza, who explained that it was only a couple streets East of where you were.

Relieved, you and your friends quickly walked that way, breathing out a collective sigh when you walked into the giant open square, looking around at the familiar structures from the second day of class when you'd toured the area.

"Sooo... where's this bar?" Aaron's roommate Joseph asked.

You all circled the square from the inside and out a couple times, not seeing any signs with the name "Bar del Fico Roma" anywhere.

Dread started to wash over you as you realized the website must not have meant the bar was actually on the square, but was somewhere nearby. You felt stupid for not screenshotting the website page or, you know, actually looking it up first.

"Fine, that's it! I'm marching up to the next person I see and asking where this darn place is. We've made it this far!" you said, exasperated.

The first thing that caught your eye was a group of people who looked close to your age, talking in a small group. They were pretty well dressed, typical of a young Italian, so you immediately started over towards them, expecting them to be the most helpful in giving directions.

"Wait, y/n!" Olivia protested, but you ignored her, walking between a shorter boy and taller girl.

You couldn't help but sigh out the words as you started speaking, placing a light hand on the boy's arm.

“Scusa, potresti dirme dov’è la-" "Excuse me, could you tell me where the-"

"Sorry! I don't speak Italian!" the boy answered in a British accent, turning to face you with hands in surrender.

You both seemed taken aback when your eyes met.

Tom Holland?

"Um, oh what was the word for sorry in Italian again?" the actor in front of you asked, looking to one of his many Spider-man costars around you. Before one could answer, you blurted out one for him.

"It's 'mi dispiace' or 'perdonami,' depending on how you want to say it," you started, realizing how stupid you probably sounded to be teaching a world famous actor Italian words after accidentally infiltrating his conversation.

However, Tom was more shocked by your American accent. Your eyes still widened as you realized what was actually going on.

"Oh my gosh, what am I saying, um. I- I'm so sorry. We're just trying to find this bar and got lost and-"

"Which bar?" he asked in return. You furrowed your brows and looked at him funny, wondering why he would care. He seemed to take notice. "It's just that, we're also headed to a bar and can't seem to find it, either."

You chuckled at the situation, baffled.

"Well, um, it's called 'Bar del Fico Roma.'"

Tom's eyes widened.

"Hey, that's where we're headed!" Jacob Batalon cut in, making you look at him and the rest of the actors in surprise. You could see your own friends shock from your peripheral.

"No way! Really?" Joseph said for you. The group nodded.

"I just got it pulled up on maps," Zendaya said, holding up her phone. Realization suddenly hit that she of all people was the one who you had been standing next to this whole time.

You and your friends all gasped incredulously, amazed at your luck after spending all that time lost.

"If you want, we can show you the way," Tom offered.

"What? No, no we couldn't impose like that," you began, knowing your friends were probably internally screaming at you.

"Oh come on," Tom responded. "We're all going to the same place anyways, not like we won't see you there. It's barely a five minute's walk."

"Seriously, y/n. Do you really want to go around asking more locals for help when we've got it right here?" Olivia asked, raising a good point.

"Alright, fine," you started, rolling your eyes. You turned back to Tom. "You know what they say, 'when in Rome.' Seriously, thank you. All of you. You're definitely saving our asses."

He chuckled as Zendaya began leading the way. Though the sun had set, lights throughout the roads and emanating from various shops lit the way.

Without meaning to, you fell into step with Tom, easily matching his gait as you crossed through the bustling piazza.

"So what brings you to Italy?" He asked. "You don't quite sound like a local."

"We're studying abroad through our university. Unfortunately for me, these goons keep following me 'cause I speak the language," you joked, causing Olivia to slap the back of her hand to your shoulder.

"Ah, I see. I was definitely confused when you went from Italian to American in an instant. Y/n, was it?"

"Yes! Yeah, that's me. And you're obviously Tom Holland."

"You better remember that later, he tends to forget his own name after a few drinks," Zendaya called back to you, causing the group to laugh.

"Hey! That was one time!" Tom defended himself. "Not my fault I was going through a breakup!"

He turned back to you.

"Don't listen to them. I'm quite fun to drink with. You should see for yourself."

"Is that some sort of offer..?" you questioned playfully, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"If everyone's alright with it, I figured you all would join us at the lounge. I'm more than happy to pay for a round or two," he winked.

The group was approaching the bar, and any anxiety you'd had about finding it finally quelled when you could see people outside laughing and drinking as they enjoyed the summer night.

"Hmm... I don't know..." you sing-songed, looking up at the sky.

"Dude are you crazy?" Aaron exclaimed, causing the others to argue in agreement with him.

"Okay, okay. Of course we would be happy to join you for a drink. Thank you."

Both groups cheered in approval.

"The only thing I ask in return is a little lesson in Italian and, if all goes well, a pretty lady's number at the end of the night," he said smoothly, giving you a look.

The others looked between you with wide eyes, surprised at his open flirting. You couldn't help but smile and blush before replying.

"I think that's something I can manage. Now come on, your first lesson will be in ordering drinks," you said, grabbing his hand to lead him in what was about to be the best night of his life.

And yours.

★

A/N: Okay fun fact I thought up this concept immediately after publishing La Vita Dolce and just... never wrote it? The entire work was actually written around the one Italian phrase I used haha.

Anyways... Hope you all enjoyed as per usual and feel free to hmu anytime about anything :)

Send a message or ask if you’d like to be added to my permanent or series taglists so I can verify you’ve been added!

@jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @agentnataliahofferson, @spider-babe, @justafangirlduh

#lost in rome #tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland imagine #tom holland drabble #tom holland spiderman

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xjoonchildx · 4 years

Text

guarded | jhs x reader | chapter five: italian leather gloves

summary: you’ve tried to separate yourself from your infamous crime family, but a new case has your carefully-constructed world crashing down around you. now you have to figure out how to heal old wounds and handle the new man who enters your orbit.

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: mafia AU, E2L, slow burn, tsundere, smut

rating: 18+

word count: 6.0K

A/N: so the smut warnings start to go into effect in this chapter, guys! i can’t believe how many kind messages i’ve gotten about this story. please just know that i read every single one and i promise they all make me so happy. i really hope you guys like this chapter and i hope it answers some questions. of course i must thank the squad @ladyartemesia @taetaewonderland @ppersonna for being an amazing support system and kick ass beta readers. love you guys.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | EPILOGUE

****************

Everything hurts.

The moment you open your eyes, you wish you hadn’t. Late morning sun streams bright and unforgiving into your bedroom, making the ache in your temples even more pronounced. You spend a good ten minutes lying flat on your back, staring at the ceiling and remembering everything that went wrong last night.

So terribly, terribly wrong.

Your punishment today -- apart from the pounding headache and sour stomach -- is that despite doing your very best to drink yourself to blackout, you remember every minute of last night in painstaking detail. There’s a cruel clarity to the way your mind replays the awkward dinner with your boss and the confrontation with Donghyuk.

And your fight with Hoseok.

Shame curls in your gut when you recall the nasty things you’d said to try and get a rise out of him. The nasty things he’d said in return when your goading finally worked.

“People like me do the dirty work so people like you can impress rich assholes at stupid parties.”

It’s not like you didn’t already know Hoseok saw you as some kind of entitled rich bitch -- but that didn’t make hearing the words spoken out loud any easier. It didn’t make the anger you provoked in him any less jarring.

And it didn’t make the moment he saw your scar any less humiliating.

That’s when you feel like you might be sick -- when you remember the way Hoseok went completely still at the sight of your damaged skin. The way he’d tried so hard to look like he wasn’t staring and failed.

You get out of bed and slip an oversized sweatshirt over your head, take a few deep breaths to try and calm the wobbling sensation in your stomach.

That’s when it hits you.

You don’t smell coffee.

****************************

Kim Seokjin looks like he’s made himself quite at home when you finally work up the nerve to leave your bedroom. He’s reclined deep into your couch, long legs propped up on your living room table, tablet in hand. He looks up from the screen to take in your bedraggled appearance with wide eyes.

“Rough night, huh?”

“Something like that,” you say quietly. You make your way to the kitchen in search of a glass of water and Seokjin stands up from the couch to follow you.

“Hoseok, uh --”, he pauses for a moment, rubs one hand across the back of his neck, “ -- said he needed a couple of days to take care of some personal stuff.”

You pour lukewarm water into a glass, take one tentative sip and say nothing.

“So you’re stuck with me,” Seokjin continues slowly, “For a little while, anyway.”

You stare into your glass, unwilling to meet Seokjin’s eyes. It shouldn’t surprise you one bit that Hoseok took off after what happened between you last night. It probably shouldn’t hurt either.

But it does.

The little water you’ve managed to get down feels like it might come right back up.

“You okay?” Seokjin asks after a long pause.

“No,” you admit. “I don’t feel good. Probably going to stay in bed for the day, so it’ll be a quiet one for you.”

Seokjin nods sympathetically.

“You know what’s good for when you’re feeling sick?” he asks. “Samgyetang. I found some in your fridge. It’s pretty good too, kinda --”

Your stomach lurches at the mention of that goddamned soup.

You leave Seokjin mid-sentence to retch in the privacy of your bathroom.

*****************************

The next time you open your eyes, it’s to complete darkness.

You wake disoriented, not sure if you’ve slept for hours or for days. The last thing you remember after getting sick was barely getting down some painkillers and a little more water before crawling back into bed.

Then it was lights out.

Physically, you feel better. The hammering headache is gone and the motion sickness is gone with it. But as you lie awake in the darkness, there’s no way to escape your tumultuous thoughts. The ones that keep going back to Hoseok and that fight.

“People like me follow orders so people like you don’t have to.”

No doubt the story of how you left the Gajog has been distorted over the years, passed between gossips in some twisted game of telephone. No doubt the story that’s told now is not about the scared teenager desperate for any semblance of stability; it’s about some spoiled little girl who decided she was too good for everyone else.

“People like me stay behind and handle our responsibilities so people like you can walk away from yours.”

That was definitely the worst blow of the night, though.

There is just enough truth to that accusation to make it stick, to make it sting. You did walk away. You did leave your brother behind.

You run a hand through your hair and reach for your phone to check the time. 9:30 PM.

You feel almost human by the time you get out of the shower and walk out into the living room to find Seokjin dozing on the couch. You feel guilty for rousing him, but it’s his job. You know this is something you have to do right now.

“Jin,” you call out, nudging him gently. His eyes blink back, unfocused as he tries to get his bearings.

“Yeah?” he’s alert at once, looking around. “You okay?”

No, but I’m going to be.

“I’m alright. I need you to take me to see my brother.”

****************************

Namjoon has a beautiful penthouse on the water, a luxury apartment high above the Han River. But there’s no wife, no children waiting for him at home. Nothing in that place but echoing walls and modern art.

So he spends most of his nights at the office.

Seokjin called ahead, just in case -- but you knew your brother would be there. He’s still dressed in his suit, a tumbler of scotch in hand when you arrive. Seokjin doesn’t have to be asked to leave.

“You don’t look well, Amsaja,” he says quietly as you sit in the chair opposite his grand desk.

“You are not the first person to allude to that today,” you say with a humorless laugh. You look down at your giant sweatshirt and jeans, and shove a hand through your still-wet hair. “Message received.”

His eyes are soft with concern. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing,” you say, blowing out a heavy breath. “Everything. I just -- I just needed to see you.”

You were still a little girl when you learned the hard way that tears were futile and pointless and only served to make you a target. But you feel them welling in your eyes anyway. The reflex feels foreign and rusty after so many years of disuse.

“I’m so sorry, Namjoon,” you choke out, voice thick. “So, so sorry.”

Namjoon sets his tumbler down on the heavy wood of his desk, walks around it and over to you. When he gets down on one knee and reaches out a hand to brush your cheek you don’t see the grown man at the helm of Seoul’s largest criminal empire. You see the brother who took care of you when no one else would.

Despite your best efforts to stop them, the tears come anyway.

Namjoon holds you close, strokes your hair while you cry into the jacket of his expensive suit. He doesn’t say anything for a while, just waits for your body to stop shaking with the force of your sobs and for your breathing to even out.

“Why did you let me leave?” you ask once you’ve managed to regain some control. “Why didn’t you ask me to stay?”

Namjoon sighs, standing to stretch his legs. He grabs his drink before walking over to the window to peer down at the lights streaking by below.

“One of us deserved to have a choice,” he says quietly. “It was never going to be me. I didn’t want the same for you.”

Your heart breaks all over again, hearing Namjoon say those words out loud. Your brother, born into a legacy he never asked for and a responsibility he could never run from. Your protector who let you walk away from the life he couldn’t escape.

“You saved me,” you whisper. “He would have killed me if I hadn’t left Seoul.”

“I know that,” Namjoon admits, “I saw it coming, too. The worse his drinking got -- I couldn’t let that happen. I refused to let that happen.”

You stand out of the chair to walk over to the window. Your brother’s profile is illuminated by the passing lights, mouth set in a grim line.

“You forced him to let me go.”

It’s not a question. Namjoon nods.

“I told him I would disappear if he didn’t let you leave. And then what? He’d have spent his entire life grooming me for nothing. He was just weak enough from the drinking to agree. He couldn’t fight me on it anymore.”

You shut your eyes against the fresh tears that come.

“I’ve been so selfish.”

“We’re all selfish, Amsaja,” he sighs. “We all want things we can’t have. That’s human nature.”

It makes your chest squeeze -- how desolate that admission sounds. You think about your brother’s massive, empty apartment. Who takes care of him? Who does he have to talk to? You swallow past the taste of guilt in your mouth.

“We could leave all of this behind, Jaegyueo. Start over. Make our own choices this time.”

Namjoon huffs a sad laugh into the rim of his glass.

“How I got here is not the point anymore,” he says. “You think if I dismantled this organization right now that all of this would just stop?”

He turns away from the window to look you in the eye.

“There would be ten syndicates ready to fill the hole we would leave overnight. And I promise you,” he shakes his head, “None of them would conduct business as neatly as we do. This organization keeps everything from going to shit. This is our way of balancing the scales.”

You wrap your arms around yourself and look back out the window, out to the lights that make the city glow at this time of night. You know your brother is right.

This is his destiny.

“You talk about being selfish,” he continues quietly, “How’s this for selfish? No matter how much you’ve suffered in the past, I still want you here by my side. I still want you to come back.”

Your heart squeezes in your chest.

“Namjoon, I --” He interrupts you with a raised hand.

“You don’t have to defend your stance. You have every right to leave this all behind you forever. Just know that you are the only person on this Earth that I trust without question.”

The ice in his scotch tinkles in the quiet of the office as he swirls the contents of the glass.

“Just know that there is a part of me that will always be waiting for you to come back.”

*********************

HOSEOK

Hoseok had to get out of there.

He had to put space between you and him or he was going to lose his mind.

Thankfully, Seokjin didn’t ask too many questions when he’d phoned in the middle of the night asking to be relieved for a few days. Seokjin didn’t press too hard when he asked about how you were doing and Hoseok nearly took his head off. And Seokjin hasn’t asked why Hoseok is texting him every day to make sure you’re alright.

Sometimes -- rarely -- Seokjin knows exactly when to shut the fuck up.

Hoseok knows he should be using this time to get his shit together.

He knows he’s this close to doing something stupid. He knows he’s got to figure out a way to release the pressure building inside of him before he explodes.

He thinks about how satisfying it would be to put his fist through Kang Donghyuk’s face.

He stares down the stone-and-glass entrance to Kang’s apartment from the driver’s seat of his car, one hand tight around the steering wheel. He tightens his grip on the wheel and loosens it, over and over and over.

A call comes through.

“Hey, it’s Jimin.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok says flatly, eyes never leaving the entrance to that apartment building. “What’s up?”

“I already briefed Namjoon but he wanted me to call you, too. We finally got a hit on Lee Hyejin.”

Hoseok sits up straighter in his seat.

“What did you find?”

“We got access to her accounts. Regular payments, every two weeks -- coming through an offshore wire. Started about three months ago.”

“Shit,” Hoseok says under his breath. “A Ssijog account?”

“We’re still working on confirming that -- but yeah, like 99% sure.”

Hoseok scrubs a hand down his face.

Who gets to break the news to you that your only friend has been fucking with your case -- fucking with your entire life? He thinks back to how blank and despondent you’d looked the night of the snake incident, how withdrawn you’d been the night of the charity dinner.

How much more of this pressure can you withstand before you explode?

“What about the guy?” Jimin asks, after the line is silent for too long. “Any news on him?”

“Not yet,” Hoseok murmurs, tightening his grip around the wheel again. “But it’s coming. I know it’s coming.”

“Okay. Tae is still trying to get a complete list of accounts linked to that offshore one. If we find out more, I’ll make sure you know right away.”

Hoseok ends the call just as another call comes in.

He takes one look at the screen and rubs his fingers across his tired eyes before sending it to voicemail.

He knows he could have handled the situation with Dae with more care. He knows he could have done more than end their casual arrangement with one call. Dae had been furious, demanding he give her some kind of explanation so she could understand why it was over.

Hoseok hadn’t been lying to her when he said he didn’t know why.

But as he sits in the dark -- staring at the entrance of Kang Donghyuk’s apartment building -- he considers for a moment that he might have been lying to himself.

His phone rings again.

“Jung,” Namjoon’s voice comes over the line. “You in the middle of something?”

“Nah,” Hoseok lies easily. “Just relaxing. What’s up?”

“Come have a drink with me.”

*********************

It’s nearly midnight by the time Hoseok makes it across town.

Namjoon appears to be in a contemplative mood tonight, glass of scotch in hand, long body leaned back into his plush chair.

“You’re off-duty tonight,” Namjoon says, taking a sip of his drink. “Scotch?”

Hoseok makes a face.

“Definitely not. Have any whiskey?”

“Yeah, I think I’ve got a bottle around here somewhere.”

Namjoon picks up his desk phone to reach his assistant, who makes quick work of finding a bottle and a clean glass. She delivers both with practiced silence before slipping out of the room.

Hoseok can’t help but notice his boss’s gaze lingering on the pretty young woman as she retreats. He keeps his mouth shut because he’s not an idiot.

Once he has a tumbler of whiskey in hand, Hoseok leans back into his own chair, undoes the top buttons of his dress shirt.

“Something specific you want to talk about?” he asks, sipping his drink.

“Just checking in,” Namjoon says quietly. “I’ve barely seen you these past few weeks. Want to make sure everything’s alright where you’re concerned.”

“I’m fine,” Hoseok says. “Jimin called me about the shit he found on the Lee girl, though.”

“Yeah. I don’t think my sister’s going to take that news well,” Namjoon murmurs. “She’s not exactly the trusting type. A betrayal like this -- ”

He trails off, abandoning one thought for another.

“Does she talk to you?”

Hoseok clears his throat.

He tries not to think about the last time he saw you and the terrible things you’d said to one another. He tries not to remember the look on your face before you turned away from him.

“Not really. Keeps to herself a lot.”

“Yeah, well. She’s had to put up with a lot of shit over the years,” Namjoon admits, rubbing his fingers across his lips. “She keeps things close to the vest.”

Hoseok sags deeper into the plush chair and takes a drink, welcomes the burn that comes with it. He already knows Namjoon is not looking for some kind of dialogue tonight. Namjoon is looking to unload.

Hoseok keeps quiet and lets him do just that.

“My sister has been punished for things beyond her control since the day she was born,” he continues. “My role was clear from day one and hers much less so. My father was too ignorant to figure out how to raise a little girl without a mother and too disinterested to even ask for help.”

Hoseok’s fingers tighten around his glass.

“She spent half her time trying to get his attention and the other half regretting when she finally did.”

The image of that scar comes into Hoseok’s mind, unbidden. The jagged lines of it, the deep indent of it. All of the tiny details that speak to the brutality behind the wound.

“He hurt her,” Hoseok says quietly, looking past Namjoon to stare out into lights outside the window.

“A thousand different ways,” Namjoon sighs, shoving a hand through his hair. “I did what I could, but I couldn’t keep her from all of it.”

The ice in his glass tinkles as he empties his drink.

“I know what people say about my sister, Hoseok,” Namjoon exhales. “None of them know what they’re talking about. She was going to be damned either way. She did what she had to do to survive.”

Hoseok swallows the last of his whiskey around the knot in his throat.

************************

He almost took the night off.

Hoseok’s body could have used the rest, and his mind certainly could have, too. But every time he closes his eyes he sees you, hears your brother’s words.

The pressure inside him keeps building.

He woke up this morning thinking about that photograph inside Namjoon’s desk -- the one taken inside your apartment. The one taken while you were sleeping and at your most vulnerable, inside your own home.

Every cell in Hoseok’s body is telling him that Kang Donghyuk took that picture.

That’s why he’s in his car tonight, following Kang home from the office again. That’s why he’s pulled into a space just outside the man’s high-dollar highrise prepared for another night of waiting and watching.

Fuck, he’ll do it every night until he gets the answers he’s looking for.

A call comes in from Seokjin.

“Hey,” Hoseok answers on the first ring. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin sighs. “Quiet. She’s busy working in her room or something. Why do I have the feeling you’re not at your place taking the personal time you said you needed?”

“Mind your business,” Hoseok mutters.

Seokjin laughs.

“Honestly, I just called because I’m bored. Wondering if you ever plan on coming back to your post. I’m going out of -- “

“-- Shit,” Hoseok interrupts, sitting up straight in his seat. “I gotta go.”

He ends the call before Seokjin can ask why.

Hoseok squints against the dark when he sees Kang Donghyuk walk out of the entrance to his building. Kang stands on the curb, hands shoved into the pockets of his dress pants. Even from a distance, Hoseok can see he’s looking up and down the street.

He’s waiting for someone.

Hoseok’s entire body is tense as he watches a sleek silver car pull up outside the building’s entrance and Kang slip into the passenger seat. The car takes off and Hoseok’s pulse picks up.

This is it.

He waits until the sedan is a few hundred feet ahead to pull out into the street. He’s careful to keep pace with the surrounding traffic so he doesn’t give himself away. And after a short drive, the silver car parks outside a run-down warehouse in one of the shittier parts of the city.

Hoseok pulls into a dark space, cuts the ignition and hides the bright display of his phone.

He watches Kang Donghyuk get out of the passenger seat, followed by the driver of the car. A man Hoseok recognizes as Ssijog right away. The men have a short conversation in the street before disappearing into the warehouse.

Hoseok’s hand tightens around the steering wheel, then loosens. Again and again and again.

He knows the protocol. He knows he should have called this in five minutes ago.

He hasn’t.

He won’t.

Instead, he reaches into the console to pull out his favorite pair of Italian leather gloves.

*************************

Dressing the part has always served Hoseok well, even in this line of work.

Tonight -- his meticulously chosen suit and tie are his ticket inside Kang Donghyuk’s secure high-rise apartment building. Hoseok walks right past the security guard on duty so casually that the man barely looks in his direction.

It takes him only a few minutes to find the door to Kang’s apartment and the entrance to the service elevator nearby. Hoseok stands back into the recess and balls his hands into fists. He concentrates on the stretch of his leather gloves.

Then he waits.

Kang Donghyuk doesn’t keep him waiting long.

Just a short while later, he’s at his apartment door, fumbling with his keys. Hoseok waits until he nudges the door open before making his approach.

One firm hand to the back of the neck and one firm shove is all it takes.

Kang Donghyuk falls through the entrance to his apartment just as Hoseok is closing the door behind him. He rolls onto his back on the floor, eyes wide and sputtering.

“What the fuck man?”

Hoseok doesn’t bother to answer that.

He pulls out his pistol and points the barrel at the cowering man. Kang’s pupils blow wide and Hoseok feels a pulse of satisfaction at his obvious fear.

“Start talking,” Hoseok says, voice low and controlled.

“About what?” Kang squeaks -- voice slipping out an octave too high.

Hoseok clicks the pistol’s safety into place and off again just to ensure Kang hears the sound. The coward reacts immediately, covering his face with his hands.

“Alright man, I’ll talk. Just chill -- “ he wheezes. “I’ll tell you whatever you need to know.”

“I need to know everything, Kang,” Hoseok says between clenched teeth. “Start fucking talking.”

Donghyuk sits up slowly, hands raised and eyes fixed on Hoseok.

“They came to me a few months back. All they said is they wanted her to fuck up the case. That’s all, I swear.”

There’s no feeling of satisfaction for Hoseok when he hears the words spoken aloud. There’s no victory in confirming the guy he thought was a piece of shit all along is actually a piece of shit.

The pressure inside him continues to build.

“You’re working with the Lee girl?”

“Yeah,” Donghyuk admits miserably, eyes unmoving from the barrel of Hoseok’s gun. “She would help me make copies of her keys and shit. She knew where the important files were, too. I mostly had to keep her out of the apartment when they needed to get in and -- ” he clears his throat, “ -- other stuff.”

Hoseok sees red.

Fury ignites inside of him at the innuendo packed into those two short words. His pistol seems to warm in his hand.

“You took that picture,” he whispers, finger tightening around the trigger. Donghyuk winces, swallows so hard Hoseok can see his Adam's apple jump in his throat.

“Yeah,” Donghyuk admits, curling in on himself. “They asked me to.”

Hoseok turns the gun in his hand so fast Donghyuk barely has the time to put his hands over his face again. He cracks the butt of his pistol against the side of Donghyuk’s skull and the man whimpers as he rolls over in pain.

The pistol whip should have been enough to take the edge off of Hoseok’s rage.

But it’s not enough.

He holsters his gun and Donghyuk stares up at him from the floor, terrified.

“Get up,” Hoseok hisses.

Blood has started to seep from a gash on the side of Donghyuk’s head but the man complies. He stumbles to his feet just in time for Hoseok to take him off balance again. He wraps one hand around the man’s throat and squeezes tight, pushing him back against a wall.

Donghyuk’s eyes bulge as Hoseok pins him to the wall with that hand.

“Never, ever --” Hoseok spits the words, grip crushing the man’s neck, “-- go near her again. Do you understand me? That’s not something I have to repeat even for someone as stupid as you, right?”

Donghyuk’s face is mottled, features frozen in fear as he attempts to nod his agreement.

Hoseok tightens his grip and the man starts to turn a satisfying shade of red. The color deepens as Hoseok squeezes harder and all he can think about is how easy it would be to end him, how just a few more seconds of this pressure could cause his windpipe to collapse. How one more hard press of his fingers could solve the problem of Kang Donghyuk forever.

But protocol.

Hoseok finally releases his grip on the man’s throat and Kang immediately slumps down the wall, into a pile on the floor. He gasps, hands clutched to his chest as he fights to regain his breath.

Hosok stands back, straightening his coat and adjusting his jacket underneath.

He gives Kang Donghyuk one last glance before walking to the door.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he warns quietly. “I’d hate to have to pay you another visit.”

Hoseok waits for the door to click closed before pulling out his phone to call Namjoon in the quiet of the hallway. He’s a little breathless when his boss picks up on the first ring.

“Regarding Kang Donghyuk,” he murmurs. “There’s been a development.”

**********************

Namjoon’s call comes late the next afternoon.

“Hey,” Hoseok breathes into the receiver, balancing his phone between his shoulder and ear. He drops his hand back into the bowl of ice water at his side. “What’s up?”

“I need you to come in,” his boss says evenly. “So we can discuss next steps.”

“Be there in ten.”

It’s a little pathetic, the way Hoseok perks up at having somewhere to be.

Even meeting with his boss to explain how he broke protocol and nearly choked a man to death beats sitting in his apartment, icing his sore hand. It sure as hell beats sitting on his couch, staring at the TV and trying not to think about you.

Namjoon takes the news of Kang’s involvement and Hoseok’s insubordination surprisingly well.

He’d listened to Hoseok’s account of how he’d tracked Kang to the warehouse and ambushed him outside his apartment with quiet calm. Maybe it’s his imagination, but Hoseok could swear he almost saw Namjoon smile when he described pistol-whipping Kang inside his apartment.

Yoongi -- pragmatic as ever -- laid the options out plainly.

He argued that the Gajog could get rid of either Lee Hyejin or Kang Donghyuk, but not both. Killing both, Yoongi reasoned, would put an entirely different kind of target on your back. Both Hoseok and Namjoon agreed with that assessment. Yoongi has always had a mind for strategy, even if his delivery leaves a bit to be desired.

Namjoon promised to think over the options before dismissing them both.

*************************

Hoseok’s hand still aches.

He’s been driving around the city for more than an hour now, not ready to go home and not certain which move to make next. Each turn of his steering wheel sends a throb of discomfort through his grip.

Fucking up Kang Donghyuk was satisfying, no doubt. But it’s not enough.

Hoseok doesn’t feel the sense of relief he’d expected to enjoy after choking that man to within an inch of his life. There’s still a dull ache inside his chest too insistent to ignore.

He tries to focus on the street signs that come and go, the traffic lights that glow against the backdrop of the setting sun. He drives until the night takes over completely and then he drives until he parks outside of your place.

When Hoseok cuts the ignition, it’s like he’s just come out of a fog. He looks up at your high-rise and takes a deep breath before climbing out of the car.

******************

Seokjin’s bag must have already been packed.

After a quick debrief he’s out the door in seconds, leaving Hoseok alone inside the quiet apartment. He sinks down onto the couch and stares at your closed bedroom door.

He should knock, he thinks to himself.

He should get the apology sitting on the tip of his tongue out of the way so the two of you can move forward from what happened the other night. He should apologize for the way he’s treated you and he should beg for your forgiveness.

Hoseok scrubs a hand down his face before resolving to do just that -- at the same time your bedroom door opens. He watches you walk to the kitchen without so much as a glance in his direction and then he hears the sound of running water.

He follows you.

Hoseok worries for a split-second that you might drop the glass in your hand when you finally spot him.

“Oh,” you breathe, “It’s you.”

Hoseok thought the last time he’d seen you -- when you’d worn that incredible gown and pulled out every stop -- he thought that was the most beautiful you’d ever looked. But somehow that pales in comparison to how you look right now, figure swimming in an oversized sweatshirt, hair loose and framing your bare face. He can’t even bring himself to look lower because you’re wearing those godforsaken shorts. Has Seokjin seen you in those things?

His brain derails and it takes a moment to get back on track.

“Sorry,” he says slowly. “Yeah, it’s me. I’m back now.”

“Okay,” you exhale, setting your glass of water down.

“I’m sorry.”

Hoseok had planned on saying something a bit more heartfelt, something with a bit more depth. He had not intended on blurting out his apology the moment he saw you.

“I don’t want you to feel sorry for me,” you say softly. “I don’t want your pity or anyone else’s.”

Hoseok steps closer and you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, a nervous gesture.

“That’s not what I said,” he insists, shaking his head. “I’m not sorry for you, I’m sorry for me. I’m sorry because I’m a fucking jerk.”

You blink back at him. “What?”

“I’m sorry -- ” Hoseok takes another step forward, “ -- that you have to put up with assholes like me who think they know everything about you when they really don’t know anything.”

Hoseok ignores the voice inside his head warning him not to press you too hard, not to take this too far.

“I’m sorry anyone has ever tried you because I promise you they are going to pay,” he vows, stepping even closer.

You lean back against the heavy stone of your kitchen island, eyes wide.

“And fuck -- ” Hoseok practically chokes the words out, “-- fuck, I am so sorry for wanting you as badly as I do when I know I have no right.”

There is a moment after those words tumble out when Hoseok thinks he may have just fucked everything up for good. A moment when your mouth drops open but you say nothing and Hoseok is certain you’re going to make him leave.

But you don’t.

So he kisses you.

Hoseok swallows the sound of surprise you make when he slants his lips over yours. You reach your hands around his neck to pull him closer and go up on your tiptoes to make up for the difference in height. Hoseok groans into your mouth when your nails scrape against the back of his neck.

Any moment now -- any moment now he’s certain you’re going to come to your senses. You’re going to demand he take his filthy fucking hands off of you. He braces for it.

But you don’t.

Instead, you melt into his touch and whimper into his mouth and what’s left of Hoseok’s sanity evaporates. The sounds of panting and groaning echo off of the stone in the kitchen as you meld your body to his.

“I want you so much,” he whispers, gripping your waist to lift you onto the counter.

It’s easy to ignore the way his hand aches in protest when you’re wrapping your legs around his waist and sinking your fingers into his hair. His cock is so hard in his pants he feels like he might explode.

You pull away from him, breathless, to lift your sweatshirt over your head and Hoseok’s chest tightens at the flash of doubt that crosses your features. The heat that creeps into your cheeks when your scar is bared and on display.

He leans close to brush feather-light kisses against it, lips soft against the rough skin. “Every inch of you is perfect,” he whispers, sucking gently at the indent in your collarbone. “Just the way it is.”

You suck in a sharp breath and release it with a strangled sigh as your fingers grip the back of Hoseok’s neck. He trails kisses from your scar, slowly down your breast, onto one aching nipple.

“Hoseok -- please,” you beg. “I want -- “

Your plea breaks apart he takes your nipple into his mouth, teeth teasing at the straining bud.

“Tell me what you want,” Hoseok murmurs, burying his face into the soft skin between your breasts, “Tell me and I swear to God, I’ll give it to you.”

Your fingers fumble for his belt and Hoseok groans when you work it apart. There’s no way he’s ever been this hard -- ever. He’s certain he could come just from rutting against the counter with your voice in his ear.

“Hoseok,” you whisper again. “Hoseok -- “

He doesn’t catch on to the panic in your tone until you go rigid in his arms.

“There’s someone at the door,” you whisper, eyes wide.

“Shit.”

Hoseok shuts his eyes, leans his forehead against yours.

You slip out of his hold and he leans over the kitchen counter, arms braced against the stone while he tries to collect the last remaining scraps of his self-control. You pull your sweatshirt back overhead and run quietly to the door.

You’re back only a moment later.

“It’s my brother,” you whisper. “And Yoongi and some guy I don’t know.”

Holy shit.

Hoseok grits his teeth, takes a deep breath, and silently wills his rigid cock to stand down. Thinking about Kim Namjoon’s face on the other side of that door helps, actually. It helps a lot.

The door knocker thuds again loudly and Hoseok can hear Namjoon’s voice coming from the hallway. You wait until he’s managed to straighten his shirt and secure his belt before opening the door.

He can see your brother’s frown from ten feet away.

“Hoseok should really be the one to answer the door, Amsaja,” he says, eyes narrowed. “Is he not here?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” Hoseok calls out, hoping like hell that his voice sounds even. “Sorry. I was just -- uh, in the middle of something.”

Actually, I was trying to be in the middle of something. That something being your sister. That’s not going to be a problem, is it?

Yoongi looks between you and Hoseok and Namjoon but says nothing.

“So what’s going on?” Hoseok asks, desperate to move the conversation along. “Something wrong?”

“Jeon is going to stay over tonight,” Namjoon says, pointing to the youngest man on his team. Jungkook walks into the apartment and bows to you before taking a seat on the couch.

Namjoon nods at Yoongi before turning to Hoseok.

“The three of us have somewhere to be.”

**********************

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bangtansbun · 3 years

Text

Endgame || Feels Right

pairing: jeongguk x f. reader

genre: angst, a little fluff

word count: 3k

warnings: casual drinking, heavy make out sesh

a/n: thank you for waiting for this you guys!! I know i was meant to post this on thursday, but it was the end of my term and it was just overall a crazy week last week. I really don’t like giving you guys half assed written parts so i hope you didn’t mind the wait! also, listen to delicate but tswift with this chapter. unedited

Minnie was thirty minutes away from picking you up and you weren’t even dressed yet. What the hell were you supposed to wear to possibly see your ex/love of your life/childhood best friend?? You had to look good, you knew that, but you also didn’t want to look like you were trying too hard. You stand in front of your closet for a little while longer before you’re letting out a huff and pulling out a suede moto jacket. While inspecting the jacket, your phone goes off with a text from Jimin stating that he was now only twenty minutes away. Without anymore thinking – because if you thought any longer about it you’d be showing up to the bar in nothing but the jacket – you grab a slightly sheer white top, a blue lacy bralette to peek count from under it, ripped jeans, and some charcoal grey suede heeled boots. As you look at yourself in the mirror you realize that this is 100% the type of outfit that Jeongguk would love to see you in. Your mission in looking effortless had failed, but you did like the way you looked in your outfit, definitely gave you a boost of confidence before Jimin’s knocking on your door.

The ride to the first place of the night isn’t too long. The two of you decided to grab something to eat at a restaurant (along with a few drinks because you’d need the liquid courage later) so that you aren’t dancing and drinking on empty stomachs. It was also partially because you weren’t quite ready for the possibility of seeing Jeongguk again. You didn’t even really know if he would be there, but just the possibility of him being there again and Jimin without a doubt pushing you to go talk to him has your stomach in knots.

The two of you order your meals and a glass of wine to go with it, easy chit chat flowing as you wait for your food. “So, are you ready for tonight?” He asks with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “We don’t even know if he’ll be there, but the answer is no. Why would I ever be ready for something like this?” you ask incredulously. He lets out a sigh before answering you, “oh, come on. You really thought you’d never see him again? You guys grew up in the same town and had one of those fairytale kind of loves, which is fucking incredible.” He had a small point, but you felt like your love was anything but fairytale-like. It all burning down in the midst of one of the worst times of his life. You ignore his actual question, “it’s just a little scary, okay? I don’t really know him anymore.” He nods in understanding. Jimin may be brave and outspoken, but he’d never push you too far, understands what you’re going through.

Your food arrives and the two of you munch in comfortable silence. The lack of conversation isn’t because of the topic that was brought up, but purely because the food is just that good at this Italian estaurant. While you didn’t love talking about your past with Jeongguk, Jimin was your best friend and you guys told each other everything, nothing was a secret or off limits. Jimin takes the last bite of his three cheese tortellini, an mmm coming out of him before he wipes his mouth and looks you dead in the eyes, “alright, you ready?” Unfortunately for him, the answer was no and you begged him to take you guys to another bar before going to the one he’d most likely be at. You just weren’t ready to face the music yet (not really sure you’d ever be, but you could sure prolong it).

Jimin didn’t really mind too much though, you guys hadn’t been to this bar in a while and it was nice to have a change of scenery. You both swayed to the music rhythmically, taking swigs of your drinking every now and then. Jimin was the best person to go out with because even though he constantly had men and women hangin off of him or wanting to dance with him, he never left your side unless you were pushing him to do so. Dancing with you and making sure you were having a good time was always as much of a priority for him as it was for you. You would be content staying right here, just like this for the rest of the night.

“Come on, man. I don’t think she’s coming, it’s already 11pm and we’ve seen no sign of her,” Taehyung says in exhaustion. In his defense, he had had a long day at work and he wasn’t really helping with the fact that anytime Tae suggested to dance he turned it down. Not wanting to move from his spot angled perfectly to see the entrance in case he missed you. “You don’t know yn like I do, she could stay up all night long if she wanted to. Plus, weren’t you excited to see her friend again?” Taehyung nods along hesitantly, “yeah, but that was when I thought they would actually be here and so far, they’re not.” Jungkook gets it, Taehyung wants to support him, but he’s also worried about him getting his hopes up (and ultimately, hearty broken). Doesn’t want to see his friend acting so desperate. “Alright, I’ll stay a little bit longer, but if they’re not here in the next thirty minutes, I’m heading home. I’m beat from work and I gotta get some sleep.” Jungkook nods in understanding and, honestly, he might prefer if Tae leaves because then if yn does show up he doesn’t have to feel bad about leaving him to the wayside while he tries to win you back.

In an effort to try to make Taehyung’s night a little more enjoyable, Jeongguk heads over to the bar to grab them some drinks and then abandons his coveted seat to go dance with his friend. He actually finds that he has a good time, letting his mind wander to things other than you because if he was really being honest with himself, he was scared. Scared that you wouldn’t want him back, that you hated him and never wanted to see him again. He’d deserve it too, for how he ended things with you – or actually, how he didn’t properly end things with you. However, he’s not letting himself dwell on these things for too long while he moves to the best of the music.

Taehyung does end up leaving eventually, but not as soon as he said he would because he ended up having fun once Jeongguk got out of his head a little bit. He apologized for needing to dip out, but Jeongguk understood his friend’s need for sleep and the fact that it was probably unlikely at this point that yn would actually show up. Jeongguk decided that he’ll probably leave within the next hour too, doesn’t want to humiliate himself anymore than he has to.

Much to your dismay, you and Jimin are finally on the way to the bar that you were meant to be at all night. Jimin bribed you on the fact that it’s already almost midnight and the two of you had decided earlier that you wouldn’t stay out past 1am, so it’s not like you would be there that long. Plus, if he was there, he’s probably left already since it’s getting pretty late.

When you guys arrive you can feel yourself beginning to fill with nerves. Your stomach turning and twisting at the thought of having to go in. “Don’t worry, baby. No matter what happens, you still have me and we can leave at any moment,” Jimin offers to you, and God, he is the best friend you could ever ask for.

He knows you miss Guk so much, miss the love you two used to the share, but even more so, the friendship that ran so deep between the two of you. He just wants you to be happy with the man of your dreams and he knows the only way for that to be possible is to take this chance.

He holds your hand as you walk in, turning around with a smirk on his face, “you think he brought his hot friend with him?” This makes you laugh because Jimin is shameless and will 100% jump Taehyung if he’s here with Jeongguk. You feel lighter now.

Upon first glance, you don’t see him or Taehyung anywhere and you feel your shoulders relax – had been carrying the tension there for probably the last hour. The two of you make your way to find seats on a swanky blue velvet couch before Jimin heads his way over to the bar to grab drinks.

Unbeknownst to you, you had walked right past Jeongguk. He was seated at the bar by the entryway, his back to you as you passed by. He was preoccupied with paying out his tab and hadn’t notice you come in. Luckily for him though, a certain plump-lipped pretty boy is standing next to him ordering drinks for two just before he was about to head home for the night, and he recognizes him instantly.

Before saying anything, he quickly turns around to scan the room. He wants to see if you’re actually here before looking like a lunatic to your friend. It takes maybe 30 seconds before he spots you and his stomach does a flip. He turns back to your friend just as the bartender is handing him drinks and gently taps his shoulder, “hey, are you here with yn?” Jimin’s eyes go so wide and he almost drops the drinks from pure shock. “You’re him!! Guk right?” Jimin practically screams. Jeongguk can tell right away that he’s pretty drunk which means you might be too, but he’ll feel out the situation once he gets over to you. Before he can even reply, Jimin’s grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him over to you. He’s so proud of himself for finding Guk, but the look on your face has him questioning everything.

The second you lay eyes on him, all color goes from your face. It’s like seeing a ghost from your past and you don’t know what to do. Your heart is beating so fast you’re afraid he’ll actually be able to hear it over the raging bass.

He’s gorgeous.

Not that he ever wasn’t, but it’s been five years. You guys have both changed so much and you weren’t sure what adult Guk would look like, but he’s stunning and you’re nervous because there’s no way a guy like him doesn’t have a girlfriend. You feel stupid because his post probably wasn’t even for you. Or maybe he just wants to catch up and be friends, nothing more.

“Hey,” he says in his most gentle voice, afraid you’ll run off based on the expression on your face. You shake your head quickly and force a smile onto your face, “hi.” You both stand there for a minute just staring at each other, you have no idea what to say. Jimin’s the one to speak next, “Okayyy, well, I’m gonna go dance with that cutie over there. Come get me if you need me, yn.” And just in principle, he shoots Jeongguk a look as if to say do anything to her and I’ll murder you.

Jeongguk slowly sits down next to you, “h-how are you?” His cute stutter loosens you up a little bit, you know that he only stutters when he’s nervous and it’s good to know that he’s just as nervous as you are. “I’m doing okay. How have you been?” You pause for a moment before saying the next part, “it’s been such a long time.” A sullen look takes over Jeongguk’s face and it makes your heart clench. He realizes that you’re not quite as drunk as your friend so he decides to just go for it, “I know and I’m really sorry about that. I- I really wanted to say I’m sorry to you. I saw you in here last weekend and I only just saw you before you left, but I immediately wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have left things the way I did-” you’re quick to cut him off. “No, I mean, I get it. You don’t need to apologize.” But he’s shaking his head at you. “No, I do because I loved you and I shouldn’t have just disappeared on you. I really thought I couldn’t handle everything that was going on with me and be in a relationship, but it hurt more without you. I- I just didn’t know how to fix things and so I just let it go. But it hurt and I know I hurt you too.” He’s staring at you so intensely. Not that you would ever think Jeongguk would lie to you, but you can tell he really wants you to see how sorry he is about the situation. You keep hanging on to one word though, loved. Past tense.

You nod slowly at him, “yeah, it stung a little bit, but I just wanted you to do what you needed. I don’t have any hard feelings about it.” Your response is an understatement because it took you years to get over him, but now that he’s sitting right in front of you, seemingly as sweet as ever, you’re not so sure you really ever did. He gives you a small smile, but there’s still sadness behind it. “So, uh, who is-” he looks over in Jimin’s direction. He wants to feel out whether you’re seeing anyone or not, although, Jeongguk’s quite sure the guy you’re with is just your friend based on the way he dragged him over to you. “Oh! Um, that’s Jimin. I met him through work.” Something flickers in your eyes which as Jeongguk questioning his instincts, but it’s really just a fondness you have for your best friend. “Ah, I see, so you too are-” and you’re quick to correct him, “no, no, we’re just really good friends.” Relief, that’s the look that he gives you at his answer and it causes a swell of butterflies in your stomach. “Can I get you something to drink?” you give him a nod because Jimin had taken your drink with him on the dance floor, double fisting as he sways to the music.

The rest of the night is spent with the two of you catching up on the past five years. You realize that the two of you have changed a lot and are different in ways you wouldn’t have thought, but deep down you’re both the same two kids that fell in love with each other way back when. Jeongguk is still just as caring, considerate, and sweet as he always was. You also learn that he’s single which has you feeling things you didn’t think you’d feel tonight.

You’re both sitting close to each other now, getting tipsier and tipsier by the minute. He still makes you laugh and he still hasn’t gotten over how the sound of your laugh makes him melt. Especially considering he’s the one making you laugh. Your knees are touching and you can feel the warmth from his arm as he leans in to you to tell you something that halppened to him the other day. Your hold body seems to react to his closeness. His eyes still sparkle like they did when he was young and his mouth still forms that cute pout that you so desperately want to kiss. Before you know it, he catches you staring at him. “What?” he asks a little dumbly. His face is close to yours now and if you just leaned a little closer, he would get the hint, but you don’t move at all. Instead, he’s the one to make the first move, wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you a bit closer until his lips are hovering over yours. Like he’s not sure if this is okay, but he wants to do it. And you want him to do it too. You give a slight nod to indicate that it’s okay and he immediately closes in.

The feeling you get when his lips are slotted against yours is almost indescribable. The best way to describe it is that it just feels right. Like you should have been doing this for the past five years. Like no time has passed between the two of you at all. Only difference is that now you can smell his cologne and his hair is longer, allowing you to gently tug of the ends of them while you explore each other’s mouths. He’s completely and totally drinking you in, he didn’t realize just how much he missed kissing you until this very moment and now he’s not sure he ever wants to stop. “I’ve missed you so much,” he says breathlessly in between kisses. You moan in response which he swallows down, he knows you must have missed him too. Your heart and your head are clouded with feelings and you’re so confused as to what all of this means, but you don’t let yourself dwell on it right now. You just want to enjoy how it feels to have your lips sliding against his, the swipe of his tongue against your own.

You’re not sure how long the two of you carry on like that, but you’re practically gasping for air when Jimin pulls you apart saying that he’s getting tired and wants to go home soon. A sorry on his lips at having to interrupt the two of you, but it was late and the two of you had already agreed on when you’d head home for the night. You clumsily get off of Jeongguk’s lap and give him and apologetic smile as you walk off with your best friend. The forethought to ask if his number is still the same not even a blip on your radar. He realizes this just a moment too late because you’re already out the door and getting into the car you and Jimin had arranged to pick you up at this time. He’s not too worried though, he’ll find a way to reach you again. He has to.

taglist: @ggukkieland @hecticwonderer @kookiepout @artistkoo @secretlycrazyhummingbird @imluckybitches @mybiasforsure @madaboutjeon @scentedsope @thequeen-kat @betysotelo18 @apollukee @nightapple4jk @peachthi @pimpnameyannie @xtrataerrestrial @somewhereinthestarss @xxminilah

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rubysunnday · 4 years

Text

Sarcasm

A/N: this is called ‘how many Stiles Stilinski quotes can I fit in one fic?’ Turns out quite a few

Y/N sighed as the phone rang for the fifth time that day.

“Tom!” She yelled, hoping he would answer it so that she didn’t have to get up. “Tommy !”

“I’m busy!” He yelled back.

Y/N groaned, unfolding herself from underneath the blanket and got up for the sofa. She all but stomped over to the phone, making sure her brother was aware of how annoyed she was at having to move.

“Hello?” She said as she picked up the phone.

“Oh, thank god it’s you.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows. “Finn? What do you want?”

“I need your help,” Finn replied, panting slightly.

“Why are you out of breath?” She asked, frowning.

“Because I’ve just run a marathon,” Finn said, sarcasm dripping off every word. “I’ve just been chased down the street by some random Italians!”

Y/N turned her back to the betting shop. “What?”

“You heard me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, not what I meant. Why do you need me?”

“Well, I don’t really know what to do.”

Y/N groaned. “Alright, fine. Where are you?”

“Phone box near the station.”

“I’ll be ten minutes,” she muttered, already regretting answering the phone. She put it back on the receiver and grabbed her coat. “I’m going out!”

“Don’t do anything stupid!” Arthur yelled at her as she left.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “No promises,” she muttered, shutting the door behind her.

Finn hadn’t moved from the phone box.

Y/N sighed at her brother as he all but burst from inside and ran towards her. “What did you do?”

Finn hesitated, opening his mouth and closing it several times before answering. “It’ll be easier to show you.”

He grabbed her hand and began dragging her down the road. Y/N sighed but allowed her brother to keep dragging her. They walked past rows of house, turned down several suspicious looking alleyways and definitely walked in a circle several times.

“Finn, love, where are you taking me?” Y/N asked as they walked past the butchers for the sixth time.

“Here,” Finn said, pulling her in front of him and pushing Y/N into the entrance of a dead-end alley.

Y/N and stumbled to a halt and stared at the body of a rather large Italian at the end of the alley. “Finn, what did you do?”

“It was self-defence!” Finn exclaimed loudly.

“Alright, alright, shut up,” Y/N said, slowly walking forward towards the body.

“I’ve already called the police.”

Y/N turned to look at her brother, eyebrow raised. “You called the police before you called me?”

Finn frowned. “I’m supposed to call you when I find a dead body?”

“YES!” Y/N said loudly, throwing her hands up. “Bloody hell, Finn, do you have any brain cells or do I have all of them?” Y/N sighed. “Alright, if you’ve already called the police then we need to leave.”

“They didn’t seem overly concerned,” Finn replied. “Maybe we should phone them again.”

“No,” Y/N said, shaking her head.

“No, what do you mean no?”

“I mean no, you want to hear it in Spanish: Noh,” Y/N replied, staring at her brother. “I swear to god this family has two brain cells and that Polly and I are the only ones who ever have them.”

Y/N grabbed her brother’s arm and dragged him away from the alley.

“What about the body?” Finn asked, pointing at it as he was led away.

Y/N shrugged. “They’ll sort it, come on,” she said, pulling him in front of her and pushing him.

“But, shouldn’t we tell someone?” Finn asked, genuinely bewildered.

“Yes, let’s tell the entirety of Small Heath that Finn Shelby murdered an Italian with his brother’s gun.”

Finn stopped and glared at her. “The sarcasm is not appreciated, Y/N.”

“I’m 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bone, sarcasm is my only defence,” Y/N shot back. “Not to mention I just saved your ass.”

“Where are we going?” Finn asked as Y/N pushed him into walking again.

“A dead body?” John asked, staring at them, eyebrows raised.

“No, a body water,” Y/N snapped. “Yes, a dead body!”

John sighed. “Alright, what do you want me to do about it?”

“Well, it was your gun Finn murdered him with.”

“It was self-defence.”

“Still murder, Finn,” Y/N replied. “John, I just need you to move the body and burn it and no one will be any the wiser.”

John shook his head in despair. “Fucking hell, fine, where is it?”

“Why have I just had a phone call from Moss about a dead Italian near the butchers?”

Y/N winced at Tommy’s yell as he marched into the room.

“Ah, fuck,” John muttered. He stood up and walked into the betting shop flanked by Y/N and Finn.

“What Italian?” Arthur asked, frowning.

“No idea, Moss got a phone call about a dead body and found it in an alley,” Tommy replied, leaning on the back of a chair and looking at the room. “I’m only going to ask this once, did anyone here murder him?”

“Not me,” Arthur said, shaking his head.

Michael shook his head as well. “Weren’t me either, Tom.”

Tommy turned to look at John. “John?”

“I’ve been here all afternoon, Tommy,” John replied. “Finn and Y/N have been upstairs.”

“Yup, I’ve been reading,” Y/N said, following John’s train of thought.

“I’ve been sewing my cap,” Finn added, nodding.

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Ahuh, then why did Moss say it sounded like Finn on the other end of the phone?”

Y/N sighed. “Fuck’s sake, Finn.”

“What was I meant to do!” Finn yelled.

“So, you lied to me?” Tommy asked, frowning.

Y/N shrugged. “That depends how you define lying, Tom.”

“Well, I define it as not telling the truth,” Tommy replied, walking closer to them. “How do you define it?”

Y/N paused, thinking. “Reclining your body in a… horizontal position,” she said, mimicking horizontal with her hands.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Tommy ordered.

Y/N nodded. “Absolutely.”

“What exactly were you two going to do about this problem?” Tommy asked, staring at them both.

“Well, personally, I’m a huge fan of ignoring the problem until, eventually, it goes away,” Y/N replied, standing in the doorway.

“Y/N,” Tommy said, turning to face her. “What did I say?”

“Well you told me to leave but then started talking to me so I just… sort of… hovered,” Y/N replied, swinging her arms. “Besides, it’s not like the Italian was a good person or anything, probably had Finn shooting him in the head coming.”

Michael turned to stare at his cousin. “You’re a horrible person.”

Y/N sighed, nodding. “I know, it keeps me awake at night.”

“I didn’t mean to kill him!” Finn suddenly yelled. “It was self-defence.”

“What the fuck is happening in here?” Polly asked walking in and glaring at them all.

“Finn killed an Italian, Tommy’s pissed off at us – nothing new there - and apparently I’m a horrible person,” Y/N replied.

“Not to mention you won’t answer any questions,” Michael added, twirling his pen between his fingers.

Y/N clicked her fingers and pointed at him. “That too.”

Polly sighed. “I’ve been gone three hours.”

“What happens if they find out I killed him?” Finn asked.

“Who?” Y/N turned to look at him, frowning.

“The mafia!” Finn exclaimed. “I killed one of their own, they’re going to hunt me down and kill me,” Finn muttered, spiralling. “Oh god.”

“Alright, sit down,” Arthur said, shoving Finn into a chair and handing him a glass of whiskey. “I’m not gonna let you die, alright.”

Y/ N groaned. “God, can’t you at least think about it?” She asked, looking at Arthur lovingly. “For me?”

“I refer to my earlier statement,” Michael muttered.

“Oh, cry me a river, Michael,” Y/N snapped.

“Oi!” Tommy yelled. “We’re getting off topic. Y/N, since we all know you are a fucking terrible influence on Finn, you’re coming with me to dispose of the body.”

“Oh, no, thank you, it’s rather gory, disposing,” Y/N replied, shaking her head. “I might faint.”

Tommy raised his eyebrows, staring at her incredulously. “You faint at the sight of blood?”

“No, but I might at the sight of a chopped off arm!” She exclaimed.

“Y/N, stay here and keep quiet for once,” Arthur muttered, shaking his head as John laughed.

“If I could give you a grade on how profoundly you disturb me,” Michael said, looking at Y/N, “You’d be an A+ student.”

Y/N smiled gratefully at her cousin. “Aw, thanks Michael.”

John laughed again as Polly shook her head, slightly amused. Tommy groaned, hanging his head in despair.

“Right, Arthur and I will deal with Moss,” Tommy said, rubbing his face. “Y/N, stay here and try not cause any more chaos.”

“I wasn’t even the one to shoot him, Tommy!” Y/N exclaimed. “What the fuck?!”

“Yeah, alright,” Tommy said, waving a hand at her. “Stay here and let Michael teach you something useful, ok?”

“Yeah sure, we’ll do the alphabet, shall we Michael? Start with F end with U,” Y/N snapped, glaring at her brother.

Tommy glared back at his sister. “You’ll be lucky if I don’t end up shooting you at this rate.”

Arthur stepped forward, grabbing his sister by the shoulder. “Think you can answer some questions without the usual level of sarcasm?”

“If you ask them without the usual level of stupid, Arthur.”

Polly chuckled quietly. “Y/N,” she said warningly, her eyes betraying her amusement at her niece.

“So, you’re asking me to tell you what I wouldn’t not tell you,” Y/N asked, looking at her older brothers.

Arthur blinked. “First of, I have no fucking clue what you just said.”

“Secondly,” Tommy said, cutting in, “how about you just let us help you?”

“Well, it wasn’t me who killed him.”

“Y/N.”

“Well, I don’t know how to help you help me tell you something that would help if I don’t know it,” Y/N replied.

Tommy groaned. “Are you doing this on purpose?”

Y/N smirked, crossing her arms. “Possibly.”

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #shelby sis #Shelby sister #shelby!sis #sister!reader

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juminly · 4 years

Text

Nights Like These

Summary: A nice cozy movie night with timeskip! Iwaizumi Hajime. Tags: Mostly Fluff & Smut towards the end. Warning: Smut starts after the “♥♥♥” and includes fingering and cockwarming.

–♥–

Hajime knew that you loved mac and cheese. He had enough skills to be able to be able to whip up something nice and yummy for you after you've had such a long day and especially since you haven’t had an actual “date” in so long. Living on his own in the US for a few years did have its perks and this was one of them: he was a grown ass man who knew his way well enough in the kitchen to be able to cook for you. Sighing loudly, dark orbs stared for a few seconds at the smart watch strapped to his wrist then back at the pot in front of him. He was looking forward to seeing you more than anything. Being the athletic trainer of the national Japanese team was no ordinary feat and it took up a lot of his time and energy. But, that didn't mean that it would take up the time that you deserved, the time that you both needed. Being always so hyper-focused on his own work, his thoughts tended to drift off quite often to you, just thinking about the last few phone calls you had, the last few texts you sent him and the things you've done in your last few dates. He missed the way you sighed when he played with your hair... God, he loved playing with your hair, twirling your curls in his fingers. It wasn't even the agreed time for your date but he was anxious to see you. He wouldn't admit it to you though, not even to himself. The loud and strong thrumming of his heart in his chest was a big reminder of how much he loved you. He was smitten. No, ever worse! or better? He couldn't even think straight anymore, he was whipped for you and... Ring! Ring! Ring! Three rings. That's your own way of letting him know that it was you and he just absolutely loved it when you did that. If it were anyone else at the door, he wouldn't have been rushing towards it the way he had and flung it open just to see your face.

"Princess." The corner of his lips just curled up out of their own volition, didn't even ask for permission but they didn't even have to. You were here and he wouldn't have it any other way. Why was he acting and feeling like such a schoolboy? He didn't even care. What he cared about was why you were still not throwing your arms around him. "Come here, you." Leaning forward, he took your hand in his and pulled you in for a hug, squeezing his arms tightly around your waist, supporting your weight as you literally balanced yourself on the tip of your toes to wrap your arms around his neck and hug him back. He nuzzled your neck only for a brief moment, leaving a gentle kiss there and before you murmured in a wondering tone. "Cheesy?" He couldn't help but stiffen for a brief moment. Did you figure out what he had prepared for you? Or even worse, Hajime would be completely mortified if you thought he was cheesy or corny at any point and you didn't like it. Not that he was a man of many words but he always made sure that any word coming out of his mouth meant something. At least when it came to you. He didn't give two fucks when it came to the guys, they could all whimper and cry for all he cared. Nobody meant more to him than you. The click of your tongue snapped him out of his racing thoughts and that giggle... that same glorious and marvellous sound that made him turn his head the first time you met, that time when your eyes locked and he knew that he had to talk to you, even if one of the players on the team had to be used as a wingman just to be able to get a word in with you. "Babe-" You laughed softly. "What's going on in that head of yours? Are you daydreaming about me when I'm in your arms?" With a long sigh, you mumbled and seemed a bit disgruntled, which obviously made the furrow between Hajime's eyebrows even deeper. "If that's the case, then I can just leave. Is daydreaming about me better than real me?" He knew you were joking but how dare you use that pouty tone on him?

"I won't answer your first question. You'll have to wait and see for yourself. But-" Pressing his hand on the small of your back, his other hand inched down to grip you by the waist as his lips hovered against your own, his breath fanning over your lips, tickling them lightly just as a tingling sensation arose in both your chests. "Do you really think I would call you over if I didn't want you right where you are right now?" Closing the distance between you, he loses himself in the little taste of sweetness he could get from a chaste gentle kiss of your lips. It was hard for him to even contain himself or exercise any form of control when he's around you. "Right here in my arms." He murmurs softly before going back in for another kiss, a little bit deeper, a tiny bit more passionate as he molds your lips together, sucking on your bottom one before breaking away once again. Gazing down on you as you both try to catch your breath from the small loving exchange, Hajime stared down at your cheeks that were now painted with the most adorable blush, his heart swelling with giddiness that he was the one responsible for such a reaction from you. "Come on, we're watching The Princess Bride tonight and I better not hear any objections from you." He smiled as he saw yet another giggle from you, even as you rolled your eyes and told him that you've already seen it a thousand times before and you didn't even know why he wanted to watch it with you. Silencing you with a small peck, his usual frown was still on that handsome face of his but his gaze was soft and endearing. "I want to know more about the things that you love so you'll have to humour me for tonight, baby girl."

Kissing your cheek, his hand finds yours and he guides you to the living room, pulling you away from the kitchen since he knew that was the destination you had in mind. You always wanted to give him a hand when it came to literally anything but when it came to your dates or your time together, Hajime wanted to show that he wanted to do things for you. It was simply his love language. A language that was created since he met you. "Thanks for coming over. I know it was last minute but the guys' practice match got postponed so I decided to cut them some slack." - he chuckled before meeting your eyes that were now crinkling with laughter - "Not that I don't plan on kicking their ass later anyway. Gotta make sure they are in top shape and remember who's the one making the rules." Once he ensured that you were seated, he threw you a glance of warning over his shoulder as he walked out to the kitchen. "You better sit tight princess while I go get the food. I'll be right back." He winked at you and chuckled at the way you squirmed slightly and busied yourself with the remote control as he prepared your dinner for you. Hajime had his own way of showing his love and spoiling you. The man wanted to make sure that he followed through. Making you feel special, trying to show but a sliver of how he truly felt about you. Sighing loudly and after ensuring that the pasta was thoroughly cooked, he meticulously dumped it in a bowl, big enough to fit 6 servings of mac and cheese and brought two plates along with him to the living room.

As "The Princess Bride" began playing, you both dug into your food and being the humble fellow that he was, Hajime didn't dare comment on the food but he did find it quite... acceptable, to say the least. On the other hand, the look on your face when you saw what he had cooked for you was worth all the effort. He didn't use the basic Kraft Dinner mac and cheese, even though it was basically your favourite. However, he just wanted to do just a little bit extra for you, add his own touch : a four cheese mac and cheese with the finest pasta from a local Italian shop that he always ate at and even took you to a few times. The first few bites etched an expression of pure bliss on your face and that drew a shit eating grin on his face, one that you didn't even get the chance to see as you were too busy filling in your plate with a second serving. While you munched on your food and whispered about your favourite scenes from time to time, Hajime tried his best to keep his attention on the movie but you were much more entertaining that it was while you recited almost every single line that resounded from the TV. He wished he could turn it off and just watch you act out the movie and tell him about everything you love about it, he wouldn't have minded that at all.

He chuckled under his breath at the look of amazement on your face when you both managed to finish and lick clean all the contents of the pot. He just let you believe that you ate more than him - just for shits and giggles - when he was also devouring whatever he could from the food (about 4.5 servings - the man works out A LOT, okay? Don't judge-). Nobody could blame him, it was fucking delicious and he was proud that you loved something that he made with his own two hands. Taking a short clean-up/bathroom break, Hajime cozied up on the couch, checking all the stupid emojis and texts he received from the Olympic team. How did they even know that he was on a date with you? The texts and emojis on the group chat ranged from: "Ya betta get it on tonight, Iwa-chan~ Ya frown too much cause ya don't get laid enough!" - Atsumu, the wannabe Shittykawa. "WAT R U GOING TO BE DOING ON UR DATE? WILL IT BE FUN? MAYBE I CAN COME!? I LUV UR GF" - Hinata, the sweet sunshine boy bordering on annoying but too pure to be so, Hajime had to admit that he had a soft spot for him and the rowdy wing spiker who followed up with a text of his own. "WE'RE COMING OVER IN 1H TO HANG OUT WITH U! WE MISS HER SO MUCH!", Bokuto's follow-up did nothing but make the trainer's blood boil with imminent rage. If those two dimwits dared to even ring the bell of his condo, Japan can say goodbye to their favourite chaotic duo.

Putting in an Airpod in his left ear, Hajime began recording the most graphically violent threat he could muster on the group chat and stuttering mid-way through the voice note. Yes, Hajime Iwaizumi stuttered out of surprise and YOU were the only one who could catch this man off-guard as you walked back into the living room wearing nothing but one of his T-shirts. He barely managed a quick "I gotta go", clicked send without looking at the screen, blinked and gawked at you with a baffled frown. "What happened to your clothes?" "Well~ Things did get a little messy in the kitchen and while I...-" You cleared your throat and bit your bottom lip, definitely not trying to turn him on. Sarcasm alert. "-kinda made things worse so I borrowed one of your T-shirts. I hope you don't mind." He simply shook his head, mumbling a husky "It's fine, what's mine is yours" and patted the seat next to him. His frown only grew deeper when you walked closer to him but made no sign of actually sitting down. Looking up at you, he could see the bright flush spreading across your cheeks when you pointed to his lap. "Is that seat taken?"

His eyebrow perked up in amusement along with a mirthful smirk, your bottom lip remaining a prisoner between your teeth. "Be my guest. Who am I to refuse a request from my princess." He chuckled as he grabbed your hand, pulling you into his lap and you squirmed in embarrassment, the feeling of your well-defined butt rubbing against him, those supple cheeks that his crotch was getting well acquainted with. The accidental groan that escaped his lips was a definite warning to stop what you were doing or continue at your own risk.

"If you keep wiggling your ass on me like that, you're gonna have to own up to your actions, sweetheart." His rough baritone was telling of the growing desire he had for you. He hadn't seen you in so long and he was starved for your touch, as if the soft brush of his calloused fingers on your thighs was no indication to his underlying intentions. He knew how sensitive you were and he was not above taking advantage of that fact, the slight shiver that ran over your body only urged on him, wanting to coax even more of these delicious reactions from you.

♥♥♥ "Iwa-" Before you could even finish calling his name, his lips were on yours, nipping at your bottom one and sucking deeply before licking his way into your mouth, tasting the freshness of mint from his mouthwash as he entangled his tongue with your own, groaning loudly into your mouth. Breaking only for a moment, he demanded your attention as his fingers began to meander up your inner thighs, wasting no time to slide his index and middle over your panties, a clear wet spot forming and drenching the fabric slowly..

"If this is what you've wanted all along, you should've just said so, you naughty princess." Pushing your panties aside with his other hand, he deftly parted your folds and circled his fingers over your entrance, gathering up your slickness before lathering over your slit, barely grazing your swelling clit that desperately needed his attention. Seeing how you held your breath and stiffened in his embrace made him only want to do even more to you. This is not the type of quality time he had in mind but he was definitely not going to object to it. "Baby girl..." He crooned huskily as one of his hands rubbed up and down one of your thighs, making sure that your legs remained parted so that he could finger you good enough, prep you for what he had in mind. Before capturing your lips once again, he licked the seams of your lips, demanding that your eyes meet his own as he murmured against you. "You call me by my name, baby. You're royalty to me, after all." He smiled softly as you responded in kind, calling out his name and pulling him in a deep kiss, your hips slowly beginning to rut against his fingers that had yet to turn things up a notch. "Hajime..." You whimpered shakily against his lips, his warm breath fanning over your wet lips as his thumb rolled over your sensitive bud, moving clockwise and counter-clockwise, fast and slow with just the right amount of pressure to leave you with fighting to catch your breath. With two fingers right at your entrance, he watches you with avid interest, humming in satisfaction every time a moan escapes your lips, his own hips grinding involuntarily against your behind as his own erection begins to harden under your squirming figure.

"Hajime, I want you inside me... Please, stop teasing me!" You squeal while your nails dug into his shoulders, gripping those thick muscles tightly, while his own body tensed, betraying the composure that he desperately tried to maintain. His large biceps flexing as he squeezes his arms around you even tighter, trying to cease the negligible movement of your body that is driving him insane.

"Shush, baby. I'll treat you good. Just relax." Finally plunging in his fingers inside you, he swallows your moans with a searing kiss while you cried out into his mouth, his thick digits thrusting in and out of you and curling into you, your inner walls clamping down on them and sucking him in. With every roll of your hips, he met you with a thrust of his own, his fingers knuckle-deep, reaching that sweet stop that has you keening, so damn close to falling apart.

Your lips parted with a loud wet noise, his chest heaving with bated breath, his state reflecting your own but it didn't change the fact that you were feeling even needier when he cruelly removed his fingers from your core. Your frustrated whine didn't elicit any reaction from him but, contrary to his exterior, he could feel his body bursting with heat and it became unbearable. He exhaled loudly, patting your thigh and growling in your ear. "Get up and take your clothes off, baby girl. I'm not getting inside you until you do."

Hurriedly taking off his shirt in one smooth go and just in time to watch you reach for the hem of the oversized shirt, pulling it up in a rush, exposing more and more of your smooth skin. Fuck... he wanted to mark you all up but the twitching of his cock straining against his pants urged him to do so later. There were more pressing matters to attend to and right now, he just wanted to drink you all in. Licking his lips with a desire only you could sate, the darkness of his unquenchable thirst swimming in his orbs almost too much to handle, yet you still kept your gazes locked as you unclipped your bra, letting it fall to the floor while he fumbled with his belt, unzipping his pants and freeing his aching length with a loud hiss. The way you squeezed your legs together didn't go unnoticed and he knew that he left you hanging. "Come here, baby." As you inched closer to him, Hajime placed one large hand on either side of your hips, guiding you before him as you placed one knee on the couch and then another to straddle him, giving him a glimpse of your dripping core that was so ready for the taking while you wrapped your arms around his neck. He could feel the adrenaline rushing through his veins as he latched on to the crook of your neck, sucking on your soft skin deeply while sweet moans tumbled so easily from your quivering lips. "I've had enough, Hajime. I promise... Just please... I want you inside me." You pleaded as his warm hands settled on your butt, fondling your soft cheeks while he angled you right on top of his cock, groaning against your neck. "You're so perfect. I fucking missed you so much." With his fingertips digging into your soft flesh, he eases you onto his cock, sheathing himself fully inside you as you sink onto him, both of you moaning in harmony as your cunt clamped down on every single inch of him that you could take.

For a few moments, both of you remained silent, your forehead pressed against his bare shoulders and his own lying on the crown of your head. The silence of the room was filled with your heavy breathing as you allowed the fullness of your bodies, the fullness of your hearts washed over you and enveloped you completely. Neither of you wanted to move or even dared to, even though your instincts screamed to grind against one another and chase the release that you both wanted. But it wasn't what you really needed. This moment, the intimacy, this... love. "W-what about the movie?" You breathed out shakily against his arm, giggling softly while you began nibbling on the hardness of his bicep. He knew that you weren't even mildly concerned with the movie which made him chuckle out a deep laugh that rumbled in his chest. You... You never failed to those stupid butterflies flutter in his stomach with your cute little acts of possession.

He wore your love bites with pride and didn't mind that they were in a place that was even more visible than his neck. He licked a long strip on the column of your throat, decorating it with nips of his own, marks of his love and yearning for you while his hands sought your breasts, kneading them with tenderness. Even if words betrayed him most of the time, he trusted his actions to speak for him. "There's nothing better than watching you, princess."

–♥–

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Tagging @shhhlikeme @hqissodelicate @cleverlittlevixen (I hope you enjoy your movie night with your boo :*) 💜

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