#like he made his mistakes but most of his ladies were characters I liked and was invested in and generally felt like were enjoyable
A Small Predicament [Baby Genshin x Reader]
Characters: Scaramouche, Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Xiao, Zhongli, Albedo
Synopsis: Cursed for a week, the boys either have to live with it or find a cure as soon as possible. You on the otherhand hoped otherwise.
(A/n): It only takes ONE glance for me to start having ideas. It was twelve in the morning yall, enjoy~
Oh here's part 2
• "Oh you shrank? I couldn't tell-"
• Threatens that he will murder you to pieces and burn your remains but his voice was so squeaky and high pitched (voice crack) that you couldn't help but burst into a tearful laughter.
• Its payback time Bully him, take his hat and hover it above his head. Truthfully, without his hat Scaramouche looks like a little schoolboy. Overall less intimidating.
• Tries glaring. Cute. He's really bratty as a kid, sitting on a high chair (which you had to help him get on) and demanding his servants to do his bidding. In reality, his personality never changed. You realized that even as a grown up he still acts like this (bratty kid in a grown man body).
• The curse made his week a living hell. Signora had the audacity to pull his ear when he misbehaves. Childe constantly messes with his hair while giving head pats and the WORST of all, pinching his cheeks. Scaramouche never wanted to commit arson so bad in his life.
• Eventually finds a cure so he doesn't have to deal with it anymore and orders everyone to never speak of it again. Though, he's plotting how he'll get revenge on everyone who made fun of him using the very same curse (You better run).
• "Oh…Oh my! Diluc you're just so cute!"
• Diluc grimaces as you glomp him in this state. How can you help it? With his head so small it makes his hair all the more fluffier! His coat no longer fits him to the point the sleeves had made past his fingertips. He tried wielding his claymore again, only to lose balance and fall flat onto his bum
• (insert kid voice "Retribution!") Did I mention the babyface?
• Diluc tries to act as if everything was normal, acting like the Darknight hero and Mondstadt's Tycoon but fun-sized. He couldn't. There was no way people would take him seriously in business meetings. Same with fighting abyss mages, his smaller form was too much of a disadvantage. Thus you ended up doing most of his paperwork.
• One time you caught him sitting on the floor couldn't reach his office desk while reading away the various books for a cure. It was three in the morning. You told him it was way past his bedtime and he argues saying when did he ever have a curfew schedule. In the end you managed to convince him and he begrudgingly obliges.
• The type to NOT ask for help even when it's obvious that he really needs it. Before he was the one who helped you reach things from the top shelves, oh how the tables have turned. He avoids Kaeya like a plague unless he was in it for another round of funny remarks. When he wanted to go out and get some fresh air, you insisted on accompanying him. Worst mistake in his life. A travelling merchant bumps into you and commented that you had a very cute son. Diluc was mortified.
• The day ended up with him sulking in his room. Although it was tempting, you resisted from cooing over his adorable form after days of treating him like a child. It wasn't because you were teasing him, Diluc just works so hard that you wanted to spoil him a bit. At least he could still play a game of chess with you.
• When things went back to normal, Diluc ensures that you will NOT see him as your son.
• "Well look who it is, my little Prince Kaeya~"
• Tries really hard not be bothered by it at all. Kaeya still maintains his suave facade, throwing in a couple of flirting lines here and there (and forcing his voice to go a few octaves too low in which puberty has yet to occur HA). Though no matter what approach, he couldn't ignore the sparkling mischievious glint in your eye. You were obviously not taking him seriously.
• Things couldn't get any worse. He lost his masculine physique and boob window, he wasn't able to go to certain places without supervision. But the worst thing of all was that he was underaged. Kaeya hated the fact he couldn't drink anymore, he even insisted you to sneak him a few bottles (which you refused) and had to settle with plain beverages such as fruit juice (what an insult). He was never really grounded since his childhood days but he certainly felt like he was grounded now.
• Kaeya still kisses you on the lips whether you like it or not. If you ask him to sit on your lap, he will find a way to turn the position into his favour such as resting his face between your breasts. You're not gonna treat him like a kid, nuh-uh, he actively avoids it.
• Since his personality still remains, Kaeya is a naughty child. He will use his innocent appearance to sway people (even you) to get what he wants. That was how he was able to take a sip of the wine he stole somewhere (he wouldn't tell you). Diluc scolded him heavily and threatened to ban him from drinking from his Tavern for a week (they ended up arguing, Kaeya being the passive aggressive little shit he is).
• He was extremely relieved to return back to his normal form again. He has so much to catch up (specifically his bedtime activities with you *wink wonk*)
• "Hmmm to be honest, this actually suits you very much."
• Unlike the other boys, Childe was completely okay with it. Turns out that YOU were the one who was not going to be okay. If you thought taking care of Teucer was energy-draining then expect Childe to take that tenfold and beyond.
• You've officially became his full-time babysitter who is in desperate need of a raise (and rest). You can't take your eyes off of him and archons forbid that he will ever meet Klee. One point he'll be running ahead by your side and the next you'll find him getting himself in a 1vs7 situation with some shady looking treasure hoarders. Childe genuinely thinks he could take them on but the curse downgraded his abilities. You carried him and barely made out of it alive. (This made you ponder whether the best solution would be to strap him against a chair for the time being…)
• Childe being a child will eat all the candies and ice cream he pleases. You wonder if the curse also turned him a few years back or was it that he acts like this simply because he wanted to (it was the latter). He loves being spoiled, spoiled by you! Childe demands your full attention, spoon-feeding his meals, back rubs and head pats. Yep, he's definitely doing this on purpose.
• Did he just call you 'mommy'? (Childe has mommy kink confirmed). He has so much energy that it was exhausting, you literally had to drag him away from what ever he was doing in order to get him to bed. "No Childe, your sleeping time is 9p.m stop whining." He bargained that he'll sleep if you sleep beside him (you didn't get any sleep. You knew what he was planning. In the end, you tried to make sure he didn't sneak out behind your back.)
• Finally you were able to get out of that hell-hole. Childe promised to make it up to you, you deserve it after all~
Small (aka Xiao)
• "Did you know in the Liyuean language, Xiao translates to small?" You didn't say that out loud. Not when he's this angry (this angy)
• He just stands there, crossing his arms and grumbling. You were hesitant to touch him in case he might hiss at you. Xiao has always been short, maybe an inch taller than you, but seeing him like this made you think 'my almighty yaksha can't be this cute♡'
• He gets mad when you no longer call his name for help. How could you? He's just so precious~ Xiao makes it clear that no matter what form he takes, it doesn't make him weak ("Adepti and you mortals are nothing alike." Or so he says but you could tell he wasn't running as fast as he used to because…small legs). You may not comment on it aloud but he can tell just by the look on your face and it irritates him.
• Also the type to not ask for help but worse. Xiao is an agressive little kid, he seems as if he'll be willing to bite someone's finger off if they try to pet him (He gives strong cat vibes, so thats understandable). His spear was too big for him to wield so he often has to put it away or else he might knock someone over with it. Xiao hates being short so you'll be hearing him complain alot.
• Since he was an adepti, he didn't need to sleep however, the curse must have brought down his power by a significant amount to the point you DID catch him napping. You almost swooned out loud just by taking a glance upon his face. For once he didn't wear his signature grumpy look. Xiao appears like a normal child, one full of innocence. His snoring was soft and breathly but that just meant he was deep asleep. (You wished to take a picture).
• Of course, everything had to come to an end (much to your disappointment), he still complains about the incident to this day.
• How is it possible for a baby to still look so handsome? (Must be his godly abilities)
• Zhongli is unfazed by this 'curse' since his past lives have already taken many forms. Though for some reason whenever he walks down the streets of Liyue, young girls, mothers, ladies all come him was and start complimenting him and gushing over him (he was suffocating). They'd squeeze him tight or squish his cheeks, it only takes once glance before the little girls start blushing and hiding behind their moms.
• Needless to say, despite what form he is in, Zhongli is still able to get free stuff. He got some free candies and some free kites to play with. You had to help him carry his items. Zhongli ends up tripping too much because his tailcoat reached his feet (he decided to just take it off. You had to hold that too). Seems like he can have anyone do things for him in the end HA.
• He still got that drippy voice and you're just like ???? "What on Teyvat Zhongli, you're a kid." This is why you can't see him as one, its nearly impossible.
• Actively avoids Hu Tao and Childe. Once Hu Tao caught sight of him and chased him for hours, he couldn't stay in one spot knowing that she might just pop out of no where. Childe still spoils him, however Zhongli feels irritated by the fact the only things Childe buys him toys (its different when other people do it.)
• Everytime you guys go back strolling through Liyue, you had to hold his hand in case more women come swarming hin again. You swear that at this rate he might get kidnapped because hes just such a beautiful baby.
• Zhongli learned an important lesson after his curse was lifted: no matter how many years he lives throughout never take a form of a child.
• You find him buried beneath a pile of books and had to dig him out before he suffocates.
• Albedo has the cutest eyes, they're big and round full of curiosity and they sparkle too (he has the prettiest eyes out of everyone tbh). He is the only person who is fascinated by this outcome and immediately goes in the wild to test out his new physique.
• He was always curious why Klee T-poses when she runs so he decided to try it out himself. She was thrilled to find out that she now has a little brother to play with. In the end, Albedo indulges in the games she always wanted to play but couldn't because he was too old: princess dress up tea parties.
• You felt many things when you saw Albedo wearing a frilly gown and a plastic tiara tucked on his head. Deep down you knew regardless of what gender Albedo was still pretty. Klee even had the guts to redo his hair and hardly anyone was able to recognize it was him at all. He has pigtails, PIGTAILS! You made sure to burn that image into the very depths of your mind forever.
• The only advantage was the he was ablw to fit through small spaces, other than that, being small was way too inconvenient. He knocked down a few of his potion bottles which damaged the floor (thankfully not him) because they were lethal (he wonders how Klee was able to not injure herself when using bombs). You carried him and lifted him to alot of places such as trudging through the snow because Albedo would surely fall on his face due to his small form.
• Enough was enough, he only lasted a day with this and decided to just make a potion and put an end to the curse once and for all.
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Suits, Dresses, and Heels
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader
Word Count: 4000
Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, More Mentions of PTSD, Gun Violence, Slight Mentions of Drinking, Club Dancing (You’re all gonna hate me for that part, but I’m not sorry)
A/N: Here’s Part 4.2 - The Second Part to Episode 3 - as requested. This is a little more scene-by-scene, but there are some off-screen moments. I’ll be posting Part 4.3 (which will have the rest of the episode) later tonight.
There’s a bit more information on Reader, but not as much as the last chapter. Sharon comes in during this part, so you get to see her and Reader’s relationship.
Also, I have mixed feelings about Zemo at this point. Not in the story, the Reader’s not a fan as you learned previously, but for me personally, he’s surprised me a couple times by coming back and helping.
Anyways! Thank you so much for reading! This isn’t beta’d so excuse any mistakes! Check out my other parts before you read! Thank you again! Stay tuned, loves!
!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!
The dress was far too tight for your liking, and showed way too much skin. Not that you didn’t like being a tease every once in a while, but for this mission, you’d rather have more cover and movement.
You had to admit though; Zemo had nice taste. The dress fit deliciously - which made you wonder how he got your size. The color and cut was devastatingly flattering. Plus, he let you do your own makeup.
Being the only female, you were in a separate area of the jet getting ready. Once you were done, you made sure to knock, even though you’d walked in on Sam changing too many times to count while on the run and had seen Bucky answer the door in nothing but a towel. It was mainly for Zemo’s sake, just a warning that you were walking in whether or not they were ready.
“Damn, girl! You clean up nice!”
You rolled your eyes at Sam, painted lips quirking up as you studied him, shooting him a wink. “You should try a mirror, Sammy.” You turned to Bucky to find him staring wide-eyed and slack-jawed at you. “What do you think, Buck?”
His mouth snapped shut and he cleared his throat, eyes exploring the dips and curves your body. “You…” He blinked once. Twice. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his intense eyes making you heat up, before he shook his head. “You look good.” He rushed out, before spinning on his heel shoving past Sam who was snickering.
“Where’s Zemo?” You noticed he wasn’t in the main area of the plane when you walked in.
“Rearranging our ride once we get there.”
You huffed, fixing your hair. “Oh God. We’re really doing this.”
“Okay.” You looked down at yourself before looking up at the boys. “Something’s gonna go wrong, isn’t it?”
Giving a slight groan at their simultaneous answers, you nodded. “Let’s try not to screw up too badly, boys, alright? I at least want to live long enough to see Peter graduate.”
Sam rolled his eyes with a scoff. “That kid’s a punk.”
“You’re a punk.” You shot back.
Bucky raised his hand. “I second that punk thing.”
“For which one?”
“Both of them.”
You chuckled as Sam gaped at Bucky, who shrugged innocently. The former assassin tilted his head in your direction to shoot you a grin and a wink, making you laugh more. Shaking your head, you go to make a joke when Zemo walked in.
“It’s time. We’re landing now.”
And just like that, the teasing atmosphere dissipated, leaving you anxious and regretful.
You walked by Bucky, arm linked with his metal one, listening as Zemo told Sam about his “character” he was to play.
“He’s a known womanizer - always has a gorgeous lady on his arm.” Zemo gestured towards you. “It’s the only way they’d let in a woman.”
“Aren’t we going to see a woman?” You questioned, gently patting Bucky’s metallic bicep when his hold on you tightened.
“Which makes it more imperative that you don’t act threatening. Women don’t make the same mistake men do; they don’t underestimate other women.”
You nodded. He had a point there. Bucky faced you, a frown on those pretty lips. “I don’t like this.” He mumbled.
“You think I do?” You whispered back. “With you being him again? Even if it’s just pretend? And need I remind you whose idea this was?”
“I know, I know. Just…” He sighed. “Promise me you won’t get hurt on purpose.”
Your forehead creased. “Why would I-?”
“To protect people. You always do. And I get it, I do. It’s why you started this in the first place, but…save yourself first, this time, okay?”
It wasn’t often you could see the fear in his eyes, hear it in his voice, but you could then. Unable to do anything else you nodded, a soft, “okay” falling from your lips. He nodded back, pressing a kiss to your head, before letting you go as a car approached.
Bucky helped you in - the heels you were wearing were no joke - before sliding in himself, Sam getting in on the other side of you. “And you two can’t be…” Zemo gestured to the two of you as the car started moving, eyeing your still connected hands. “Doing that.”
“This isn’t my first theater production.” You snapped at him. “We’ll be fine.”
He raised his hands in surrender, turning back to look out the windshield. Once you arrived, you gave Bucky’s hand one last squeeze, before accepting Sam’s hand to get out on his side, linking your arm with his like you were doing with Bucky earlier.
“I finally get to see one of your performances, baby.” Sam grinned at you.
You smirked back. “Best seats in the house, too, Smiling Tiger.” He groaned at your jest, nudging you playfully with his elbow as you giggled.
“This way.” Zemo cut in, jerking his head in the direction you’d be going. You took a breath, steeling yourself, before the three of you nodded at each other and followed his lead.
You found the fellas reactions amusing, their heads turning to study and scan everything they could see. You were more subtle in the way you analyzed your surroundings, feeling a bit more at home in this situation than, say, fighting super soldiers on top of semi trucks.
Your jaw tightened, as did your grip on Sam’s arm, when Zemo started speaking Russian, the four of you pushing through a crowded bar. Sam ran his fingers over your arms, giving your hand a little squeeze, silently reassuring you.
It was a bit obvious Sam hadn’t done much undercover work, put he stayed in character and you were impressed. Especially when the bartender started cutting up the snake, which you had to look away for because if there was one thing you couldn’t do…it was snakes. You nearly gagged when Sam reluctantly downed the drink.
Bucky eyed you, lips pursed in a way you recognized as him trying to hold in a smile. That made you feel a little better, hiding your own smile by turning into the crook of Sam’s neck. “Not. Funny.” He growled through clenched teeth, lips not moving.
He grumbled under his breath, before the two of you tuned into the conversation between Zemo and a thug that came up, learning about the apparent power broker of Madripoor, which you a bit of from your time undercover there.
Sam held you tightly when Zemo turned to Bucky, knowing what was about to happen.
You didn’t like it. You didn’t like how easily aggressive he became. You didn’t like the little smirk Zemo gave as Bucky attacked. You didn’t like the cellphones being pointed in his direction. You didn’t like it.
“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.” You gave Zemo a warning glare, a shaky breath leaving you.
He’d been doing so well. At least, for someone who had been through what he had. Especially considering it’d only been a few months since he’d been pardoned - half a year since everyone came back. You knew bringing Zemo on board had been a bad idea, but-
A squeeze to your hand pulled you out of your thoughts. You let out an inaudible sigh of relief as Zemo allowed Bucky to let the man he was choking go.
“Selby will see you now.”
One step down. You hoped that would be the hardest part, but you knew it most definitely wouldn’t be.
Bucky sniffed, giving you two a curt nod, before following Zemo. You bit your lip. “That wasn’t really an answer, was it?”
Sam shook his head. “No. No it wasn’t.”
Selby wasn’t exactly what you were expecting, but you’d come to expect that. You stayed on Sam’s arm, giving the guards coy smiles and playing with the fake nails you had on in faux-boredom.
When she purred at the man besides you, you and Bucky glanced at each other, with you resisting the urge to scrunch up your nose. “And who is this gorgeous creature?”
Your eyes snapped back to Selby, giving her a slightly bashful smile. “Celeste Addams. Pleasure.”
“Trust me, dear. The pleasure is all mine.” Alright, you thought as she scanned you with a smirk. She was swinging for both teams. You could work with that. “What’s the offer?” She looked back to Zemo.
Zemo gave her the offer - information about the super soldier serum for the Winter Soldier and the code words to control him. Your blood boiled as Zemo touched Bucky, fingers grabbing his chin. You swore, once this whole thing was over, you would kick Zemo’s ass. You should make a list, just to keep track of all the things he’d done, and no doubt would do, to piss you off. That way he’d know why exactly you were beating his ass.
A name came up, Dr. Wilfred Nagel, along with the knowledge that the super soldier serum was, in fact, in Madripoor. You and Sam met eyes. Second step down.
But before they could get anything else, Sam’s phone buzzed. You ducked your head, closing your eyes, mumbling “fuck” when you saw it was Sarah. Sam’s responses just made you inwardly cringe even more.
“The bank, yeah. We laundered so much mo-” He chuckled nervously. “Yeah. They’ll come around.”
Is he fucking serious? For the love of God, Sammy…
And then she called him Sam. Next thing you knew, Selby was shot and you, Bucky, and Sam were taking out a guard each, you growling at the fact that you couldn’t use your legs because the dress was too damn tight.
You had no choice but to trust Zemo’s lead, but word traveled very quickly here, and less than a minute after walking outside, you were getting shot at.
“C’mon!” Bucky grabbed your arm, pulling you besides him.
“Can you not right now?!”
“I can’t run in these heels!”
You glared at Sam, the killer six inchers on your feet feeling like hell. “Hell no! You did not just say that in front of me!”
“You started it!” You scowled at him, following Bucky into an alley, only to duck as shots rang out. Chest heaving, you looked around for the source of the bullets that killed the men chasing you. Your “guardian angel” as Zemo put it.
She soon appeared in all her stunning, blonde badass glory. “Sharon?”
Sam quickly explained the situation, trying to get her not to shoot Zemo who she had a gun pointed at.
“I stole Steve’s shield, remember? I also took the wings for your ass,” she pointed the gun at Sam, then Bucky, “so that you could save his ass, from his ass.” And the gun was back on Zemo. She shot you a smile. “And your ass is looking beautiful as always.”
You grinned back. “Thanks. You’re not looking too bad yourself.”
As she spoke, your lips turned down. You had tried calling her after Germany, but it always went to voicemail. First thing you did when you got back was try to get everyone pardoned, but it was a process. And then you found out about Wanda and ever since…
Sharon was your first real friend. She was only a couple years younger than you and had been one of your first partners during your time with SHIELD. And the fact that she’d been on the run for years now, even with the Blip, her family not having seen or talked to her since…that was exactly why you couldn’t take a break. She was family and you found there was nothing more important than family. But when she needed you, you were out searching for someone who didn’t want to be found.
How were you supposed to choose between two sisters? How could you cope with the fact that you chose the wrong one?
“Sharon, we need your help.” She laughed at Bucky’s statement. “Please,”
She glanced at you and you nodded. “I’d appreciate it, Share.”
She gave a sigh before nodding. “This isn’t over. I have a place in High Town. You should be safe there for a while.”
She turned and started walking, and you were about to follow, when you remembered something.
Spinning around, your fist connected with Zemo’s cheek, Sam and Bucky shouting in surprise while the man stumbled back. “Don’t you fucking dare touch him like that ever again, or I will break every bone in your body.” You threatened, your expression twisting into a scowl as you grab his hand and bend it awkwardly. He grunted but didn’t move, knowing one wrong turn would break his wrist. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal.” He ground out.
You pushed a little more, making him wince, before letting go and rounding back to Sharon, who was smirking at you. “Let’s get moving.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She jerked her head back over her shoulder to where a car was waiting, leading them over.
You quickly followed after her with Bucky on your heels and Sam dragging Zemo along. Speaking of heels, as soon as you got in the car - getting shotgun for the first time ever at Sharon’s insistence - you prodded the stupid shoes off your feet.
“Yeah.” You scoffed. “Unless you’re trying to kick.”
“Did you rip the dress?”
“I was tempted to.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll get you in something more comfortable. And you’ll look just as good. Not that you wouldn’t look good in literally anything.”
You chuckled, giving her a look. “Let’s not test that theory.”
She smiled back, nodding. “Fine. I’ll let you pick something out.”
Sam huffed, crossing his arms best he could, being squished with the two other fully grown men in the back seat. “Women.”
The two of you exchanged looks, rolling your eyes at the three pouting guys. “Men.”
“I’m gonna go check on the boys. But I’ll be right back.”
You nodded, looking through her closet. No dresses. And absolutely no heels. Flats, if you had to, but you’d definitely prefer sneakers right now. You decided on shorts and an off-the-shoulder blouse, grateful for the looser clothing.
You laughed and looked over at the door as Sharon entered. “Yeah. I know.”
“Cute.” She commented on your outfit, sitting on her bed. “They explained the situation. Sam said if I help, he’d clear my name-”
“Sharon.” You sighed, biting your lip. “I tried. I really did. I-”
She shook her head, smiling at you reassuringly. “No, I know. It’s why I’m not mad at you. Sorry I didn’t call back. How’ve you been?”
You shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”
“Even with the whole ‘Cap is back’ thing.”
“Walker’s the government’s pet. He’s not Captain America. He’s not…”
Looking up at her from the ground, you nodded. “Yeah.”
“Do you miss him?”
You smirked, wagging your eyebrows at her. “Do you?”
She rolled her eyes, tossing a pillow at you. “It’s kinda weird now, isn’t it?”
“Maybe a little. But I can’t blame you. Have you seen him shirtless? Good God.”
Sharon laughed, shaking her head as you joined her on the bed. “How come it’s always you getting wrapped up in these things?”
“I have no clue.” You chuckled, crossing your legs underneath you. “First I’m answering a phone call from Bucky at five in the morning and next thing I know, I’m being kicked off of semi trucks, breaking criminals out of prisons and running in six inch heels.”
“You answer Bucky’s calls at five in the morning?”
You gave her a look. “Sharon-”
“No, no. Hey. That’s cool. Some girls like bad boys, some like jocks, others like nerds. You like super soldiers from the 40’s. Everyone’s got a thing.”
A playful shove turned into a pillow fight, which turned into a sparring session, during which you pin her on her back. “You’re getting better.” You complimented, getting up.
She glared at you, taking your outstretched hand and letting you pull her up. “I guess that’s why you’re an Avenger.”
“That’s still weird to say.”
“Why? You’ve been an Avenger since, what? Ultron?”
You nodded, straightening your clothes. “Officially, anyways.”
“Right. Because you were there for the Battle of Manhattan as the secret seventh superhero.”
“Yeah…I miss it. The anonymity. I’m pretty sure I’m one half the Senators’ speed dials.”
Sharon frowned, brows pinching together. “What about the other half of the OG? Where are they?”
“Thor’s in space, Bruce is MIA - which I can’t really blame him for - and Clint’s retired with his family.”
“You think he’s gonna stay retired?”
You shrugged. “I hope he does. He’s been trying to retire for years. He deserves it. Knowing him, though…probably not.”
Sharon crossed her arms, nodding at you. “So that leaves you.”
“Yes it does.”
“Do you ever think of taking a break?”
You gave a half-sigh, half-groan, making her smirk in amusement. “It’s…come up a lot recently. I dunno. I think I’m burning out, anyways.”
“What makes you say that? I was watching you guys with Selby. You’re still one of the best I’ve ever seen.”
“I-I’ve been having…problems.”
Her eyes narrowed, her hands setting on her hips like a mother about to scold her child. “What kind of problems?”
“Just flashbacks. Of different things. It happens at random times. Certain triggers; something someone says or does, or something I smell or hear.”
“Something like that.”
“Has it affected you in the field?” Hesitating to answer was answer enough and she nodded. “Then…maybe it’s time you do start considering retiring.”
You snorted, shaking your head. “At 36? There’s no way.”
“C’mon. It’s not too late for you to settle down. Go one a few dates. Meet someone. Maybe have a couple kids-”
“Woah, woah. Slow your roll.” Your features scrunched up in incredulity. “Pump your breaks. No one said anything about marriage or kids.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying…think about it. I heard even Bucky’s been on a few dates.”
It was your turn to narrow your eyes at her, hearing the suggestive tone in her voice and seeing the eyebrow raise. “Yeah. He has. A few. I told him to. Told him it might be good for him to, I dunno, get back out there.
“Or, you could just…go out there with him.”
“Not you too! Have you been talking to Sam?”
“Is it Steve? Is that what’s stopping you? Because you know he’d just want you to be hap-” She stopped as he phone vibrated, grabbing it and reading the text. “Company’s arriving.” She pointed a finger at you. “You got very very lucky. This conversation isn’t over. I’m not dropping this.”
You bit your cheek and nodded. “Alright, mom. Can we go party now?”
She breathed out a laugh and nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go party.”
“Hey, gorgeous! There you are!”
You smirked at the boys as they met you near the top of the stairs, eyeing Sam and Bucky appreciatively. Damn, could Sam pull off a turtleneck. And Bucky in black and skinny jeans? Sharon sure had good taste. “Today’s the day for attractive outfits, huh, gentlemen?”
“I’ll say.” Bucky hummed, glancing at your own outfit. “You look beautiful, doll.”
“You look very dashing yourself, Barnes.” You grin, pulling at the lapels of his black blazer and fixing the collar. You smoothed your hand down the front of his shirt, looking up at him with an eyebrow raised when he caught your wrist, keeping your palm over his heart.
He clenched his jaw, taking a breath, before letting it out, almost dejectedly, and letting your hand go. “Um,” He cleared his throat, hand falling down by his side. “Did, uh, did Sharon say anything more about these friends of hers to you?”
“Nope.” You shook your head. “Just told me to enjoy the party.”
“I guess we should go enjoy the party, then.” Sam nodded towards the stairs, where the music was floating up, her guests already pouring in.
You made your way downstairs, looking around the room. Sharon sure did know how to throw one, that’s for sure.
People were pushed together, dancing to the beat of the music, drinking, with colored lights flashing every which way. Bucky’s hand found yours almost instantly, and you smiled at him. “C’mon.”
“What?” His eyes were wide as you dragged him towards the groups of people dancing.
“Dance with me.”
He shook his head violently. “I-I can’t.”
“I thought you used to be a dancer?”
“Used to. And I was a swing-dancer. Not…” He gestured around to the people bobbing up and down, moving their bodies with each other.
You waved dismissively, pulling him closer. “All you need to do is feel the beat. I’m sure you can do that, can’t you, Mr. Tough and Scary Assassin?”
He licked his lips, looking around nervously. You brought his hands to your hips, making his eyes snap back to yours, your own arms winding around his neck. You started moving rhythmically, nodding your head to the music, smiling up at him and giggling at the adorable concentration on his face.
“You, uh, you go to parties like this a lot?”
“I specialized in undercover operations, remember? I practically lived at these places for some of them.” He licked his lips, his grasp on your hips tightening. “Loosen up a little.” You laughed, catching his jaw between your fingers and making him look at you instead of the crowd surrounding him. You scratched at the scruff, speaking softly, but loud enough for him to hear. “It’s just me.”
He nodded and, slowly, a bit hesitant, started moving his body with yours, relaxing his tense muscles the longer you two danced.
“Nice hit, by the way. With Zemo earlier.”
You shrugged, turning in his arms, biting your lip when he pulled you closer, your back to his chest. “I didn’t like the way he grabbed you. It was unnecessary. I was thinking of making a list, actually.”
“Yeah.” Your arms wound around his neck again, your head falling back to his shoulder. “Of things he’s done so far that warrant’s me beating his ass once this is done.”
He chuckled, warm breath tickling your cheek, thumbs tracing circles on the bare skin just above the waistline of your shorts. Your own fingers had found home in his hair holding his head where it was, his lips centimeters away from your ear. “Share it with Sam. I’m sure he has a few things to add.”
Your breath hitched as his metal fingers danced along your bare navel, arm tightening around your waist. “I’m sure he does…I thought you said you can’t dance.”
“I guess I just needed to warm up. I’m a bit rusty after eighty years.”
“Don’t seem that rusty to me.” You breathed out, turning your head to look at him. His tongue ran across his lips again, his eyes glancing to your own.
“Hey, guys!” The world and your situation came crashing down on you, the music you didn’t realize you’d been tuning out, along with the crowd’s boisterous laughter and cheers, rushed back to yours ears. The little bubble with just you and Bucky shattered. You both stepped away from each other; you cleared your throat and pushed down the heat that had nothing to do with the hundred bodies in the one room, while Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, the tips of his ears red with no help from the colored lights. Both of you were panting lightly, avoiding eye contact with the other three staring knowingly at you. Sharon nodded her head, gesturing behind her. “I found him.”
Sam nudged Bucky - who was staring at you, his jaw ticking and his throat tightening as he swallowed thickly - before jabbing his thumb in Sharon’s direction. “Here we go.”
You nodded, eyeing Bucky with a small smile. “Here we go, Buckaroo.”
2K notes · View notes
Prompt: Professor Spencer Reid notices Reader is distracted during his lessons, but he's distracted as well by her. One day the tension snaps.
Based on these requests: #1, #2, #3.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader
Rating: Smut (18+, minors dni)
Warnings: mentions of violence, rape, necrophilia, sexual sadism, sexual harassment, sexual abuse, blood and mutilation (related to serial killers, not the characters); description of smut with age gap (26yo!Reader, 39yo!Spencer), dom/sub undertones (Sub!Spencer, Dom!Reader), teasing, dirty talking, light degradation, semi-public humping, biting, breath play, spitting, cockwarming, cum play, breeding kink, oral sex (female and male receiving), fingering, edging, unprotected sex
A.N: Let me know if I missed any tag.
Also this is edited by a program so... let me know if there are any mistakes I need to edit (I will once I’m back at home!).
Let me know what you think of this here.
Check my masterlist here.
Don’t care ‘bout grades, just call me your lady
If I pass this quiz, will you give me your babies?
When Spencer Reid stepped inside that class, you knew you were going to get him.
You were going to make him yours somewhere in that classroom or maybe in his office, forcing him on his knees and hearing him beg you to touch him, to make him come, to send him over the edge.
It wasn’t a simple attraction, it was much more.
Desire, lust, need.
Fantasizing about him was the fun part – along with the dream of his voice echoing in your ears.
Professor Reid was considered the hottest teacher in the whole Campus but you didn’t blame anybody who gave him the title.
Not only is Spencer Reid incredibly handsome and attractive, he’s also extremely smart, sweet and kind to every single person who asked him for help. He has a gentle word for everybody, he doesn’t shut a student out of his office, he tries to help you study for his pop-quiz, he checks up on your research or whatever you’re preparing for him.
He’s the best professor you could’ve ever asked for.
At first you thought he was just an assistant. He looked way too young to be a professor, but when he declared he was there to teach a class - you felt completely fucked, because how in the world were you supposed to pay attention to the lesson when your professor looked like that?
Those curls slightly pushed back.
Those hazel eyes with golden specks.
Those deliciously plump lips.
Those adorable dimples on his cheeks.
That stubble that made him look even hotter.
Evolutionary Behavioural Sciences is the most interesting class of the whole year because the teacher is the most gorgeous man you have ever seen in your 26 years of life - no wonder a lot of students are auditing this class just to admire him.
Or lust over him, just like you’re doing right now.
You’re chewing on your blue pen, keeping your eyes on his face the whole time.
Professor Reid is pacing back and forth in front of his desk, talking about one of the topics you’ve wanted to learn about ever since he explained the whole program in the first lesson.
“The main difference between Male Serial Killers and Female Serial Killers is that Males more frequently act as “hunters”. They talk and kill targeted strangers in different areas with a sexual motive, they also keep trophies from their crimes. - you do your best to focus on his voice and the content of his words, forcing yourself to look away from his face - Female Serial Killers tend to be “gatherers” because they kill people who are familiar to them, in order to gain some kind of profit from these crimes.”
You glance at the three girls sitting in the row right in front of you, noticing them completely stunned by Professor Reid’s presence not too far from them. They’re all giggling and whispering things you would’ve preferred not to hear about him - even though you dream about doing them to him as well. You know they choose those particular seats because they’re the closest to him - or where he usually stops when he paces back and forth.
You don’t blame them at all.
Sometimes it’s nice to just sit there and admire a gorgeous model walking back and forth in front of you, but today you’re there to learn something that will probably be in one of his next pop quizzes.
It wasn’t this week so you’re sure it’ll be in the next one.
“The next two lessons are focused on sex differences in crimes and motives of male and female serial killers, because this is fundamental for a profiler. - says Spencer, putting both his hands in his pockets - We’re going to start from the very beginning, focusing on a particular research I’ve done on active serial killers from 1856 and 2009.”
His voice is like melted honey.
You love his approach to the lessons: they’re not just classes where a teacher speaks until they’re out of breath, it’s more of a conversation between a professor and a bunch of different students always raising their hands and asking questions.
No matter how hot Professor Reid is, he puts everybody at ease. You even asked him a few questions before - sure, your heart was beating out of your chest right after but it was worth it.
It was nice.
And he even smiled at you.
“What’s the definition of a serial killer?”
Nobody talks, nobody breathes.
A rush of adrenaline runs through you as you raise your hand.
Professor Reid’s eyes are on you as soon as he spots you in the crowd of students, pointing at you as his lips twitch into a little smile.
“Go ahead, Miss Y/L/N.”
You clear your throat, feeling as if everybody is looking at you - they’re not, they’re all focused on the beautiful face of Professor Reid less than five feet from you.
He looks extremely gorgeous today, with his navy blue shirt and tight black trousers.
The only thing that is missing is his usual pair of glasses.
“Serial killing refers to the premeditated intentional killing of three or more victims with a cooling off period between killings of at least six or seven days.” you explain, making sure to remember the definition he gave a couple of days ago in the previous lesson
Professor Reid nods his head, brushing his right hand over his elbow.
He’s approving your answer and you feel proud of yourself.
“Very few authors in literature and psychology have attempted to understand and explain serial murderers by using evolutionary psychology. - adds Professor Reid, finally introducing the actual topic - Are you familiar with Daly and...”
You interrupt him again by raising your hand, remembering that you have read one of the articles Professor Reid sent the whole class during the weekend.
He moves his hand, allowing you to take control of the conversation again.
“Martin Daly and Margo Wilson suggested that criminal homicide may be an extreme byproduct of sex-specific self-interests that have evolved over the years to maximize fitness. - you say with a little smile, chewing on her pen again before blushing when you realise his eyes are on you - They examined different humans and other animals, finding conspecific violence in almost half of the species they’ve studied. A small percentage of human deaths are a result of interpersonal violence, just like in a small percentage of animals. And...”
“I feel like you could teach this lesson all by yourself to your classmates.”
You stop talking when you hear his words, all of the other students laughing at his joke. But you’re not sure this is a joke, it felt more like someone making fun of you. Maybe you’re just taking it in the wrong way, but still - you shouldn’t have monopolized the conversation. You should’ve allowed him to teach.
It’s his job, at the end of the day.
You’re just a student that happened to be interested in this topic.
Professor Reid looks up at you, shaking his head. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Miss Y/L/N. I’m happy to hear your voice during class. And I’m glad you’re interested in this particular topic, I find it fascinating as well.”
You keep quiet for the rest of the lesson, not wanting to bother anybody.
With your head down low, taking notes of everything Professor Reid said, you kept thinking about how he looked at you when you spoke both the first and second time.
He had that cute little smile on his lips, his dimples poking out.
He seemed really happy to have someone interact with him but the way he called you out in front of everybody, made your stomach twist and turn on itself - you don’t know why you’re taking it so personal, but you are.
It’s fine, though, it’ll pass.
You’d still suck his dick if he asked you to.
“Like we said earlier, Female Serial Killers act like gatherers because they frequently kill those who are around them or familiar to them whereas Male Serial Killers act like hunters because they hunt the people they want to kill. - explains Professor Reid, changing the slide over his computer before looking back at the rest of the class - This difference may stem from sex-specific tendencies derived from labor divisions in an ancestral environment. Men used to prey and hunt animals, women used to gather grains and plants for food.”
It’s incredible how these differences might really come from this.
It actually makes sense, since almost 95% of species’ history depicts men hunting and killing for food, or for their own pleasure. The repeated physical, social and ecological elements of the ancestral environment have adapted now into something like this, like crimes - it’s truly incredible.
You look up at Professor Reid, his eyes on your face the whole time.
He furrows his eyebrows before you give him a reassuring smile, tapping your blue pen over your bottom lip.
“This might be the reason why women look at their close friends and families as a gatherer would, while men look for strangers and engage in a similar “hunt” like they used to do thousands of years ago. - explains Doctor Reid, turning around to change the slide over his computer again - Now we’re going to focus more specifically on the Male Serial Killers as Hunters.”
You turn the page of your notebook, crossing your legs. The skirt you’re wearing raises a little bit but the first person who notices it is Professor Reid - and it’s weird, because you can feel his burning stare over your thighs but you can’t move.
It’s like you want to give him a show.
And you actually want to do that, but not in front of anybody.
You push your skirt down, covering your thighs, and you notice him looking away.
His cheeks are flushed and he runs his fingers through his curls, pushing them back.
“Which one is the most commonly identified Male Serial Killer?”
The hedonistic serial killer, you mutter under your breath.
“Exactly, Miss Y/L/N. - you want the floor to swallow you right now - The Hedonist serial killer seeks and stalks complete strangers in order to obtain sexual gratification, power and thrill from his crimes. He has to stalk his own victims by waiting for them for days and for the right time to attack their victims, forcing them into submission.”
His previous words ring in your brain.
This is typical predatory behaviour, similar to what men used to do thousands of years ago when they were hunting for food. Now it all makes sense: men used to be persistent, they used to be patient and waited for their prey to be alone, to be vulnerable just like present serial killers, now towards women.
Male Serial Killers wait and wait until a woman is alone, away from a group. And they spy her, they stalk her and make sure she’s away from a familiar person - and then they attack her, they grab her, they hurt her for the pure pleasure of just doing it.
“Male Serial Killers consider their victim as their possession. They want the victim, usually women but sometimes other men, to submit to them. They take advantage of the victim and sexually exploit them, especially if the prey are women.”
You want to cringe because of his words, the continuous comparison between an animal as a prey and a woman as a prey makes your stomach turn - it’s sick to think so many Male Serial Killers associate women to objects, to animals, as if they don’t count anything.
Biting your bottom lip, you write down what Professor Reid says.
His eyes land on you for a split second just when you look up at him and you can feel your cheeks heating up, a little smile spreading over your lips.
You raise your hand, waiting for Professor Reid to look at you again.
“Yes, Miss Y/L/N?”
Clearing your throat, you turn the page of your notebook. “You mentioned trophies before. Do Serial Killers keep trophies such as blood and body parts just like hunters do with animals?”
The three girls in front of you are snorting, making faces because of what you just said.
If blood and body parts are disgusting to them, maybe it’s better they leave this class - Doctor Spencer Reid is famous among the students for showing crime scenes pictures with gruesome background stories without hesitation.
At the end of the day, if his students want to do work as profilers, they need to be prepared for pretty much everything he has talked about since the beginning of the course.
“Yes, they do. Animal hunters keep antlers or the head of their prey, serial killers keep body parts such as the womb or the eyes, or even jars filled with their victims’ blood. - explains Professor Reid, nodding his head - It’s really common. Thank you for the question.”
No, thank you for the answer. - you think with a smile on your lips.
It feels nice to be able to speak with a professor without feeling judged.
“Another particular difference between Female and Male Serial Killers is that male perpetrated murder is usually marked with sexual activity. - he adds, changing the slide from the remote he keeps behind his back - Most Male Serial Killers engage in sadistic sexual behaviour such as binding, torture and sometimes even necrophilia. It’s not uncommon for a male serial killer to visit the decomposed corpse of their victims and engage in sexual activities with them because murder is linked to a history of prepetrator rape, because it’s the ultimate violation of a body.”
You cringe again at his words, crossing your arms to your chest.
It’s incredible how someone might be able to kill a woman and humiliate her further by abusing her body over and over again even after her death just because she’s dead. It’s disgusting, it’s dark and it’s an image you need to get out of your head right now.
You lick your bottom lip, pulling out your bottle of water from your leather bag.
Professor Reid sits on his desk, his hands gripping the edge of the table.
You can’t help but wonder how it’d be to lay there between his legs, touching his chest while kissing his neck and his throat. How you’d hear his pretty whimpers against your ear, how he’d touch you and beg you to touch him as well, how he’d lay you on that same table and spread your legs and…
You shake your head.
It’s not the right time or the right place to think about that.
Later, when you’ll be home all alone since your flat-mate is out of town for a few days.
How can you think about pleasuring him when he’s talking about people getting murdered?
“Although sexual predation is one of the reasons why Male Serial Killers stalk strangers, not every serial killer has sex or engage in sexual activities with their victims. - explains Professor Reid, the low sound of the bell echoing inside the classroom - I think that’s all the time we’ve had for today.”
You let out a soft sigh, the bell interrupting every thought lingering in your brain. Since this is your last lesson of the day, you have to go home and cook your lunch but you don’t want to be alone the whole afternoon - maybe you’ll stay in class or at the library to prepare for next week.
You are expecting Professor Reid’s pop quiz like a kid on Christmas’ Eve.
“Alright students, make sure to read the articles I’ve emailed you last night. We’ll discuss them next Monday, along with Female Serial Killers and familiar cases as examples. - exclaims Professor Reid, watching his students making their way out of the class - Have a wonderful weekend!”
Uncrossing your legs from underneath your desk, you put your notebook inside your leather bag and you gather all of your things before taking a sip of water. You stay on your chair for a few more moments, admiring your Professor pulling out his phone and texting something.
Is he messaging his girlfriend?
Does he have a girlfriend or is he single?
You haven’t seen a ring on his fingers even though he’s almost forty years old. You’re surprised he doesn’t have anybody yet - that you know of, actually - because he’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.
You wonder what he’d do if you tried to seduce him.
You hum, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, Professor?”
“Are you planning on spending the weekend on your seat, ready for my class this Monday?”
The slight sarcastic tone makes you smile, the little joke shaking your heart. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea, now that I think about it. I’d have the best seat in the whole class.”
He gives you a smile, climbing the first two stairs to reach your row. “You should get out of Campus and enjoy a weekend with your friends, even though it’s going to rain before the end of the day.”
You frown, glancing at the window on the other side of the class. “Do you think so?”
“Yes. The sky was red this morning and before our class, I took a walk around the Campus. I could smell the petrichor. - says Professor Reid, waiting for you to grab your leather bag before walking in front of him - We’ll see tonight if I was right or not.”
You don’t doubt he’ll be right, he’s always right.
He follows you in silence, turning the lights of the classroom off before you turn around to look at him - not realising he’s really close to you, as you almost bump into him. Your hand is almost over his chest as you quickly pull it away, your cheeks heating up at the closeness.
This is dangerous.
But you like danger, especially if it involves him.
Taking a step back, you clear your throat.
“I really liked today’s lesson, can’t wait for the next part.”
Doctor Reid smiles, his dimples poking out again.
Knowing you’re the cause of this smile makes you feel like you’re on top of the world.
“I figured. I’m glad you liked it, I’m sure the next part will be even better since it’s all about Female Serial Killers. - he says, closing the door of the classroom - Something tells me you’re going to raise your hands many, many times.”
You blush, looking down for a split second.
“And, Miss Y/L/N… I’m sorry for calling you out during class, mine was just a joke.”
What is the talking about?
“No, it’s fine! I understand that, I interrupted you. I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry. - you quickly say, shaking your head when you see his eyebrows furrowed in an upset expression - It’s okay, you did the right thing by reprimanding me.”
He slowly nods his head, biting his bottom lip.
He admires the way you’re playing with your hair, twisting it around your fingers before lightly pulling on it. He wished those fingers would be his, he wants to be the one tugging and pulling your hair - maybe in different conditions, such as fun, bedroom activities.
Weirdo, why is he thinking about this with a student?
It’s not like he’s totally immune to your beauty - he’s really not, but he should be.
He’s 39 years old, you’re barely 26.
“Great, because it wasn’t my intention to hurt you. - says Professor Reid, glancing at a student walking right behind you - If you have any questions about today’s lesson, do not hesitate to send me an e-mail. I will gladly answer.”
A bright smile spreads over your lips.
“Thank you so much, Professor. - you mumble, feeling your phone vibrating in your leather bag pressed against your side - Have a good weekend!”
You certainly will, considering his voice will be the soundtrack of your dreams.
Monday used to be your least favourite day of the week in High School because it was the beginning of a stressful week filled with exams, oral exams, pop quizzes, difficult conversations with your old classmates or fights with the teacher.
And within the teachers.
Now that you’ve grown up and gone to College, you actually love Mondays.
And it’s not because you are finally studying subjects you love, but because your morning will be blessed by the presence and the sweet voice of the beautiful Professor Reid - who’s probably already waiting for his students inside his classroom.
Ah, Professor Reid.
It was difficult to focus on the second article he sent to everybody through e-mails because your mind was filled with images of him in many different conditions, conditions that you were dying to see him in.
Your weekend passed in a blur, between Female Serial Killers and some fun time alone with Spencer Reid staining your brain, your thoughts, your fantasies.
No matter how much you dreamed about him, you were excited to see him.
You walk out the Cafeteria, taking a sip of your milk mixed with just an ounce of coffee.
Some of your colleagues are headed to the classroom but you stay outside for a few more minutes, knowing that your Professor is not really a fan of people who attend his lessons with their coffees or their drinks in hand - water is fine, though.
You lean against the wall next to the door, spotting Professor Reid walking inside the hallway with his eyes set on you. At first you’re not sure he’s looking at you, but when he gets closer and closer, you know he’s actually staring - more like, gawking at you and you don’t mind at all.
You’ve been waiting this weekend to finish for so long.
“Good morning Miss Y/L/N. - he says, walking past you - Finish your coffee and get inside the class, we have so much to do today.”
More excited than before, you drink all your milk before heading inside the classroom.
Did you really do what he just told you to? Since when do you take orders from others?
Blushing, you get to your seat only to find it taken by the three girls that were right in front of you a few days before. You know why they’re there – Professor Reid looked at you lots of times during his last lesson and that seemed to annoy the three girls, which is why they took your place.
Little do they know, Professor Reid is going to look at you no matter which seat you occupy.
He’d stare and gawk at you even if you decided to sit in the back of the class because you’re not in the mood to pay attention to his class. He loves watching you take notes, look around the room, smile at something he says during his lessons.
And he loves watching the way your skirt rises up over your thigh, exposing your soft skin he wants so desperately to nibble on – he will, one day. He doesn’t know when but it’ll happen and when it’ll happen, he’s going to let go.
His fantasies will come alive.
And he’ll make sure you’ll feel him for days.
Already annoyed by the three girls, you decide to take their place and sit in front of them.
“Good morning everyone. I hope you rested well this weekend and you’re all ready because we have so many things to discuss today.”
You smirk, tapping the bottom of your pen against your cheeks.
You certainly rested pretty well, considering how many times you whispered his name with your hand down between your legs and your eyes closed. You’re tempted to tell him, explaining every single detail of your dreams about him in his office – but that’d be dangerous, because you’d cross those boundaries that will make it hard for you to focus on anything different than his hands or his mouth.
It’s already difficult to look at him in the eyes and not fantasize about his fingers caressing you between your thighs, his lips leaving feverish kisses up and down your throat as he calls your name ever so softly, almost begging you for something.
Those images of Spencer are haunting your mind.
“Last weekend we focused our attention on the figure of the Male Serial Killers. Today we’re going to study the psychological profile of a Female Serial Killer.”
You open your notebook, scrabbling the date and the title of the lesson.
Then your eyes immediately settle on the man turning on the computer, his fingers wrapping around the little remote that actually resembles the remote of your favourite toy – weird coincidence?
What would he think of you owning a toy with a bluetooth controller? What would he think of you playing with it, turning the toy on and off just to tease yourself and imagining him doing that to you?
He’d love it.
“People tend to disbelieve that a woman could commit a serial murder, which is why there are not a lot of researches about Female Serial Killers. About one in six serial killers are women, while serial murders are less than 1% committed by Female Serial Killers. – says Doctor Reid, leaning against his desk right behind him – We talked about how Female Serial Killers tend to act like gatherers of victims, victims they probably knew very well and were close to before their actions.”
You write his words down, biting your bottom lip.
The gesture doesn’t go unnoticed because Professor Reid’s eyes are already on you.
Your eyebrows are furrowed, there’s a little crinkle between your eyebrows – a sign of concentration – and you’re pouting while you write. He finds your expression incredibly attractive even though he prefers to feel your eyes on his face rather than them being on the paper you have between your hands.
A strand of hair falls over your forehead, you quickly push it behind your ear.
Spencer Reid takes a deep breath, opening the PDF he created for this lesson.
He has to control himself or he won’t be able to finish this lesson without needing a break in the bathroom, relieving himself from the rapidly building frustration within his body.
Mondays are tough because you look way more gorgeous than the rest of the week, because you’re well rested, because you dress with that tight little skirt he wants to strip away with his teeth as he scratches your thighs and squeezes them in his hands.
“Female Serial Killers often target children or familiar others who are vulnerable or may be under their care. 72% of Female Serial Killers killed at least one person under their care and 44% killed their own children. – you frown at his words, finally looking up at him and finding him staring back at you – Della Sorenson, a Female Serial Killer who poisoned eight children throughout her life, said those children were annoying, they were bothering the woman, they were powerless and couldn’t attack her back so she had all the control over them. And she killed them just because she could.”
You lick your bottom lip, tapping the pen right there.
He forces himself to take his eyes off you, the desire already booming through his body.
It’s too early to feel these emotions, it’s too early to head to the bathroom and end his own misery by touching himself because of you – but he’ll do it soon, because he knows he can’t survive today without it.
He has to.
“Female Serial Killers tend to stay in one place committing their crimes, another difference from Male Serial Killers who are determined to follow their victims even cities apart. – Doctor Reid clears his throat, beginning to pace back and forth in front of his desk with his eyes everywhere but on you – This particular characteristics of Female Serial Killers reminds us of the movement patterns of women in ancient times: they were forced to stay in one place to seek out food, to grow out plants and collect fruits. They couldn’t move away or they wouldn’t have been able to find food for their families.”
You cross your legs, leaning against your chair.
You can hear whispers coming from behind you and you’re tempted to respond to them, but you can’t. You don’t want to interrupt the lesson and you definitely do not want Professor Reid to hear what you say about him.
Maybe he wouldn’t care...
Maybe it’d be a way to push him to make the first move.
Or maybe it’d be a way to push him away for good.
And you definitely do not want that, you’re determined to have him.
“Why does he keep looking at her? Are they fucking?”
You want to laugh.
You wish you were fucking him.
You’d be much more satisfied than using your own hands or these stupid toys – you’re pretty sure he’d be much better than them, he’d make you come more times than anything else and, well, he’d be a way better view throughout the moment.
“Male Serial Killers tend to have a sexual motive to attack their victims, while Female Serial Killers tend to kill people to gain some kind of profit. whether it is money, power or simply the recognition for their actions. – explains Doctor Reid, your pen still tapping over your bottom lip – Women can also be violent and injurious to others, but female aggression gets more intense in situations where they need to defend themselves. An example is Female Serial Killers who kill their husbands or their partners for financial gain or inheritance, moving on to another partner.”
Tilting your head, you furrow your eyebrows.
“Female Serial Killers gain money by killing their partners and it reflects the female ancestral tendency to secure provisions for themselves and their offspring.”
You’re tempted to raise your hand so you do, waiting for him to give you the word.
You remember reading articles about Jeanne Weber when you were younger, how she was one of the Serial Killers who actually hurt somebody for sexual pleasure. If Male Serial Killers are more driven to engage in sexual activities with their victims because they act like hunters, why do females do that as well in some cases?
“Yes, Miss Y/L/N?”
“Jeanne Weber used to strangle young boys during compulsive orgasmic rushes. Gwendolyn Graham and Catherine Wood used sexual asphyxia to kill vulnerable patients because the murder gave them a rush of adrenaline. – you start to say, looking down at your own notes – What might be the motives for a woman to use murder in her sexual pleasure? Females are not classified as hunters but as gatherers. What's the connection?”
Doctor Reid goes silent for a few seconds, then a little smile appears over his lips.
He likes interacting like this with you.
“Many Female Sex Offenders had been sexually traumatized as children. They often have no sense of appropriate boundaries, poor relationship skills therefore specific emotions, fantasies, justifications or even thought processes might increase the likelihood of offending.”
You tilt your head again, biting your bottom lip. “So being sexually traumatised led this women to become sex offenders.”
He nods, crossing his arms to his chest. “Obviously not all of them have been sexually abused, but most of them unfortunately have. There's also a small percentage of Sadistic Female Serial Killers who killed people because it was their ultimate fantasy. An example I can give you is...”
You finish his sentence. “Rosemary West, of course.”
Spencer Reid tries his best not to look surprised by your words.
How did you know he was going to mention that woman?
You must have read a lot of this topic because you sound exactly like him.
And it’s a compliment, of course.
“For those who don’t know, Rosemary West and her husband Fred West subjected a young woman to hours and hours of sexual abuse after luring her in their car. She also helped men assaulting her daughter Anne Marie, she killed another woman while her husband was in prison and sexually abused her children’s babysitters. – explains Professor Reid, his eyes leaving yours for a moment – Most of these offenders come from dysfunctional families, have a history of sexual abuse perpetrated by people in their families or close friends, reported feelings of worthlessness as human beings and abused alcohol or drugs in early adolescence.”
You scratch your chin, writing everything down as your brain tries to gather all of this information.
No matter how interesting they are, they’re giving you a headache.
But they’re so fucking fascinating – from a psychology point of view, of course.
“Did I answer your question?”
You nod your head, giving him a little smile. “Yes, Professor. Thank you.”
There are a few seconds of silence, then he speaks up again. “Let’s take a ten minutes break.”
He doesn’t have to tell you twice, you were waiting for those adorable words.
You desperately need a break or you’ll go completely crazy.
Leaving your notebook and your bag behind, you grab your phone and quickly head out of the room – not noticing him following you.
You race down the stairs as quickly as you can, entering the bathroom.
How can his voice have this kind of effect on you? How can it make you wet?
You can feel the pleasure building rapidly in your body, blinding you to the point you don’t even hear the footsteps right behind you. You open the door of the bathroom and as you finally walk past the mirror, you see the shadow of someone following you.
When you turn around, Spencer Reid is right there.
He grabs your right hand and pushes you inside one of the many bathroom stalls, your body immediately crashing against his. You were about to make a sound when his hand covers your mouth, the desire in your body immediately increasing.
All the blood is rushing down in your lower abdomen.
“Don’t make a sound.”
Whining against the palm of his hand, you close your eyes and nod. You’re not even sure this is really happening, it can easily be the figment of your imagination – but when his hips push against you, his cock covered by his trousers pressed to your thighs, you know this is real.
This is actually happening.
How did he get so aroused because of you?
What have you done to drive him this crazy?
You don’t know but you’re not going to think about this now.
“We have to be quick, doll. – he whispers, his lips right over your ear – Do you think you can be quiet for me?”
Your voice can’t get out of your throat, it’s stuck there.
Nodding your head, you look up at him when he finally takes his hand off your mouth. You wished it rested over another part of you – maybe your neck – but there will be time for that, you know this is just the beginning of something that will explode soon.
“You’re really bad at hiding how turned on you are. – whispers the young Professor, smirking – I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”
He’s not the only one.
You turn your body around, your face pressed against the cold surface of the wall. As much as you’d love to look at him while he touches you, you know it’ll prevent you from being quiet – and you don’t want to get caught in the bathroom downstairs with Spencer Reid.
You can’t or he’ll get kicked out of College.
Spencer Reid starts leaving kisses over your neck, your eyes shutting and your lips parting. The feeling of his cock pressed directly over your ass is enough for you to give him the friction he deserves – and that you ache so, so badly.
He wraps an arm around your neck, covering your mouth.
The position is fucking hot.
His chest is pressed to your back, your hips are pushing against his hips and you can feel his cock pushing over your thigh, then your ass and then your core.
Your panties are already wet, the desire driving you wild.
Spencer Reid wraps his free arm around your waist, tightly holding on your hips to keep them in place as he rubs his clothed cock against your throbbing core. He starts rolling his lips into yours, focusing more and more on your needs – he knows he’s already close, but he wants you to come first.
Always a gentleman.
“You’re driving me crazy, Y/N. – whispers Professor Reid, his free hand sliding between your legs to push your skirt upward – It’s impossible not to look at you and imagine you on your knees for me, putting that smart mouth to use whenever I want.”
You want to let out the filthiest moan ever but you can’t.
“I can say the same, Professor Reid. – you manage to speak, your voice nothing more than a pathetic whisper – I’m close.”
You thought you were going to be able to act all seductive and sensual, but you can’t.
You’re a pathetic mess and it’s all his fault.
His damned fault.
When his fingers push your panties aside, finally touching your clit, the rush of adrenaline pushes you over the edge as the first orgasm hits you hard. It was totally unexpected but you feel everything, as much as you can. You arch your back and you grip his elbow, closing your eyes and biting your lips in order not to cry in pleasure.
You wish you could, you bet he’d love that.
His fingers keep massaging and stroking your clit, collecting the wetness pooling between your legs before bringing it up to your lips. And you lick them clean, not minding the taste of your own arousal in your mouth – you love teasing people and something tells you, by Spencer quick movements against your ass, that he loves watching you taste yourself.
You wonder if he’d be interested in tasting your arousal himself.
A short whimper comes out of his mouth and you swear you heard Heaven calling you.
You turn your head and look at him, his hazel eyes burning into yours.
Before he could open his mouth to say something, you get down on your knees with no hesitation. You dreamed about sucking him off before a class, you dreamed about watching him from your knees as he loses himself because of you but you never thought it’d happen in a dirty bathroom like this one – well, maybe you did.
He doesn’t need to know.
“Finish in my mouth, please. I need it.”
You quickly unbuckle his trousers, palming him through them. Spencer closes his eyes and throws his head back, covering his own mouth with a hand before he lets out a moan – he’s dying to, and you’re dying to hear his pretty voice now but you can’t.
It’s a shame.
You can feel his cock, big and hard, right under your palm.
You push down his briefs just enough to let his cock spring free and you spit on your hand, before wrapping your fingers around his length.
There’s no time to waste here.
You have to be quick.
“Come for me, Professor. I know you want to, so do it. Please, come inside of my mouth.”
He runs his fingers through your hair, gripping it tightly. You start stroking his cock with your eyes on his face the whole time, feeling yourself getting wetter at the sight – you probably will need to touch yourself again before you leave this bathroom.
Spencer Reid looks incredible right now.
His cheeks are flushed, his golden eyes are staring into your soul, his lips are slightly parted and his chest is rising up and down ever so rapidly. You can feel his orgasm approach quickly when his whole body stiffens, a chorus of short but audible “hm, hm” leaving his lips.
You wrap your lips around the head of his cock and swirl your tongue around it, moaning softly when the first drops of come hit your tongue.
He imagines your tight walls adjusting to his size, your pretty little moans echoing in his bedroom, your beautiful naked body tightly pressed to his, your hands all over his chest and your mouth attached to his, moaning and crying out his name.
And then he reaches his orgasm, emptying himself inside of your mouth.
You swallow everything he gave you like the good girl you’re not and get up again, brushing the back of your hand over your mouth before a smirk decorates it.
“There you go, pretty boy.”
When you’re about to lean in and kiss his mouth just to tease him some more before he heads back to class, you can hear the sound of footsteps coming from outside. You both freeze, your hands landing over his chest as his right one covers your mouth.
You pray that those people get out of the bathroom soon.
You can’t be seen with him, but the danger makes everything fucking hotter.
It’s incredibly wrong: if somebody sees you together, Spencer Reid is done. Completely and utterly done because it’d be a shame for a professor to have some kind of sexual relationship with a student.
When the person on the other side of the bathroom leaves, Spencer Reid opens the door of the stall you’re both in and he looks around. He tucks himself back into his pants and turns around to look at you.
You smirk at him before winking, pushing your skirt down as you lick your bottom lip.
“Go. I need to fix myself, Professor.”
Spencer lingers for a split second with his eyes on yours, then he smiles and leaves the bathroom.
What the fuck just happened?
It’s been almost two weeks since your encounter with Professor Spencer Reid.
You thought you were going to see him on Thursday because his lesson was scheduled in the morning, but he sent everybody an email where he explained he got held back at his other job - his FBI job.
Even though you know it’s not an excuse, you can’t help but think it might be one as well.
When he left you cleaning yourself in that bathroom, he also left you with a bunch of questions lingering in your brain. You know that the way he looked at you right there and how he touched you, used you, meant more than he could say - but you couldn’t bring yourself to send him an email or something.
At first you thought about simply asking him if everything was okay and if you made him uncomfortable with what happened, but then you thought about how those emails might be monitored by God-knows-who and no.
It’s better if you wait to see him in class rather than text him.
Emails and messages are easily traceable.
Face-to-face conversations are not, that you know of.
Since no one could replace Spencer Reid for his lessons, you spent those empty hours at the library to study your notes and daydream about him some more.
You couldn’t stop thinking about the way he looked at you when he came.
He truly looked like a painting, with those golden eyes and curls.
It was difficult to pay attention to the rest of his lesson, knowing that he looked like someone sucked him off in the bathroom because it truly happened. The three girls behind you kept commenting about how good he looks, how they wanted to do so many things to him and you wanted to laugh because, well, you had the chance to touch him.
And he touched you as well, pushing you against the wall like an animal.
You felt so good in his arms, with his mouth leaving little open kisses all over your neck. You couldn’t believe what was happening at first but you weren’t complaining, at all. You dreamed about those soft pink lips all over your body, so when you actually felt them on your throat and behind your neck, it was like a fever dream.
Nobody knows what happened and you don’t plan on spilling the secret to anybody.
His incredible career and respectful reputation can’t be thrown out of the window because of a horny 26 years old woman who sucked him off - kind of - inside of a bathroom after sucking on his fingers that were between her legs.
You open your computer, placing it on your thighs as you type your own password.
It’s eleven in the morning, your lesson with Spencer Reid should start in fifteen minutes and he’s not here yet - it’s weird, usually he comes to the classroom way earlier than he should so you figure you have another free class.
Which means, more time to study and prepare for your exams.
They’re getting closer and closer, and you want to do great.
Especially in Spencer Reid’s subject.
“He’s here! I saw him! - you hear one of your colleagues exclaim - He’s back but he’s all scratched. His face is...”
Your colleague stops talking when you hear the familiar footsteps.
It feels as if all the air has been sucked out of the classroom, everyone is turning to the entrance to see if your colleague was telling the truth or lying to everybody - but he wasn’t.
When you finally look up, Spencer Reid is walking down the stairs with a black eye and a scratch covering half of his face.
How does one person manage to look this gorgeous even with a beaten up face?
But then you worried about what happened to him.
Being a profiler and working on the field, as he explained to the whole classroom during his first lesson, can be dangerous and unpredictable. You may elaborate a profile and follow it until the very end, but you can never predict what someone might do when you’re face to face with them - and based on his own words, you figured he might have a particular encounter with an unsub.
Or maybe he fell down the stairs of his own house.
If that was the case, he wouldn’t have taken two weeks off his job. Right?
“I apologize for my two weeks absence. - his voice is stern, almost annoyed - Let’s start ten minutes early, we have many things to do.”
You’ve never seen him like this.
He came here to teach many times after a particularly hard case, you remember those days pretty well because he’d have bruises all over his face or his neck. His voice has never been like this, his tone has never felt as if he was annoyed and he didn’t want to be there - you figure he’d preferred to stay at home and get some rest, but he couldn’t.
And now you’re worried.
You’re dying to raise your hand and ask him if it’s okay but you can’t.
You’re not his girlfriend, you’re not his mother, you’re his student. Nothing more than that, even though you might think the opposite. Just because you shared an orgasm it doesn’t mean you have to be there for him, cuddling like he’s a child.
But you want to.
Sighing softly, you open your notebook and look up at the man trying to make the projector work with his little white remote.
His face is still beautiful, the brownish-yellow bruise covering the soft skin right under his eyes. The colours suggest he got that bruise at least five or ten days ago, therefore the week before. His skin isn’t broken which means the blood has nowhere to go but to stay right there, pooling and forming clots that change the colour of his skin.
That’s an ecchymosis.
It’s basically a hematoma: clotted blood that formed a little lump under his skin.
You want to kiss it away and make it better.
“Today we’re going to focus on a few examples of Female Serial Killers and their modus operandi.”
You bite your lip, the first picture of his presentation appearing on the big screen.
You don’t recognize the woman in front of you.
“This is Nancy Hazel, also known as the Giggling Grandma. - says Professor Reid, turning to look at the photograph before his eyes land on your face - Is there anyone who knows who she is?”
You don’t have an answer this time.
He waits for a few seconds for you to raise your hand but when you don’t, he starts talking again.
“She poisoned at least eight victims, the first five were her children.”
You cross your legs, tapping the bottom of your pen against your lip.
“Her first husband, Charley Braggs, found the kids lying on the floor. His wife told him that she didn’t mean to poison them, it was an accidental poisoning but he didn’t believe her. - explains the young professor, changing the slide to another picture of her - He left and never came back. Nancy married and dated other men, they all died of “stomach problems”. Nobody thought she’d be the person behind these deaths until her doctor ordered the autopsy of her last husband, who died suddenly.”
You scratch your chin, wrapping your lips around the bottom of the pen. You chew on it, keeping your eyes on his face the whole time.
You still hear his voice and his words, but now you’re focused on a particular detail.
This morning Doctor Spencer Reid decided to unbutton the first three buttons of his shirt. You can see the soft skin of his chest and you wonder how it would feel to nibble on it, to lick it and cover it with bite marks, with kisses.
Would he react to those kisses? Would he whimper like he did when you got on your knees? Would he grab you by the face and kiss you more?
“After that discovery, the doctor asked for the autopsies of all the people that came in contact with her and found that two of her infant children, four of her husbands, two of her sisters, her mother and one of her nephews have been killed by arsenic poisoning.”
How can he be so hot while talking about serial killers?
His voice is just so soothing, every trace of annoyance has completely disappeared.
“She was also called the Jolly Widow because of her cheerful disposition towards investigators and police officers. She never stopped smiling while she was being interrogated and the tapes of her interviews are creepy, to say the least. - says Spencer Reid, crossing his arms to his chest - She was arrested for murder by poison of her last husband, Samuel Doss.”
You shake your head, forcing yourself to listen to his words.
It’s difficult to focus on them instead of his demeanor, his thighs, his hands, his fingers.
The same fingers that were touching you between your legs, the same hands that were on your mouth or palming through your panties.
You need to calm down.
“She was the definition of a Black Widow, a woman who kills her husband or lover and still wants to find her everlasting love. - Professor Reid changes the slide again, turning around so that his back is towards you - She said she married these men because she loved them but she never poisoned anyone. She said she did all of this because, when she was seven years old, she hit her head and that caused her terrible headaches.”
You bite your bottom lip, playing with your pen.
“She wore out four teams before they gave up on her. She never lost her smile, she never admitted to anything until she said a lot of little things annoyed her about her last husband. - you furrow your eyebrows, listening closely to him - How she didn’t know who she was going to marry, how he used to run away with other women, how he didn’t allow her to listen to a radio or have a fan in the house. How he forced her to be the perfect Christian woman, therefore she wouldn’t need a fan or a television.”
It’s incredible how these little things, combined by a terrible childhood, might twist the psyche of a person and push them enough to do the unthinkable. It’s scary but so fascinating at the same time.
Fascinating from a psychological point of view.
“She put an inch of rat poison in Samuel’s coffee but apparently she overestimated the dose, causing him to retch so violently it saved his life. - you giggle, the way he spoke made the situation a little funny even though it wasn’t - Afterwards she poisoned him again and he died, because she said he treated her worse as she was nursing him.”
You lean back against your chair as you raise your hand.
Professor Reid looks at you, giving you a quick nod. “Go ahead, Miss Y/L/N.”
“What about the other victims?”
“Well, she poisoned her fourth husband because he was making her mad. She killed the third husband because he was a womanizer and used to run away with other women, but he was also a jailbird and a drunkard. - explains Professor Reid, a simple shrug before he changes to another slide - He tried to seduce her but she wasn’t having it because he was too drunk, but he kept insisting and she poisoned a bottle of whiskey.”
Wow, is all you can say.
You don’t blame her for wanting to teach him a lesson, but maybe murder wasn’t the best choice.
“She killed her children because she found them annoying. Her first husband, Braggs, said he was afraid of her. He never ate or drank anything she made him when she was in a foul mood, terrified that she might have slipped something in the meals.”
He did the right thing.
He could’ve been poisoned as well.
“Every time she admitted a crime, Nancy said the exact same thing: “My conscience is clear”.”
You can’t help but raise your hand again.
Professor Reid allows you to talk.
“Two weeks ago you said most Female Serial Killers have suffered from a painful past or have been sexually abused when they were younger and throughout their life. Is this the case as well? - you ask, furrowing your eyebrows - I’m not justifying her actions if this is the case, of course. I just find it interesting how these women that turned into serial killers have a similar past with each other.”
He lingers for a few seconds, then he nods.
“Nancy had a very strict father who didn’t allow her to wear makeup or clothes that could attract men because he feared she might be assaulted. - explains Professor Reid, looking up at you - He didn’t know she was assaulted many times even before that. She got married at such a young age because she wanted to get away from her father, who prohibited her to see her friends or enjoy Church social events.”
You shake your head, tapping your pen over the notebook. “Is this why you didn’t mention her past? Because it has nothing or little to do with her transformation?”
His nose twitches. “Kind of. She never used her sexual past as a justification of her actions, she always came back to the headaches that had nothing to do with sexual activities. But I forgot to mention she was obsessed with love, she used to read her Mother’s romance novels and dreamed about finding the love of her life. It drove her crazy.”
Satisfied with your answer, you give him a smile and nod your head.
“When she got married, she lost the strict father but gained a very annoying mother in law that caused her to start smoking. Her marriage was down, mostly flat, and she seeked strangers’ attention because they made her feel attractive. So while her four children were with their father, she was with other men.”
You uncross your legs, pushing your skirt over your thighs.
“Have I answered your question?”
You nod your head, humming. “Yes, Professor. Thank you.”
A short silence falls inside the room.
Spencer Reid speaks up first.
“Nancy pleaded guilty on May 17th 1955 and was sentenced to life imprisonment. - adds Doctor Reid, turning off the projector - She died ten years later of leukemia in the Hospital Ward of the Oklahoma State Penitentiary.”
You close your notebook, placing it on the empty seat beside you. Pulling out your bottle of water, you take a sip and you watch Professor Reid glancing at his phone over his desk. When he turns around, he looks up at you for a split second before turning to the rest of the class.
“Let’s take a fifteen minutes break.”
Some of your colleagues headed out of the classroom to have a smoke, you decided to stay in and see if he comes over to talk to you or something.
Even though his demeanour changed throughout the lesson, there’s still some visible tension.
You decide to take the matter into your own hands.
Leaving your bottle of water inside, you step down the stairs but immediately stop when another student follows him and starts to talk to him. You take a few steps back and go back to your seat, biting your bottom lip.
The rest of the lesson goes pretty much smoothly.
Professor Reid decided to examine the case of Rosemary West and her husband Fred. He explained their story, how they found each other, how their relationship was filled with obstacles such as Rosemary’s father and how their modus operandi reminded him of another case he worked on a couple of years before.
You couldn’t take your eyes off him.
Luckily you read more than enough about this couple of serial killers, so you could allow yourself to look and admire something else rather than the presentation Professor Reid was projecting right behind his body.
Your eyes settled on his face the whole time as you chewed on your own pen, playing with it and thinking about what happened two weeks before in that bathroom. It felt weird to see him like that, in a completely different condition: he looked like an angel, a sinful angel who just wanted someone to end his misery.
And you did, dragging him to Hell with you.
When Spencer Reid announces that his lesson is over, you wait at least five minutes before standing up from your seat. All of your colleagues are walking away, probably headed to the Cafeteria or the little shop right in front of the entrance of this Campus to have lunch.
You’re hungry as well, but not for food.
Seeing Spencer Reid after two weeks, on a Monday morning, felt like a cold glass of water splashed all over you on a very hot summer day.
You needed it, you craved to see him.
Collecting your leather bag, you follow him outside the classroom. Stumbling through the rest of the students, you make your way out of the room and you walk right behind him inside the hallway before turning around.
No one is behind you and no one is looking at you.
You can follow him.
Spencer Reid doesn’t seem to notice you’re behind him, since you’re a few steps away from him but when he turns to the left - you almost bump into someone. You start muttering excuses as you try to back away, making sure to be able to follow your Professor but when you look up, you realise he’s right there.
He’s staring at you.
Embarrassed because you got caught, you give him a tight fake smile.
Your voice makes his heart flutter, his hard stare softening.
He has missed you in the last two weeks.
He wondered if you had missed him as well - you have.
“Do you need anything?”
You nod your head, hearing footsteps behind you. “I was hoping you could suggest a few books on Female Serial Killers, I’ve enjoyed the last two lessons.”
When the person who made you alert passes by, disappearing in the hallway and finally leaving you completely alone, Professor Reid yanks you by the elbow and pushes you inside of his office. The door is locked behind his back as your hands immediately sneak up behind his neck, his mouth covering yours in a kiss that leaves you completely speechless.
You didn’t come to his office to make out with him, even though it’s actually a great activity.
You came here to talk to him and ask him if he’s okay, but you’re going to take everything he can give you - especially if it involves his tongue or his hands. Or both, at the same time.
Spencer backs away from the door and you follow his movements, his hands sliding over your body to reach your thighs covered by your black skirt. He squeezes them in the palm of his hands, slipping his fingers underneath the smooth fabric of your clothes, and he pushes it up so that your thighs are completely exposed.
You don’t care, as long as he keeps kissing you.
His right hand travels between your thighs, your panties already damp.
He interrupts you by kissing you again, helping you to sit over the desk in the middle of his office. You’ve been there so many times before but never to make out with him like this, never with your legs spread open and his hand down in your panties.
His fingers are massaging you over the useless fabric covering you, your core throbbing with need as you whimper and you call out his name against his lips.
You suddenly forgot why you came here in the first place.
“Try to stay quiet for me. Can you do that?”
You look up at him, sitting on the edge of his desk. “It depends on what you want to do to me, Professor Reid. Are you going to put that pretty mouth of yours to use?”
He leans down, kissing his lips over and over again. “You looked beautiful on your knees for me, so now I’m returning the favour.”
Professor Reid on his knees for you?
This is a sight you will never forget - probably because it’ll happen many, many times.
Before you can actually metabolize what is about to happen, Spencer Reid hides his face between your legs. You can feel his teeth pulling your panties down and you’re not sure whether to laugh or cry because it’s just so… weird.
But it feels good.
You lift your skirt, placing a hand over his mop of curls. “You could’ve asked me to take them off, you know? I would’ve done it.”
Spencer Reid looks up at you, the sight making you shiver.
Who in the world would’ve thought you’d have him between your legs? Who would’ve thought you’d feel and watch him as he slides his panties down your thighs?
Your Professor puts his hands on you, helping you to spread your legs for him. Normally you’d feel self-conscious with a man staring at your glistening core, but now you’re at ease - he’s admiring how you got so wet because of him, how his kisses excited you to the point you’re actually dripping.
Spencer traces your clit with the tip of his index, making you hiss at the contact.
“All for me?”
Of fucking course, you fucking idiot, it’s always for you! - you want to answer him, hating these useless teasing. Why can’t he just go straight to put his tongue inside of you? Why does he need to tease you when you just need to come because of those luscious lips?
“It’s all for you, pretty boy. - you force yourself to say, knowing that insulting him wouldn’t have been the best thing to do right now - Now get to work, my pussy isn’t going to eat itself.”
He nibbles at the soft skin of your inner thigh, his tongue sliding over it. “Calm down, doll. We have all the time in the world.”
You whimper at the sensation, his tongue running over your thigh. “Bite me.”
And so he does, his teeth grazing over your skin before sinking down. You let out a soft sight, running your fingers through his curls before gripping them tightly and pulling his face up.
“Do you like marking me, huh? Fucking whore.”
Spencer Reid blushes at the pet-name you gave him, knowing it fits him. He’s not really a whore, he just loves your thighs more than anything right now – and he’d do anything to bite them again, to decorate them with little marks so that, when you’ll go home and strip from all of your clothes, you’ll remember he was there to mark you.
To show you he owns you.
You already now.
“Now get to work, you whore. Make me come on that pretty tongue of yours.”
Spencer immediately obeys, not wanting to drive you crazy any further.
He leaves slow kitten licks and soft kisses along your outer lips, his hands squeezing your thighs as you try not to make a single sound. You can’t get caught right now, with his face between your legs, and you need to come so you have to do everything in your power to stop moaning.
But Spencer doesn’t seem to care about this, because his eyes are on your face the whole time and his plan is to just drive you crazy with each move. He wants to taste you, he wants to touch you, he wants to see how your body reacts to his touches and his licks.
He wants to watch you lose control.
His lips wrap around your clit as he begins to suck on it harshly, a loud moan escaping your mouth before you could cover it. You weren’t ready for this, you didn’t even shave because you never thought this would’ve happened - but you should have thought about it, since two weeks ago he followed you to the bathroom and was ready to fuck you right there.
Adorable how the tables have turned now.
You spread your legs as far as you can, throwing your head back. You pull his curls when the pleasure gets too much, feeling yourself ready to jump off the edge but Spencer Reid stops everything and leans back.
His chin is drenched in your own arousal, his pupils are dilated and his cheeks are flushed in pure pleasure. He can’t wait to feel you come all over his tongue, admiring how your body will react to the intense pleasure taking control of you.
“Look at me, now, Y/N. Don’t look away.”
It’s easier said than done.
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
Spencer squeezes your thighs, nibbling the soft skin of your inner thigh. “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were in control.”
You chuckle at his words, running your fingers through his curls. “You look so pretty between my legs, Professor Reid.”
He decides he has had enough, he wants to make you come.
Spencer Reid picks up the pace, hunger visible through his hazel eyes as he begins to slip his tongue inside of you. He pushes his nose against his clit, humming softly as the vibrations hit your core.
You cover your mouth with your free hand, your eyes rolling in the back of your head as the pleasure builds up rapidly in your body. Your thighs are shaking, the orgasm ready to explode through every cell of your body is approaching quickly before vanishing when Spencer pulls away again.
You let out a frustrated sigh, immediately looking down.
He shakes his head and smirks at the sight, your eyes are bewildered and your heart is about to burst out of your chest. You want to punch him right in his beautiful little face but before you could raise a hand and do it, his mouth attaches to your clit once again.
Spencer Reid wraps his arms around your waist, pushing your body against him as he drinks all of you, as much as he can. His tongue swirls over your clit, his teeth graze over it just enough to tease you and you can feel the tip of his fingers teasing your entrance - before slipping deep inside of you.
And the orgasm finally hits you.
You’re shaking, you’re trembling, you’re dying to moan his name but you can’t.
You grip the edges of the desk with your left hand, pushing his head more between your legs with the right one as you ride out your orgasm.
Wave after wave, you whimper.
“Your mouth is not good just for your lessons. - you manage to choke out, slowly opening your legs again to allow him to pull away - Fuck, did I choke you? I’m so sorry.”
Spencer looks up at you, licking his index finger and his bottom lip with a smirk. You can see your own arousal drenching half of his face, his eyes hungry and filled with desire. He looks fucking sinful right now, you wish everybody could see him now - because it’s all your fault he’s like this.
“Getting crushed by your thighs would be an honour, Miss Y/L/N. - he says with a smile, brushing a tissue over his chin - Fix yourself, you look like someone who just had an orgasm.”
You shiver at his words, glancing at his bulge in his pants. “What about that?”
Spencer Reid shrugs, squeezing some disinfectant on the palm of his right hand. “It’ll go away if I stop thinking about you.”
Hopping down the desk, you kick your panties off your legs. You pick them up from the floor and you push them inside of his pocket, getting closer to his ear before licking a little stripe right under his earlobe.
If he thinks you’re done playing with him, after what he has just done, he’s wrong.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to help you, Professor? - you whisper in his ear, your hands roaming all over his chest - I can be a really good girl for you, you know.”
Spencer lowers his eyes, meeting yours.
“You are such a brat.”
You giggle, brushing his chin with the tip of your fingers. “Don’t tell me you don’t like it.”
“I do, that’s the problem. I like it a little too much. - he replies, his hands immediately landing over your ass to squeeze it - There’s something I don’t like, though.”
“People getting distracted in my class.”
Guilty as charged, you think with a smirk over your lips.
You might have gotten a little bit carried away in your thoughts by the end of the lesson but it’s not like you didn’t understand what he said. You simply focused on something more interesting: his hands.
And now you’ve had those big strong hands over your thighs, prodding them open. They felt exactly like you dreamed about.
“I was paying attention. - you defend yourself, rolling your eyes as you begin to unbutton his shirt without him stopping you - Not to your lesson, though.”
Spencer licks his bottom lip, still tasting you over his tongue. “What were you thinking about?”
You shrug, opening his shirt and leaning over to kiss his chest. There are other bruises all over your skin but you try your best not to cringe at the sight. Even though he was hurt, he still looks incredibly hot - a few bruises are not going to stop you from sitting on that bulge.
“Sit down and I’ll tell you everything, Professor.”
He obeys, sitting on his chair and widening his eyes when he realises you want to sit down over there. But that’s not your only thought, because you’ve had enough of all this teasing - he’s going to fuck you.
Now, in his office. During lunch time.
All of the students are out having lunch, you’re having another kind of meal.
“Do you know why I have three girls always sitting right in front or behind me?”
You straddle him, your knees on each side of his body.
The young Professor shakes his head, biting his bottom lip as he feels you sit over his bulge. The friction is just perfect, giving him the slight pleasure he was seeking from palming himself through his briefs the night before while thinking of you.
It felt incredibly right to do so.
But this feels way better.
“I noticed them but no, I don’t know why. - he mumbles, blinking when you grip his chin between your fingers - No visible marks, please. I’ve had enough.”
You chuckle at his little joke, nodding. “I don’t. As I was saying… they're always around me because they started to notice you looking at me. Why, Professor Reid? Do you see something that you like?”
He runs his hands all over your thighs, travelling back up to your breasts. “You.”
“That’s so sweet, Professor. - you coo, leaning over to kiss his mouth briefly - I figured you liked me when I noticed you staring at my thighs. Do you like when I wear skirts? Have you dreamed about pushing them up and exposing my thighs for your own pleasure?”
If there’s something Spencer Reid loves more than anything in a person, is their thighs. He just finds them so endearing, so soft, the only place he can leave marks without feeling too guilty or too scared. He has covered both your thighs in his handprints, with little kisses and bruises that will fade away in a couple of days.
You dip down again, kissing his mouth. “I knew you were a whore but fuck, Spencer.”
He grips your thighs, his eyes filled with desire as he looks at you. “Just ride my cock, please.”
“Such dirty words coming out of such a pretty mouth. - you exclaim, tapping your index finger over his bottom lip - Weren’t you the one who asked me to keep quiet?”
Spencer Reid doesn’t have the strength to reply to you, too lost in the sensation of your hands palming him through his pants. He closes your eyes and lets his head fall back, moaning softly when you pull out his cock - hard and ready for you to own.
Licking your bottom lip, you spit on your right hand before wrapping your wet fingers around it. Spencer widens his eyes at the sight, your spit sliding up and down his cock as the pleasure spikes inside of him.
“Jesus, Y/N, spit in my mouth.”
You’re not sure if he’s serious.
You weren’t expecting him to say something like that, but you felt his cock twitching when you spat over your hand - so maybe, he’s into this kind of stuff. And you are, as well.
“Open your mouth for me, then. - you whisper, stroking his cock with your wet fingers - Who would’ve thought my favourite Professor would ask me to spit in his mouth?”
When Spencer obeys to your order, you lean over and spit right into his mouth. At the same time, you start to sit on his cock - inch by inch, allowing it to stretch you open so deliciously you don’t even know if you’re breathing.
Spencer Reid swallows everything you gave him, looking at you as if he just arrived in Heaven. He has this relaxed expression over his face, but his body is saying a whole different thigh: his fingers are digging into the soft skin of your thighs, his lips are slightly parted, his chest is rising up and down rapidly.
He’s out of his mind with pleasure.
“Fuck, Y/N, I’m too fucking close for this.”
You barely started to tease him!
He probably didn’t even realize that you’re sitting on his cock so you clench your walls around him, the sound that leaves his mouth sends shivers down your spine. His right hand travels back up to your ass and slaps it harshly, his left hand gripping on you for dear life.
“You feel so fucking good around me, doll. – the young Professor whispers, his eyes following your every move – I can’t believe I’m actually fucking you.”
You wrap both your arms around his neck. “You? Fucking me? Pretty boy, I’m the one who’s fucking you.”
In every single way.
You lift your shirt just enough for Spencer to dive immediately between your breasts, gripping them and squeezing them in his palms. You’re not surprised he went for them as soon as he saw them, you find it hot.
Well, you find everything he does and says hot.
“I’m on the pill and clean, by the way.”
“I’m clean as well, by the way. - he imitates you, twisting your nipples between his fingers as you bite your bottom lip - Fuck, Y/N, you look incredible.”
You know it.
You dreamed about this for so long.
Each minuscule motion of your hips makes his cock slide even deeper inside of you, your walls clenching hard around it as you can feel your orgasm already building up. You’re not sure if this is happening for real, it feels like a dream - the best dream you’ve ever had.
“Who’s the whore now?”
You look down at Spencer, grasping his chin. “Still you, Professor.”
Spencer Reid chuckles, the melodious sound echoing through the room as you start to bounce up and down his shaft. You can feel it slide in and out at a rapid pace, his fingers digging in the soft skin of your breasts as his mouth immediately covers yours.
The kiss is messy, your moves are making it difficult for you to stay still for a moment.
You need to come, you need him to come.
You can’t stop now or you’ll be fucked, literally.
“Shit, Y/N, you feel so fucking good. - he whimpers, hiding his face in the crook of your neck - I’m close, too fucking close.”
You could come just from the way his voice sounds, from the way his body is reacting to you. The delicious pain mixed with intense pleasure sends shivers all through your body, your heart beating fast in your chest as you keep on bouncing up and down.
Up and down, up and down.
Your muscles are starting to hurt but you can’t stop, the pleasure is right there.
“Good girl, just like that. Ride my cock, that’s it. - your Professor manages to say, slapping your ass before you let out a soft giggle - I wish we could do this forever.”
“We will. - you whisper, leaning down once again as you kiss his mouth with passion - This won’t be our last time together, believe me.”
Spencer Reid wraps his arms around your waist, keeping you as close as he can before bucking up his hips and meeting your movements. The way you’re bouncing up and down his cock at a steady rhythm is enough for him to trip over the edge.
“I’m coming, Y/N, where can I ...”
“Finish in me, Professor. Please, come inside of me. - you whisper in his ear, biting the soft skin of his earlobe - Give your babies, please. I need it so bad, I need your come.”
And once again, he obeys.
Spilling his seed inside of you, Spencer Reid marks you intimately. No man has ever done something like this to you and you feel blessed that you’ve had the chance to ask him - no, to beg him - to do it first.
The sensation of his come filling you so deliciously and the sound of his whimpers are enough to make you come as well, your walls clenching even harder around his cock.
You keep bouncing up and down, riding him throughout your orgas, as you collapse against his chest. Your thighs are quivering, your heart is throbbing and you feel it in your throat, you can’t move and… Spencer’s come is already dripping down your thighs, probably staining his own trousers.
He doesn't seem to care, though. And neither do you. As you lay on his chest for what seems like hours, you know you have to get out of there.
You don’t know for how long you’ve been in his office, playing with him to the point he doesn’t even know where his body begins and yours ends. You wished you could stay right there forever, until you both forget your own name, until the pleasure is too overwhelming to handle and you need a break.
After all, you just had two orgasms.
Spencer Reid puts his right hand behind your back, stroking it gently as he leans his forehead over yours in silence. He wants to speak up and say something because what just happened is not exactly ideal - he’s still your Professor, but not for long.
Just four more months, then he’ll be your ex-Professor.
A knock on the door sends both of you into a state of agitation.
You throw yourself off his body, pushing your skirt down as he rapidly button his shirt. You look at him with wide eyes as you try to fix your hair as best as you can - you don’t even think about the possible smeared makeup.
“Professor Reid? I’m Jackson, I need to talk to you about my thesis.”
You sit on the chair in front of Spencer’s desk, kicking your bag on the floor.
You can feel his come slipping out of you, dampening your panties and staining the chair you’re sitting on. You can’t do anything besides squeeze your thighs together and hope for the best, but you should’ve been more careful.
Sex wears you out every single time.
Spencer clears his throat, standing up and opening the door. “Could you come by in ten minutes? I’m finishing a meeting with another student.”
“Of course! Thank you so much!”
You both wait for a few seconds until the footsteps are completely gone.
Spencer Reid turns around and walks over to your chair as you stand up, his mouth immediately on yours. There’s no hesitation behind this kiss, there’s no passion - just affection or admiration, or similar emotions.
You don’t know if today meant something to him, but it did to you.
Slowly pulling away from his mouth, you caress his face with your fingertips. “I’ll keep my mouth closed.”
“No, I like it wide open.”
Surprised by his joke, you roll your eyes. “Jesus, Professor, you’re such a dirty boy.”
Giggling, he gives you another kiss on the mouth before sighing. “I understand what you meant, I appreciate it.”
When he loses his grip on you, you bend over to pick up your bag and you walk over to the door. You know you should say something, you know you should tell him that you’re not just attracted to him but you don’t know how. You don’t know where to start because so many thoughts are running through your mind now and…
You hum, turning around with a hand over the door knob. “Just so you know, you are more than just a one night stand. - says your Professor, biting his bottom lip - Even though it wasn’t night. It’s still morning. Almost afternoon.”
You blush at his words, not sure what to say next. You appreciate it.
“I can say the same for you, Professor. - you whisper, walking back in front of him - I’ll see you on Thursday, then.”
Spencer Reid follows you to the door and opens it for you, keeping a hand over your ass before slapping it lightly. You glance at him before looking over in the hallway, noticing it’s completely empty.
You get closer to him again. “Spank my ass once again and I’ll make you fuck me in that closet.”
He can’t help but laugh at your words, shaking your head and watching you walk away. Your thighs are still wet and he knows you’re probably squeezing your muscles enough in order to make a mess - that’ll be a very nice thought to fall asleep to.
When the young Professor sits back on his chair, he puts his hand in his pocket to grab his phone only to find your panties.
You put them there but he forgot.
And now he has them. They’re baby blue.
Smirking, he puts them back in his pocket and he closes his eyes.
You’re really a Teacher’s Pet.
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The dead can give life
Characters: Ghost!Baji, Reader(Y/N), Bonten, Toman | 1257 words
Warnings: manga spoilers, mentions of death, spirits, supernatural stuff, violence, grammar mistakes, idk mediocre writing. There is not a pairing yet… there won’t be… :P idk… ta-da? Trick or treat?
“Could you please go home? Heaven? Hell! For all I care,” he noticed that you could see him, so he had followed after you.
“Nop.” the long-haired boy with pointy canines paid you no mind.
“Look, not because I am the only person who can see you-“ you began to say
“Yes, actually, that’s the only reason.” he contradicted your unfinished statement.
“Okay, okay. Then what’s your name?” you finally gave up.
“Baji,” he answered.
“Okay, Baji. How did you die?” You inquired as you lifted an eyebrow.
“It’s a long story…” he sighed, looking at the black uniform he’s wearing.
“I have time.” you saw a flash of sadness pass through his eyes, so you decided to lend an ear.
The capability of seeing dead people has always been part of you. Now with more than 20 years on your shoulders, a thing that is horrifying for some became common to you. With time you learned that ignoring those spirits was for the best. Except for that demon child of a ghost you met once upon a time on a Halloween eve.
Oh, how you didn’t suspect that this Baji Keisuke character would give your life a new meaning.
You’ve met this… almost friendly ghost of a 14-year-old boy. You say almost because he tends to be kind of aggressive, most of the time. It was October 31st, 2017, when you first met Baji. He seemed somewhat... lost? Maybe that's why he followed you.
Baji, he said his name was, told you about his life when he was alive. You listened to the fights he won and the very unusual adventures he shared with his friends. You also heard his regrets and, finally, how he died by his own hand. ‘A very tragic ending for such a colorful life,’ you thought.
You took pity for the boy and suggested what most souls sought. Closure. You offered to write letters for those he wished to communicate something or say goodbye appropriately. You said a letter because talking to people wasn't your forte. After a while, he accepted.
“You look like a demon today and every day,” you grumbled. Baji, the ghost, you might add, pulled your covers for the fifth time this morning.
“And you like a crazy woman, now hurry up! We have a lot of places to go.” this is the most excited you’ve seen the ghost boy.
“Yah! Okay! Go and wait in the kitchen; I need to change.” sushing Baji out, you heard him murmur about you being a grumpy old lady. Rolling your eyes, you walked towards your closet.
It's been a month since you've met Baji, and he was a handful. It took you a month to write the seven letters he needed. And that leads you to today, the big day of deliveries. Seeing that most letters had a name and address, you could easily mail them, except for one, but Baji insisted on delivering them with you.
As you walked towards your first delivery, you remembered a conversation with your ghost friends. It happened a couple of days after meeting him.
Baji asked how you had so much time in your hands to help a dead boy. He kept questioning you about family, friends, and even pets. But your answer didn’t seem to be of his liking. You explained how everyone in your family thought you were sick in the head and how because of your ghost-seeing tendencies, you never had friends. Baji apologized for asking, but you really didn’t mind. It was your reality.
A hand waving in front of your face woke you up from your memories. “Y/N, let's check one more time. I'm kind of anxious,” confessed Baji.
“Okay,” you said as you pulled the letters from your bag. “But be fast, please. This is not a good place, gang territory and all that,” you huffed.
You read the names out loud so Baji could see that every letter was there. “Pah-chin, Mitsuya, Draken, Chifuyu, Kazutora, Takemichi, and Manjiro,” you finished.
A sudden commotion made both of you turn towards the sound of people murmuring and flashes of cameras. At first, you couldn't focus. The waves of a feeling of demise hit your body, and as you blinked, the image in front of you cleared up.
A sea of the dead.
“Y/N! That's Mikey,” you gave Baji a weird look, “I mean Manjiro! The one with the tattoo on his nape and short white hair.” he pointed towards the men in suits that were leaving a club called FNN.
The mass of spirits seemed to follow after this Mikey or Manjiro and his men.
“Are you sure? That doesn't look like a Manjiro to me,” you said, scared of the energy that surrounded those men. You saw countless spirits following the group, and that was never a good sign in your book.
“How would you know?” He threw you a confused side glance, “Let's go now! Just give it to him, and we continue on our way,” Baji was excited since you never found Sano Manjiro’s address or any information about him, and he thought he would have to make you ask Draken or anyone and then wait last to see him. “Go!”
“Okay! I’m going!” you walked towards the group. Were you afraid? Yes. Did you know what you were doing? Hell no.
Trying to avoid eye contact with the souls surrounding the group of men, you made it to the man in flip flops that, according to Baji, was Sano Manjiro. You don't know how none noticed you, yet you slid your way between tall and big bodies towards him.
“Hi! Sano Manjiro, right? This is for you!” you squicked at the intimidating flip-flop-wearing man as you bowed and extended your hands with the letter in between them. “Baji Keisuke ordered me to!” and then, as soon as you felt he touched the envelope, you ran for your life.
You ran and ran, hoping that Baji saw you bolt out of there and had decided to follow you. Something in you told you to go; it screamed danger, and with your experience, that voice was never wrong.
“Y/N?!? Are you okay? What happened?” Baji appeared, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” you abruptly stopped at his poor attempt of lightening the mood.
“Very funny,” you sarcastically responded, “Baji, your friend must be crazy! Didn't you see the amount of death that surrounds him?” just remembering the feeling sent shivers down your spine.
“So we continue?” he blatantly ignored your concerns. How does a ghost ignore other ghosts?
You gave a no for an answer, explaining that the more contact you had with spirits, the more exhausted you felt. And today, you ran twice through an army of lost souls. Now it makes sense to him why you always nap so much. He understood your situation. Pah-chin, Mitsuya, Draken, Chifuyu, Kazutora, and Takemichi can wait.
Still, there was something else bothering you. Like... The alarms in your head didn't turn off. On the contrary, they screamed even louder.
“Boss, we have her address and a background chek.” a man with scars in the corners of his lips spoke. “No history or contact with Baji Keisuke,”
“How should we proceed?” A man with a single red eye and a scar in the corner of the other asked.
“Bring her here,” Mikey said before munching on a heart-shaped Manju.
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Gang of Secrets gave us a lot of gifts, a lot of things to be happy about, to talk about. Between the emotional breakdown Marinette was going through, one of the biggest status quo changes in the show’s history, and the potential for Ladynoir conflict down the line, there’s a lot to discuss.
But I want to focus on one of the smaller parts of the episode: Trixx.
He’s a pretty small part of the episode, all things considered. But what little screentime he has is put to good use fleshing him out, giving him an interesting personality and qualities that make him stand out from his fellow kwamis, ones that build on what we’ve seen from him previously.
We first got a good look at Trixx’s personality back in Sapotis, when Ladybug chose her first temporary superhero partner: Alya, AKA Rena Rouge. She’d promised to return the necklace afterwards, but was reluctant to do so, having enjoyed being a superhero so much and wanting to help Ladybug and Chat Noir consistently. She pleaded with Ladybug about keeping the necklace long enough that Ladybug was forced to take cover in order to stop from outing her identity
Trixx: You're absolutely right, Alya. I'm sure the three of you would make quite the team! You have all the makings of a true superhero.
Trixx: You're strong, brave,
Trixx: but most of all, you’re trustworthy.
Trixx is pushing Alya to make the right decision here, not through scolding her, but by subtly reminding her that she’s not living up to the ideals of a hero right now, even while he’s complimenting her. That in order to truly be the hero she wants to be, she needs to keep her promise.
And she does.
This scene, as short as it was, gave Trixx one of the most standout personalities and qualities among the kwamis. He’s subtle and manipulative, understanding people well enough to have an idea what to say or do to get the outcome he wants.
That manipulation isn’t always a bad thing: here, it stopped Alya from making a grave mistake.
Trixx is the kwami of illusion, something that he exemplifies in not only his power, but his name and his personality as well. He knows what to do to push people to think what he wants them to think, to do what he wants them to do.
Which goes back to Gang of Secrets.
Marinette’s breaking down after pretending to be fine earlier. Trixx, having a decent understanding of humans and what might be able to help, urges her to reach out to her friends, to find strength in her support network.
That particular avenue cut off for now, Trixx changes his approach.
If she can’t get support from her friends - and it’s true that they can’t understand all the details of why she’s hurting - she can at least get Tikki’s support, the support of the kwami who’s been with her longest and most often.
But Marinette refuses that as well.
Luckily, Trixx has an ace up his sleeve.
This is where Trixx shines. What he’s saying here isn’t untrue - Tikki could probably use that break - but concern for Tikki isn’t the main reason he’s saying this. He just understands Marinette well enough to know that this is something he can push on to make her do a 180 on the whole “staying transformed all the time” thing.
Trixx is good at using truths to get people to do what he wants.
In Sapotis, he emphasized how trustworthiness helps make for a good hero - this is true.
Here with Marinette, he emphasized that Tikki might be tired or want to eat instead of being part of the transformation for longer - this is also true and fair.
But in both cases he used the truth deceptively, with surgical precision, wrapping up his actual motives in true statements that made it appear like his priorities, his reasons for saying them, for pushing them, were different than they actually were.
There’s a second scene in this episode with Trixx, which continues the trend of saying what he needs to say, presenting things the way he needs to present them in order to get things done, wrapping them in truth, but using that to obfuscate some key details.
When Marinette’s cornered by Lady Wifi, Trixx creates an illusions, against his fellow kwamis’ concerns.
With how dire the situation is, even knowing the risks, Trixx uses his power without a Holder to temper it, creating an illusion of Marinette and leading Lady Wifi and the rest of the akumas away.
Ladybug’s happy things worked out, but concerned.
What Trixx says here is true, but obscures the size of the problem.
Barkk and Wayzz, having know Trixx for a very long time, know the true scope of the issue and are indignant at Trixx for playing it down.
It’s true that the damage was illusory. But a dancing Eiffel Tower is hard to ignore.
Trixx wanted to reassure Ladybug that him using his power was fine, stop her from worrying too much (and also not get lectured). To that end, he told Ladybug the truth about what his raw power does, but doesn’t go into detail.
He plays it down, but truthfully understands how extreme it can be, and concerning - that’s evident after she leaves and only his fellow kwamis, who’re well-acquainted with his powers, are around. Him telling her the damage would be illusory and acting casual about it wasn’t because he genuinely believed that using his power without a wielder was harmless, like he seemed to imply - here he acknowledges that it’s something that’ll need to be fixed.
But it allowed him to achieve his goal of assuaging Ladybug’s worries at the time.
Overall Trixx is one of my favorite kwamis right now. What little screen time he has is put to good use, and his cleverness and understanding of human psychology make him stand out from the others, and make him a very useful character overall.
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As It Was, Baby
— Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader
— Summary: Living right across from James Barnes was certainly an experience, but a much different one than most people expect. A neighbor who is respectful, funny and brings you food every now and then is any girl’s dream. Too bad you’re only his neighbor and nothing else. Or, at least, that’s what you thought.
One stormy night changes everything and discovering that you mean more to the Sargent than you expected has life-altering consequences.
— Word count: 6.7k
— A/n: This is the FIFTH chapter of the series, if you haven’t read the first ones, i recommend you do. if you enjoy, feedback is appreciated & highly encouraged. mistakes/errors might be here, let me know if you find any.
◦➳ soundtrack ♫ ◦➳ nyx masterlist ◦➳ join my taglist
series masterlist — PREVIOUS CHAPTER —
Being in life-threatening danger for the second time in your life, ironically or not, evoked the same reaction in you.
It could only be the karmic and ironic way of life to go, that you’d end up in this position once again for the second man you’ve ever truly loved.
At least this time, your body wasn’t tied and shoved inside a tiny car truck and you had a little more belief that you’d come out of this alive.
Every time you closed your eyes and thought about your cell phone live tracking your location, a relief flooded through you as you reasoned on how fucked this idiot was once you were found.
Granted, the arms you desperately wished to come and wrap around you to show you things would be fine and you’d be safe wouldn’t be the ones your heart wanted, but that was okay— James was on the other side of the world, and knowing another friend of yours could be counted on like this was just as good.
He can’t come and save you or be the one to send you help if you don’t text him, you idiot.
That was another reason, of course.
Thomas drove for minutes with his eyebrows sweating profusely and his mouth mumbling things to himself most of the time — every now and then, he’d turn around to look down at you who were lying on the backseat of the car and he’d say stupid things that drugged out, lost egotistical men would say while kidnapping a woman, but you weren’t really listening — and this whole time, Sam or one of his friends kept flashing behind his eyelids, knocking one of Thomas’s teeth in.
Unfortunately, Thomas had enough time with you to do more than just drive you around.
During the hour you were alone with Thomas, all you could think about was how some people lacked character.
Certainly, many things were at play when it came to a person’s life and mind, and what made them live good and happy lives. Thomas, for example, was someone who had a shitty life as far as you could say, but that was no excuse for where the two of you ended up, of course.
Some gave excuses for the absolute crap decisions other humans like Thomas made in life, but you weren’t one of them.
Certain things were a matter of character.
Even in the most fucked up scenario in your head, you couldn’t think you’d end up doing something like this: kidnapping someone that you know is loved by another person just to hurt them.
Because according to Thomas, that was why you were now sitting in his raggedy, dusty old apartment.
“Your Sargent didn’t take me seriously, young lady. He thinks I’m fucking around when I say he needs to pay more attention to his job? I’m fucking not! He— it’s his duty. He’s gotta save people, not let them fucking DIE! He let my angel die, you hearin’ me? He let Nikita die, and my lil’ girl is gone of because of him, so he’s gonna fucking remember what is like being worried over people you love and then losing them. That’s what I’m gonna do with you.”
“You talk too much,” you replied.
His eyes had widened, and the next thing you knew a heavy hand was flying with its back pointed towards your cheek.
The slap was more of a shock than anything else, and the laughter that bubbled out of your chest came exactly because of the shock— the slap felt like lightning.
One second, your mind was in a moldy and smelly apartment in the Bronx.
Next thing you knew, you were in a random garage somewhere you never learned the location, ten years younger than now, with a mobster boss slapping the shit out of you for mouthing him off.
The pain that blossomed across your gums was the same, but it hurt even less this time.
“Wow.” You needed to buy time with this idiot, and if the you who was sixteen years old had enough loose screws to mouth back to horrible men back then, the you of now had even less discernment or patience for this bullshit. “You slap like a little bitch,” you tell him, looking him dead in the eye.
Rage is easy to identify.
The way Thomas’s eyes bulge out of his face and his entire body seizes in disgruntlement is nearly comical, but you know what’s coming next, too.
The punch hits much harder, and you feel the soreness spreading across your right cheekbone.
“Are you insane you little bitch?” he yells at you. “I’m gonna call that Sargent of yours and you better shut the fuck up if you don’t want to die hours before he gets here!” he inches closer to you and you retract in disgust, from both his smell as well as his breath. “I want him to think he has a fucking chance at saving you, and I’ll blow your brains out just before he gets here.”
As soon as he says it, Thomas starts palming you for your phone and you begin thinking about the things you need to do if you’re gonna survive this lunatic long enough for James to send help.
Sam. You texted Sam for help.
It’s when Thomas’s greasy fingers meet your phone in your jogger's pocket that you realize exactly what your feelings did—they’ve just saved you from possible death.
Texting Sam instead of James meant that Thomas wouldn’t find your live location sharing and that’s why when he points your cellphone under your nose and breathes out, “What’s your fucking password? Make this easy and I won’t bring out any of my knives to damage this pretty little face, kay?”
The voice of your father which lives inside of your head tells you to assess and strategize, so you pretend to swallow down your nervousness and nod slowly, pouting a little.
“It’s… it’s 020678.”
He types the numbers and watches the screen unlock, and your eyes browse around him.
There are multiple knives on top of his kitchen time which is visible from where he tied you in the living room— with just a glance you can see a few American flags and combat boots thrown on the floor.
A suspicion is formed and when your eyes glance at the exposed skin of Thomas’s neck, you can see the familiar cord that usually holds dog tags.
A military man.
Ex-vet, most likely.
It adds up with the tracking abilities, as well as hanging out at the same bar Sam and James normally do. The place is familiar amongst soldiers, but the knowledge is only enough to make you more lip-tied.
Thomas is already dealing James’s number, totally unaware of your searching eyes.
“—and think he’s got a chance. That’s all he’s gonna feel for a long while—helpless. Make him focused. Make him work for it. Damn government didn’t make him super for no fucking reason—why won’t he fucking pick up?”
Sighing, you tell him. “He’s on a mission.”
Thomas’s eyes snap back towards you. “Is that so?” he asks, nodding in a kind of a manic way. “Well, I believe we got time. I know he’ll pick up a call from you. ‘s only a matter of time. You his girl.”
“I’m not anything of his,” you tell him calmly, feeling with your wrists for how strong and accurately he tied those ropes. “You got that part wrong.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me.” Thomas’s nostrils flare and he hangs up the phone with an annoyed look. “And don’t fucking move a muscle.”
He goes out in hard stomps in the direction of the kitchen, and you sigh shakily as soon as he’s out of sight.
Sam has your location and even if they’re far, far away, they’ll send some help. He will.
The knowledge keeps you distant from a panic attack.
Just like thinking about how pops would find you kept you away from a panic attack, too.
You shake your head vehemently, willing away the painful memories before they end up being the ones responsible for your lungs to stop functioning altogether and panic to rise over you.
Thinking about how your father’s work led you to be in this position in the first place, only for your father to rescue you and end up dying in the car wreck, after all the blood loss from the gunshot he claimed hadn’t hit him made him dizzy and disoriented.
You made it.
The mob boss who had captured you to get to him hadn’t made it either, but that was never a thought you lingered on for longer than a second.
It was how that night ended which had traumatized you for years— ironically enough, in that case.
Those are the memories you don’t need.
You need to be focused, because even if he isn’t as dangerous as a mob boss, an ex-vet who looked and probably was drugged out of his mind had his dangers, too.
Thomas returns from the kitchen with a bottle of whiskey in his hand and your cell phone tightly pressed against his ear, the pissed-off look set deep in his creased eyebrows.
How long had it been, now?
“He’s not gonna pick up, asshole.” You never really knew how to keep your mouth shut. “He’s working.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
You sigh and look away. “Rude fucker. I hate men like you,” you spit out. “Always one tragic event away from using the world as an excuse to behave like an animal.”
No one would say that your mouth open was useless—you always knew how to get a rise of people like him.
People without character.
You had been raised by your parents, that was for sure.
“Excuse me?” Thomas whispered in disbelief and simmering anger, and the hand with the phone hung up the call.
“You heard me,” you said out loud. “I don’t give a shit what happened to you— all of this?” you gesture your head around yourself and the situation he'd put you in. “This is a lack of character. Some people just don’t have that,” you announce proudly, tilting your chin up. “You lack character, Thomas. You’re not doing this because your ‘little angel’ died. You’re doing this because you’re a shit person with twisted morals and you know what? The world is filled to the brim with roaches like you. People who are sick to the core. Who got no respect, or love, or know what it’s to be good.”
Thomas listens to your words with his upper lip trembling and as soon as you’re done, he strides towards you with a vein in his neck popping.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about!”
“DON’T I?” you yell back. “Tell me why I’ve met people who went through hell and back and yet never acted out and hurt innocents on purpose, then? Tell me why I’ve met people who were handed literally dirt and blood and unfairness since they were born or for years and they still NEVER another person shittily on purpose, huh?!”
Thomas strikes you across the face again with the back of his hand.
You notice right then, that this isn’t him hitting like a little bitch— this is how he’s used to hitting women.
Laughter bubbles out of you again, shocked and now thoroughly pissed off.
“Oh, you’re a little bitch.” Blood pools inside your mouth from your gums and you spit it to the floor, laughing at him. Of course that’s who he is. Looking back into his eyes, you continue. “This ain’t your first rodeo hitting a woman. That’s why you’re hitting me like a little bitch, isn’t it? Oh, Thomas. I love when people prove my point. I do love to be right, you know?”
The shock in his face is almost enough to make you laugh all over again.
“Always love to be right, don’t you, little bug?” Your dad’s voice says loud enough in the back of your brain for you to hear it.
The common phrase and repeated memory also come back like lightning and that hurts way more than any strike Thomas could land.
“You know what might get your lover boy’s attention?” Thomas says out loud. He takes another sloppy and long sip from his whiskey, then puts the bottle down on top of his table. “Some pictures of your fucked up face.”
With that said, he punches your left cheek, then slaps your right one immediately after.
Pain radiates, bright and sharp all across your cheeks and it stings your eyes, making them water.
There’s more blood pooling on your mouth and to avoid swallowing it down and making you nauseous, you spit it out once again.
God, you wanna tell him so badly that if you’re released from this hold that you’ll kick him in the balls until he’s sterile, but that could tip him off into thinking you know something he doesn’t, so you keep your mouth shut.
The camera clicks while you’re still staring down, and your eyes shoot upright as he takes another shot.
“Ah, perfect,” he laughs maniacally.
He looks at the picture for a second before clicking around on your phone and, presumably, sending it to James.
He looks at the picture for a second before clicking around on your phone and, presumably, sending it to James.
“You think this will make him pick up his damn phone?” he asks you with a smug smile. As if he’s proud of himself.
Part of you wonders if repeating yourself will only make him more pissed off, while the other half can only think of the two hundreds of things you’d say to a man like this if you had superpowers.
Clearly you wouldn’t be in this position in the first place if that was the case, but the idea still stood.
“Not so talkative anymore? What happened?” he asks in that manic way of his, resting both hands against his knees to hunch lower and look you closer in the eyes.
“Ugh, if I open my mouth I’m gonna offend your sensitive senses with something I say, so I’m tryna hold back from my lovely commentary such as your breath fucking stinks!” you add at last, unable to help yourself at the disgusting smell that’s coming from his mouth breathing so much closer to your face.
As predicted, you were correct about his temper.
Thomas’s face twists in anger once more and his hand free of the phone comes for another strike across your face, and now with the bruises already set in both your face as well as inside of your mouth, the pain stings really badly.
Not bad enough to shut you up, but bad enough to bring more tears to your eyes.
“See? I know what I’m talking about,” you direct him with a bloody smile.
It’s clear in Thomas’s disgruntled and shocked face that he wasn’t expecting all of this to be your reaction to kidnapping.
Little did he know about you or your life.
Sometimes you thought about how much you wished that this earth was interesting and good enough for you to care whether you lived or died, but the unfortunate truth was: you were a nihilistic and slightly traumatized young adult living in a horrible reality filled with jackasses.
Someone like Thomas didn’t scare you.
The possibility that he might kill you did— despite it all, you weren’t dumb.
“You think you can, what—hurt my feelings?” he scoffs at you, and rubbing his nose with the back of his hand, he starts pacing around the living room right in front of you. “You can’t. You think you’re better than me for some fuckin’ reason and that you can judge me, but you got no idea what it’s like to lose fucking everything. How bad this world can fuck you up.”
You fought against the desire to roll your eyes, but the sneer on your lips was impossible to stop.
“That’s my fucking point. You’re trying to pin all this on the world but you are rotten. You forgot I noticed how much you’re already familiar with beating up women, hm?” you look away from him, unwilling to look at his face. “Trying to pin it on James, the death of your babygirl.”
You remembered well the details James had offered about that case—the guilt he carried over the civilians he couldn’t save.
“Our plane landed and the first thing we heard was the first collapse—” a sob was held by his metal hand pressing tight against his lips.
“She was already dead when he got there,” you pinned him with a fiery look. “We don’t have control over every single tragedy in this world, superpowers or not.”
“That’s bullshit!” he yelled, losing more of his temper. “He’s got everything and if he’s gonna be blessed with enhancements and live fucking forever, it’s his damn duty to be there before the shit happens!”
“He can’t predict the future, asshole!”
Thomas takes one step in your direction and this time, you see the slap before it comes.
“You think your precious Sargeant is one of those people you were talking about? So righteous and good even though shit happened to him, is that it?” Thomas asks you while you spit more of your blood onto his dirty floor. “Well, he ain’t. He’s been a sergeant for decades now and that means he’s got blood on his hands, young lady. He ain’t innocent at all.”
“Your perception of innocence and goodness is as fucked up as the screws on your damn head,” you spit back at him. You look up at him again, ignoring the throbbing you feel on your jaw and your mouth. “And yes, I do. James is ten times the man you could ever dream of being, for all the reasons I said before.” There’s enough conviction in you to make your voice come out steady and deep, and Thomas’s eyes are locked on you as you continue. “He’s been through things which would make you piss yourself in your pants crying like a fucking baby and he still came out on the other side just as good as he was before all the shit.”
Now that you started, nothing could stop you.
If Thomas wanted to hear why you thought James Barnes was a man to behold, you’d tell him with every word.
“You wanna know what having character is, Thomas?” you ask him, lowering your tone.
To your surprise, his eyes are frozen on yours and the way you’re addressing him.
Something about your guts and the fact that you are unable to cower in front of his facade of strength leaves him struggling to find his footing.
You take use of the shock to continue.
“Having character is being kidnapped like he was, used, abused, stripped of your identity like he was until his soul broke, several times, and he became a weapon against his own will at the hands of the people against which he fought for years, and still having so much soul that as soon as he was free from being waterboarded in their poison, he became good again.”
For the first time since you stepped foot in the apartment, the hot tears that pool in your eyes actually drip onto your cheeks, but that doesn’t waver or voice or stop you from finishing.
“He worried about things he did even when he had no control over them. They weigh on him. And he could have become something dark, something twisted and disgusting like you or whoever uses the dark parts as excuses, but he doesn’t. Bucky isn’t capable of deliberate violence until today, and he’s still good with kids, and he’s as respectful with women as he’s always been, and he still wakes up every day and tries to make a fucking difference in this world.”
Thomas starts pointing his index finger in your face, the twisted anger in his eyes steaming up and ready to boil.
“Neither one of you is better than me,” says Thomas.
“I quite disagree. My momma says I’m special and as for James, he’s worlds better than you.”
The next strike is an angry one.
This one splits the corner of your bottom lip open, and you think oh, if pops was alive.
This motherfucker would surely lose this hand before going to jail.
You spit out a little more blood on the floor, but even not swallowing it all down, you can start feeling nausea from the blood you inevitably swallowed.
“Ugh,” you mutter to yourself.
There’s nothing grosser than puking.
“You really are his girl,” Thomas scoffs loudly, and you hear the sound of the whiskey bottle being picked up again. When you glance up at him, Thomas is taking another big sip. “Arrogant. Fucking useless.”
“The name-calling’s starting to get a lil’ out of hand, man,” you say. “And I’m not his girl.”
The same moment you see the anger boiling out of Thomas's eyes and you realize the mistake of your words, is the moment you notice movement outside the window behind him.
“I didn’t ask if you two are going steady you little bitch. He’s in love with you and that’s more than enough for what I need. I just wanna see him suffer.”
Your eyes go wider at his words, which is a blessing in disguise.
Thomas is standing in front of the big glass window of his living room and the movement you saw a second ago makes itself a presence.
“He’s… what?” you say, averting your eyes from the window before Thomas notices your shock is more from what you see than what you heard.
It’s not as if you’re gonna listen to a maniac who kidnapped you regarding James’s feelings.
Plus… he was out with a woman.
Shaking your head, you try to will those images away, but Thomas misunderstands your movement for denial and snicker at you.
You must agree.
Thomas standing right in front of Spider-Man’s target while half-drunk and drugged out is what you define as pathetic.
“I agree,” you voice out loud.
As a true smile forms on your face, Thomas’s confusion returns a second too late.
He watches the smug happiness take over you as the window is propped open silently by Spider-Man, and before Thomas can finish the thought on ‘what is this bitch smiling about’, three webs are shot in his direction.
The first one envelopes his entire body and makes him drop like a piece of log on the floor— the glock he had on his hand and he left behind on the desk is the first thing Spider-Man picks up as he swiftly moves inside the apartment, and the second web flies straight to Thomas’s yelling lips.
The third one lifts his body up and locks it against the wall.
Watching it happen is the most fun you’ve had in years.
“Holy shit that was awesome!” you yell in happiness, and then start laughing. “Are you serious? That was amazing! Did Sam call for you?”
Spider-Man’s head tilts to the side and you don’t need to see his face to feel the confusion underneath it.
“Uh…” he starts.
“Hi! I’m Y/n.” With a bloody smile, you nod towards Thomas. “That idiot is Thomas. Could you free my hands, please? I’ve been trying to wiggle free, but the idiot’s also been in the military and he can actually tie a knot, so my wrists hurt like a bitch right now.”
“Uh. Yeah! Yeah, of course—one sec.”
The boy — because that voice is unmistakably a boy’s — goes around you to free you.
“Sargent Barnes called me, actually— he called me multiple times, to be honest, but I was in the middle of class and I totally missed the first three or four times, but then my friend noticed my backpack was vibrating like crazy and told me to pick it up and man, I’m glad that I did. He sounded pissed off. Like, properly pissed off.” As the boy rambles, you’re freed from the ropes and he helps you up.
You watched amused as he continued talking, gesturing wildly with his hands.
“He told me to come find you and sent me your location and said I am not allowed to leave your side until he’s here, so I’m gonna take you to my place while I take care of that one,” he points at Thomas, “and you’ll sit tight with my Aunt ‘cause if you know Captain and the Sargent, then I know I can trust you. Is it okay if I call you Y/n? I know you’re older than me, but you don’t seem that much older than me and calling you misses would sound really weird, but I could totally do that.”
There’s a second of pause, and your brain catalogs about ten different things about Spider-Man before you speak again.
Unfortunately, your brain also gets stuck in one piece of information he gives you and nothing else seems to enter your brain after that.
“Did you just say James is coming back? He still has days left on his mission, though?”
“I did. I’m a hundred percent sure he’s coming back. He said so himself. He said ‘Peter, I’m sending you the location. You’re gonna pick up my girl, you are absolutely forbidden of leaving her side until I get there in a few hours and you’re also gonna leave the person who took her in the second location I’m gonna send you, and when I’m there, you’ll be allowed to take them to the cops. You got me?’ Verbatim."
He’s coming back.
James is leaving his mission and coming back to you.
He’s in love with you.
Thomas’s words ring loud in your head and you nod, wordlessly to the boy in front of you.
His body looks almost like a ragdoll’s when Spider gets rid of it in the warehouse James provided him with the location.
He drops Thomas’s body in the empty, dark and humid place, right in the middle, but before you leave, you ask Spider for a moment.
As you had promised your father, no man lays hands on you without getting away with it.
The good thing about wearing heavy and platform boots with heels is that it takes only two strong, well-placed kicks to see Thomas writhing in pain and agony on the floor.
That should be enough to render him sterile.
“That’s for the bitch slaps you gave me.” With a pleased smile, you turn around to Spider. “We can go now.”
Spider has his whole upper body contracted in sympathy pain— every man seems to feel in themself when another man’s nuts are properly cracked and he needs only one second to recompose himself.
He shudders, but relaxes right after.
“You’re scary,” he whispers. “Bye, Thomas!” he waves in the direction of Thomas’s body, which is curled in a ball.
Initially, you’d thought that Spider boy would keep his identity safe and hidden, but when you two are out of Thomas’s sight outside the warehouse, he removes his mask and extends a hand to you.
“Hi again! I’m Peter.”
Well. There goes his secret identity— you chuckle at him, taking his hand.
Peter is a boy, just as you’d thought, and just as hyperactive without his mask as he is with it.
To your utter delight, the both of you get along phenomenally well.
He explains to you that he’s taking you to his house because your apartment is being analyzed for bugs and possible trackers, given how thoroughly Thomas had dedicated his past week into stalking you, and that for that reason you’ll have to find refuge in his place until James arrives.
“My aunt May is at work now, but she should be back in a couple of hours,” Peter starts explaining when you two enter his household. “Oh, shit. I’m gonna have to find a way to explain to her why I have a bruised girl up in my room— uh, I don’t wanna expose you or anything, so we’ll have to come up with a story that she can buy it; aunt May doesn’t exactly know about my other work. I mean, sometimes I think she might? But then— “
“Peter?” You interrupt him.
He’s the perfect picture of an ADHD kid. Thankfully, you had plenty of cousins and knew how to deal with that level of energy quite well.
“We can tell your aunt that I’m the person who gave you a tour guide at the NYC when I found you lurking around the university a while ago and for my utter luck, you were the person who found me being robbed of my only few precious possessions,” you tell him, offering what you hope is a soothing smile.
Clearly your face isn’t the picture of comfort right now, but he breathes in and out with clear relief.
“Oh.” He smiles back at you. “That’s good! That’s really good.”
“Thanks.” You look around his living room.
“Yeah?” you look back at him.
Peter’s looking at you with open and concerned eyes. “Are you okay?”
The pain of everything is somewhere at the back of your chest and the truth is— you’re not. Without the adrenaline and the shock running through your veins it’s hard to point all the hurt and the cracks in your well-developed armor.
But Peter isn’t the person equipped to handle any of it.
Or at least, he isn’t the person you want it to.
“I’ll be okay.” It’s the truth, even if it sounds like an excuse at the moment. “I’m… this isn’t the first time this happened,” you shrug your shoulders. “I’m just annoyed at the nausea and the blood drying, if I’m honest.”
“You can take a shower!” he offers quickly, gesturing upstairs. “If you want, of course? I can’t leave you alone, but I can borrow you some clothes.”
You nod at him and he starts leading you to his room.
“You sure that you can’t go grab some clothes for me at my apartment?” you ask.
Peter gives a very honest and nervous laughter. “I’m very sure. That verbatim was no joke. That man will tear one of my limbs apart if I leave you alone and I quite fancy my limbs.”
“Right.” James is coming back.
He’s leaving his mission in god knows where to come and find you, even though he knows that you’re safe and sound in Peter’s hold. Even though he called Peter himself and made sure that you weren’t left alone.
He’s coming back for you.
The inside of your chest feels like the eye of a storm.
There’s so much going on all around you, in the corners of your body and your mind, but currently, without him, the false calmness seems to be enough to keep you grounded.
Peter does as he promised and gives you a spare change of clothes and you take your time to clean your wounds in his tiny shower.
When you come out of it, you find Peter sitting on his bed with a sheepish smile and his computer hooked up with a Ghibli movie.
“It’s Princess Mononoke,” he points at the screen.
Dumbfounded, you stare at the screen and Peter. The edges of the storm inch closer to your heart and water threatens to spill out of your eyes, but you blink them away.
“Sargent gave me the tip. Well, technically he texted me ‘put one of the Ghibli movies to distract her, I should be there soon. Choose Mononoke, it’s her favorite one’, so…” he pats the place beside him on the bed. “Wanna watch?”
Wordlessly, you sit down beside him and inch close enough for your arms to brush.
Peter presses play, somehow aware of why you need the physical proximity.
The movie starts, rendering your mind captive the entire time.
You don’t say a word throughout half of the movie, and when Peter leans in to whisper that he’d never seen this one before, you two start discussing in hushed whispers about Ghibli movies and what other movies the two of you prefer.
His Aunt eventually arrives and the excuse you two had preferred works wonders— she fusses over you and gushes over Peter’s help, kissing both of your heads and talking for over an hour about the dangers of this city and how lucky this youth was to have each other’s back in such a way.
May feeds the both of you, and you retire back in the bedroom upstairs after dinner.
Peter must sense your growing uneasiness because he props Arriety in his computer, claiming that to be his favorite one.
That’s the position in which James finds the both of you.
Huddled close together with the credits of Arriety playing and you two talking about the beauty of watercolor works.
At first, you don’t notice his presence.
But Peter must have heard him coming in, because when you’re done making your point, he nods to you and turns his attention to the door behind you.
Immediately, your eyes snap to your back, too.
James is standing under the threshold with the same storm in his eyes as you feel in your chest.
“Well— I’m gonna go! I’m gonna check on her place ‘cause Ned is done with his check-up of her accounts and the security cameras, and so far he hasn’t found anything and… You two aren’t listening to a word I’m saying, right?... Right. Uh—feel at home. I’ll be downstairs.”
With that, you feel the bed dipping and becoming lighter, and Peter leaves his bedroom to leave you and James alone.
When he’s out, James crosses the room in two strides and envelopes you in his arms in the tightest hug he’s ever given you so far.
As soon as his arms are around you, a broken sob escapes his chest with an apology.
“Y/n. Baby, I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry this happened to you,” his words are muffled and broken into syllables in the place where his face meets your neck, and the hot tears spilling out of his eyes make it easy for the storm inside of you to erupt out.
When you start crying too, James picks your body up from the bed with the ease only a super-soldier could muster and then he sits himself down on the bed, pulling you onto his lap.
“It’s okay. Buck, it’s okay— I’m okay.”
The words are said between tears, too, and you wrap around his body like an octopus.
Your legs come to wrap around his waist and like that, James can hug you even closer.
Time is irrelevant as the two of you hold each other close.
James whispers continuous apologies, and you feel the sadness and guilt in each one of them.
You whisper back reassurances, claiming that none of this is his fault, because you know it isn’t.
“What am I even doing? I should be the one calming you down and reassuring you right now, not the other way around,” he sniffles, cleaning his nose on the sleeve of his forearm.
With his head a few inches apart from yours, you can see his swollen eyes and the bags underneath them.
“You’re allowed to worry and feel sad,” you whisper back to him, sniffling too. “It’s not your fault, though.”
“Y/n,” he protests, shaking his head.
“Bucky. That man was unstable, drugged and had faulty reasoning to say the least.” You grab his head between your hands. “You and Sam saved me.”
At the mention of Sam’s name, something else flashes in James’s face and you know what’s coming next.
“Why did you text him?” he asks in a low voice.
His arms which were wrapped tightly around your waist and back seem to loosen their hold a bit at your question, and you feel empty without them pressed firmly against you.
He’s in love with you.
I’m a hundred percent sure he’s coming back.
“I didn’t know if I could reach you,” you answer truthfully. Next, the answer that’s been plaguing your mind since the view of him and the women stained your eyesight is out of your lips before you can stop yourself. “Who was that woman with you at Milky Way?”
The look James gives you is nothing like ever before.
He’s looking at you like he’s properly seeing something for the first time.
It stirs something bright and alive inside your ribs, and when a smile shows up at the corner of his lips right after, you know that if you had any chance of hiding how in love with him you were before today, it just became impossible.
“Sam was right,” he whispers out loud, sounding like he’s talking to himself more than anything else. “Baby,” he whispers again, and leans in closer to you.
His forehead comes to rest against yours, and the metal hand which was caressing your back comes up to your nape, holding your head close against his.
“I was on a mission, my precious babydoll,” he tells you, and the words steal all the air you had left on your lungs.
The words sound like you silly girl. My precious, silly girl, how could that have been anything else?
“I’m so sorry I answered you in such a cryptic way, I didn’t wanna risk the mission and I had no idea you’d see it.” James shakes his head, and you only know that because you feel his forehead moving against yours.
With the breath stolen out of you, your eyes close instinctively.
Your lips feel like droplets of water on top of a sound-system—shaking, vibrating with the need to cry, or perhaps find haven in the pair of lips which are so close to yours.
“Doll,” he laughs, bright and happily. “I’m in love with you, Y/n.” The words prompt your eyes open, and staring right into the depth of his sky blue eyes has the power to make you feel like falling in love all over again.
Those eyes, staring at you like you’re the most important thing in the world.
Like you’re everything he’s seeing and some more.
“I’ve been in love with you for so long now that I don’t even know when it began,” he continues in a soft whisper.
“I’m in love with you, too,” you whisper back at him. There’s the feeling of water trailing down your cheeks, and you blink hard to clear your vision because not seeing him right now feels worse than anything you could’ve been through today.
“You are?” he asks, smiling even bigger.
“‘Course I am.” Your hand which was tightly holding onto his shoulder comes up to his hair, running your fingers through it and holding onto them. “You’re everything.”
The look and smile he gives you has the power to clear the entire storm which brewed inside your chest.
One smile from James and suddenly, it’s all clear skies once more.
“I’d kiss you now, but,” his flesh hand leaves your waist to gently brush against the cut on your lip. His eyes darken as they look at the wound. “Don’t wanna hurt you. Our first kiss shouldn’t hurt at all,” he adds, then closes the minimum distance to press a kiss very close to your mouth.
“Does that mean you will kiss me?” you ask, feeling even more tears spilling from your eyes, but this time from happiness.
“I’ll kiss you.” James holds your face between both of his hands, and looks deep into your eyes. “I’ll give you everything you ask me, Y/n.”
The world explodes in colors around you, and you wonder how you’d lived so long blinded.
“And I’ll give it all back to you,” you press a kiss to the corner of his lips, too.
For now, that’s all either of you needs. For now, that’s everything and some more.
It’s only the beginning.
NEXT CHAPTER —
Taglist ☆ @undiadeestos ; @keepingitlokiii ; @hallecarey1 ; @mardema ; @mollygetssherlockcoffee ; @fanofalltheficsx ; @justlovelifeblog ; @fallenoutofrose ; @rvgrsbrns ; @tripletstephaniescp ; @mal-edictions ; @rippl3s ; @barnesafterglow ; @vintagepigeon ; @juliarose219 ; @dirtyweenerking ; @fairytalebucky ; @bvckysmoon ; @buttybarnes1917 ; @rebekahdawkins ; @tylard-blog1 ; @xbeauxny ; @redirection04 ; @thatblondebrownie ; @carrotfantasimp ; @teenagedreams-bucky ; @buckyxplumsss ; @sonder-mcu ; @sltwins ; @iamtheonewhocares ; @imaginetwilight2704 ; @spiderdudetom ; @mrsbarnesinmyimagination ; @pineprincess ; @carmellasworld ; @spideyswebshooters ; @laylaisgreat1997 ; @tortilla-maria1 ; @striving4averagegirl ; @stumbleonmywords ; @reallysparklychaos ; @farrglad ♥
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Characters: Zhongli, Childe, Kaeya, Diluc, and of course our dear reader :>
Reader: Gender Neutral! (I tried to make this as gender neutral as possible)
Warnings: possible archon spoilers reguarding Zhongli
Notes: yay another headcanon post! I try to make these as frequent as I can (might start using a schedule since it’s easier to manage that way)
Also these are never proofread so if there are any mistakes, I apologize (also my grammar sometimes sucks ass so you might see a word but it’s like another spelling for it. Ex: There their they’re)
All of them will be in “Read More”
Relationship troupe(?): married but not married
- y’all are terribly cute and whatever
- perhaps you know or may not, Zhongli has a lot of adoration/respect for you (there like the same thing… kinda… right?)
- working at the same place? Um yes.
- you help each other with stuff since your work (wether paper or physical) is similar
- Hu Tao tried to give y’all different shifts, but it didn’t work out.
- rainy days are very preferred cause usually Liyue Harbor (kinda) closes more often then not on these days
- lazy day. Lazy couple day.
- on rainy days you tend to do a lot of daily things together as a way to pass the time and soak in the sudden off day you both get
- I mean you guys do tons of things together on the daily already, but on specific days like this?
- your cooking together, cleaning together, maybe even napping together (for a few more hours then a normal nap)
- you definitely already know who he is (I mean if you put two and two together it’s kinda obvious…)
- when you asked him, he was surprised you weren’t freaking out
- so so many questions
- he explained everything, as he had nothing to hide
- as he spoke and explained, you listened intently
- this most likely made your bond as a couple, stronger (I mean it takes a lot to decide it’s finally time to resign as a god and live as a mortal)
- it is an absolute joy when he tells you stories from his years of living (especially when you can’t sleep)
- even better when you listen to Liyue’s storytellers tell the tale of the Great Rex Lapis, only to ask Zhongli about it to see if it’s true
- it does get a bit sad when you think abt how Zhongli still is immortal though, but you have Zhongli to reassure you on these worries
“Fret not about the future, beloved. Remain in the present, for if you worry to much of the future, you might miss what’s right in front of you.”
- PDA is no stranger with you two.
- of course you keep it to a minimum in public with just hand holding (maybe some small kisses here and there)
- behind closed doors is when you can be as affectionate as you’d like
- you could be attached to him for the whole night and he wouldn’t mind
- Childe is like an often topic. He’s a good friend to both of you
- it’s no surprise when he plans an outing with one of you (or even both of you)
“Welcome home, my beloved. How was your day with Childe?”
Wether he comes home first and awaits your arrival or your home to greet him the moment he walks in, he always looks happy to see you <3
Yknow what they say: Happy wife/husband/spouse, happy life!… oh wait you guys aren’t- (at least not in this one!)
Relationship troupe(?): long distance relationship/travel the world relationship (we’ll do both since it’s always in between)
- when he’s away, he’d make sure you were safe
- wether it’d be having a few trusted fatui underlings to keep watch of you (up close or from a distance) or have Ekaterina (lady that works at the bank) to check up on you
- letters. So many letters.
Hey girlie(I still think he calls you this lmao-)
I miss you a lot. I hope you’ve been doing well without me around, can I apologize again for not being there? I know I say it a lot, but I do truly miss you and cannot wait to return to Liyue Harbor to see you again.
Perhaps on my next departure, I can take you with me! Wouldn’t that be something? Would you like to join me?
Ah this is dragging out a bit isn’t it, haha. Oh, attached to this letter is a gift from where I’m currently at along with my scarf (I promised I cleaned it, no smell of blood TT).
I think that’s all that I planned to say… I miss you. I love you. Please be well, I’ll see you very soon!
Childe (sometimes he’d sign with his actual name)”
- that’s always his last letter from wherever he’s at, a gift and an article of clothing he’s taken with him (usually a light jacket or scarf)
- however his other letters…
Hey girlie!How have you been? You’ve been taking care of yourself, right?
Ekaterina checks on you often right? I hope she does, I assigned her to you while I’m away. It’d be a shame to hear that she hasn’t been doing her job. (Menacing music starts playing-)
I don’t know how much longer this departure will last but in the mean time, my letters will suffice as our small talk ^^!
Write to me soon!
- yeah basic check up letters really.
- at one point he had sent so many that you were beginning to worry about the usage of paper.
- you tried to keep them all at first but it was beginning to be too much stuff in one cabinet, so you settled on only the last letter he sends before his return
- those have much more meaning, since it’s like his promise to return
- he mainly arrives at night so he can deal with whatever main problem is here before going home to your shared house/apartment(?)
- you tend to wake up and find him sleeping peacefully next to you (the first time he did this, he scared the living soul out of you-)
- if he (unfortunately to him) arrives in the morning, he’ll have you stuck to his side while he finished whatever business he has in Liyue
- he spends as much time as he can with you, while he’s needed in Liyue, until his next departure
- oh he is the saddest when he has to leave you, he checks soooo many times to be sure you really can’t come with him
“Are you sure that’s what it says? Like really sure? Like sure sure? They really can’t come with?”
- he pouts a bit while saying his good bye
- when he actually leaves, he wears a very sad yet apologetic smile on his face while he waves at you until you both can no longer see each other in the distance
- if you can come however… he’s absolutely jumping with joy
- super giddy about this next place since you’ll be able to see it rather then read it from his letters
- if it’s by boat, your stuck with him as he claims
“The voyage gets super cold! I’m just warming you up so you don’t get sick!”
- if it’s not by boat and it’s more of a walking trip?
“Are you tired? We can stop for a bit if you need it. Or I can carry you on my back for a bit?” (he’s very strong obviously that’s why he offered.)
- super attentive to you while traveling
- he tries to put your health and well being above whatever he needs to do
Overall, as long as your safe and happy, he’s happy!
Relationship troupe(?): stall vendor captures interest of cavalry captain on his way to work (hopefully that makes sense💀)
- idk the idea sounded cute
- he defo visited your stall SUPER often because he “needed” stuff from your stall specifically (not because of the cute vendor who ran the stall)
Anyways back on topic (I’ll prolly make one on how you met them-)
- If he’s on patrol around Mondstadt, you best believe he’ll visit Flora (I think that’s her name) often
“Wonderful selection you have today, Flora. Can you give me what you think would suit [name] best?”
- he drops by at least twice a day if he’s patrolling (once when you open your stall and once at your lunch break)
- on days that he patrols, he doesn’t have much work besides patrol so he gets to go home early
- on those days, you guys plan little dates or a spa night of sorts (maybe not spa but like you guys help each other relax, have a bath together and stuff like that)
- Kaeya loves your touch. Affection or more
- on nights where you both fill each other’s affection needs, he’s very… um obedient?
- ask him for something and it’s done. Want his cooking? Done. Want something to drink? You got it! Want to just cuddle? Oh boy he’ll be there within a heartbeat.
- of course he tends to put your needs first, even if he feels drained on affection. He knows after you’ve had your fill, it’s his turn
“Oh my, aren’t you cuddly today. Haha, you’re so adorable.”
- though of course, not every day in this relationship can be a happy one
- more often then not, he comes home terribly late
- work keeps him away from you to often, in your opinion
- certain days where he knows he’ll be working after hours are the days you stay with him in his office
- you stay with him, since going home to an empty house for a little too long is well… cold and very sad (and sometimes scary.)
- he’s more then happy when you decide to stay in his office with him
“Oh? I wonder who it is~” he speaks, slowly approaching the door you had knocked on, openings to greet you
“To whom do I owe the pleasure to, for letting me see my darling so late into this night?”
- wether your there to talk to him or just there cause you need his presence, he’s happy
- if your asleep and he finishes early, he may carry you home or he may wake you up if your shared house is a bit far
- but sometimes his work keeps him there the whole night, on these nights are the ones where you and him take refuge on his office couch
- may not be the most comfortable it at least you still get to be in his embrace as you sleep
- definitely walks you to work (if you both spent the night in his office, cause he’s usually the one out the door first when y’all at home)
- but of course, you can’t always stay with him on nights that his work steals him away
- he’s so drawn into work, he’s afraid he might say something to you out of stress and exhaustion, so he usually tells you not to come in after hours (only these occasions)
- he honestly feels so bad, but y’know work can be hard and sometimes that affects you
- but! Lucky for you, it’s not so often this happens!
You think he’s good here as you boyfriend? Wait until you
Um anyways~ he loves you, you love him. He trusts you, you trust him. What more can I say? Your bond with each other is very special <3
Relationship troupe(?): let’s say you join Kaeya often to the tavern, but you don’t drink so you strike up a convo with Charles every time your there. This time however it was Diluc who was there and the way you gushed on about your passions/dreams/wishes captivated him. (Super long but oh well)
- seeing as how your not much of a drinker, he came up with a few non-alcoholic drinks (seeing as he doesn’t drink much either)
- very very gentleman like
- he definitely opens doors and stuff for you (unless you say otherwise)
- tbh you prolly didn’t like him much when you first talked to him, he gave you plenty of cold glares
- he prolly struggles with touch (like he doesn’t know how to show affection well and is afraid he may hurt you)
- he’s good at making drinks, so he’s definitely good at making food… right? WRONG!
- he can make simple dishes and his signature dish obviously, but other then that? Either you cook, eat out, have the maids cook, or learn how to cook together
- he prolly burnt food once or thrice, tryna cook you something
- as much as you enjoy this gesture, you’ve restricted him of his kitchen uses
“Diluc… we can’t have the kitchen be lit on fire again. We live a little to far from mondstadt to call for help.”
- pyro vision = more body heat then normal people (or people do other visions)
- winter cuddles are like the best. (If he lets you stay attached to him ofc… which he might…)
“It can’t be helped, I don’t want you getting sick from the cold. What if we just… stayed in bed today?”
- if not, you’ll be stuck on the couch by the fire for a looooooong time (until he prolly caves in and let’s you cling to him)
“Dear, I know it’s cold outside, but I can’t stay attached to you all day. I have work to finish, I promise after, you can cling to me for as long as you want.”
- defo questions your rational thinking when you ask to go out and play in the snow
- like it’s freezing. You were just complaining about it being cold… and now you wanna head outside to play in the coldest thing outside?
- he obviously caves and goes out with you
- but before that, he bundles you in enough layers to keep you warm and comfortable (he on the other hand, doesn’t really worry as his body heat is hella different from yours, still where’s enough layers tho)
- he’s very gentle, like… super gentle
- if he uses force on you (for reasons like pulling you away from someone he’s wary of) he’s still somehow incredibly gentle, like the force of his pull doesn’t hurt
- when he grazes your cheek with his fingers? Kinda feels like a feather because of how light and gentle he does it (he don’t wanna end up accidentally hurting you)
- but that’s more of the beginning of your relationship with him.
- as time goes on and you teach him more and more, he gets more comfortable and his grades aren’t so feathery that they feel nonexistent
- still gentle but not so gentle that it feels like he ain’t doing whatever he’s doing
- as always, your well-being comes first.
- he’s extremely attentive, maybe even more then the other three in this
- slight change in anything you do, alerts him (not in a creepy way cause I heard stuff like that his can be considered creepy)
- he’ll be by your side as quick as he can be, when he knows something is amiss
- very supportive of what you do/wanna do, as long as your wary of your safety he’ll be at ease
- you often hang out at the tavern till closing time to walk home with Diluc
- sometimes you’ll even wait inside the tavern for him to finish his… nightly patrols (dark night hero moment omg)
As long as he knows your by his side, he’s happy. As happy as he possibly can be.
Last notes: Honestly this one was super hard to think about. These obviously aren’t accurate since there headcanons, but I do hope they weren’t too ooc
Also sorry abt how long it took to post this TT
Next one I plan to do is either “When your sick” or “How they met you/asked you out” :)
197 notes · View notes
Chris Beck x Reader
Word Count: 3K +
Warnings: NSFW 18+ (if you're under 18 please shoo), smut, very light BDSM, sex pollen, breeding kink, mentions of death, fluff, voyeurism, best friends to lovers, mentions of previous assault.
Not beta read, all of my work and mistakes are my own. If you enjoy what you read, please feel free to like, reblog and/or comment as feedback is much appreciated.
Thank you to @iraot for the Wheels of Debauchery Challenge. It's been fun to toy with this side of Chris Beck (whom I love dearly). Thank you to the wonderful discord group I'm in, because last night my smut muse felt sick and abandoned me due to a horror it endured and they coaxed her out again lol.
There also happens to be a guest appearance and mention too :)
My prompts from the wheels were:
Character: Chris Beck
Kinks: Breeding, spanking and voyeurism
Situation: Sex Pollen
He was at his station in the lab making notes and checking on progress. Occasionally glancing up at the clock, Doctor Chris Beck felt like time was going incredibly slow. He’d been waiting for weeks for this day because his best friend was returning from her business trip to Europe and he’d missed her dearly. The truth was he’d been carrying a torch for her since he was 12. They were neighbours and had been friends from kindergarten. It was laced with many arguments as they grew up but the hostilities never lasted for more than an hour. He’d never told her how he felt, he figured it was easier to have her in his life than not at all because her was scared she’d reject him. As a result, he tried, really tried to have other relationships but they never worked quite simply because none of them were Y/N. His last relationship fell apart in quite a tempestuous manner when Beth got so jealous over Chris' friendship with Y/N and ended up giving him an ultimatum. He didn’t even take time to think it over. He chose Y/N which enraged Beth so much, she turned to her friends for support and had Y/N assaulted. Chris never looked back knowing he’d made the right decision.
His phone pinged; Y/N was delayed by traffic. He sighed and stared into thin air as he recalled the first time he realised he was truly in love with her and not the crush of a kid still lingering:
It had been one of those typical autumn evenings where rain was forecast and cold winds were expected. They were walking home from the cinema and discussing how good it felt to be away from home to study at college, especially because Chris' father had paid a year’s rent in advance for a 2 bedroom apartment for them for the year. They passed an elderly woman sleeping rough. Y/N took off her thick puffer coat and gave it to her along with thirty dollars to help her get food. That money had been Y/N’s birthday money but she was more concerned about the elderly lady’s welfare. As they walked on back to the apartment, she realised Chris was staring at her.
“What?” she asked suddenly very self conscious and tucking her hair behind her ear.
“That back there, was... was amazing” he complimented shyly and suddenly looking at the floor.
“Nah, it was important to do. I don’t understand how someone can knowingly allow their relatives to go homeless” she explained. That one act of giving made him realise how special and selfless she was. She didn’t come from a wealthy or middle class background (unlike himself where he was lucky to have two parents who worked as surgical consultants) and in that instant he knew she was the one for him.
He shook his head as he refocused on the work at hand. There’d been a lot of activity in the petri dishes over the last few days, so he’d taken up one of the staff perks of a room in the dorms for mature students or students doing Masters and Doctorates. Even if it was just for a few days, at least he knew he wasn’t missing anything. His phone pinged again. He shook his head as he noticed that the message he’d received was from another of the university professors, his friend Professor Stark. Teasing him, obviously, about being a lovesick puppy. But he was right. If anything, Tony was one person he spoke to about everything. Including the one thing Y/N didn’t know – how much he desired her after he’d watched her have sex without her knowledge. He was still ashamed of himself not just for the fact that he did it, but the fact that he didn’t tell her and also how much he enjoyed it to the point that it was still the drive fuelling him when masturbating. He didn’t even feel shame for being caught by Y/N’s then boyfriend. How could he when he made Chris promise to look after Y/N if the worst should happen to him. Setting the next petri dish down, Chris ran a hand over his face and walked over to the window. Staring down at the campus and the buzz from students carrying out their daily lives, he thought back to that night...
It was another date that just deadpanned. They were too different. She was too perky, obsessed with looks, make-up and modern trends. He figured she’d be a Stepford Wife one day. He entered the flat, hanging up his jacket, he thought he heard Y/N giggling followed by a male laugh. He rolled his eyes knowing it was her boyfriend James Barnes. A soldier studying engineering when not on active duty. It was a relationship that developed quite quickly. He didn’t hate James (or Bucky as James insisted everyone call him), but he was jealous because Y/N hadn’t let anyone else get that close to her apart from Chris.
He started walking towards his room when he heard that sinful sound of her moaning in pleasure. He stopped in his tracks continuing to listen as he began to tent in his jeans. He’d never heard anything so beautiful before. He took some quiet steps towards Y/N’s room and noticed the small gap where the door hadn’t been closed properly. He opened it just a little further to get a view of her. One glance he swore to himself but he was transfixed by her.
“Sweetheart, you’re so beautiful” Bucky muttered as he drove into her, her legs wrapped around his waist as she chanted his name like a mantra. Chris' eyes widened, pupils blown in full lust as he watched her clutching at the bedsheets in sheer bliss while Bucky continued to thrust into her and toy with Y/N’s clit. Chris hadn’t realised he automatically unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out, running his hand over it and imagining himself fucking her with wanton abandon. He felt himself getting close as Y/N and Bucky’s sounds of pleasure took over his mind. He made a quiet gulping sound to stifle his own moans but didn’t realise that Bucky had heard and seen him at the door. He continued to bring Y/N closer to orgasm ignoring he’d seen Chris who was now in the bathroom.
Looking at the washing hamper he grabbed Y/N’s lace black panties which she’d put there earlier. Wrapping them around his weighty, stiff member, Chris continued stroking himself, increasing in speed as he imagined Y/N begging him to fill her up and make her pregnant. He bit his lip and choke back his groan of relief as he came all over Y/N’s panties. His ragged breaths began to steady as he realised what he did. A wave of guilt washed through him as he shoved the soiled lace in his pocket and tucked himself away. As he came out of the bathroom, he came face to face with Bucky. Stood in his underwear, his steely eyes fixed on Chris'.
“I know you were watching” Bucky spoke quietly.
“Bucky I didn’t –” Chris was cut off by Bucky raising his hand.
“I’m not going to pick a fight, relax. I want you to look after her ok. This is my last night with her. I’m being shipped to Iraq tomorrow. She’s all hopeful but the details I’ve received are gnarly and I’m scared. I’m scared I won’t be coming back so just promise me you’ll look after her" Bucky pleaded.
“Of course I will, I love her” Chris solemnly spoke. Bucky nodded and they both went their own way as though nothing had happened. The following morning was the last time they saw him as he died in action a few weeks later. It broke Y/N’s heart but Chris stayed by her side to help her through it.
Chris tapped his pen repeatedly on the lab station as he sat back down and tried to focus on his notes. He promised himself that he was going to try and tell her this time. He couldn’t keep pining for her and needed to say how he felt.
The cab was getting closer to the campus. Traffic had been a nightmare but it gave Y/N a chance to think and reflect on how she felt. She really missed Chris. Before she’d left for Europe she’d had a dream about him that really forced her to face her feelings. He was her best friend, that would always be true. But she loved him. Not just like a friend, but as someone she desired, longed for and couldn’t imagine a life without. Since that damned dream she’d been spending her spare time thinking of him only, getting off on thoughts of him doing the most sinful things possible to her body because she knew that, other than Bucky, he was the only person she’d ever loved and would continue loving because he was her everything. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and tried to keep her thoughts clean. It was impossible. Just keeping her eyes closed, images flashed through her mind: Chris stood in front of her wearing his jeans that hung low on his hips. He was shirtless and had walked into her room while she was struggling to get to sleep. She was wearing his oversized grey sweater for bed as it was approaching laundry day. He cocked an eyebrow at her realising she was wearing his top. He beckoned her and she crawled off the bed walking towards him knowing that he had the lecture look on his face.
“I’m sorry Chris, I should have asked but when I got in I was soaked to the skin and needed to shower but I’m out of nightwear until tomorrow” she explained. He nodded and took her hand in his, pulling her closer. He pressed his lips to her forehead.
“It’s ok,” he sighed, “but you do realise it’s the third time this month that you’ve done so without asking. I think you need to be punished" he spoke evenly. She glanced up at his ice blue eyes and could tell he was serious. He’d never been like this with her before. She tried to protest but her words came out as garbled sounds as he sat at the end of the bed and pulled her across his lap with some force.
“Chris... I... what are...”
“You’ve been a naughty girl and though I love it when you’re naughty, I still need to train you to be nice” he informed her. “We'll do fifteen, I want you to count them ok" he ordered making her feel like a kid being told off at school.
“Yes sir" she spoke automatically addressing him with the authoritative title, it surprised him and made his cock twitch. He lifted the sweater up, revealing her panties. He inhaled sharply at the sight of her butt. He ran his calloused hand over her peach and took a swift, sharp swipe making Y/N yelp as she called the number out, he repeated the fondling before taking another slap at her butt. By number seven he started running his fingers over her clothed core, it was wet, sensitive and she was begging for his rock hard cock that was poking her side as he continued his assault on her raw cheeks...
“We’re here miss” the cab driver’s voice tore her from her daydream. Paying him, she stepped out of the car and looked up at the building. She pulled a wry smile and knew it was now or never.
Chris checked his phone nervously while listening to music, still nothing. With his headphones on, he didn’t notice Y/N slip through the doors as he continued to work. She watched him for a few minutes, grinning at him shaking his rump as he sang Kiss by Prince. Her heart swelled with love for him. Sneaking up behind him, she hugged him, making him jump as he turned to face her. The sun practically shone in his broadening smile as he saw her. He picked her up in a hug and spun her around once, just happy to have her back. She placed a kiss on his cheek as he set her down. Taking a seat, she looked up at him. He was still holding her hands. He looked tired and she was concerned.
“When was the last time you ate properly Snuggle Bug?” she asked knowing he’d neglected self care for work again.
“I had a breakfast bar for dinner last night” he confessed. Y/N shook her head unimpressed.
“You need to eat" she practically ordered. He held his hands up conceding to the suggestion. He wrapped his arms around her in a warm embrace.
“How was Europe?” he asked.
“It was good, they have approved my collection to be shown for Bridal Fashion Week, newcomer slot so it’s exciting. I don’t have to go to London until a week before the show in four months, then there’s 3 other shows – Italy, Spain and France. Maybe you could take a break. It would be nice to spend time in Europe with my favourite person in the whole world” her infectious grin was something he could never refuse.
“Firstly congratulations, you’ve worked so hard for this and secondly I would love to spend time with you in Europe, Care Bear. We could probably even see the Eiffel Tower" he blushed a little in his response. Y/N stood up as a signal that they should grab lunch. Chris went to grab his notes to put them away and knocked 2 petri dishes on the floor. They smashed instantly between Y/N and Chris' feet. He panicked as the pathogens released what looked like a white vapour into the room. He looked up at Y/N who handed him rubber gloves so that he could pick up the broken glass.
“Chris what was that?” Y/N asked suddenly feeling a little hotter than normal.
“Something collected from a space station that I was asked to investigate because it’s thought to be unknown to us unless I can find a reference to its growth and catalogue it" he replied as his temperature rose and sweat began to bead on his forehead.
“Meaning?” she was more irritated in her tone than necessary due to an itch she couldn’t scratch developing within her.
“I’m not sure what that vapour was, it could be something or nothing” he offered with an innocent shrug trying to push down a sudden stirring in his groin. Y/N pressed her thighs together beginning to feel a warm sensation building in her core. Chris observed her squirming as he threw the glass in the specific bin. He tried to ignore the need to palm himself. Whatever that vapour was, it had ignited a need in them both that was beginning to ache. Y/N bit her lip fighting that pull inside her but it was useless.
“Chris it hurts" she whimpered as he came over to her. He realised there was a vapour he’d read about before. They’d discovered it in the 1960s and the government had secretly mass produced it to stop violent protesters by spraying large areas where protests were going to happen and this went on to become known as the summer of love where protesters were suddenly more interested in fucking and getting stoned rather than ‘fighting for peace’. The only way the ache would disappear for Y/N and Chris was either to find an antidote, which was impossible at this point in time, or they could fuck it out of their systems.
“Do you trust me Care Bear?” he asked. She gave him the stare that just spoke the word ‘obviously’. He grabbed his keys and her hand and practically ran out of the lab and over to the student quarters. Impatiently, they were through that door and instantly he had her against the wall kissing her desperately as if she’d disappear any moment. They stopped briefly for air and to undress frantically as they made it to the bed, falling onto it while in the throes of passion.
“Chris please, I need you to fuck me" Y/N pleaded.
“It’s ok sweetheart, I’ve got you" he promised. His lips found their way to the crook of her neck, licking and sucking above the pulse point and hearing her beg for him to stop the pain within. He began to trail the valley of her breasts, kneading them and rolling her nipples between his fingers as his kisses descended further until he arrived at the glorious prize he’d been dreaming of for such a long time. Her legs were spread, welcoming him as he glanced up at Y/N. Her eyes were pleading with him to end her torture. The same torture burning within him but he had to have a taste first. He smiled at her with an impish grin as he lowered his head and positioned himself. He ran his lips over the velvet skin of her inner thighs before running his nose lightly over her slit. So sensitive to his touch, she bucked up but he held her in place as he began to run his tongue over and around her clit. Her whimpers of delight were music to his ears as he continued the sultry assault on her nub. He slipped a digit inside of her and relished in her wetness and how she whined in pleasure at his touch. Adding a second finger, he felt her coming closer as he pumped them in and out. She cried out his name as she came on his fingers . He crawled over her, needed to be inside her, she stared at him as he sucked her juices off of his fingers. Enthralled by him, she pulled him to her, kissing him with a deep passion she’d never shared with anyone except the one she’d lost. Chris was her everything, sex induced vapor or not. This just heightened her need and love for him. In that kiss she was imploring him to make her his and he felt it. Lining himself up with her, he slowly pushed into her allowing her to adjust to his size. She’d never heard Chris swear so much as he stilled once at the hilt. Their eyes were fixed on each other.
“Chris I need you to move” she insisted, her skin blazing and wanting him like never before. He pulled out slowly and drove into her building up the pace. Lips caressing each other’s, his fingers laced with hers as he pinned her hands to the mattress either side of her. This wasn’t just a case of them fucking out the pollen, this was Chris’ declaration of love for Y/N. The love he’d bottled up for so long now pouring out as he made love to her.
“Wanted. This. For. So. Long” he breathed in Y/N’s ear. “Want to. Fill you up. Make you mine. Fill you. With. My. Babies” his voice was staccato as he continued to pound her with a speed that was increasing as he was closer to hitting the orgasm his body was begging for.
“Yes… oh god, yes Chris… please… I want this… I want… your babies… make me yours Chris” she beseeched between pants. Submissive and pliant to his demands. Moving out of her, despite her protests, he moved her onto her stomach and drove into her once more. She was almost crying out his name as he hit her sweet spot time and time again. Her walls tightened around his shaft as she hit euphoria, she harmoniously cried out his name driving him to spill his seed inside her, filling her up like he’d promised moments earlier as more expletives left his mouth in a primal tone that Y/N had never heard from him before. They collapsed on the bed in exhaustion as the smell of sex and sound languid breaths reverberated around the room.
Slowly he pulled out of her and she turned onto her back to face him. Chris gazed at her lovingly as he propped himself up on his elbow. Y/N ran her hand over his cheek and craned her neck upwards to kiss him gently.
“I love you” he confessed as their lips parted, “I’ve loved you for so long and was a coward about it” he confessed as he locked his lips with hers again. As the kiss ended she could only offer him a soft look of reciprocated love.
“I love you too, you’re all I thought about in Europe. I just wanted to come home, to you. I knew I loved you but like you just said, I was a coward too. Scared of rejection, scared at the prospect of a life without you and scared that even now, you might have some sort of feelings for Beth and I’d lose you completely” Chris quirked a lopsided smile at her words.
“Beth could never compare, the truth was it would never have lasted. She hated you because I called out your name during sex three times. It’s probably why she came after you when I picked you over her. I’m sorry Care Bear” he spoke softly finally cuddling up to her.
“You’ve nothing to apologise for Snuggle Bug. But what is this? What are we doing?” she asked needing to know. Something Chris always loved about Y/N was the way she always put things into clear perspectives and wanted honesty about the way things were.
“Y/N, I want this. Us. I want you to be my forever. We’re way beyond dating stage and whenever I think of my future I only see you, you really are the sun in my life” he admitted. She nodded at him, a welcoming smile sweeping across her face, expression filled with docile love.
“And you are my moon and stars. I only think of you in my future too Chris” she revealed. She placed her head on his chest suddenly feeling very sleepy but very fulfilled.
“We’ll sort out more after you’ve slept Care Bear, you look exhausted” he insisted. She nodded in agreement and held onto him as she closed her eyes. She’d never been more beautiful to him than in that moment, knowing she was his in every way he wanted her after she revealed he was her moon and stars long before he had her seeing stars.
@navybrat817 @smokeybluebrooke-lyn @aidinniram @team-marvel13 @thatfangirl42 @iraot
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Bordeaux & Opéra
AU- Pedro Pascal as Lord Nikolai Casillero - XXth century.
Word Count: 6K
Warnings: Smut, Talk about a threat, alcohol, P in V, unprotected sex, fingering, slight cock touch, OVERTHINKER READER ...
Summary: In the 20th century, you work in the house of Lady Casillero, one of the richest families in the country thanks to their quality wine (and other rumours).
You will meet her brother for the first time during a visit to his sister's house, and will be quite taken with this handsome devil...
Little Comment : Hello to all! This is obviously a little idea/joke made on purpose in view of the pictures and commercial we had with Pedro as a thief for Casillero del diablo AND IT MAKES ME FERAL ! It's all fun I hope you will enjoy it! (if you see any mistakes let me know and I will correct it) - comments and reblogs are appreciated 🖤 Enjoy!
PS: (You won't see any fanfic from me where Pedro's name will be displayed! unless requested, but I don't see myself writing fanfic about a real person, only the characters he plays) I will create a part in my Masterlist with "AU-Pedro Pascal" where you can find invented characters 🖤
You have been working as a maid for years for Lady Casillero, a task less complicated than people think...
She is a very sweet and patient woman, who because of her surname scares most people away from her, a name she got from her father, and which has also been passed on to her brother... Her brother you have never met, who has earned a rather peculiar nickname according to several rumours: doing business with him is like making a pact with the devil, handsome as a devil, ruthless, cold, thief... Everyone knows the Casillero family and in particular the heir to the fortune, the brother of your mistress... El Diablo.
You spent most of your morning at the market, as your Lady asked you to, insisting that you would have a guest tonight, but would not give his identity, letting you know that the neighbours would hurry to see him in the flesh...
You didn't ask any more questions, not being very curious by nature, thinking of someone important with whom she probably has to do business for her family, as it can happen from time to time.
You pass through the servants' entrance at the back, putting everything down in the kitchen, leaving Laura, the cook, to deal with it all, thanking her, before shedding your coat and heading into the sitting room to see if her ladyship needs anything before you start your duties.
"My Lady may I be of assistance to you in..."
You pause, noticing that she is not alone, a man standing in front of her, who does not even disdain to turn around when you enter the room... You are only a servant, you know that very well, but it is still quite pleasant to be respected from time to time...
"Oh dear!" she said, jumping up to you. "My brother has arrived earlier than expected! Could you please prepare a room for him?"
"Yes, my lady..."
You were about to finish your sentence when your gaze fell on her brother who had just turned in your direction, walking towards you with a slight smile on his face. Not a perverse smile like most men are used to presenting, a soft and comforting smile, which you refrain from returning, which might come across as inappropriate.
"Good morning mademoiselle," he says, kissing your hand.
You widen your eyes, not knowing how to react to such gestures which are not normally reserved for you, coming from men of his class. So you say nothing and just bend your knees slightly.
You didn't pay attention to it right away, but it's when he raises his face that you confirm at least one of the rumours about him: he's beautiful... A tan complexion, like his sister's, beautiful sad eyes of a rather dark brown, yet giving off a warmth and beauty like you've never seen before, pointy lips, and a nose... A magnificent aquiline nose that falls perfectly with the rest of his features... You stay like that observing him for a moment, not realizing that you've been staring at him for quite a while now without saying anything, wanting to run your hands through his beautiful chocolate curls, not before Lady Casillero speaks.
"Nikolai, let her go, you can see she's uncomfortable!" she says, patting his arm.
"I don't think she's uncomfortable, my dear sister..." he says as he stands up without taking his eyes off you, lightly stroking the back of your hand.
You rush off towards the stairs that lead to the rooms without looking back the second he lets go of your hand, the second you can finally breathe, not even realizing that you were holding your breath in front of this man who is indeed handsome as hell...
It is quite complicated for you to concentrate throughout the day while doing your chores. It was quite easy at the beginning when you prepared his room, then started your tasks, because he was not there... But when you had to tidy up the ground floor, and his presence was felt around you, it was at that moment that you felt a big problem or rather the beginning of major problems.
And that feeling you had all day in the back of your neck was not a hallucination or anything, it was just because he was watching you, not in a stalker way, but in a simple observation way like he does with everybody. He examined you, without any shame, sitting in one of the offices you were cleaning, for example, observing every facial expression, letting his eyes fall on the curves of your body from time to time...
He watched you enough to see that you were avoiding his gaze, wondering if he had gone a little too far with that chaste, but possibly misinterpreted, kiss... Not that his thoughts of you since he arrived are chaste, but his intentions are anything but bad...
The problem is that you seem like a good woman... Most of the women Nikolai associates with are women of joy, or smugglers... Or in some cases the wives of very high-ranking Men who are looking to get certain things that only a thief can get, a thief with a big enough name that nothing will backfire on them, or if it did, they would deny it, like the Casillero family denies the origin of their fortune behind the wine...
He's not used to women like you, so pure, calm, hard-working, who don't really seem to care about him, or to make him indecent proposals, which he always accepts, being just another man after all...
He then focused his mind on the reason for coming to this town, which for people will only be to see his dear little sister, but in reality, a large part of their family's wine shipments are disappearing, and despite his sister's efforts, it has been impossible to get hold of the people doing this...
"Are you sure you haven't seen or heard anything my dear sister?"
You are standing in the library room next to the desk when you hear the Casillero's voices in the next room, and decide to listen even without being curious, knowing that it can do no harm... You are a maid after all...
"I asked every kitchen workers to keep an eye out, but there was nothing... And I trust them Nikolai!"
"I didn't say anything about that dear."
"I know you, you doubt everyone..."
"Because I know the depths of human nature... I work with it every day."
His sister reached behind the desk to put her arms around her brother's shoulders, letting him grab her hands to hold her tighter against him.
"A family of thieves, stolen... That's not the best, my dear brother..."
"It won't last. I've sent our men into the city... And when they find them I'll deal with them."
"You promised me less violence Nik..."
"Only on business. This is personal."
He stops, looking in the direction you're standing, the door slightly ajar, and you hurry back to clean up, sure he didn't see you in such a fine line as the opening was...
The night is cold, the smell of paraffin lamps floods the city streets, and you try to get to the opera house as quickly as possible, pressed for time and afraid of being approached by a man in the street as night falls on the city, leaving far too many dark and unlit corners for a woman to walk alone...
You work at the opera in addition to your job as a maid for the Casillero's, not that you are badly paid, it is a very honest salary and even more than that for your profession, but you have always loved to sing and you were lucky to find an employer who let you have a second job and sleep in the little room there, not having told the Lady of course, but you don't want to sleep there where you spend most of your day cleaning...
You walk into your dressing room and open the little door behind it, opening onto your little flat, which is quite well decorated for what it's worth: a velvet sofa and a nice double bed, which you traded in for one of your theatrical gowns only a few months ago, having been more than tired of having a bad back from having a bad posture all day in view of your maid's work and bad night's sleep... A small kitchen with only the minimum, a shower and toilet... The minimum, a roof over your head and you know it's not the big house you work in, but you like what you have very much, you worked hard for it...
You lock the door again, and undress in your dressing room to put on your make-up, do your hair and warm up your voice, getting ready to go on stage in a few minutes.
You don't have to turn around to know that it is Martha who has just entered your dressing room, one of your only friends, your best friend who has been working with you at the opera for longer than you can remember.
"I know, excuse me... Did you cover me?..."
"Always my dear " she says as she starts to do your hair.
"So, what's this about today?"
She frowns as you look down to avoid her gaze in the mirror and smiles slightly at your efforts to hide a look she knows well, not insisting, knowing you always end up talking to her about everything.
"... If you say so... Come on put this on and get on stage we're full tonight!" She says, pulling your best dress out of your wardrobe.
You smile at her and add a final touch of black to your eyes before getting up to put on your armour for tonight...
She then accompanies you to the stairs, as she does at all your performances, as you will do later in the evening for her, to watch you climb into your beautiful red dress, applauded by the audience, and begin to sing, to let only your voice resonate in the silence of the opera.
"That was beautiful, baby! Do something like that next week with all the lords arriving, and you're sure to have success in the rest of the country!
"Martha... Don't pressure me please" you say as you remove the last layer of make-up, smiling at her nonetheless "... You were perfect too you know, you too will be singing next week and..."
"Martha, a man is calling you by the stairs!" a young girl shouted from the top of the stage.
You beckoned her to go and promised her that you would talk tomorrow, as you always do, but which turns out to be a lie, always working too hard to discuss... Still, you were happy enough to lock your dressing room and go to bed, exhausted by this day, thinking only of tomorrow... Thinking only of seeing dear Nikolai again...
The morning was rough, like every morning after the theatre, but you know you can't afford to show it, not in this kind of job...
You turn around with a jump, not having heard anyone coming up behind you, putting what little energy and concentration you have into the tasks at hand.
Nikolai is standing behind you, at first leaning in the doorway leaving you to wonder how long he's been standing there, then finally straightening up, closing the door behind him, locking you both in the guest room.
"Good morning Lord..."
"What did you hear yesterday?" he cuts you short.
You swallow, thinking at first to lie to him, to deny it, but you know he'd realise, because he must, after all, spend his life surrounded by liars for his job
You look at him with round eyes, not knowing if you can't say a single word because you fear getting killed right here and now or because you are far too absorbed by the beauty and charisma he exudes...
"You had quite a voice last night, would it be possible for you to use it to answer me dear? Your dress looked lovely on you, if I may say so," he says, smiling.
You close your eyes, understanding that he was present at the opera, probably brought by his sister; and finally find a minimum of courage to tell him the truth, keeping your eyes as closed as ever.
"I heard you talking about stolen wines, and about people you have to take care of," you say firmly.
He stares at you for a second, realising that you are probably afraid of him, and just fills the space between you slightly.
"I wish to see your beautiful eyes when you tell me this again."
You don't know why but you obey him without hesitation, opening your eyes to look up at him shyly, to see him staring at you intensely, preventing you from looking away now that you've met his... And scented himself...
"Wine... Stolen and... You're going to kill people." you say with a stammer, not understanding how man can have such an effect on you.
The fact that he's smiling at you now doesn't help matters at all, leaving a unique dimple on his cheek, sending shivers down your core, almost stopping you from breathing... Pull yourself together, for Christ's sake...
"I'm not going to kill anyone, sweetheart... Not right now." he said as he turned on his heels and finished with you, leaving you surprised by his reaction.
"You don't threaten me..."
"To see fear on such a beautiful face every time you look at me? No, that's not the kind of look I want to get from you..." he said, turning around "...I'll just ask you not to talk about it... Think of it as our first secret."
"...Is there supposed to be more?"
"I dearly hope so."
And he disappeared with those last words, leaving you alone in the room, out of breath for some reason, and you finally allow yourself to lean on the edge of the sink to regain your composure, knowing that this man... dear Nikolai will end up killing you one way or another...
The days passed, becoming weeks, weeks during which you had very few discussions with him, much less than you would have hoped, but it's not that he's avoiding you or that you're avoiding him, he's just too busy to see anyone, and you know it because his sister is complaining about it a lot... All day long, in fact... She's also full of all the looks that have been cast on your house since the whole town knows that her brother is back.
A lot of maids and kitchen ladies asked you what he was like, as intrigued as you were the first time you met him, and you obviously said nothing but good things about him, because that's all there is to say about him... Good things... He's a good man, with some dubious secrets in his wardrobe, but still a good man... And very charming one...
Unfortunately, you are obviously not the only one to have noticed this kind of detail. All the women in the city rush to see him every time he goes out... That's how you know he comes to every one of your performances, having a swarm of admirers at the end of each performance waiting for him at the exit... And you don't even lie to yourself, knowing that you are totally jealous...
That night you decided to go for a drink with Martha in your favourite pub, accompanied by one of the boys from the scene, for fear of being caught by men so late at night.
It's a small pub hidden away not far from the opera house where only artists and a few businessmen looking for a good time with the girls of joy go. It's quite a good atmosphere, only surrounded by people from the scene from here and there...
Martha has gone to get you some drinks at the bar, which you down faster than you would have liked, needing a little more than a drink after all the excitement you've felt in recent weeks.
"For God's sake what aren't you telling me... Is this about the brother of..."
"STOP... Stop please I don't want to have to lie to you..." you say cutting her off.
"...I'll take that as a yes... Just please be careful... He has a reputation that is quite..."
"False. Believe me if I tell you it's fake."
She frowned for a moment but didn't insist and handed you the bottle, seeing that you would need more than one drink to sleep well tonight... You grabbed the bottle, letting your finger brush against the logo a logo engraved in it that you recognised with a sigh... A devil's head...
You don't explain why to Martha and just tell her that you have to go to the Casillero's quickly, not giving her time to answer you, watching you run towards the pub's exit at full speed.
You run through the town ignoring the whistles on your way, suddenly realising the stupidity of having just left on a whim in the middle of the night, not even sure if you'd make it to the big house with the number of men who may or may not have been drinking a little too much being on the streets...
But you get there and enter through the front door without warning, interrupting a big meal the siblings were giving to introduce their neighbours to Nikolai.
The looks you get from the guests are strikingly disdainful. You ignore them and focus on the masters of the house.
You can see in Lady's eyes that your arrival isn't necessarily a good time as she walks towards you.
"I gave you the night off..."
"Madam, I must speak to your brother... Please, it is... It is urgent."
She looked at you panting, leaning on the column behind you, thinking that you wouldn't have run here in the middle of the night without a good reason, especially on one of your free nights.
Nikolai stands up having heard your words, looking coldly at their guests, not appreciating the looks of superiority directed at you, forcing them to look down or away before he approaches you and grabs you by the arm to take you into what is now his library office.
"You walked through the city alone?"
"In the middle of the night? Are you unconscious?!"
You sense anger and concern in his voice as he cuts you off and comes close to shouting at you, probably worried...
You don't get up and shove the thought to the back of your mind, telling yourself that you're probably imagining things, because after all, he hasn't spoken to you for a good two weeks... You simply hand him the bottle that he didn't even notice you were holding.
"I was in a pub with a friend, and these are the bottles they serve... I'm pretty sure small pubs can't afford your bottle... Not at the price..."
"Where?" He cut you again, looking suddenly more serious, and darker.
"Near the opera house... But I don't know who sells it to them... I didn't think to ask really..."
"I'll take care of all that, love..." he said, setting the bottle down on his desk and ringing a bell outside.
Two men arrived within seconds, and you saw him whispering things in their ears, much too low for you to hear. He then turned to you, closing the door after his men had left, and you can feel that wave of chill run through your body once more, after this little pet name that he always gives you, the little smiles... Like every time you find yourself in his presence...
"So you came across town to give me this information?"
"Information that could have waited until tomorrow, but you chose tonight, in the middle of the night where you could have ended up in a street corner left for dead..."
You don't answer that... Not really knowing what to say to him, a little ashamed that you acted so stupidly, that you ran to him as if you owed him that... Maybe you do... To be at his mercy... In every way imaginable...
"Did you love it?"
"I ask you Pardon?"
"The wine love, did you like it?"
"... Yes, yes, of course it's a very good wine.
He moved towards you... suddenly depriving you of all personal space, leaving you to bump into his desk, sharing his air with yours.
"Can I taste it?" he murmured in a low, husky voice, looking at your lips
You hesitate for a few seconds but you know you want him too, you want this man who has occupied your thoughts for weeks, never being able to satisfy what you really want from him... So you finally let these words fall from your lips, less chastely than you imagined.
"This is your wine... You can taste it whenever you want my Lo..."
He didn't let you finish and put his lips on yours, tenderly and yet so hungrily. You can feel that he was waiting for this as much as you were by the way he clutches his hand around your body, pressing you completely against him letting you feel every part of his body and the way he lets his lips crash against yours, finally letting his tongue possess yours and hearing you moan with desire as he pulls away to kiss the small of your neck and make that arousal grow in your lower belly, faster than usual..
You push him away abruptly, hearing his sister's voice coming closer in the hallway, remembering that there are guests in your dining room, and straighten up slightly, looking at him with a smile on your lips to let him know that you don't regret that kiss, but it's not the right time for more.
"I'm coming, dear," he calls out before placing a kiss on your forehead and smiling tenderly. "It wasn't the day, love" he said as he reluctantly walked away, leaving you once again in an empty room after turning your being and your mind inside out...
You walked towards the exit after waiting for a few minutes, but you were blocked by Lady Casillero who was waiting for you, arms joined in front of her, a neutral face coming towards you:
"Remember that I have nothing against you... But know that what you are doing will be complicated for you right?”
"And not for him?" you say softly, not wanting to overlook her kindness.
"He is a man my dear... They always gets away with it... But it's not bad behaviour I'm worried about, or his name... My brother doesn't care about any of that, his reputation is already quite dark..." she says, grabbing your hand "... You're a maid who's venturing into something with a man of title, with a lot of gossip around him... Can you handle all that? The looks, the whispers?"
"You're handling it well..." you say, smiling at her, reassured that she doesn't hate you for what's happened.
"I'm just his sister... It's not that hard. Being the woman on his arm will be more complicated..."
"I don't think your brother sees me in such a definitive way... I'm just a maid as you yourself said."
She smiles more broadly, being amused by the way you are blind to the kindness her brother has towards you and only you, then turning her back on you to head back up the stairs.
"You shouldn't think that my dear... Trust me!"
You frowned and wondered for a moment if he would have talked with his sister about you... But you're pretty sure that it's not something common among people of their class to do that kind of thing... No... He wouldn't have talked to his sister about me... Would he?
You're pretty sure your performance tonight wasn't as good as your normal one, but how can you concentrate after what happened two nights ago... You'd like to go back and take matters into your own hands; having thought he'd have come back on his own yesterday...
But you don't want to look so hungry... Not in front of a man like him... Maybe he's testing me...
You shake your head, remembering that you have totally zoned out in front of your mirror, under the eyes of Martha, who as usual helps you to get rid of your corset.
"Three times in less than ten minutes, my dear... Are you going to tell me who it is?"
"Who is who? ..."
"No lies between us, remember?!"
I need to talk to someone after all... I need advice...
"... There's this..."
A drumming on your dressing room door cuts you off, making Martha walk towards it, waiting a few moments for you to put on a dressing gown to open the door, and when your eyes widen as you take in who's in front of your dressing room, Martha realises what's going on and just grabs her scarf and winks at you to get out of there...
Have a good time..." she whispered to you before leaving the room, looking very indiscreetly at your surprise guest, who gave her a cold, empty look as he does with everyone except you... Martha still smiled at him in return before leaving, her nature being warm, and he closed the door behind her... with a double lock this time...
"Good evening love..."
"Good evening, Lord..."
"Nikolai. You'll have to start calling me Nikolai love and stop playing shy with me..."
You didn't answer and he walked towards you without taking his eyes off you, taking off his burgundy jacket and dropping it on one of the sofas in the room, and started to undo his bow tie. You realised what was happening and didn't know what else to do but to lean on your Vanity behind you.
"I had to take care of the problem yesterday... I couldn't come to you before..."
You nod your head in silence, suppressing a smile being quite happy that he had some business to attend to and that this is the only reason he couldn't come and see you before...
"...But I'm totally yours now..." he said, still holding your gaze.
He moved dangerously close to you and grabbed you by the hips to press you against him, letting out a small cry of surprise from between your lips and you looked up at him, putting your hands under his shirt to caress that broad chest you've dreamed so many times of being crushed against during cuddling in bed, or feeling his weight on top of you when he impales you to make you see stars.
"Beautiful performance tonight... your lips never disappoint me..."
You can no longer sustain the tension between you and don't care about manners or propriety at the level you're at, just resting your lips against his impatiently.
He responded to your kiss by pressing you harder against him, lifting you up and placing you on the Vanity behind you. You taste those lips again, and they feel even better than they did the first time. You moan silently between his lips letting him lick your bottom lips that you open to let him possess you completely, feeling his swollen cock in his trousers and run your hand over it to feel him, making him make a low, muffled thud in his chest.
He placed kisses on your neck, nibbling and sucking on it, causing you to mewl in anticipation, to which he responded by running his fingers under your dress to caress your clit slowly.
"You're already so yet beautiful..." he murmured into your neck, extremely excited by this, by the fact that your body responded so easily to his presence.
You gasp under his expert fingers, so pleasurable, immediately finding how your body works, immediately finding the movements you like, the pressure you love, you gasp as you cling to the edge of the vanity, when he pushes a finger into you, looking into your eyes, placing light kisses on your lips, not letting go of your gaze, whispering praise softly at the same pace he fingers you, slowly tenderly, gradually adding a second finger inside you, making you gasp for air where you can, liquefying you completely under that fingering.
You find the semblance of strength you need to let the rest of your dressing gown slip off your shoulders, followed by your cotton bra, to reveal your breasts and look up at him with doe eyes, blowing his mind away.
"That's the kind of look I want from you lovel..." he says with a husky voice
He looked at you intently, as if you were the most precious thing he'd ever seen in his life. He couldn't help but place another kiss on your throat, which he felt vibrate under his lips from the obscene sounds you began to make less and less discreetly as he found that spot in you that stops you from breathing.
He felt you tremble, your walls contracting around his fingers and when he looked up at you and straightened to kiss you, you stopped him, grabbing the back of his neck and looking into his eyes as he made you cum like you'd never cum on his fingers, making a O with your mouth, trying to say is name, but only babeling...
"That's it beautiful, cum for me..."
You let out cries of pleasure and mewled between his lips as you pulled him close to you again.
"Take me Nikolai... I need you."
He grunted between your lips and unbuttoned his trousers, while you undid the buttons on his shirt, wanting to see his magnificent chest when he made you cum for the second time.
Your eyes widened as you saw him take hold of his cock, which is also much larger than you felt a few minutes before, his cock now completely hard from all the sounds you made from feeling you from the inside so wet for him, from getting a taste of what's to come.
But nothing could have prepared either of you for what followed... You couldn't have anticipated the gentle stretch he caused in you, gradually, slowly, letting you feel every vein and inch of his being opening you up delectably...
Nor could he have anticipated that you would be so tight, so hot and wet around him, being able to feel every throb your pussy produces as it contracts around his cock. He's biting the inside of his cheek to keep from cumming inside you, knowing full well that he must pull out long before that.
"Oh LORD!" you shout in a running breath.
"I already told you to call me N-Nikolai, love!" he laughs, making you follow him slightly in his joke.
It's the first time it's been so hard for him to contain himself in this way, installed deep inside you, never having felt the slightest bit for his former one-night stands, never having wanted to make love to a woman whose face is so pure and yet broken by the pleasure in front of him... He's never wanted another woman like he wants you.
You put your legs around his hips and one of your arms around his neck to kiss him, begging him to move inside you, unable to wait for more, and he began to move inside of you, first slowly, then a little faster, moving his hips in delicious ways that forced you to grip the edges of the furniture, to get some balance and join him.
He thrust into you slowly, then quickly, and repeated the movement countless times, killing you slowly, making you moan for him, restraining himself from growling too loudly for his part by muffling his noises by taking one of your breasts in his mouth to lick and suck at it, not having been able to stop himself from seeing them bouncing around in front of his eyes for the last few seconds.
You cried again and again, trying to contain your screams, which when he straightened up and started to thrust with his hips more sharply, became almost non-existent, you just couldn't let any sounds out... It is too good... He is too good.
He grabbed you by the little ponytail you made for the night, and pulled your head back, to look you straight in the eye, pushing harder and harder into you.
" Cum for me beautiful... G-Give me that a second time" he says through clenched teeth feeling his own release coming.
You gasp and search for air with your mouth open, not knowing what else to do but obey him and roll your eyes when you coat his dick, seeing stars, gasping, letting him gives you a kiss, continuing his thrusts into you, until he pulls out and takes a cloth next to you to cum, not wanting to cum inside you without your permission.
You wait for him to come back and take him in your arms, placing kisses on his nose, his neck, his eyes, smiling tenderly, tired and satisfied.
He cuddled you for a long time, and whispered sweet nothings to you... Leaving you wondering how people could paint him so harshly... You smiled at him, seeing his blissful face and a tender smile, genuinely tender with no backhanded cockiness that he usually sends back despite himself, a smile that he returned and lifted you up to the room he glimpsed when he arrived.
He laid you on your bed and undressed you completely, cleaning you carefully and putting you under your sheets.
You saw him disappear into your dressing room and the lights go out, only to return a few minutes later, undress and lie down beside you, to take you in his arms and let you snuggle up to him in a soothing silence...
"Perfect." he says, tracing circles on your back with his fingers.
You closed your eyes, inhaling his scent, hoping that it would stay on your sheets for days, in case he didn't come back to you... The thought broke your heart slightly, so you decided to change the subject.
"Who was it?... For your wine?"
"Your cook. She was notifying people of transits and making a profit..."
Laura... You find it hard to believe, but it doesn't surprise you either because in the grandest logic it had to be someone on the inside... I hope her sister is okay... She who was so trusting...
"Your sister knew, didn't she?..."
"For your cook I..."
"No silly..." you say, patting his chest "For us..."
He smiles at the fact that you finally get comfortable enough with him to call him that... The opposite case would have been quite strange this he says, he was fucking you in the next room just a few minutes ago...
"My sister always knows everything... Even when I'm not talking... So I didn't see the point in lying to her when she asked me why I was watching you so much..."
You smile to yourself, learning that he was drawn to you as quickly as you were to him... Then reality hit you.
"When are you going to leave Lor... Nikolai? ..." you say, more and more sad.
"I don't think I'm going back..."
You straighten up slightly to face him and he looks at you, smiling as you lie on the bed in his arms.
"There's a lot to try in this town...a lot I think I'll enjoy very much I think..." he says with a cocky smile.
You kissed him with a smile and closed your eyes, happy, happier than you've ever been, in the arms of the Devil of Casillero...
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A little "justice" for Brienne, Jaime, and what we could/should have gotten in the show.
Why D&D made so many unexplainable changes to Brienne and Jaime's arcs, most times completely inverting what they do in the books and changing some of their traits? Let's see.
The gist of the majority of Brienne's problems in the show, was that D&D failed to write her...completely. She was doomed basically from the start from many mistakes and changes D&D made with her. Because she wasn't meant to be your usual warrior lady who simply loves to fight, she's so much more than that, and she's such a unique character.
Brienne's true arc in the books is full of duality. She's Sansa in armor (in GRRM's words). She's a 19 years old girl who longs to be respected as a knight and she's also a girl who longs to be a lady (married, a mother, and especially loved) but she doesn't think that's possible because of how ugly she is (and now she's also disfigured in the books), and how tall she is, how muscular she is, how strong she is, and she's been mocked and abused her entire life, starting from her piece of shit of a septa. Brienne literally thinks she's unlovable, that the marriage bed for her could only include pain and humiliation (again, thanks to the fucking crazy septa), and GRRM took her and put her right in front of the only guy in Westeros who lives for love and that nowadays would punch in the face any guy who mocks her, especially her mean former betrotheds (Hello Red Ronnet Connington, thank you for taking the iconic golden handed slap). Book!Jaime said it best in his weirwood dream: "In this light she could almost be a beauty. In this light she could almost be a knight". See? Duality. And she'd never scoff at Pod to not call her a lady, Book!Brienne simply finds amusing when Pod calls her "My lady, ser", because he can't seem to decide what to call her, but the fact that he calls her both is another example of the duality GRRM has in store for her.
I know some things were probably changed because they casted the amazing Gwendoline (who's beautiful but actually much taller than most men, just like Brienne), but mostly they simply didn't write some her struggles, both in terms of storylines, both in terms of her more feminine side, since Gwen was actually fantastic in portraying Brienne's vulnerability and shyness when she could, like in the bath scene in Harrenhal.
D&D don't know how to write women who break stereotypes. Brienne and Arya like to fight? Well they must hate feminine things then. Asha/Yara likes to fight and be tough and manly? Well if she's so butch she must be a lesbian. But in the books, Brienne and Arya like feminine things. Hell, Brienne is a huge romantic girl, who loves songs and fairytales and spent her childhood dreaming of romance (you know, the kinda romance that has a guy gifting her a priceless sword, like in her favorite fairytale, the one about ser Galladon and the Maiden, and how the Maiden gifted Gal a priceless magic sword as a gesture of love...seems familiar), and she's vulnerable, sometimes wishing just to have Jaime right next to her so she could cry on his shoulder. And she did spend the night of Renly's wedding crying her eyes out because her crush was marrying another woman. Arya liked wearing a pretty dress, even though she thinks she'll never be as beautiful as Sansa, and she's never mocked girls by calling them stupid. She's just a child, but not nearly as much of a stereotypical brat as she is at the beginning of the show. Asha/Yara fights men and also fucks men. If they really wanted to include some lesbian sex, in the books Dany and Cersei, two traditionally feminine women, have sex with other girls occasionally. Want some proof of D&D's inability to write women? I'm gonna give you a little "gift". This is a sample from a short story written some time ago by David Benioff himself, about a man...and a woman's ass, and how he viewed her ONLY as a hot ass, not a human being, an ass, nothing more...
In the books, in the scene where Jaime gave Oathkeeper to Brienne, she also received a pretty blue dress from him (a dress that matches her eyes, Jaime is obsessed with her eyes in the books). And that's significant. Jaime gives her both a sword and a pretty dress, because he's the one who will eventually make Brienne's dreams about knighthood and being a lady come true, probably with marriage included at a certain point in their story (as it's heavily implied in the text many times, one cute and tiny example is in their very erotic fight scene in the books, where, right after, Jaime calls Brienne his wife, for a disguise from the Brave Companions). She literally had a fever dream (that GRRM often uses to tease future events) of Jaime knighting her/marrying her when she was feverish because of Biter. Even though she spent almost her entire life thinking it could never come true, because she was always treated as a beast. (Why couldn't Gwen wear the pretty blue dress in the show? They made her wear the ugly pink Harrenhal dress, but not the pretty blue KL dress...so unfair) And she seemed happy to wear that dress, because it actually looks good on her (at least Jaime thinks it looks good on her) and she rewards him for the gift by blushing all over the place and blabbering about her bodice being padded to have more shape, meaning it was implied that Jaime was staring at her...chest area in that scene, maybe with a surprised look on his face (why else would she start talking about her bodice being padded when he was talking about her eyes? And we know from her POVs that Brienne is quick to notice when people stare at her breasts, like Nimble Dick), which isn't that weird in the books. Jaime is a freaking pervert about Brienne's body from the get go, always noticing her body and trying to stare at her boobs, legs, muscles (like when she did a backflip into the water in Jaime's first POV), and when he saw her naked in the baths...he got hard, and he couldn't stop thinking about her naked for 2 books. He's obsessed with her, no matter how many times he told himself that she's ugly and stubborn, and the fact that Jaime's falling hard, but he doesn't understand it, he's in complete denial or simply unaware, it's hilarious. Everytime his thoughts drift off to her, he doesn't know why (he doesn't know what falling in love feels like, nor how courting works, he was literally born with his first lover)...but the obsession and the attraction is mutual, btw, Brienne was certanly feeling some type of way when she saw Jaime wearing his Lord Commander's attire and cloak and she spent a large part of AFFC just thinking of him, also thinking about what happened in the baths, but she wasn't thinking about the very important things Jaime told her about Aerys, she was busy remembering how hot he was...almost godlike.
And Jaime giving Oathkeeper to Brienne (a Valyrian steel sword Tywin wanted desperately to keep in the family as legacy) is also important because it shows just how much Jaime believed in her. In the books, he saw how crushed she was after the Red Wedding (he actually tried to cheer her up, and he was thinking of keeping her in KL with him) and Brienne thought she failed Cat just like she had failed Renly. And he knew the feeling well, since he still feels guilty for failing to protect Rhaegar's kids and wife. So he gave her an heroic quest to redeem herself and prove her worth. He believes she can rescue Sansa. He believes in her abilities and honor. And the way Brienne treated Oathkeeper so reverently in the books, like she was handling Jaime's own heart, is so special.
Brienne and Jaime are one of his main book couples. So much so that GRRM made their own ancestors fall in love in a prequel book with direct parallels to their story (it's in "The Sworn Sword", the ancestors are Ser Duncan the Tall, Brienne's confirmed ancestor, the most honorable knight of the seven kingdoms, and Lady Rohanne Webber Lannister, Jaime's great-grandmother, a lady with a very bad reputation, the so called "Red Widow"). And book!Brienne and Jaime are influenced by the story of the Beauty and the Beast, GRRM's favorite love story of all time, and this influence was confirmed by GRRM himself, who said that Jaime and Brienne are meant to be his version of that love story, but with genders and roles switched (I mean, Brienne is literally called "The Beauty"...subtle George, really subtle). With the ugly girl making the most beautiful man in Westeros fall for her, and the Kingslayer earning the love of the most honorable and innocent girl in Westeros (The thing book!Jaime loves in a woman is innocence, from what he told to a character called Hildy and he did think of Brienne as "innocent" during their dinner with Roose).
How D&D took a look at that and discarded it all, I have no clue. It's like, at a certain point, they stopped adapting the books and simply took some inspiration from GRRM while writing their own story.
In the books Brienne literally got hanged by Lady Stoneheart in Jaime's place. She was ready to die for him! (Compare that to Cersei asking Jaime to die for/with her in her letter). And the Stoneheart situation is taken from the Beauty and the Beast's original story, where the Beauty at a certain point was forced by the villagers to betray the Beast, and was forced to send him in a trap, because they wanted to kill him. Only magic intervention saved the Beast, and the almost death thing made the Beauty and the Beast realize their feelings. Who knows what's going to happen after Stoneheart...
Brienne is a tough warrior (strong and confident with a sword in her hand) and also a romantic heroine. A girl who constantly gets treated like shit, but remains a good person. A shy, awkward and altruistic girl with a golden and pure heart who hates killing! Her very first kill happens only in book 4 and it's significant because she murders three of the dudes that took Jaime's right hand, and she mutilated one of them as well, to avenge Jaime, she wasn't a killing machine from the start like the show implied, and she was sobbing with tears after the killings (there was no reason for Brienne to start the show as an experienced killer, the realm had been at peace for decades, and she only got involved in the war of the 5 kings to serve Renly, who up to his death didn't fight any battles).
Book!Brienne would have never said something like "you sound like a bloody woman" to a suffering Jaime, after he lost his hand. In the books she merely told him to stop being a coward in that scene. Brienne is not a fucking incel, I have no clue what D&D were trying to do. The real Brienne would never use the word "woman" as an insult. Despite the fact that Westeros is a very misogynistic place in both books and show, Book!Brienne has never shown internalized misogyny. Brienne doesn't hate women or being one. She just hates restrictions.
And Brienne ending up in the KG is the last insult to the injury. The journey GRRM is taking with her, in the books, is a journey to make Brienne understand that being a true knight has nothing to do with stupid vows, celibacy, a white cloak, and always being someone's lapdog. She's learning that being sworn to someone that gives you horrible orders and having to do everything they say, endangering innocents like Pod, like Lady Stoneheart ordering her to kill Jaime for the Red Wedding (which he had no role in and Brienne knows) is fucked up. It's what happened to Jaime when he served the Mad King. That experience turned a pretty idealistic young boy into the troubled man we met later on. Jaime is not shy in saying that white cloak ruined him.
And plus she started her story as a member of Renly's KG only because she was in love with him and she wanted to protect him and die for him if necessary (and in her POVs she remembers that she fell for him because he danced with her, making her feel feminine and delicate, something she always longed for). And it's a parallel to Jaime entering the KG to be close to Cersei, back when he was a teen (something he deeply grew to regret). Brienne was a teen herself when she followed Renly. Now, she's learning that things with a cloak on aren't always what they seem. And also...she's the freaking heir of Tarth, which never meant anything to D&D, but it sure as hell means something to Brienne, and it's obviously gonna be a part of her ending in the books, now that Tarth has fallen thanks to the Golden Company (for all we know she could be the new Lady of Tarth atm). Or the fact that GRRM has given us hints (like Jaime's weirwood prophecy dream, where he sees Brienne's "more womanly body shape", against the zombies that represented the Others) about Jaime and Brienne possibly having a baby at a certain point in the story...like, that couldn't be more night and day from what we got in the show. For example, when in the books Jaime was thinking about fathering another child after Joffrey's death, he started following Brienne immediately after the thought. Or when in his first POV in AFFC, he remembers when he sent soldiers searching for Tyrion in the brothels, which promptly made him think about sex, about new children being conceived, and he immediately started wondering where Brienne was, hoping she was safe and praying for her to the Father... (his thought process was literally: brothels > sex > babies > Brienne). Now, whether they have only one child before Jaime dies in the last book, or if they have a bunch of kids, growing old together, is up to GRRM (I have a few theories on why it might be the second thing, but that would take a long time, but to make it short, I think there's a chance Jaime is going to survive the books, but that has little to do with romantic things or Brienne, I started thinking a long time ago that he could end up as Bran's Hand and help the poor child he crippled in any way he could, by becoming what he always tried to avoid becoming since the very first book: a political figure, especially since in the last books we saw just how much he rocks as a political presence, and there are many hints about this theory I found in the books, but again, it's a long thing, I just like the fact that the very first time Jaime was asked, and refused, to be the Hand was when he pushed Bran...I sure as hell know Tyrion is not gonna be Bran's Hand, he's Martin's villain...and also the ironic twist of the guy that lost a hand becoming the Hand...).
Even the fact that Brienne wrote about Jaime in the White Book in the show...ffs, Jaime wants to do that all of his own in the books. And the important part of the White Book, in the books, is that one of the first things Jaime did when he was back in KL, was to write about Brienne in his bio, of how she took him back to KL safely. In the books, it's Jaime wanting to include Brienne in his life story. In the show, Brienne didn't even include herself in Jaime's bio, WTF! And this happened in the same chapter where he gave Oathkeeper to Brienne, and where he refused to be seduced by Cersei, fought with Cersei, and started thinking of his twin as his ex-lover, long before he also learned she was cheating on him with everything that moved (while he's probably the most faithful guy in Westeros. Jaime is such a romantic at heart that he spent much of AFFC convincing himself that Cersei didn't cheat on him, because that would have meant he wasted decades on a lie, on a failed romance with a cheating bastard, and he wasn't ready to face it.), and that she didn't even remember the place where they first had sex, that's how little he meant for Cersei, they literally broke up two books ago. Somehow all of this in the show happened in the opposite way, with Jaime throwing to the ground the White Book, and fucking Cersei in the Tower, without writing about Brienne...D&D could have simply not added the White Book scene, but no, they decided to include it and make Jaime act in the opposite way he acted in the books...Book!Jaime doesn't want Cersei anymore, and she certainly doesn't want him either (she's busy daydreaming about Aurane Waters and how he reminds her of the one that got away, Rhaegar). They can't stand each other anymore. Hell, Cersei only liked Jaime when he looked like her, basically being her mirror in men's clothes, while Jaime has never liked her because she was his twin, he never asked her to change her appereance to look like him in some way, like she constantly did for him (wanting him to have long hair to match hers, or asking him to shave to have a bare face like her).
And let's not forget how they turned Brienne into a mocking trope with Tormund. I love Tormund, don't get me wrong, but imagine if he was making eyes, making uncomfortable, and flirting (without bothering to learn her name) with a beautiful girl instead, like Sansa or Missandei. The joke would have been so much more distasteful. But Brienne is ugly so, it was okay to mock her with that nonsense right D&D? Do you get it, Brienne is ugly af so it's hilarious that someone wants her, right? Aren't D&D just two masters of comedy?/s Obviously Tormund doesn't even know Brienne in the books, but if D&D actually wanted to add someone trying to get it on with Brienne, why not simply add freaking Hyle Hunt? (or as I like to call him, bootleg Jaime). He's the idiotic but somewhat funny guy that wants to marry Brienne in the books (just to get Tarth), and that has been trying to get in her pants and take her virginity since Renly's camp. The guy who has followed her and traveled with her and Pod for a large part of AFFC, annoying her the entire time, but also starting to respect her. He's literally Brienne's "Gaston". And she hates him, of course...Gosh, I can't wait to see Jaime meet this guy after the Stoneheart situation, and to see him finding out about Hyle's marriage proposal (and the times he tried to seduce her) and the bet on Brienne's virginity...maybe what Jaime did to Brienne's former betrothed will look like a caress in comparison...Martin please, I need Winds.
I can also spend some time complaining about what they did to Jaime.
I always giggle when I remember a comment someone made back in 2016 about Jaime, on GRRM's personal blog. It's a comment GRRM choose to keep and not delete, even if it insulted HBO, back when GOT was still going, and it's about the differences between book and show Jaime. I think it says a lot about what GRRM feels.
D&D literally took any chance they got to make Jaime worse than he is in the books (and that says a freaking lot, since Jaime is no saint and he still has many sins and crimes to answer for, I'm sure his meeting with Lady Stoneheart is gonna be interesting...). Even the way he said "the things I do for love" when he pushed Bran was drastically different: in the show, when Jaime pushed Bran, he seemed uncaring and flippant about what he did, in the books, he was loathing everything about it and he told Cersei that "what happened to the Stark boy in Winterfell" was one of the few things he's ashamed of regarding his love for her (funnily enough he only appears to honestly feel shame for the Bran thing after he came back from his trip with Brienne, so after he met her, before that, in his very first POV in fact, he seemed to be repressing his guilt and shame pretty hard). In the show, Jaime brutally killed his own cousin, in the books, he never did anything like that, he's no kinslayer (not yet, if he's the Valonqar) since kinslaying is actually considered one of the worst sins in Westeros (that's why Victarion still hasn't killed Euron). In the show he brutally murders Karstark's son to escape, after killing his cousin, in the books he killed Karstark's sons in a normal battle, the Wispering Woods one, the fact Karstark then went mad with revenge was just Karstark being Karstark, Jaime was barely fighting in a battle, as usual. In the show, he casually mentioned to Brienne, in a mocking way, that if she ended up raped by the assholes that kidnapped them, she could close her eyes and think about Renly, in the books he did tell her to "go away inside" and think of Renly, but he was serious, he was giving her an heartfelt advice to protect her state of mind and sanity, since we know that back when Jaime was in Aerys's KG he was forced to watch him murder and torture many innocent people, and he was forced to listen to Aerys brutally rape his sister wife, and to keep his own state of mind and sanity, Jaime always used the "go away inside" thing. It's also an advice he gave to Tommen in the books, when Tommen felt sick and puked at Tywin's funeral. He was honestly trying to help! And HE was the one to give the name "Oathkeeper" to the sword, not Brienne. In the books, that was Jaime starting to care again about his honor. It was him having agency, and wanting to be his own person again. Or even the fact they decided to send him to Dorne, instead on focusing on the progress he's currently making as a character in the books. They shouldn't have adapted Dorne in the first place, since they made an horrible mess of it, and it was clear they didn't have a clue about what's the main point of Dorne in the books. They didn't even include Jaime's love for horses and how he stopped naming them because it hurt him too much when they died in battle (and how he gifted a "homely" mare to Brienne, a mare as homely as her Jaime told her, even tho later that turned out to be a rather sweet to look upon mare in Brienne's first POV in AFFC...Jaime giving some backhanded compliments there). They even made Jaime dislexic, simply because one of D&D, forgot which one, is dislexic (how self-centered you need to be to modify an alrealy existing character created by GRRM, to add to him your own real life characteristics?)
A thing that always irked me the wrong way, was how the show adapted the Riverrun situation. In the books, Jaime taking Riverrun without spilling blood is a huge thing for many reasons. Getting to know Brienne inspired him to try being more like her, like the honorable knight he longed to be as a child, but it was his choice, HE decided to keep the vow he made to Cat to never harm a Tully again, even if Cat was dead, and he was keen on taking Riverrun without a blood bath. He used his terrible reputation as the vicious Kingslayer, and made a threat concerning Edmure's son to quickly make him surrender. HE decided to do it like this. It was all him. In the show they took away all of his agency. He took Riverrun "for Cersei", he needed to be convinced by Brienne to act decent, and in the end...the Blackfish died. So take that Cat, show!Jaime contributed to your uncle's death...yay. And also they made him the "stupidest" Lannister, when Cersei is right there who in the books is dumb as a rock...
I also had the displeasure of reading some comments about Jaime and Aerys's death, from people claiming that he only did it to save himself because he didn't wanna die in the explosion. I mean, I have no doubts he wanted to live, but sadly D&D failed to show just how much Jaime did for KL (let's remember that, till the last moment, he was pleading Aerys to not trust Tywin, trying to protect his king from danger, it was Pycelle that told Aerys to trust Tywin, and that was a disaster). In the books, in the famous baths scene where Jaime spilled the beans, he told Brienne that he spent the weeks following Aerys's death, searching for and murdering all the people involved in making the wildfire for the Mad King and everyone who knew about his plan (expect Varys), why?! Because he was scared one of them was gonna finish the Mad King's job. He could have simply fled somewhere safe, leaving KL to its own destiny, but he didn't. He sacrificed his honor and his reputation (which were everything to a 17 years old Jaime, a boy that wanted to become the greatest knight ever) to save KL, because he cared about all the innocents and otherwise (see what I did there?), even if they spent the following years mocking him and whispering "Kingslayer" behind his back. But he decided to tell the truth to Brienne, and she's the ONLY person that knows, the only one he felt the need to open up to (for some reason in s8 Tyrion also knew...why D&D?), because he saw his younger self in her, because she's honorable, honest, good, nice, naive, and everything he wanted to be once upon a time. Because he wanted Brienne to see the real him, because she's the only one who could understand him. Just like he saw the real her, all her hidden beauty underneath her ugliness. They get each other. Even Jaime knows that, since he mentioned to Brienne that they "knew each other too well", in his last POV in ASOS. They are 2 parts of the same sword after all. And seeing that side of Jaime, whom Brienne initially saw just as an horrible monster, also challenged her own vision about how the world works. She realized the world is not just black and white, with just bad or good people. But that things are much more complicated than that. Also, they didn't show the moment where Jaime called Brienne "his protector", when he was talking to Qyburn in Harrenhal in the books...
For all the talk about not giving a shit about what people thought of him, Book!Jaime trew a temper tantrum every time, in the beginning of their journey, Brienne insulted him. And when he gave her Oathkeeper and she immediately assumed the worst of him, that he wanted her to use it to kill Sansa, he got incredibly angry and he was so upset he didn't even want to look at her anymore. He wants Brienne to have a good opinion of him. And since Brienne also inspired him to keep his vows, he now started taking his KG's vows seriously, and he's being chaste, even tho several women tried, in vain, to seduce him...I'm sure Brienne could very well change his mind about that. Chastity doesn't look good for someone as horny as Jaime Lannister, someone who now only longs to have a warm wife in his bed (I love how envious he was of Lancel's marital status in the books).
Jaime is someone who does "things for love".
When it comes to Book!Cersei, his narcissistic twin that abused him for decades, a complete villain who murdered her best friend when she was only 10, that always meant horrible things and crimes. Like when Cersei sent him searching for Arya to hurt her after her fight with Joffrey (in the books). She didn't care that everytime he obeyed her orders to make her happy, she just added another thing he was gonna hate himself for. She only loves her brother as an extension of herself (same with her children and her father). When Jamie started to differentiate himself from her, she started liking him less. Cersei only likes people as far as she can use them to her own ends, and even then she seems to despise everyone. She would always see people as a means of getting control. To her, Jamie was her toy and her hitman. Someone she could control with empty promises of love and a place in her bed. She turned him from the future Arthur Dayne, to the Smiling Knight. She always used to seduce him when she needed something from him. She was always jealous of him, she literally seduced him into giving up Casterly Rock and his rights (basically pulling an ultimatum), to serve her from the KG, just because she always thought the Rock belonged to her (and Cersei is almost right in feeling the way she does, because of Westeros's misogynistic views and laws, but since she's actually the most misogynistic woman in power in Westeros...fuck her). And their relationship is simply abusive and toxic in the books, even tho many people take a look at Jaime, a strong man, and think it's impossible he could actually be Cersei's victim. But just think of Cersei as the man and Jaime as the woman in their relationship. Think of every time Cersei hit, mocked, insulted, berated, gaslighted, manipulated Jaime in the books, but with their genders switched...things get ugly very quickly, don't they?! But apparently, D&D love abuse, and love to show that ugly women don't get to have love, while if you're beautiful, even if you're awful, you can get it... GRRM certainly doesn't agree, and he has already stated in a old interview that in his books Jaime and Cersei are "effectively estranged". And that's how it's gonna obviously stay: Jaime burned Cersei's letter (you know, the one when she begged him to go to her to DIE with her...she's so caring), if she dies or if she lives, in the books, he doesn't give a fuck anymore. He was born holding her foot with his right hand, and GRRM cut off that hand. It was the beginning of their end as lovers. They didn't even knew each other at all: Jaime always perceived an idolized imagine of her. Cersei always saw her twin as cold and evil as her, a male version of her, with no different personality than hers and with no other dreams different from what she wanted or needed from him. They always saw each other as the illusion they had of each other. But now, they started thinking of each other as a stranger in their POVs. And to tell you the truth, Jaime to me always seemed closer to Tyrion than to Cersei in the books. Jaime and Cersei really didn't have much in common.
Meanwhile, the "things he does for love" for Brienne, are all good, since she's the one that reminded him that there's still good in the world. He saved her multiple times, risking his own life for her (from the bear, from the Brave Companions, from Loras), and not just her (Hi Pia, I really love you). She is such a good influence on him, but in the end, it's always him that decides to act on it and be good. You see, Brienne and Jaime were always used to be the ones giving and never receiving, without thinking of their own needs, but just about making the people they cared about safe. But with each other they have the chance to both give and receive. Jaime saving Brienne was monumental for her. Nobody ever cared enough for her to do something like that. And Brienne kinda returns the favor, like when we saw how upset she got at the inn where the innkeeper was insulting the "Kingslayer". Nobody ever cared this much for Jaime (except Tyrion, before they had their falling out). Thanks to Brienne, Jaime started, almost unconsciously, to reclaim his honour, something he thought to have lost as a teen. Jaime already knew what was right and good, Brienne just reminded him that what was right and good still had a place in their world. I was fairly pissed off that D&D made the Tyrells and LF immediately think that Brienne didn't kill Renly, because in the books Brienne being wrongly accused of being a Kingslayer, and Loras wanting her dead for Renly's death, is very important for Jaime and Brienne. Loras's wrath is a huge thing they have to face when they get back to KL. Jaime protecting Brienne and saving her from Loras (even tho, once again, Brienne assumed the worst of Jaime when he imprisoned her to keep her away from Loras, and she inadvertently hurt his feelings), and successfully "brainwashing" him till Loras starts to believe in Brienne's innocence, is important in both their relantionship and also in how the readers view Jaime. But for some reason, again, they didn't bother with it in the show at all. Like how in the show Jaime didn't get his "Payne". In the books they each got a Payne: Brienne has Podrick Payne with her, Jaime has ser Ilyn Payne, as someone to train with (get beat up actually) and as someone he confides his secrets to, without fear that Ilyn's going to reveal them...I mean Ilyn has no tongue and doesn't know how to write...Ilyn is Jaime's silent therapist, basically.
Brienne is the antithesis of Cersei. Cersei is beautiful on the outside but ugly on the inside, Brienne is the opposite. When it comes to Jaime and Brienne, it's just this amazing story of two people who believe they are not worth respect or love for different reasons and have relegated themselves to roles neither want to play. Brienne as a celibate warrior (only way to get any respect in a world where women have very little power outside Dorne), when she wants a family. And Jaimie as a honorless weapon of Cersei, even though he actually has deep conviction and desires to be a good person. It's great because once they are outside of their normal groups, they recognize these positive qualities in each other. For the first time Jaimie actually cares about someone elses opinion besides Cersei, and because Brienne isn't a toxic human she encourages him to care about his own opinions again. But he wants to impress her because she is a good person and he wanted to be like that, but he has been beaten down by an abusive romance for a long time. (Not that he didnt have responsibility for his bad decisions too, but a lifetime of manipulation by a narcissist can seriously mess a person up). And Brienne finds someone who sees her as a whole person. Not just a soldier, not just a lady. He sees all of her as she really is and he believes in her. But beyond that he gives her the idea that she does deserve love and affection, that beauty or obedience aren't the only things valuable a woman has.
Why D&D didn't get how amazing their romance is in the books, so that they could show it in the best way possible in the show, remains a mystery. When GRRM was also working on the show in the earlier seasons, he added a bunch of romantic scenes for them he couldn't include in the books. For example, GRRM wrote the Purple Wedding episode (it was the last episode he wrote for the show), and he wrote Cersei confronting Brienne about her love for Jaime (in the books it didn't happen because Jaime and Brienne weren't even in KL when Joffrey died), or the scene where Loras told Jaime that he was never going to marry Cersei, and then the camera showed Brienne walking in front of them and Jaime looking at her, with The Bear and the Maiden Fair playing in the background. That was all GRRM planting seeds for his plans for them, before he left the show, and we know how D&D managed to royally ruin everything he worked on. They didn't even follow up even with smaller things from the show, like the scene where Jaime and Brienne (and Cleos too in the books) found the dead women hanged for "laying with lions". That scene in the books is not just there to show us how much war sucks and how much the Northern men were just as bad as Lannister's men, but also as a foreshadowing for Brienne's future, since just one book later she was also hanged by Lady Stoneheart and the BWB, after being "kindly" labeled the Kingslayer's whore. In the show it was a simple scene like many others, in the book it had a much deeper meaning. If only D&D bothered to stick with the books more...and please don't tell me that it was because they couldn't adapt LSH in fear that it could have cheepened the Red Wedding (D&D stated that as one of the reasons), because guess what? In the books Cat came back to life but the Red Wedding remains one of the most traumatic experience of reading them, and in the end we "only" lost Robb, his wolf and his men in that tragedy, but in the show there was NO way the Red Wedding could have felt cheepened, we lost Robb, his wolf, his men, his wife and their unborn child, after many episodes of getting to know their romance. And in the end, the Cat we knew is truly lost forever, Catelyn Stark is truly dead in the books, because LSH only has her body, but she's a shell of what Cat was, she has a completely different personality, she's a monstrous zombie thirsting for revenge. So the "it cheepens the Red Wedding" excuse is as valid as D&D's "we basically saw the end of the Dothraki in episode 3" since right after they multiplied like crazy in episode 6 of s8. And I mentioned this because their choice to not adapt LSH has incredibly fucked over both Jaime and Brienne's storylines, and GRRM fought really hard to try and change their minds about not adapting her also for that reason. (Let's not forget that having Cat "come back" from the dead would have made Jon's resurrection less predictable, we would have been wondering what state Jon could have come back: more evil, less human, colder? Or if he would have even come back at all, since we already got Cat "back"). The truth is that the more the show continued, the more D&D wanted to stay away from fantasy elements (their words, not mine), and I personally think it was also because they simply picked and choose what they liked about Martin's story, and had the presumption of thinking they could do a better job than the original author by adding their own ideas and stuff...we know how that turned out.
I apologize in advance for any mistakes, English is not my first language.
TLDR: D&D completely erased many of Brienne's personality traits, and wrote her only as a one-dimensional female warrior. They also somehow decided to make Jaime worse and make him do the exact opposite he does in the books, many times. And they also screwed over their relationship, for no reason. They completely missed the point of their characters.
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Hi! Just found your place and I love your way of writing. 🥰 And it's my first time seeing a ask open so I sorry if I did any mistakes or spelled something wrong. (English is not my first language 😓) May I ask for the door leaders and Jamil (since I like this boy I little too much) being called to calm down their usually calm and collected Fem!S/O that going absolutely feral and beating the living shit of some people that talked bad of them? I just find this funny in my head for some reason 😂
Your English is great so don’t worry about that :). I also like Jamil just a little too much and relate to his situation just a little too much, not exactly the same but a similar sentiment. I hope you enjoy it!
Female Pronouns used upon request
When he was first called, he thought there had to be some mistake. No way his sweet, calm, and well-behaved Rose would start a fight
But sure enough, you were there a student pinned down as you were absolutely whaling on them
He wastes no time using his magic on both of you (though there wasn’t much point in using it on you but it stunned you out of it so it worked)
Once you and the other student are separated, he takes you aside to get your side of the story while another student helped the one you were beating up
You explain with teary eyes that they were calling him a tyrant and heartless and you couldn’t stand it so you just snapped
Riddle is speechless. He doesn’t know what to say because he never had someone defend him to such a degree before. It's sweet really.
He still gives you a detention though as well as a lecture on while it was nice violence wasn’t the answer
Even so he will pick you up when you get out and share some lovely tea together
Ruggie had found him in the garden and told him a fight broke out between you and one of Vil’s pomefiore kids
At first, Leona misunderstood the situation and thought you were attacked so he was ready to fight to help
He couldn’t predict the usually calm and collected girl that hung on his arm all the time was beating the absolute snot out of a kid in a one-sided beat down
He low key thinks its hot
Probably took his phone out and started taking photos
Still, he helps break it up when Vil comes running to protect his dorm mate.
He doesn’t pry at first as he takes you elsewhere (the other kid needs the nurse's office more than you) to clean up your bloody knuckles
“They said you were lazy and pathetic, and I just couldn’t stand it!” You finally admitted and he could only blink in shock. You had gone up to bat for him? A guy like him?
Leona would just chuckle and ruffle your hair, “you have some bite there herbivore but I promise you words like that aren’t going to bother me.”
Still, he doesn’t forget the sentiment
If he hadn’t seen the fight break out with his own eyes, he would have said you were never capable of such actions.
One minute you were standing calmly at his side the next you had a student slammed to a wall after that had called him “a cheating rotten octopus”
Jade had to shake him out of it before he realized him and Floyd were trying to figure out if they should break it up
Azul gave the signal and the twins broke up the fight, the other guy crumpling to the ground
Azul takes you to the side while the twins deal with the collateral damage
“Are you hurt angelfish?” he asks when he notices your crying.
“No, I just hate it when people call you that. Why do you let them its their fault they didn’t read the contract, they didn’t follow through on the deal. So why do they get to attack you like that?”
Azul’s heart squeezed in his chest a little as he brushes your hair out of your face and kisses your head.
“I’m not exactly honest so they aren’t wrong my dear. But I appreciate the sentiment.” then more light-hearted “maybe I should hire you on as a personal guard. that was quite a right hook.”
When Jamil pulled him aside in a panic to get him to break up the fight Kalim thought he was joking.
No way his calm and sweet girlfriend started an all-out brawl in the middle of the hallway
But it was true
It took both him and Jamil to pull you off the poor guy get you separated enough to calm down.
Jamil left the two of you alone while he dealt with the collateral damage
Kalim is already fussing over you making sure you are ok and trying to figure out why on earth there was a fight, to begin with
“They said you were a spoiled brat who only got in on daddy’s money” you said tears pricking at your eyes
Of course, that makes Kalim want to start crying too and so now you are both crying
“You know you shouldn’t fight. besides he wasn’t wrong, I did only get into NRC because of my dad’s money.”
“Maybe but you stayed cause you work hard. So why does that matter?”
Kalim smiles and nuzzles into you for a hug. He can lecture you more later about fighting, for now, snuggles (don’t worry Jamil takes a bite at both of you later for dumb behavior)
The fight broke right out in the dorm so of course he was notified because Kalim had no idea what to do
You were practically strangling one of Jamil’s dorm mates before he managed to pull you off of them and defuse the situation enough that he could take you back to his room to get checked out
Turns out you were fine, most of the damage had been done to the other guy. Still, you were usually so calm and sweet--he didn’t understand what could have happened to make you flip all of a sudden.
“They called you a monster.” You answered quietly when he asked. “They said you were a manipulator and should be kicked out of the school. Like they know what you dealt with for so long. They forgot how much you do for them every day even!”
Jamil can only sigh. He had figured there would be backlash after his Overblot and he had lost the trust of most of the dorm.
“Still, you shouldn’t fight with them. I know its harsh but I can take it. I appreciate the thought though.”
“You shouldn’t have to take it though!”
You were about to cry but all Jamil could do was hold you close. He loved it so much that you cared so much for him. That after everything you stayed by his side. Still, fighting wasn’t going to fix things. But for now, he will let it slide.
Vil is no stranger to fights. People try to pick on with him all the time, thinking he will be an easy match
So he did not expect YOU to get into a fight over it
Poor guy was so out of it he couldn’t even move when Vil finally yanked you off of him
Once Vil has finally checked you over and made sure that you were ok he is checking you over he starts the lecture
“You shouldn’t fight, it isn’t lady-like and it reflects poorly on your character. Honestly, you are so calm and rational usually what could have gotten into you.”
“They started saying you were a pathetic pretty boy. I couldn’t stand it! You work so hard to perfect your craft. So what if you're pretty?”
“Jealous people talk, you shouldn’t pay them mind.” Vil continued to lecture but he still smiles softly. You really were sweet. Wouldn’t raise a hand to help yourself but for him, you would go to war. It was like something in a romance novel.
He had seen the fight break out on the camera and panicked. He didn’t know what to do. He finally sent Ortho to go break it up.
Even with Ortho’s strength, he could see his brother struggling to pull you back and bring you back to the dorm.
Idia is in full panic mode when you are back in the dorm. He doesn’t know the first thing about first-aid but Ortho is able to calmly help patch you up.
“So much gap moe,” Idia finally begins muttering next to you as he watched Ortho work. “Fighting isn’t usually in your character archetype.”
“They said you were a shut-in weeb. Said you were pathetic. So what if you like anime and videogames. Your still a person. You shouldn't be trashed over something you love.”
His face absolutely flames up at the confession that you got into a fight for him
He is touched on one hand but totally embarrassed on the other. He didn’t usually get this kind of CG in his games so he isn’t really sure what to do
He settles for mumbling thanks and resting his head on your shoulder
He doesn’t even have to be told there is a fight, some part of him just KNOWS
Still, that doesn’t prepare him for watching you absolutely destroy some poor student
He separates the two of you with ease and whisks you back to his dorm before too many questions can be asked
Frankly, he doesn’t care why the fight broke out. He was sure if they encouraged your wrath it was deserved. Still, when you give him an answer he is shocked.
“They were trash-talking you. They don’t even know you and they were making up so many lies about how cruel and heartless you were. But that isn’t you at all!”
He smiles and kisses your cheek.
“Humans are so strange. Willing to fight for a loved one but never themselves.”
He thinks it's cute when you pout at his words and chuckles lightly
Still, he can’t get over the feeling of love he has for you. The fragile human who was willing to fight for his honor-bound to do so by nothing but mutual affection for each other.
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I’ll Take Your Man(s)- Part 6
Characters: EZ Reyes x black!reader, Miguel Galindo x black!reader
Summary: The fallout after EZ catches the reader with Miguel.
Warnings: Sorry guys but its mostly angst.
Here’s my masterlist and my taglist if you want to be notified.
EZ Gif Credit: @hvitserkk
Miguel Gif Credit: @xxrouxx
With a lot of yelling and pushing, Angel was finally able to get EZ to leave your porch. Angel felt bad for the kid. EZ was so distraught that Angel was kinda scared to let him drive his bike.
When they finally got back to Angel’s, EZ kicked his couch and yelled “Son of a bitch!”
“Hey man, leave the couch alone. It didn’t do anything to you.”
“My bad. Its just ugh- how the hell did I get here?” EZ sat down on the couch with his head hanging low while he rubbed it.
Angel sat down next to him and hooked his arm around EZ’s neck for comfort. “So, when he was eating her out, did she look like she enjoyed it?”
EZ leaned back and arched one eyebrow at Angel. “Seriously Angel?”
“Yeah, dude. Like was her leg doing that little shaking thing? Did she look spent? Frazzled? Was her hands clawing onto something?”
You did all of those things and it was the worst. In his dreams, EZ always thought that he would see your looks of pleasure because of him, not Miguel. This was truly a nightmare. “Can you fucking not?”
“Oh, someone’s mad.” Angel taunted EZ with a baby tone as he pinched his cheeks.
EZ slapped his brother’s hands away. “Angel, this is serious! Y/N’s basically fucking Galindo!”
Angel went to his refrigerator and threw EZ a beer. “I know. And I was serious when I told you that you needed to lock that down before Miguel got to her but now it’s too late.”
Unacceptable. No way that was going to happen. You were his and no one else’s. “I made a mistake earlier by letting that bitch Emily play me. “
Angel’s eyes bulged at the disdain on EZ’s tongue. The most malicious he’s ever heard him talk about Emily was him ranting about how he couldn’t get her out of his head. “Um, you do realize you called Emily a bitch?”
“And what did she do to deserve that?”
EZ gave him the cliff notes version. If he went in depth he would hop on his bike, drive to Emily’s house and choke the life out of her.
Once EZ was done with the story, Angel sat there on shock. He didn’t think Emily was capable of all that. “That’s cold man. But fuck Emily, how are you going to get your girl back?” Angel believed the two of you belong together. Just because his supposedly genius brother fucked things up doesn’t mean he couldn’t get back in the game.
“I sorta got something. I just hope it works.”
Angel slapped EZ’s thigh. “Lay it on me, baby bro.” He was going to sit there and listen to give his approval or disapproval. There was no way Angel was going to let Ezekiel fuck this up further and you consequently end up with Miguel.
Even if the night turned soured towards the end, it was Miguel’s best one in some time.
Emily was in bed, reading a book awaiting his return. “You’re home late. Again.”
“Busy night.” Miguel began undressing and immediately Emily noticed the scratches on his back.
“Busy with Y/N?” She said your name with such venom when all she really wanted to do was cry. How could she lose her husband and Ezekiel to you? For God’s sake you were just a freaking bartender. Nothing special at all.
Miguel looked back at his wife and arched an eyebrow. “Busy as you are with the Prospect.”
“I’ve never slept with him!” Emily hopped out of bed and pushed against Miguel’s chest.
Besides yanking her hands off his body, he gave Emily no reaction. “Tell me wife,” he spouted off the title with disdain. “What kind of person threatens to take away the insurance of a sick man who’s almost on death’s door? At one time, I knew it couldn’t be my wife, but now I don’t know.”
“Miguel, I-,” Emily caressed his face and tried to kiss him despite the smell of another woman on his lips.
“No!” Miguel sidestepped her and went towards the door. “Stay away from Y/N, that’s an order.”
“Where are you going?” She asked when he was halfway out the door.
“To sleep in the guest room. I can’t sleep in the bed with someone I can’t trust.”
Anger coursed through Emily’s blood. First EZ and now Miguel. What? Would you take her son next? Replace her as the new Mrs. Galindo? Nope, not gonna happen. Emily had to get rid of you.
The next day was so weird for you. As soon as you woke up there was instant regrets. You told EZ your oldest secret in hopes to break his heart like he did yours. Then you went against your morals by letting a married man eat you out. Now you probably ruined the best relationship in your life.
Thankfully, Kennedy was scheduled to work today because you needed a mental health day. Most of the day consisted of you aimlessly walking around town. You were so out of it that you didn’t notice the car following behind you.
At some point you decided to get a manicure. Big mistake. The white witch was there as well. You wanted to walk out as soon as you saw her, but you wouldn’t let her have that type of hold over you.
The nail salon was quiet. They might not have known what transpired last night, but they felt the tension.
The Fates weren’t on your side today, because unfortunately you and Emily finished and left at the same time.
“Y/N,” Emily saccharinely called you.
“Yes, Mrs. Galindo?” You returned the same energy.
Emily did her best to seem intimidating as she walked up to you while you did your best to keep in your laughter. This ho wasn’t scaring anybody.
“Yes, I am Mrs. Galindo and it’s best that you remember that. Right now, your Miguel’s little fetish, his new exotic toy and just like any toy you’ll eventually get thrown away.”
Were you guilty about kinda sleeping with Miguel? Yes. But were you about to let Emily know that? No. She made it really hard to be the bigger person. Forever First Lady, Michelle Obama would just have to forgive you. She shouldn’t have put so much faith in you anyway.
“Hmm, see I don’t consider myself a toy. Ask your husband how’s the new beard moisturizer working out for him.”
This time Emily was coming at you with a closed fist. At least she was finally learning. You went to dodge the swing, but you never felt the gush of wind from it.
“Not here, Mrs. Galindo.” Nestor engulfed Emily’s fist with his hand. “You know Miguel wouldn’t approve.”
Emily took a deep breath to compose herself. “You’re right. Not in the public like this. Actually, can you take me home? I need to do some work for me and my husband.” She went for the door handle, but Nestor blocked her. “Nestor, what are you doing?”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Galindo but Paco can take you home. I’m to escort Ms. Y/L/N.”
If you weren’t in shock yourself, you would’ve reveled in Emily’s confusion. This was too surreal.
“Ms. Y/L/N,” Nestor held the door open for you and gestured for you to get in. You did so you could tell Miguel that all of this could end, but Emily didn’t need to know that. While the car peeled away, you winked and blew a kiss at Emily. It was faint to the eye, but you could see her white tears and it brought you a little bit of joy. Serves her right after trying to fuck with your family.
You thought the charade would be up and Nestor would take you back to your car, but it didn’t happen. Instead, he took you to the head honcho.
As soon as you stepped through the door, Miguel had you in his arms, checking to see if you’re okay.
“Miguel, I’m fine. Its good that your thug brought me here. What happened last night will not happen again.” You winked at Nestor, who was currently sporting a frown.
Two steps forward and one step back. Miguel could never get far with you. He knew his marital status was making things difficult for you, but he was genuinely interested in you. So, maybe eating you out as delectable and amazing as it was, maybe he should’ve waited longer.
“Of course, whatever you want. Where would you like Nestor to drop you off? Home or somewhere different?”
Okay, what was that? Miguel has never been that agreeable. Maybe he just wanted to eat you out and that was it. That couldn’t be too bad. You ain’t fuck him and you still got your nut. It’s a win-win situation. “Um, somewhere else.” There was one place you’ve been meaning to go but haven’t had the time.
“Great. He’ll wait til you’re done.”
The instinct to decline the offer was on the precipice, but you didn’t want to argue with Miguel which would eventually lead to spending more time with him. “It won’t be long. You’ll have your favorite henchman with cornrows back real soon.”
Miguel kissed your temple. “How generous of you. Have a good day, Y/N.”
Kinda curtsying you gave him a head nod. “You too, Miguel.”
Leaning against his desk, Miguel watched Nestor escort you out of his house. You may have thought this was the end, but, this was only the beginning.
First, you had Nestor take you to get some tacos and then to the cemetery. Life has gotten so crazy, you haven’t made your monthly visit to your mom, but now you needed to more than ever.
“Hey, mama. I know it’s been a while. My life has been a shit show.” A warm breeze caressed your skin like a hug. “Thanks, mama. Things with Daddy is not getting easier and then there’s EZ and Miguel.”
As if she were next to you, you could clearly hear your mom ask, “Galindo? What are you doing with that man?”
“See the thing is…” Then a crack of thunder vibrated through the sky. Your mom hated when you would beat around the bush.
“Okay, lady calm down. I’m pretty sure you know everything already. But in case you don’t I kinda started flirting with Emily’s husband just to be petty and now I think he actually likes me and the crazy part is I might like him too.”
You could feel your mom’s disapproving glare from up in the sky. First thing first, she hated everything associated with the Galindo Cartel. To her they were unnecessarily cruel. She would go over to the border time to time to help out people who lost their families to the cartel. To see them suffer like that put her off the Galindo name forever, even if it was Miguel’s father and not him.
“I know, I know, but,” you sighed and you could feel yourself daydreaming about Miguel like some damn schoolgirl. “Mama, he makes me feel…wanted, desired. And its just not sexual. I haven’t felt that way in a long time.”
“What about, Ezekiel?” You could hear her say. From the moment she met him, your mom told you that EZ was your soulmate and that he would be your husband. Naturally, you blew her off and chalked it up to her being old-fashioned, since she wasn’t accustomed to seeing the opposite sex being best friends (even though way in the back of your mind, you noticed she didn’t say the same about Angel.)
“He’s got his head so far up Emily’s ass that he doesn’t even notice me. Mama I love that man so damn much it hurts.” A couple of tears fell down your face. This was the first time you admitted out loud that you loved EZ. “He doesn’t want me. I’m just his loyal best friend. Miguel on the other hand…”
A crack of thunder and a lightening strike occurred in the clear blue skies. “I was just kidding…about the Miguel thing, not EZ.”
Not wanting to dwell on the disaster you call a love life, you changed the topic. Talking about your dad wasn’t any better. At least you know when he passes, he’ll be with your mom.
“Bye, mama. I gotta go talk to Ms. Marisol.” You pressed a kiss to her tombstone and went to the other side of the cemetery.
Marisol Reyes technically wasn’t here. Mr. Felipe kept her ashes at the house, but he still bought her a tombstone.
Halfway there and you bumped into EZ, who seemed like he was going the opposite direction, where your mother was at. “Hey,” you both awkwardly greeted each other.
“Why are you here?” He questioned you.
“To talk to my mom. Is that okay with you?”
“Y/N, I’m so-,”
You held up your hand to stop him. “Not here, Ezekiel. The only reason I’m not cussing you out is because this is sacred ground.”
He wanted to fight it, but EZ knew better. If he pushed you it would only piss you off further. “Okay, give Mom a kiss for me. I’m gonna go talk to yours.”
You nodded at him and continued your trek to Marisol’s plot. “Hi, Ms. Marisol, I bet you already know all the tea.” Your mom and EZ’s mom were the best of friends. When you and EZ became friends, so did they. Sometimes they would arrange “playdates” even though you two were way pass the age for playdates.
Ten minutes later and you were done talking to Ms. Marisol. As you approached Nestor’s car, you saw Angel sitting on his bike, smoking a cigarette. “C’mon Trouble, we need to have that talk.”
“You can go back to, Miguel.” Nestor looked like he didn’t want to go, but then he remembered Miguel’s instructions. Whatever you want. “Yes, Miss. Y/N, please tell Mr. Galindo when you make it home.”
Angel got up from the bike and stomped out the cigarette. “She’s with family. She’ll be safe.” He didn’t like the implication that you were possibly in danger with him.
Nestor pushed off the SUV. “Mr. Galindo, would like to know her whereabouts.”
Angel pushed you behind him and stepped up to Nestor. “Tell him he needs to worry about his wife and not my sister.”
Not again. You stood between the two men. “That’s enough,” you pushed Angel back. “I’ll text you Nestor.” You soothed him as you got on Angel’s bike.
Angel peeled off before you could hear Nestor’s reply. Soon, the two of you were pulling into your favorite burger joint. “I already ate.”
“So?” Angel nudged your shoulder. “I’m hungry. You can watch me eat.”
“Why would I want to torture myself like that?” You shuddered at the thought. “Its gonna be the worst horror movie.”
Angel rolled his eyes and gently pushed you into the restaurant. You picked a booth while you waited for Angel to order his food.
He returned with a shake and loaded fries for you, and a shake, curly fries and burger for him. Angel began digging into his food. He didn’t say anything until he was halfway done. “Out of all the men in Santo Padre, why Galindo? You can honestly have any man you want.”
“Not any man,” you mumbled and took a sip of your shake.
Angel tilted your chin. “Yeah, that dumbass too. He loves you.”
“Like a best friend. Like a sister.” The only reason EZ was coming back crying because his heart was shattered because Emily turned out not to be the person, he thought she was. As usual, you were treated like an option. “And to answer your question, Miguel didn’t treat me like a second option. I won’t see him anymore though. Being a side chick is not for me. Maybe I’ll date Medina. Stockton isn’t bad.”
Angel threw his burger down and stared at you. “No more Mayans! And you and EZ are perfect for each other. I actually fought him about it.”
You smacked your lips and kicked him. “No way, you’re lying.”
“True story. It was right after she came to him after the whole thing at the church in Santo Madre.”
They had just gotten back to the clubhouse after that whole thing with Cole and getting that guy over the border. EZ was in a rush because he saw a text from you, and you didn’t seem okay. He needed to check on you.
“Imma clean up and then I’ll talk to Y/N.” EZ told Angel as he walked to the trailer. He knew you were inside the clubhouse waiting for him.
“Aww, you gotta get all pretty for your crush, how sweet.”
“Fuck you,” EZ shoved Angel.
As soon as Angel walked into the clubhouse, he could tell something was wrong. Angel noticed you didn’t have your usual jovial disposition. “What’s wrong killer?” Angel nudged your shoulder.
“Everything. Work, Dad, and just a bad mental health day. Where’s Boy Scout?” You craned your neck to see if EZ walked in.
“Wow, what am I? Chopped liver?” Angel threw up his hands.
“Sorry, Angelito.” You kissed his cheek.
“You’re good,” Angel patted your hand. “He’s in the trailer. I’ll go get him now.”
Angel was in for a surprise when he opened up the trailer door. He was going to kill his little brother. EZ’s over here canoodling with Emily while you needed him.
Emily said her apologies and ran out.
“What are you doing?” Angel kept EZ in the trailer.
“She came to me.”
“She’s all fucked up, Angel.”
“That’s not your worry.”
“And that’s not your call.”
“When we finish this thing with Adelita, you can go tear up all the high school pussy you want. But until then, seeing her? It’s a bad fucking idea. Don’t do it. Better yet, forget about Emily and worry about your best friend. She’s a fucking wreck and needs you. Go be a better friend.” Angel was so pissed off. It wasn’t even the whole Emily situation that had him pissed. It was EZ’s neglect of you.
The boys got into a little tiff until they bump into a family photo. Marisol wouldn’t have wanted that. She hated when they fought.
“I hear you…about Emily. I got your back Angel. No matter what.”
“I got you too hermanito. But you gotta stop being a bitch and man up. You like Y/N. You’ve liked her since fucking middle school. Ask her out. She’s gonna say yes.” He punched EZ in the shoulder.
EZ got up and punched the table. “I know! That’s the problem. Y/N, she,” EZ couldn’t stop smiling as he thought about you. Your smile, your kindness, your lame puns, your beautiful face. “She’s too good for me. Y/N deserves better. The club is great, but what is Y/N going to do with some ex-felon now turned biker? I don’t add any value to her life.”
Angel heart sunk for his brother. He knew the feeling except it was with his actual family. “You’re not doing either one of you any favors by stalling the relationship. But if you insist on being a dumbass, at the very least be there for her. Right now, I could barely see any of the light in her eyes. She’s going through it.”
Angel didn’t notice but you followed behind him. When he got to the trailer, there you saw Emily leave. She looked rough as hell. Like someone beat her up. You heard from EZ about someone kidnapping her kid. You hoped her injuries were from that and not Galindo. From what you heard about him, he was brutal. Even Emily didn’t deserve that.
“Lord give me strength.” You whispered to yourself and ran after Emily.
She cringed when she noticed it was you calling her name. “Yes?”
“You okay? I know you have a lot going on with your family. Do you need anything?” Emily better be grateful that you were trying to be a better person.
Emily sneered and backed away from you. “My family is none of your concern. Besides, what could you possibly do for me?”
Unbelievable. See this is why Michelle Obama had you fucked up with the go higher thing. You were trying to be a good person, and everything backfired. Just as you opened your mouth to say something fucked up, you felt your mother’s spirit. She calmed you down just enough. “My bad. I hope everything turns out fine for you Mrs. Galindo.”
Walking back, you saw Angel walking out of the trailer. He looked a little rough. Right behind him was EZ and he looked just as rough. They must have gotten into it. Idiots.
Angel witnessed your eyes light up when you saw EZ. Yeah, you two were perfect for each other. “Tell her, dumbass.” Angel punched him in the middle of his chest. From afar he watched the two of you interact with each other. If the two of you didn’t get together soon, he was going to have to intervene and play cupid.
EZ was afraid of you? Or more specifically afraid of not being enough for you? No way. “That’s nice Angel, but you don’t have to lie for your brother.”
Angel reached across the booth and flicked your ear. “I’m not lying. You should know better than that.”
“How’s Adelita?” Enough talk about you and your disastrous love life.
Angel threw a fry at you. “Nice try, hermanita, but we will not get off subject.”
Folding your arms on the table, you leaned forward. “That bad, huh?”
Angel threw his body back and groaned. “Yes. I’m a catch, right? Like I’m tall, cute as hell, and I would love the fuck out of that woman. Why won’t she give me a chance?”
You sat on Angel’s side of the booth, kissed him on his cheek, and took a picture of it. “There,” you handed him his phone back with the picture as his lock screen. “Maybe she just needs a little jealousy push.”
“You evil genius,” Angel kissed the side of your head. “Let’s take you home. You have work tonight?”
Angel grabbed your food and threw it away. “Cool, me and the guys-,” You glared at him, because me and the guys meant him, Coco, Gilly, and EZ. “Without EZ,” Angel corrected himself and snapped your helmet on. “Plus, I don’t want Galindo near you.”
Always the overprotective one. You kissed Angel’s cheek. “Have I told you lately that you’re my second favorite Reyes?”
“EZ’s still in first place even if you’re mad at him?” Angel shook his head at you.
“Nope, EZ has always been number 2. Mr. Felipe is always my number 1 Reyes.”
Angel nodded his head. “Fair. Now let’s go. I know you’re gonna be sleepy.”
It had been days since you seen EZ or Miguel. And honestly it was quite refreshing, but it was all coming to an end. Bishop asked if you could bartend for the night. There was supposed to be a big party with the other charters and the Sons. EZ wouldn’t be enough help.
You got there at the time asked. Bishop wanted you to see the inventory so you could see if it would be enough. Unfortunately, it was all a set-up. This was an intervention.
“Fellas, what is this?” You eyed each Mayan. Their concern was too sweet for you not to be annoyed. For some outlaw bikers they were hella cute.
As president, Bishop was the one to speak up. “Princesa, whatever is going on with the Prospect is between you and him, but Galindo we will intervene.”
You kissed each man on the cheek. “Guys, I love every one of you, but trust me nothing is going on between me and Mr. Galindo. In fact, I haven’t spoke to him in days.”
Taza held and kissed your hand. “Keep it that way.”
“Hey, can you at least say hi to the Prospect or something?” Coco blurted. “He’s steadily fucking up thinking about you.”
Between you being mad at him and Angel being mad at him as well, EZ was a wreck. Angel refused to work with him which made everything awkward and EZ was just distracted with thoughts of you. They all caught him multiple times stalking your social media, typing a comment and then deleting it to just type and delete it again.
“Not my problem, Coco Cruz.” You winked at him and went to the supply closet to check out the liquor. In there you found the one man you’ve been avoiding.
“YN,” EZ almost dropped the case of beer. You were the most beautiful sight he seen in days. “How are you doing?”
“I was having a good day and then I saw you, so there’s that.” You brushed past him and looked at all the liquor.
EZ set the case down and thought about what he could say. Nothing was coming to mind. “Baby, talk to me.”
You swung your neck towards him. “I’m not your baby, lets get that straight. And you lost the privilege to talk to me when you put that bitch before me.”
He got that. He understood your anger. This was what he deserved. He should’ve told you his true feelings all those years ago and he wouldn’t have to worry about you and Miguel. “Be mad at me all you want, but it was always you. I was just too much of a dumbass to act on it.”
“Like JoJo said, too little, too late.” You shoved him.
EZ took your wrist and pulled you against him. He could get lost in your big doe eyes forever, even if they were full of anger.
“It’s never too late. I deserve everything, but it’s never too late. I won’t give up, not on you. I’m a fucking idiot, but I will prove to you I fucking deserve you. No amount of apologies will ever make up for what I did, how I disappointed you, but I’ll show you just how sorry I am.”
“Now you want me? Why? Did Emily finally tell you to fuck of? Or you finally saw her as the evil bitch that she is?” You smacked your lips and put your chin in between your fingers as if you were thinking. “Oh, or maybe you just want to use me as your therapist because now you finally understand that she killed your baby out of vindictiveness.”
Your heart slightly broke when you saw EZ drop your wrist and grab onto his kutte. He never told you, but you being an expert in all things EZ, you knew he used that as a defense mechanism. When he felt unsafe or vulnerable, that was his go to stance. He never did that with you. If you weren’t overcome with anger, you would’ve addressed it, but at the moment you couldn’t care.
EZ nodded to himself as he took that jab. “I deserve that. I deserve everything you’re giving to me, but don’t stand here and spout facts like you know how I feel.”
“Actions speak louder than words, Ezekiel!” Your voice was now louder. There was not one fuck given about who could hear your argument.
“I fucking know that, YN!” He was yelling out of frustration more at himself than you. “I’m trying to make that shit up to you. Since middle school I’ve been in love with you. Timing just got in the way.”
It was all a trick. Those words couldn’t have came out of EZ’s mouth. Just as you were about to question him, Angel came in.
“Everything alright?” Angel kept his eyes on you. He wasn’t going to acknowledge EZ’s presence.
“Yeah, we’re good.” You brushed past Angel at the door. Your troubles with EZ was stuffy enough but add in his and Angel’s bullshit it was downright unbreathable.”
For the first time in weeks the brothers were in the same room alone. “Take the liquor to the bar, Prospect.” Angel turned his back on him but then he faced him once more. “Fix this shit with YN, because if she spills another tear over you, I’m beating your ass.”
“I will.” Angel shut the door on EZ before he could finish the sentence.
He was going to keep his word. EZ would earn your trust and love back and then he could work on his brother next.
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Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) x Female Reader/You
Rating: Explicit, NSFW
Warnings: Language, vaginal fingering, public sex, car sex, unprotected vaginal sex, mild choking, mention of bodily fluids, shitty exes, petty Rio (yaaaass)
Word Count: 5.8K
Summary: Part 6. Feelings were shared. Where does that leave you and Rio? A dinner with your ex? A car in a dark parking lot?
A/N: The last part is here! Though as I said yesterday I am definitely not calling this the end. I have lots of ideas for Rio and I’ve thought about adding to this in the future as inspiration hits. I’ve also thought about developing a Rio x OFC fic and/or something for Beth x Rio. I’ve had a lot of fun writing and exploring his character so I’m nowhere near close to done. And I also need to shoutout the ladies from the discord for this part. They suggested it and I ran with it (as I do). So big thank you to @woahitslucyylu, @whatupitshuff, and @fvckthisbxtchup! You inspired this. Be proud of yourselves. Anyway, I hope you guys like it. Feedback is that good shit. 💗
*Read Part 1 here
*Read Part 2 here
*Read Part 3 here
*Read Part 4 here
*Read Part 5 here
*Give and Take series masterlist
*Masterlist in bio.
He sighed, turning off the engine and checking his phone one last time for messages. The restaurant lot was full, patrons shuffling in and out of the newest establishment in downtown Detroit. It was in a historic building that had obviously recently been renovated, though efforts had been made to keep its old world charm. The restaurant was a place he’d yet to visit and this impromptu pop-up offered the perfect opportunity for him to do so.
Rio exited his vehicle into the cool air of the night. It wasn’t frigid, but it was enough for those outside to don a jacket. He stuffed his hands into his pockets as he made his way to the entrance, noting the stylish fashions of most of the restaurant's occupants. He didn’t worry about the supposed dress code. Wearing black often gave him an air of sophistication, even with the tattoo splashed across his throat. It was a duality he’d mastered over the years. The tattoo kept him grounded to his roots. His nature. His business. The wardrobe kept him aligned with the civilian world. People would often eye his throat warily, suspicion clear in their gaze. But one look at the clean lines of his pressed shirt and somehow they’d come to the conclusion that he’d made a mistake as a young kid. Got involved in the wrong crowd. Hadn’t gotten around to getting the hideous atrocity on his neck removed. They believed what they wanted to believe.
He smiled at the passing elderly couple as he held the door open for them, their smiles making their eyes crinkle at the edges. They probably thought he worked there. He stepped through the threshold, taking in the dim lighting and soothing melody of jazz that filtered through the space. His eyes scanned the open area with practiced diligence until he found what he was looking for amongst the black booths that ran the length of the right wall. They were high and designed for privacy, but he could spot your face anywhere.
The hostess greeted him and he politely gestured to the booth you sat at, easing by the podium as she took a moment to trail her eyes along his body. He smirked at the blatant attempt at flirtation, not bothering to return the sentiment. Instead, he weaved through the aisles of tables as he made his way towards you.
Your brow was tensed, your lips pursed. The discomfort showed on your features, all the way down to your stiffened shoulders. He watched as you took a sip from your wine, nodding along to whatever the person across from you had said. When he came into view, your eyes widened, almost comically so. He grinned, finding your shock amusing. It was the exact reaction he was going for.
“Hey mama, sorry I’m late.” He announced as he made it to the table. He ignored the couple sitting with you and leaned down to press a kiss to your temple, feeling you sway into it despite your obvious surprise.
“Uh...h-hi.” You choked out, shifting over so that he could slip in next to you.
He shed his jacket as he sat down, pulling you close once he’d gotten comfortable. You let him maneuver you, still trying to understand why he was there. He could see the slight panic in your eyes, as if he were here for business purposes, crashing a dinner as a strategic move. But that couldn’t have been farther from the truth.
His eyes finally met Paul’s, your ex, and then slid over to his fiancé’s at his left. They both looked just as stunned as you, except for the displeasure that radiated from Paul’s gaze and onto him. His fiancé, Erica, he thought her name was, looked intrigued; curious about his arrival.
“Sup, man…” Rio greeted, extending his hand for Paul to take. He let it hang in the air for a moment, eyes trying to remain unflinching against his. After only a second, the man broke eye contact. He reluctantly took Rio’s hand and shook it, his palm sweaty and warm.
“Who is this?” Erica questioned after she realized no one was going to introduce him.
“Oh, um...sorry. This is Rio.” You replied shakily, looking at him as if trying to convince yourself that he wasn’t a figment of your imagination.
He noticed your nervousness and rested his left hand on your bare knee, gently squeezing in silent reassurance. He felt you relax immediately, your body uncoiling beside his and once again seeking out his touch.
“Nice to meet you.” Rio smoothly directed to Erica, taking her offered hand. She smiled back in return, her lips painted a vivid pink. It was a harsh shade and one that made her look like she’d been playing dress-up. He knew from the comments you’d made to him that Erica was not the woman you’d caught Paul with during your marriage. It’d been someone different. Someone from his firm. But you’d quickly pieced together that there had been many throughout the years. All slightly younger and the exact opposite to you in appearance.
Rio let his eyes covertly take in the woman across from him. She wasn’t unattractive. But she also wasn’t someone he’d ever think about leaving you for.
“You’ve met Paul. And this is Erica.” You stated, hand gesturing to the uncomfortable-looking couple across the table.
Rio nodded in their direction, Paul’s stare still unmoving. He sat straight and rigidly, the arm that sat around Erica’s shoulders now taut and awkward looking. He found satisfaction in that. He let his own arm rest comfortably across your shoulders, his fingers dancing along your upper arm in soothing patterns. He felt you shiver in response.
“We didn’t know you were coming.” Erica said with a smile, giggling for whatever reason.
“Oh yeah, last minute change of plans.” He propped his chin into his hand and met your eyes, seeing the relief in them.
You’d told him about the dinner three nights ago when he’d been at your house. He was in your bed, lounging against the headboard after he’d fucked you on the stairs. And then once again on the dining table. You were checking your phone, mumbling curses to yourself when he’d asked you what was wrong. You’d complained about your ex and how he was now suggesting a dinner alone with you and his fiancé to “talk some things over”. The whole thing seemed innocuous enough to him, but you’d insisted Paul had an ulterior motive, which according to you, never meant anything good. You’d been worried ever since. Anxious about having dinner alone with them and dreading the reason he wanted to meet.
Rio had funneled the information out, not giving it much thought because your ex was none of his business. But something had struck him the night before when you’d called. He’d been going over some of his books, mind completely focused on numbers, when his phone rang. You were in the bathtub, voice tinged with ease and alcohol. Just wanted to hear your voice, you’d said. And for some unknown reason, that sliver of vulnerability made his chest feel tight. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it since.
The newest development in your situation was slow-going. After that night in his car and the semi-proclamation of feelings, you’d both taken cues from the other, waiting for someone to speak up and declare...something. None of that had happened though. What had happened was amazing sex on the regular and sporadic outings to dine. He preferred not to call them dates because they really hadn’t been. They were usually moments right after a round of rigorous sex when neither of you had eaten. It was usually a decision agreed upon mutually and without fanfare. Just two people who were hungry and accompanying the other. The barest of human needs. Just like the sex. It was satiation.
But even he knew that there was an underlying current of unsaid words. Which is why your tipsy admission had startled him. For so long you’d both denied what was so obvious. It was practically a subconscious act now. And he realized, as long as he let you dictate the speed, you’d come to him. As long as he didn’t push or ask for more, you’d show up. And you had. So now, so was he.
“Something to drink?” The waiter asked, interrupting the tense moment.
“Vodka on the rocks, please.” Rio replied, the waiter nodding and disappearing into the fray.
“So, Rio…” Paul finally spoke up, clearing his throat as he straightened his tie. It seemed he’d found his voice. “I take it you don’t actually deal with home plumbing.” He said the sentence snidely and with a poignant glance in your direction. “So what is it that you do?” He finished, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.
He could feel you tense up beside him.
“I own a couple of businesses.”
“What kind of businesses?” Paul retorted, an eyebrow raised in doubt.
“The kind that do business.”
A moment of silence stretched out as Paul took in the nonanswer. Rio could see the wheels working in his head, see him weighing the pros and cons of arguing with him on the matter. The man opened his mouth, more than likely to continue to probe, but Erica beat him to the punch.
“How’d you guys meet?” She implored with an excited gleam, clearly hoping for a magical meet-cute moment that had never happened.
“Bar bathroom.” Rio said with a smug smile, enjoying the sputtered cough you expelled.
“He means outside of a bar bathroom. We sorta ran into each other.” You hastily lied, biting into your lip when his arm shifted off your shoulders and under the table, landing on your knee once again. He let his palm glide over the swatch of skin afforded to him by your dress, feeling your thighs clench together the higher he got.
“That’s adorable.” Eric chimed in, a genuine smile plastered on her pink lips. The same couldn’t be said for Paul, who looked as if he’d tasted something bitter.
Rio snickered because nothing about what either of you had been doing in the time since you’d met was adorable. It was the exact opposite. And he thrived off of it.
He turned his attention on you, hovering close to your ear, his fingers trailing along your inner thigh as he ignored the other diners at the table. “You good, mama?” He rasped, knowing what the action did to you.
Your eyes weren’t on him. They were shifting anxiously between Paul and Erica, concerned with the proximity of his lips and hand. Of course, they couldn’t see his arm disappearing beneath your dress, but they did notice the intimacy of the moment. Erica’s eyes looked on in admiration while Paul’s darted to anywhere but the two of you.
“Yeah.” You breathlessly replied, your own hand coming to rest on his. You squeezed and then set your gaze on his, reassuring him.
His eyes flicked to your mouth, the flesh wet from both your lipstick and your tongue. He licked his own as he got lost in thoughts of tasting you.
You nodded, your eyes following the movements of his tongue, seemingly just as entranced as he was.
The moment was shattered with the waiter bringing Rio’s drink and taking food orders. It was for the better. He couldn’t very well fuck you on the table, though he’d save that fantasy for nights when he couldn’t have you.
Everyone kept the conversion polite and vague, choosing to stay away from certain topics. It was rigid and uncomfortable for everyone involved, unsurprisingly so. The subject transitioned to the kids, upcoming events and appointments being the main points. The food arrived and Rio busied himself with eating an exquisite dinner. The food was delicious and he had a fleeting thought about investing into something like this. He owned the bar and had arrangements with other small businesses, but he’d been hesitant to enter the restaurant realm. It was tricky. There were always new places offering something no other eatery could. He’d have to get with the owner, Joel Pinet. Rio knew him from around the neighborhood. His own bar was only a couple of blocks away and he’d met Joel on more than one occasion, the man a regular in his establishment.
“What’d you mean you won’t be here this summer?”
Your question brought him back to the moment, the irritation in your voice making him alert. His dark eyes settled on Paul as he twirled his fork in his pasta. The action annoyed Rio.
“Erica and I are going to Europe over the summer.”
“He promised to take me.” She chimed in, giddy and blissfully unaware of the anger mounting between the exes.
Your narrowed gaze bounced between the two, your irritation palpable. You were stiff as your spine straightened against the booth. “What about the kids? The summer is when they have time with you. They look forward to it.”
Paul raised his hand in a placating gesture and Rio noticed how your lips pinched together in response, as if physically restraining yourself from saying something. You were a better person than he was. The man across from him was barely that, and barely one that deserved your attention, much less the wasted love of a ruined marriage.
“I’ll make it up to them. But we’ve had this trip planned for months.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me that?”
“Because I knew how you’d react.”
“Yeah, because the summer is your time, Paul.”
Paul sighed, as if frustrated with your reasonable argument. “So we’ll switch. You’ve had to have my help with alternating weekends when stuff comes up.”
“For work. Not a trip to fucking Europe.” You seethed, voice low but spewing with venom.
Rio only looked on, silently admiring your ability to not beat the guy’s ass. He deserved it. He was a piece of shit husband and an even bigger piece of shit father.
“The kids will be fine. We’ll be gone for a few weeks and then they can come stay with us for the remainder of the summer.” He brushed off your concerns, seeing no real issue with forgoing time with his children to peruse foreign streets.
Rio scoffed at the boldness. The action didn’t go unnoticed.
“Something to say?” Paul directed at him, his chest posturing in a show of male dominance.
Rio laughed lowly, amused by the man’s antics. How you’d ever ended up with someone like that was a mystery to him. After seeing your determination, your fire, Rio had been enthralled. He’d recognized something raw inside of you. Something that matched him. Outwardly, you appeared to be opposites. Strangers from two different worlds. But inside you were more alike than either of you really understood. There was something waiting to be uncaged within you. Waiting for a reason to be unleashed. He was going to get you there. Because you deserved to see your potential, even if the bitch of a man across from you didn’t.
“Nah man...you clearly got the situation under control.” Rio taunted, the sarcasm dripping from his words. He clenched his jaw and swallowed, two sets of eyes watching the bird at his throat move. It was his own alpha display. His own performance of just who king dick was. And it wasn’t your ex.
When it was clear that Paul wasn’t going to rise to the occasion, Rio drained the last of his drink and turned to face you. He lowered his lips to your ear and spoke so only you could hear.
“You ready to go, darlin’?”
“Yeah.” You said with a sharp nod of your head, chin held high in reproach towards the man opposite you.
Rio stood, grabbing his jacket and helping you slide out of your seat. His eyes never wavered from Paul’s as he did. You smoothed out your dress, clutching your purse and not bothering to acknowledge the couple at all. He dug into his pocket for his wallet and made a show of grabbing a few crisp hundred dollar bills. He pulled out two and threw them on the table.
“Dinner’s on me. Keep the change, yeah?” He offered with a smirk, letting his hand come to rest on your lower back. He led you away, keeping his touch secured to you as you stepped into the night.
You released a sigh immediately and then inhaled, eyes closing as if centering yourself. He watched you closely, wondering if he’d see tears in your eyes when you opened them. Instead, he saw amusement. A laugh erupted from your throat, your chest shaking as the volume grew with each passing second. He only watched, entertained by the sound. For the first time that evening, he let his eyes trail along your body. Your dress was black and velvet, hitting just below the knee. There was a small slit up the side, exposing the smooth flesh of your thigh. A tie was cinched around your waist, accentuating your figure, while short sleeves helped stave off the chill in the air. The entirety of you was elegant...captivating, and far too striking to be meeting up with your ex-husband for dinner.
Your laughter died down when you noticed his gaze. You stepped towards him, holding your purse in front of you so that your cleavage pulled his focus. He licked his lips and waited as you crowded his space, your perfume swirling into a fog around him. He studied your face, noting the tiny details he often overlooked. You were beautiful, a fact that never went unnoticed by him, but sometimes he forgot just how much. And he wondered if you’d always been this attractive or if it was just the blinding haze of attraction that made him think so. Either way, he didn’t really care. It didn’t change how much he ached to fuck you.
“How’d you know where I’d be?”
“I got my ways.” He offered, taking in the way your lashes fluttered at him. It was a familiar tell. One he’d come to associate with you flat on your back and gazing up at him, usually with his cock buried to the hilt inside of you.
“Thank you.” You whispered, sobering for a second so that he could read the honesty across your features. There was that vulnerability again. And his chest tightened just as it had the previous night.
You took a step back and waited as he began to follow you to your car. You’d parked along the side of the building and he noted how full the lot still was. You halted once you noticed his SUV next to your car, stopping at the bumper and turning to face him.
“Your car?” You asked, nodding in the direction of the black G Wagon.
He wordlessly nodded, once again using the moment to appreciate the way your dress hugged your frame. He appraised your black heels and the deep red polish that adorned your toes, remembering that last time he’d seen you they’d been a light pink. He waited and watched as you walked to the passenger side of his car, fitting yourself in the space between the two vehicles.
“How tinted are your windows?” You asked, the innocence in your words making him suspicious. “Like no one can see in kind of tinted?”
You stared at him as you waited for his reply, biting your bottom lip in a way that could only be described as seductive.
You grinned, pleased with his answer. His face remained expressionless as you looked around the lot, the area void of other people. You slowly reached under your dress, careful not to expose yourself. Your hands disappeared under the skirt and then reappeared a second later, a scrap of dark green lace trailing down your legs. Your gaze stayed on him as you stepped out of the underwear and dangled them on your fingers, a proud grin making its way onto your lips. You flung the panties in his direction and he caught them against his chest.
“Open the door.” You softly demanded, gesturing to the rear passenger seat.
Rio let your words hang in the air, taking satisfaction in seeing you begin to squirm. There was doubt in your eyes, like perhaps he’d turn you down. You hadn’t caught on to the fact that he could do no such thing.
He took mercy on you, figuring you’d had enough unease for the night and found the key in his jacket pocket, hitting the button. The lights of the car flashed as the vehicle unlocked itself. You sent him a playful smile as you got in without another word, the door closing behind you with a resounding echo. He chuckled and shook his head, biting his lip as he pocketed your panties and walked to the other side of the vehicle. He got in, sliding in next to you and discarding his jacket along the way. He seated himself in the middle and you immediately straddled his lap. His hands found their way under your dress, skimming the soft planes of your thighs.
“So that’s what it takes, huh?” He whispered against your lips, leaning into your touch that ran along the back of his neck.
“Me being a dick to your ex. That’s what it takes.” He supplied, hands gliding further under your dress until they began massaging your ass. You moaned at the sensation, eyes fluttering shut as you ground down onto his crotch.
“Takes a little more than that.” You insisted, your hips rocking against his in a sensual rhythm.
“Let me see.” He gruffly commanded, chin angling to the hem of your dress that was bunched around your thighs.
You stilled your hips and did as he requested, lifting the fabric and exposing your bare slit to his hungry eyes. He could see the evidence of your arousal, even in the dark. Your pussy glistened in the muted light of the night, swollen and needy for him like aloe to a scathing burn. He reached forward and ran his index finger along your opening, making you jump at the contact. He instantly became drenched in you, the clear stickiness coating his finger. Your hips searched for a firmer hand, wordlessly begging him to slip past your lips.
“You seem plenty wet for me already, ma.” He taunted, letting his finger press against your clit. You gasped and bit your lip, nails digging into the tops of his shoulders.
“Rio...please,” You pleaded, chasing his touch every time it disappeared from your body.
His dick twitched at the sound of his name falling from your parted lips. It was something you’d only recently started doing, using his name in bed. He was addicted to the sound of it. You always said it with desperation and longing, usually while clinging to him in trembling pleasure.
“What do you need?”
You gripped his wrist and directed his finger into your waiting walls in response. He was overcome with heat and slick immediately. You both released moans that signaled just what it did to you to be so intimately joined.
“That what you need, baby?” He added another finger while his thumb continued to massage your clit. He could feel you clench around him, nipping at your chin as your moans turned to whimpers.
“Let me see all of you.” He ordered, his free hand pulling at the neckline of your dress.
You dutifully obeyed, pulling your arms out of the garment and slipping it down to rest around your waist. The same shade of green that had adorned your lower half also encased your breasts, the lace affording him glimpses of your hardened nipples. He curled his fingers inside of you in reciprocation, reaching up to mouth at your neck. Your hands held him to you, running along his scalp and sending bolts of electricity straight to his dick. He shifted his hips in search of friction, feeling the warmth from between your thighs calling to him.
“Yes…” You breathed, unclasping your bra and hurriedly pulling the lace away. He followed your lead and trailed wet kisses across your flesh, his tongue reaching out to taste you. You pushed your chest into him in return.
“You can take more, right mama?” He urged, not bothering to wait for your answer. He added another finger, his movements speeding up as he reached that sweet spot deep within.
“Fuck, fuck…” You cursed, riding his fingers while he sucked at your nipple.
He worked your body like a fine-tuned car, hitting each switch with expert precision. He could read your face, gauge the tension in your limbs the further he brought you to the edge. His guilty pleasure was watching you cum, watching you uninhibited and practically blessing his very existence. He knew if he flicked his wrist more to the left and pressed down on your clit at the same time that you’d call out his name. He knew if he bit down on your breast he’d be rewarded with your pussy fluttering around him. He knew if he told you how good you looked, how good you felt, you’d cum...and hard.
“You look so good like this. Like you belong to me.” He praised. You gasped, throwing your head back, and he knew you were close. “Who gets you like this? Who makes you feel this good?”
“That’s right. No one else.” He affirmed, thrusting his fingers as rapidly as he could at that angle. The muscles in your thighs twitched as you came, tightening around his fingers in a way that made him long for it to be his dick instead. He let you ride out the ecstasy, your body rocking into the stiffness pressed along his zipper. Your head was thrown back, your mouth agape as a litany of cries and moans filtered through the air. He could make out the rasp of his name amongst the sounds. He could feel the surge of moisture as it slid down his hand. You were enraptured; a victim to his touch.
He waited until your body had stilled, the aftershocks having long passed, before he slipped from your clutches. He caught your hooded gaze and slowly took his slickened fingers into his mouth, your essence exploding onto his tongue. He savored you, taking in the way your chest expanded with each breath. Your fingers curled into his shirt and dragged along his chest, your hips dropping down to grind into him. He barely had enough time to remove his fingers before you were pulling his lips to yours. Your tongue coaxed his into your mouth and he could taste the remnants of the wine you’d drank. The alcohol mixed with you, creating an erotic elixir, one that had him intoxicated. He hissed against your lips, bucking his hips when you unzipped his pants and licked your palm in a show of lustful desire.
“I need you. Inside.” You panted between kisses, situating your pussy over him as you stroked his throbbing flesh.
Rio slid his hand up between your breasts and grasped your neck, feeling your pulse jump. He tilted your chin towards him and ensured your eyes were nowhere else but on him.
“Put me in. Go slow.” He squeezed his fingers around your throat as you moved, angling the head of his cock along your folds. You released a shaky breath as you eased him into you, gaze not wavering. He rested against the seat as he took in the view, licking his lips. He tsked and maneuvered your chin back in position when your eyes began to close, the fullness of him stretching you tight.
“Keep going, mama. All of it.”
You held his forearm, the one still attached to your neck, as you bottomed out, your ass finally meeting his thighs. Your pussy sucked him, walls gripping him with an unforgiving strength. You both remained still, relishing the myriad of sensations that assaulted your restless bodies.
You worked your hands over his arm, cupping your breasts at his request. Your movements mirrored his, matching the force and pressure of how he usually touched you. He was transfixed by you. Utterly lost in the way your body begged for him and still wanted more. He respected your greediness. Could understand the need for more once a craving had been satisfied. It was the business he was in. He was an expert on the matter. And he’d deliver for you.
His left hand dug into the flesh of your ass in a show of impatience. You caught on and started to move, leaning down to nibble at his throat. Your pace was languid, almost lazy as you swiveled your hips. Each down thrust had you rubbing your clit along his pelvic bone, triggering your pussy to spasm.
There was a warning in your tone. He could hear it clearly as you bounced on his cock, the plea almost drowned out by the slapping of bodies.
“Shit, already?” He asked, somewhat surprised at the rate at which your body was responding to him. He let both of his hands fall to your ass, directing you forward so that he could thrust. You whimpered into his ear as his hips pushed up and into you, hitting deep. You clamped down around him, making him squeeze his eyes shut.
“Right there. Don’t stop.” You gasped, face buried into his neck as he slapped your ass. The hit made you convulse. So he did it again.
The closing in of your walls made him double his efforts. He secured his arm around your waist and held you steady. He kept your pussy at his desired angle as he fucked you, hearing that hitch in your breath that let him know you were on the cusp of orgasm.
“M’gonna cum.” You slurred, primal lust making the words run together. His dick swelled inside of you, his balls tightening with every desperate breath you expelled. He could feel that familiar tingle at the base of his spine start to expand, signaling to him what was coming next. He worked his hand between your bodies, gathering moisture and ravaging your clit. You jerked in surprise, yelping when his touch didn’t retreat or ease up.
“Nah, you take it, ma. You take it and you cum for me.” Rio provoked, forcing you to abide by his commands.
Seconds later you were doing as he said once again, cumming on his cock with a force that made him grit his teeth. Your body shuddered as barely intelligible words floated from your lips. You nuzzled further into him while he continued to chase his own release. He dug his fingers into your hips and thrust, the rapid speed making the car sway. He could already tell the windows were fogged up, the stench of sex permeating the air. You were boneless as you sat astride him, your soft moans of residual pleasure going straight to his dick, luring him off the edge.
“Fuck,” He growled, feeling the eletric shocks of climax start to claim him. He closed his eyes and buried his face into the crook of your neck, teeth biting down into the otherwise unblemished skin. He held you firm as he emptied his cum and filled you, rivulets already beginning to spill from your connected bodies. His chest moved with the rapid beats of his heart as the entire moment culminated into a drug-level euphoria.
Minutes ticked by as you both struggled to catch your breath and calm your racing hearts. Rio felt you ghost a kiss along his jaw; a low, satisfied laugh making him smirk.
“You think anyone heard us?” You asked, beginning to shift in his arms.
Beyond the fogged windows, the lot was still without people. But who knew who’d walked by in the meantime. The SUV wasn’t necessarily equipped to withhold sound, though it could cause a bullet to ricochet.
“Probably.” He let you sit up, eyes falling to your still naked chest. You both seemed to have an affinity for fucking in public spaces.
You eased forward to kiss him, the action much more intimate than it’d been moments ago. Your fingers trailed along his jaw and combed through his facial hair, a gesture he secretly loved. His own hands skimmed your back, eliciting shivers that radiated down your body.
“I didn’t ask you to do this.” You whispered once you’d pulled away, eyes imploring him to understand what you meant.
He did. He knew what this kind of gesture meant. He’d been truthful in confessing his want for you. It was a selfish need. Something that grew because you’d continuously denied him. And then it’d shattered before it’d even had a chance to become anything. And during that time he’d admitted to himself that he was willing to compromise. To follow your rules. And as a boss who ran his own shit by his own decree, it was difficult to come to terms with. But he’d done it. Why? Because something told him it’d be worth it. Whether for the great sex or the companionship.
Time would tell.
He ran his finger along your cheek, observing the way you fell into the touch. “You didn’t have to.” He assured you, meaning every word.
“You already thanked me, darlin’.”
“Well, thank you again.” You smiled, pressing your chest to his.
“Call it even.” He joked, gesturing to the state of your bodies still twisted around each other.
“Let’s get some pizza.” You suggested suddenly, pulling the sleeves of your dress back up, sans bra.
He laughed at both your words and the fact that you were getting dressed with his dick still sheathed inside you. “You hungry?”
“I didn’t get to finish my dinner.” You reminded him, retying the tassel around your waist. His hands sluggishly skimmed your thighs, stopping to squeeze whenever you suddenly straightened. “Oh, what about that food truck you took me to last week? The one with the fried mac and cheese?”
Rio took in your enthusiasm, finding it endearing. He didn’t have to use words to figure out where your head was at in all this. It was written on your face. In your voice. Beaming from your eyes and seeping from your pores. And like so many other things between you, it would go unsaid. For now. Because that’s just how it was. And maybe it was fucked up. But it didn’t invalidate any of the chemistry between you. Words just...weren’t needed. And that was sort of how it had always been.
“I got you.” He assured, patting your ass as he did. You beamed at him, not knowing that his words ran much deeper than a meal.
902 notes · View notes
Pairings: Suna Rintarō & F!Reader.
Characters: Suna Rintarō. Miya Osamu. Miya Atsumu. Princess Alisa.
Genre: Alternate Universe—Royalty. Angst. Fluff. Tags: Enemies to Lovers. (in a Forbidden Love sort of way.) Suggestive. Betrayal. Duchess!Reader. Mentions of assassination. Mentions of alcohol. Profanity. Villain!Suna.
Note: Will have a part two when I regain some semblance or drop of my will to live. Not proofread, at all.
You were never sure what to make of grand balls. You feel, a part inherent to you holds a level of affinity towards them. Even so, you grimace at the thought of its crowd—rich, snobby nobles and the like.
The royal family had asked (more so required) you of your presence, and with the bright pleading eyes of the princess, you folded.
Because she was your friend; and she hated these grand balls more than you ever did.
You get pampered, treated the best. People always say, it's because you're a treasure to the royal family, the cornerstone of humanity and the kingdom itself—because you're strong, and full of wit, and powerful in your own right. That's what they say.
You repeat these to yourself when your body is being caged into a snug corset, a dress so elegant hugging your body.
People mistake you for the princess so often, and the Queen, whenever within earshot, would plaster a graceful smile to her face, saying, she's like our own daughter.
It makes your skin crawl—you never knew why, so you always let it slip.
The neckline of the dress feels more so like a chestline, dropping a bit too low than what you're used to so much that your chest feels bare. Still, the dress was beautiful, complimenting the color of your skin and making you look worth like the finest of diamonds. Beautiful.
With a purse of your lips, you exhale. You let the servants do their job and look over to your right.
The princess, Alisa, looks back at you with a bright smile as if she's reassuring you.
You think, she should be reassuring herself. You smile back at her instead.
You did look like a princess. Only a princess would be—should be—dressed this way, pampered this way, lavished with riches this way.
For a second, the corset feels like it's starting to hug you tighter like it wants to mold you smaller until you're no more. Perhaps it's because you're being pushed out of the room and into the corridor that lead its way to the ball—one which was clamoring with chatter that the entrancing sound of the music could barely be heard.
There's a tap on your shoulder. It makes you nearly jump, instincts rushing in as you look behind you wide-eyed.
It's the princess, with expectant eyes and a smile.
Nodding, you brace yourself for the people you're about to meet. Then, you're walking side by side with the princess herself, emerging from the heavy curtains.
The announcement of your arrival is one you hate most, with the princess by your side, it only makes it worse.
"Her royal highness, Princess Alisa and the cornerstone of the Great Kingdom, Lady—" The person yells after the sound of the trumpet, you blank out your introduction, still, you hear your name.
There had been too many grand balls you've attended that people mistaking you for the princess has been reduced to a rarity. At this juncture, you part ways with the princess without a word as the nobles flock her, greeting her eagerly.
Already sick from the event so early on, you walk towards the beverages; as you did, the pianist, you note, was doing splendidly. Your tense body feel swayed by the soft tune, every key seemingly reducing the levels of your anxiety.
Much to your dismay, as you made your way towards the beverages, you're stopped by a servant. He's holding a tray of drinks, offering them to you as he lowers his hand. You offer him a tight lipped smile, trying your best not to let your jaw tick, then reach for one of the glasses full of red wine.
He walks away without a word.
Sighing sadly, you look at the pianist again. He looks too engrossed in his music to consider his surroundings; the envy is quick to rush through you, wishing you could feel the same when you're in such an event.
You had wanted to be left alone, thinking sticking to where the beverages were could've given you that. One glance at the drink on your hand and unto the bar full of people, you deduce it's not quite the kind of luxury you own.
The liquid crimson on your glass stares back at you, you frown. Your legs quicker than your brain somehow, bring you to the corner where the pianist sat, whose fingers moved delicately and expertly against the keys.
Figuring he was too focused to take notice of you, it startles you when you lean on the piano and he speaks.
"Shouldn't you be mingling amongst the important people, princess?"
The frown that curls on your lips isn't something you find yourself being able to hold back. Not realizing you haven't answered, the pianist faces you.
Only then do you notice it. The striking green eyes, sharp and pretty, the pink hue of his lips, the angled jaw like he was cut out with perfection in mind—the look on his face is impassive, cold, unyielding, but your intuition tells you he looks most beautiful like this.
You had half the mind to argue.
"Princess?" He calls out to you, hiding behind a smirk for as much as he can muster because your immediate attraction is far too obvious for your own good.
You clear your throat, standing straight so suddenly, "I'm not the princess."
The glass in your hand trembled slightly. If he noticed, he doesn't comment on it. To make a show for it, you bring it to your lips, tipping with a sip. The sweetness to it is pleasant, but not more pleasant than the sound of his voice when he speaks again.
"Yes, it's a common reoccur—" you stop yourself, blinking at him, "You know?"
"Mhm, I do."
"Then why would you address me in such a way—" Your lips part in a scowl.
He breathes out a laugh, looking somewhat amused.
"You mustn't look so offended by it, princess. Most would take it as a compliment. Reacting in such a way's comin' off suspicious,'' He warns lightheartedly, yet with an indistinct message beneath.
"It's only because it's disrespectful to the princess herself," You answer defensively, and he hums in acknowledgement.
Your movements are stiff as you bring the wine to your lips. Oddly enough, it's starting to taste more bitter than it had originally been, so you set it down on top of the grand piano.
"What do you suppose I call you then, hm? Doll? Pretty face? Love?" He suggests as he continued to play the notes of the piece without a second of hesitation in his movements, as if his attention isn't on you. "Or, perhaps the title this kingdom has bestowed upon you? The cornerst—"
"Don't," you pause, gritting your teeth together, "finish that sentence."
While he doesn't continue to speak, he doesn't concede, because you've never been more annoyed at such a pretty—goddamn arrogant—face.
The same kind of air of arrogance that reminds you of a masked man with the same green eyes you've chased around the kingdom as he continued to ask you, why not join me, Princess?
And truthfully, it scares you. If this wasn't a ball inside the palace itself, you would've thought it really was him.
But Suna Rintarō wouldn't.
Too soon, the last note of the piece he'd been playing fades and he's standing as he offers his hand out to you.
"Dance with me."
“You speak as if I have a choice.”
Not with all the eyes on you. Not when they watch the man in front of you hold out his hand and ask you for a dance.
Not when he looks like he could have you on the floor if he wanted to.
Even he doesn't expect the chuckle he lets out at your dripping sarcasm, “Don’t you?”
Before you could speak again, he cuts you off, “You look like you think I’d say you don’t. Let’s be honest with ourselves, shall we? You do.”
You clear your throat before speaking, searching for a hint of malice in his eyes yet you're coming back with none.
"Then, who would play the piano?"
He cocks an eyebrow, for whatever reason, the corner of his lips are twitching upwards, "Was merely borrowing the piano for a while. I'm not the musician of this ball—though I think I should be honored that I had made you think so?"
Of that skill? You don't let it show, but you're utterly awestruck. He must be a musician in some way, so as you place your hand in his, you take in the way he's dressed.
He makes your mind run in circles even further. If indeed he is, he must have the fame and fortune for it and with it—no man could dress as he has tonight without the riches for it. These are thoughts he entangles you with as the music starts once again.
His hand is calloused yet soft against yours in the same, paradoxical manner as he leads you to the floor.
He lets go of your hand, bows slightly— the only split second he takes his eyes off you. You curtsy, then your hand is in his again.
You couldn't have prepared yourself for it when his other hand rests on the curve of your waist. A small gasp escapes you.
"You're captivating, princess. Got everyone's eyes on you," Your face flushes, your movements following his in your own learned manner.
"You couldn't be more wrong," You replied right before he spins you and he pulls you back to him again
"Yeah?" A glint in his eyes appeared. The tone of his voice is constantly so teasing, almost as if constantly luring you in, constantly testing your character.
"But, it's impolite," you start, "not bothering to introduce yourself to someone you know of—someone you're taking by the waist and dancing with."
He holds your stare for a while after, "Should I apologize?"
"Good," he quips; it's enough of a hint that had you said yes, he still wouldn't have. The question prior sounded uncaring on its own.
You allow the silence that follows after, only because your body is flowing with every movement against his like water. Again, he proves he's more princely than he ought to be.
"You easy to scare, princess?" He asks so suddenly as he dips your body, then guides you up to him again.
"What do you take me for?"
He hums, "I take that as a promise you'd move just as gracefully upon the mention of my name?"
It unnerves you, hollowing a corner of your chest. "If it's what you expect of me."
A beat of silence.
"Suna," His voice low, every reaction out of you he takes note of, "Rintarō."
And you thought you would be caught dead first before being so enamored by an enemy. How deceitful of him. You feel your heart racing for all the wrong reasons—or the right ones, you weren't sure anymore.
Your body is tense against him, you know this and you understand he does too—but you're forced to look into his eyes again as he lifts you off the ground slightly—effortlessly, graciously, flawlessly.
You forget his name for a second.
"How very brave of you," Your voice comes out more quiet than you thought, “Don’t you think it foolish to be surrounded by a crowd willing to kill you? More so, I?"
“It's you—at least your people—who think of me as enemy, not I. Never I.”
"You don't see me as an enemy, then?"
"The strongest woman of the kingdom set out to assassinate me on sight?" He clarifies following a thoughtful hum, "Seein' you as an enemy would be so audacious of me, wouldn't it?"
His own sort of sarcasm cut deep, wounding you without a care.
"I could kill you right now," You speak out defiantly, but it's so soft you barely believe yourself—especially when you'd only said so out of your own doubt.
"'m sure you could, princess," He replies without a hint of teasing or sarcasm this time, like he truly believes it so. Then, he leans in close to you, lips barely grazing the skin under your ear, "So why haven't you? Hm?"
"Do you have a death wish? Is that it?"
"If I did, don't you think I would've revealed myself with my name before comin' to see you?"
Comin' to see you. To see you. See you. You.
You almost choke. Eyes widening, because sure you were strong, and smart, and powerful—but you were nothing like the man in front of you who wore a blank expression no matter the circumstance, hardly able to be taken by surprise.
Rintarō pulls back, just enough to watch your baffled expression at his statement.
"This is your chance, isn't it? You're the only enemy who've seen my face," His lips tug into a smile so vague and faint it's more so a smirk.
"In fact," He speaks while leaning closer again, "Won't you have investigators sketch me down? Maybe I'd love the company of the women who'd find me if you do."
You grit your teeth together, pushing him away disguised like you're still dancing yet as expected of him, he's quick on his feet and in his actions—he pulls you back, your dress spinning in such a beautiful way.
You find yourself back in his arms with a sigh far too relieved.
"Or you could keep me to yourself, if you'd have me."
You look up at him, a mirthless laugh following, "If I'd have you? As if I would want a man infamous for the murder of his own parents."
But then he smiles, and his smile is charming as ever. You're convinced he must've used it against everyone, the smile he had that was so entrancing it could prove to be sinful.
"Is that what they tell you?"
"Yes," you hiss, "because it's the truth of the matter, isn't it?"
"Like the truth of your parents death?"
You feel your body practically paralyze in his hold, but he keeps you upright, keeps you close to him and even as your knees buckle from beneath you, he holds you steady. You tremble slightly, only because he's right—he keeps saying all the right things.
He doesn't let you ponder over it any further.
Teasingly, as if trying to lighten up the tense air, his voice comes, "You're too comfortable, hm?" He eyes you, almost like he's mocking you.
There's a hint of offense to it that you take, and you're straightening your spine, looking at him hard in the eyes.
"What are you insinuating?"
The tone of your voice—so accusatory that his smile only widens as it breaks apart his serious expression like he was handed exactly the reaction he wanted.
"Insinuating?" He echoes like he's offended, "I'm merely making an observation, yeah? 's no need to be so hostile," He grinned.
You feel the world more deceptive than he is—because he should look like the enemy he is. Instead, he's alluring like a crowned prince.
In any case, he looks stunning. The warm glow of the chandeliers from above as he guided your body along the music with every crescendo shines luxurious gold in his green eyes.
It sparkles with interest.
"Tell me something," you ask of him, too vague that you wonder if he would understand, give you the answer you want.
Your hand holding on to his shoulder moves as he laughs silently at your request.
"Was thinkin'… Are you really surrendering yourself to monarchs who use you as a symbol of their power? You do… so much saving, my love…" His head tilts at you with a pause, "But you know, don't you? They keep you and pretend you're like a daughter to them but the second you're of no use to them…" He trails off, there's still a small smile on his face, but it looks particularly sad now.
Doubts that already plagued you for the longest time resurface, weighing you down.
Following his remark is something that hits a sore, unmended part of you, "And they won't even tell you the truth of your parent's death. Do you know why that is, princess?"
"So what?" You hiss, the hold you have over his shoulder tightening to a death grip—you know it should be painful, yet he pays it no mind. "What do you get out of bringing me to your side?"
He grins, "s'that what you think I'm doing, princess?"
"What else?" You scoffed a reply.
"I think," he leans in, voice dropping a whisper so soft, like getting ready to tell a secret, "You're the most important person in this kingdom."
One would argue that you already know this. With your own title, that's what it must mean—still, Rintarō with snide remarks and deceiving beauty brings the words over to you in a way that you understand he means there's more to it.
"Do you vow to drop dead the very second you so much as think to betray me?"
"Trust me a little more, hm? I vow to drop dead if I even so much as mistreat you."
You allow a second to push past you. Pretending your cheeks aren't flushed bright red at his flirtatious remarks, you focus on his hand on your waist, gentle yet firm with guidance; you focus on the weakening way his eyes observe you earnestly, green like proper kryptonite, and on the scent that lingered on him, clean and intoxicatingly him.
"Take me," The words slip out of your mouth, and they taste like poison.
He smirks, cocking an eyebrow, hand on your waist pulling you closer. "Here?"
You glare at him. "You're appallingly vulgar."
"I'm giving you permission to bring me with you against my will."
"Take you as hostage?" He rephrases.
"I'm not a hos—"
His finger presses against your lips, cutting you off. you want to bite it off, but the way he's looking down at you with so much contentment stops you.
"Ah-ah-ah," He cautions, "Y'said so."
You decide he's cunning on the outside as he is on the inside—leaving no room for deceit—and that sounds paradoxical once again, it doesn't make sense.
But then, perhaps he was but a walking paradox.
Tired from dancing, you lean your body to rest against his and for once this takes him by surprise enough for him to pause. Against you, his chest vibrates at his own amusement.
"Good thing you're intelligent, hm? You're too transparent," states Suna, "You're handing yourself over to an enemy; makes you seem so vulnerable."
He shakes his head lightly, just enough for you to catch on, "You're far from vulnerable, princess. I know."
The crowd's applause knocks you back into reality—that you're being watched from the second you danced with and leaned against the enemy of the kingdom. Though the last bit of information no one else knew, being reminded of it threatens to make you shudder.
You would be named a traitor, enemy of the people, target of the kingdom.
Heart thumping wildly, your wrist is tugged away from the prying eyes and into the corner of the room. The dancing and chatter resumes, the heights of your anxiety doesn't falter.
But you follow him anyway.
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Based on this request from Wattpad: Hey!! I saw your requests are open and I was wondering if I could request a professor snape x professor!reader please? Like they're best friends and spend time in each other's quarters all the time and all the teachers are like 'just kiss already' all the time to them individually. And then one night they're just vibing together in one of their quarters maybe drinking a bit (or not up to you) and he confesses his love for her and its all fluffy and they kiss and ahhhhh!! Thank you so much in advance and I totally get it if you don't want to write it xxxx
Here you lovelies are! Once again, familiar characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
Warnings: Busy bodies! Fluff!
Pairings: Severus Snape x fem!reader
Severus was your very best friend. From the moment you began your position at Hogwarts, he was there, albeit reluctantly at first. While most people shied away from the "dungeon bat", you enjoyed spending time with him. You appreciated his no-nonsense attitude and the way he told it how he saw it. Did you wish he'd interact differently with his students? Sometimes, but otherwise, he was a wonderful person to be around. At least to you.
Apparently he felt the same about you. The two of you were quite frequently found in each other's quarters, enjoying a cup of tea or a gaze of wizard's chess. Sometimes you would simply enjoy each other's company while reading or marking students' work. You grew close very quickly and the other professors noticed.
"I don't understand why you don't confess your feelings already. It's quite obvious how you feel about one another," Pomona told you. You laughed lightly and shook your head. Severus hadn't shown up for breakfast yet, so Pomona and Irma decided to be busy bodies and comment on your and Severus' relationship again. "We are just friends, Pomona." Pomona hummed, but didn't press the issue, instead choosing to exchange a glance with the other professors. You continued eating, not knowing that Severus was having a similar conversation with a few other professors.
Severus tried not to sigh out loud as Filius continued to pressure him about his relationship with you. This was nothing unusual. It happened all the time since you and he began spending time together away from everyone else. "Truly, Severus, you should tell her how you feel. The tension between the two of you is stifling. Kiss and get on with it."
Severus felt himself blushing for the first time in years. "Filius, what happens or doesn't between Y/N and myself is just that. Between us. My feelings for her are no one's business but my own." Albus and Filius exchanged a glance. "So you admit you have feelings for her." Severus' face grew even more warm. He didn't reply, but he knew one thing for certain. If the day continued this way, he was going to need a strong dose of Fire Whiskey when it was done.
Later that night, Severus was getting ready to mark essays when he heard the door swing open. You and Dumbledore were the only ones with the password to his quarters, so he wasn't worried. He glanced over his shoulder to find you standing there with your own papers under your arm and a bottle of Fire Whiskey in your hand as if you'd read his mind.
"Long day?" he asked with a chuckle. You joined in his laughter for a moment before replying, "Long week. Pomona and Irma are really on it this week." Severus rolled his eyes. Of course they were. You never told him what your conversations were about, only that they were bothering you about something. He knew the feeling, of course, but he was certain you weren't being bothered about the same thing.
For a while, the two of you nursed your drinks and marked papers in pleasant, friendly conversation. Severus finished marking his papers first and took the opportunity to really study your face. He knew Albus and Filius were right. He did have feelings for you. They had absolutely blind-sided him, but they existed. But he said nothing because there was a part of him that feared your rejection.
"Is there something on my face?" you asked, not looking up from the paper in front of you. "Hmm?" You laughed lightly and sat up. You stretched out, groaning lowly at something, probably your back popping a bit. "You've been staring for five minutes," you replied after you placed your hands in your lap. You finally let your gaze travel to Severus.
"What's going on in that head of yours, Severus?" His brows came together. He wasn't sure how to answer you. Maybe it was Filius and Albus' words from that morning or perhaps it was the Fire Whiskey going to his head despite not having very much of it, but Severus desperately wanted to say something, anything, about his feelings. "Severus?" He met your eyes again. "What is it?"
"I adore you," were the words that passed through his lips. You blinked for a second, clearly not understanding the sincerity of his words. Severus reached over and gently placed a hand on yours, something he did quite often, but this one felt different. "I adore you, Y/N. To the depths of my soul."
Your bottom lip began quivering and Severus feared he'd made a mistake. "Severus," you whispered shakily, "I love you. I love you so much. I know I'm not as eloquent as you, but you have to know how deeply I feel for you." Severus swore he'd never felt such joy in his entire life before now. That is, until you pulled him into your arms, burying your face into his neck.
He lost track of how long you held each other. Whispered words of love passed between you with ease. When you finally pulled apart, Severus felt himself shaking as he leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead. He leaned back and was startled to find you staring at him in confusion. "What?" Your lips spread into a cheeky smile. "You missed," you replied, taking one finger and placing it on your lips. Severus rolled his eyes at you. "Silly woman," he muttered before kissing you like you wanted. Now, Severus was the happiest he'd ever been.
(a/n: I hope you like it!! I enjoyed writing it.)
Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @brewsthespirit-blog @sirkekselord @aikibriarrose @lady-of-lies @esoltis280 @stories-by-shanna-p @motleymoose
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good evening nsr community, i went through the ama from today and came back with an armful or two of lore. there’s a bunch more than last time, and i included bbj as well as the npcs. cozy up, check under the cut, and prepare for a long read. enjoy!
today's ama featured wan hazmer and daim dziauddin again, as well as concept artist ellie and animator ben fong.
BUNK BED JUNCTION (FT. DK WEST)
- mayday and zuke live in the sewers because they're an underground band. it's a pun
- there were originally two variations of bbj leaving the sewers - one with mayday hi-fiving gigi (which had a 95% chance of happening), and one with zuke awkwardly fumbling and attempting to hi-five gigi (which had a 5% chance)
- one of the inspirations for mayday and zuke were the two main characters of samurai champloo (zuke was jin, mayday was mugen)
- someone asked about if the rest of the cast had their own shadow puppets. ben suggested a lemur for mayday, while ellie suggested a zucchini for zuke. she may have been joking.
- mayday's guitar solos were done by different people, but zuke's drum solos were all done by bruno valverde.
- zuke was the one who implemented the canister thing into mayday's guitar.
- someone asked who of the cast are the introverts and who are the extroverts. mayday is an extrovert, zuke is an introvert.
- the team does have a bit of lore for mayday and zuke and how they met, but they want to save it in case of a future project.
- mayday was inspired by both genevieve from company of thieves and the unbreakable kimmy schmidt.
- ben did the animation for mayday swinging the hammer in the workshop.
- haz recalls seeing some fanart of mayday being brought up as a rich girl. he doesn't remember the artist, but he does like the idea.
- the japanese version has zuke say he has a phd rather than a master's degree. this is apparently a mistake.
- the pattern on zuke's pants was inspired by jolyne cujoh and prosciutto from jojo's bizarre adventure.
- zuke's toilet seat collection came partially from a story from one of the environmental artists where one of their high school friends pranked another friend with a toilet seat.
- zuke does a lot of reading and is naturally inquisitive about things like tech and mechanics.
- dk west's shadow puppet abilities might run in the family, and zuke may have it as well.
- both zuke and dk west are connected by percussion (zuke with the drums, west with the hand claps)
- zuke and west weren't always designed to be related -- west was originally designed as "some guy who comes and goes," but was made into zuke's brother later on in production
- dk west is an extrovert.
DJ SUBATOMIC SUPERNOVA
- djss' dj name is obviously a stage name, but the team didn't have a real name for him in the script or anything.
- haz joked that his name is bob salad. that's not canon but from what i seen the chat loved it lol
- haz brings up the symbolism of djss spinning the planets around himself and how it represents that he thinks of himself as the center of the universe.
- ellie helped design the districts, and something she noted about dj's is that it's supposed to look the "slummiest" because he cares more about himself and less about things like blackouts.
- dj had some lines cut from his boss fight. those lines? mini lectures towards bbj during every phase. they were cut because the team felt like they were too much for the game, but they want to share them one day.
- daim says that dj could be either introverted or extroverted becuase of how much time he spends alone looking at the stars.
- dj was never planned to have an approach segment, but funk fiction wasn't told that, so he made him an approach theme anyway.
- dodo ice pops are traffic light flavoured, which is a popular ice cream in malaysia. it's strawberry, pineapple, and lime flavored.
SAYU AND THE NERD SQUAD
- three of sayu's creators were based on staff members at metronomik. remi (voiced by ben) was based on one of the programmers and one of the environmental artists (ellie calls him "the lovechild of two dudes"), tila was based on (and voiced by) ellie herself, and dodo was based on danish mak (another environmental artist who also voices him).
- sofa wasn't based on anyone in particular, he was more of a "general otaku guy" according to ellie (though haz joked that ellie could just say he was based on him).
- dodo is daim's favorite npc -- he also designed him!
- sayu was ellie's favorite character to design. she loves drawing mermaids.
- the progression in sayu's fight where you go deeper into the "ocean" is supposed to be a metaphor for going deeper into the internet/the deep web.
- ellie suggested that if sayu were to have a shadow puppet, it would be a cat.
- as for the introvert/extrovert debate, daim says sayu is technically comprised of 4 introverts. sayu herself is the extrovert mask they wear.
- sayu's ahoge is a submarine periscope. remi looks through it in one of the cutscenes.
- sayu's not a mech. she's remotely controlled by her creators from their computer room.
- the backstory between remi and tila is meant to show that artists can come from all sorts of backgrounds.
YINU AND MAMA
- yinu's promotional video was one of the first ones done before they brought in lzbros, so it originally looked different from how it looks in the game now.
- yinu's mother's eyes are yellow because she spends most of the fight focusing on yinu (who is mainly yellow). when her eyes go blank white, it represents that she's momentarily forgotten what she loves the most. when her eyes become yellow again after the fight, it means she's remembered yinu and her piano playing.
- the way ellie describes natura is that yinu is a plant and her mother is very protective of her, and one of the distinctive features is that there are a lot of domes with plants inside, particularly on the roofs of the houses.
- yinu's commercial was not intended to reference little miss fortune. the commercial was shown in 2018, while LMF came out a year later.
- yinu's mom turning into a giant tree monster isn't exclusive to her just being angry at bbj. apparently the whole plant thing runs in the yinu family.
- 1010's concept as a boy band had been around since before the team started production, but they were the last to be fully designed -- their designs weren't finalized until way later on.
- 1010 were ellie’s least favorite characters to design. she doesn't like drawing guys OR robots.
- 1010's early designs had them wearing tuxedos.
- 1010 do have memories.
- the inspiration for the butt plates came from one of ben's gundam figures from his collection in the metronomik office. thanks ben.
- ellie's favorite member of 1010 is purl-hew/blue.
- eloni/green is apparently the rapper of the group.
- the jingle you hear from the carousel in metro division is a carnival remix of 1010's boss theme.
- the numbers underneath 1010's names on the autographs are completely random.
- neon j is a dancer. daim explains that in addition to being in the navy, dance has always been his true passion.
- in the final phase of 1010's fight, he was originally supposed to control the dance moves of the factory as he was fighting you, but it was cut due to limited resources.
- daim designed neon j based on ellie's designs for 1010.
- neon j's factory's dance moves were all animated by ben -- no mocap needed. the factory was also his favorite thing to animate.
- daim says that "neon j is to tatiana as soundwave is to megatron." basically he is extremely loyal to tatiana.
- neon j was one of earliest members of nsr.
- neon j seeing 1010 as his sons wasn't planned, but daim loves the concept so much that he could see it being canon.
- daim says neon j's brain is "probably" still inside the monitor head. somehow.
- neon j is an extrovert.
- haz likes the idea of neon j being blind and using his sonar to "see" things. ben joked that the screen worked like giant glasses.
- neon j originally had red dots that would pop up on his face when the sonar moved by that were meant to represent acne, and that would've been the reason why he's mostly behind the scenes.
- in mayday's side of the room when eve splits up bbj, the hands all over the walls are meant to be there to show how eve is angrier at mayday than she is at zuke.
- the time signature for the music in mayday's room during the fight is 6/8, whereas in zuke's room it's 4/4.
- ellie suggested a platypus shadow puppet for eve. the rest of the team seems to be on board.
- eve was ben's least favorite character to animate. he said he struggled with animating her dance moves because it was something he'd never done before, and he still doesn't think he did a good enough job.
- eve was born with her split skin tone.
- apparently eve's near scrapping had something to do with costs. haz was the one who stopped it from happening.
- eve's outfit was partly inspired by beyonce, while her jacket was partly inspired by ariana grande. the team took some inspiration from bjork, as well.
- the sleeves on eve's jacket were apparently limbs at one point.
- eve is an introvert.
- part of tatiana's symbolism is how she used to be a rock star, but her flame/passion slowly burned away, and now she's just a rock, referencing how she was literally on fire as the rock star kul fyra, but now looks burnt out.
- daim thinks kliff is older than tatiana, probably over 50.
- in addition to the neon j dance lore mentioned above, kayane rambling about neon j after the 1010 fight was supposed to be connected to her watching neon j dance.
- ben and haz's favorite npc is mia, and ellie's is dj zam.
- dj zam was inspired by one of ellie's college friends, who she says "makes you feel comfortable to be around".
- ellie thinks dj zam's neck tattoo says "i love mom".
- amal the unicorn was inspired by lady amalthea from the 80's animated film "the last unicorn". he was originally written to be a real talking unicorn, but it was changed partially because his horn wasn't in the right spot on his head.
- zed was based on game designer dzaid and has hyperacusis, a hearing disorder that makes it difficult to deal with everyday sounds.
- yiruk's name is an anagram of kiryu, the protagonist of the yakuza games.
- chef sunshine's design is a homage to julia child. she originally had a bigger physique, but was changed to match lylia's bubbly performance.
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“There are different kinds of darkness. There is the darkness that frightens, the darkness that soothes, the darkness that is restful. There is the darkness of lovers, and the darkness of assassins. It becomes what the bearer wishes it to be, needs it to be. It is not wholly bad or good.”
Rhysand, proud and arrogant and grinning. The Lord of Night, Death Incarnate, Night Triumphant. A male who donned the mask of a monster to save his home, who fought for his family with his final breath, who whispered to his unknowing mate, “You are my salvation.”
Rhys gave the dregs of himself away; his body to the lady of the mountain, his power to a city shrouded in the night, his heart to a female with stubborn blue eyes.
Though beloved dearly by his Inner Circle, Rhys views himself as a monster worthy of only hatred. He has not bothered to conceal the bitter edge to his nature, the creature dwelling beneath his skin. Time and time again, he has said he is unworthy of affection, said he does not deserve his fortune. He has claimed himself a beast.
From the start, we knew Rhys would do anything for our Feyre. They saved each other, not just from blades and curses, but from a darkness that was very different from night. His devotion to her went beyond words, and he made it no secret he would raze the earth for her.
And it’s not just our High Lady. Rhys surrendered his sanity, his pride, his own safety for the family he left back home.
His city, the townhouse tucked within, a maelstrom of light and laughter and teasing. Rhys must have risen every morning, still shaking from his ordeal the previous night, and thought of his Inner Circle. He must have recalled their messy breakfast, a collection of sweets and eggs and toast and tea and whisky. He must have dressed, the memory of Mor lingering in his mind, how she would stride into his room and leap on his bed like a child.
He loved his family, so, so much. His first thought was always of their safety, their comfort. Sometimes it was the little things, like tucking a blanket over Amren nervously, or tending to one of Cas’s sparring wounds; sometimes it was giving up himself so they might live, and know peace within that sheltered city.
Should Rhys have protected as many lands as he could? Yes, of course.
But you all forget Rhys cast that enchantment hastily, with barely seconds to think. In that moment, he wasn’t a seasoned High Lord. He was a terrified brother and friend and cousin. He was human.
Under the Mountain, when Feyre Archeron made herself, did he have any right to give her the faerie wine? No. It was wrong, and it doesn’t matter if it was for her benefit.
But, for fuck’s sake, Rhys never said it was right. You are allowed to think this was off-putting, but know Rhys never brushed it aside. He never insisted it was for her own good. Rhys, even though he couldn’t have cared less for Feyre, was always mindful never to touch her beyond her arms and hips. I am not making his excuses: I am simply pointing out Feyre was not unwilling, and we should know, as we were inside her head. She looked to numb herself with the wine, sought the haze of intoxication.
Rhys never claimed to be a saint. He never called himself god. He was a male struggling to climb out of his trauma, and he made a poor choice, but not an unforgivable one.
Then came Nesta Archeron, who truly turned the fandom against our Rhys. She hated him, he hated her.
Did it begin this way? No.
Most people fail to recall the Inner Circle extended their hands to Nesta, when they first met.
Amren was civil and brutally honest.
Mor complimented her dress, and she was shamed for her own in return.
Cassian tried laughter and banter, his way of saying “I’m friendly, I won’t hurt you.”
Rhys tried to be civil to the woman who had abused his mate, to the woman who detested his kind. He was forced to watch as his family was cut down swiftly.
Nesta’s “talent” is finding weak spots and exploiting them. So she slut-shamed Mor, ridiculed Cassian’s status, showed Feyre nothing but scorn. Nesta was not trauma-ridden, back then. She was just cruel.
So, how am I supposed to hate Rhys for defending his family?
He is allowed to feel fury as Nesta does without being detested. He is allowed to try and protect his Inner Circle. He is allowed to hate the female who made fun of his brother, abused his wife, shamed his cousin, hurt his friend.
Is Nesta entirely in the wrong? No.
Is Rhys entirely in the wrong? Absolutely not.
Even when he kept the secret of Feyre’s pregnancy from her, he was not so at fault. It was bitter of him to keep such a danger from his mate, but I can understand why he did so. He was trying to keep her happy and carefree. As we know Fae pregnancies are delicate, so why would he want Feyre to feel so much stress and terror and misery when that could risk the child’s life? I do think he should have told her, but again, it’s not impossible to get why he didn’t.
If we are going to blame Rhys for keeping Feyre’s risk quiet, why not blame the others in on it? What about Amren and Cassian and Azriel and Nesta? They are as equally responsible. Even if it was a bad choice, that’s okay. Everyone detested Rhys for being the “perfect” character, and now we hate him for fucking up. He is allowed to make mistakes. I don’t know who told you he can never do wrong.
Rhys is a monster, the unforgiving darkness and the merciless cold. He has never claimed otherwise. He has done awful things, yes, but he aspires to be better. He cares about working through his trauma, because he wants to be a good male for Feyre, for his family, for his son.
He was betrayed and raped. His little sister was brutally slaughtered by an old friend. His mother was tortured. His mate was killed, and his Inner Circle hurt time and time again, and he has never known a moment’s peace.
He isn’t perfect, but he’s learning. He’s learning and working every day.
Rhys may be the Lord of Darkness, but he is not incapable of light.
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Tarot Day 1 - The Hanged Man (Thranduil)
A Prison of my Own Making
Summary: Sent to Mirkwood to spy for the king of Rohan, you severely underestimate Thranduil
Warnings: Incarceration, humiliation, minor knifeplay, smut.
Prompt for this piece will appear in bold within the text.
*Please do not replicate my work anywhere else without my express permission*
Time feels meaningless when trapped between walls. At first those walls were rough, dark and close but gradually those walls became light, airy and grandiose. A prison is still a prison, however, no matter how fine the lodgings.
I had come to Mirkwood with the intention of gathering information from one of King Thranduil's council members, a vain and easily targeted elf called Lendaer. The King of Rohan had long suspected Mirkwood of driving the evil that spawned in Dol Guldur towards the realms of men on purpose and I was tasked with confirming that theory before a war could be announced.
Lendaer had come through Rohan on a journey to Gondor before and had shown his character to be superficial, avaricious and even lecherous towards the maidens in the hall. I, as an unmarried shieldmaiden, was particularly intriguing to him and I spent half the night avoiding his over affectionate touches and perfumed words. I was not even aware until that moment that elves could take a fancy to humans.
Since I was favoured, my king bid me to get the information by any means necessary, even seduction. I had argued but ultimately if my king bade me, I would obey. I was promised a title and lands for my troubles as well as my choice of lord to marry.
When I had gotten to Mirkwood, it was as an emissary of Rohan. I came with fine pelts turned into luxurious clothing and pedigree horse hair for use in fabrics and upholstery. I was greeted marginally warmer than I expected.
After asking for directions to meet Lendaer, I stood outside chambers that seemed far too opulent for a council member but I knocked all the same.
A tall elf, taller than I had ever seen with a long mane of silver blond hair answered. There was a kindness to the face but the eyes...the eyes were cold, calculating. I was uneasy in front of him, even though he had given me no reason to be so.
“May I help you....lady of Rohan is it? The horse brooch on your dress...” his voice is silken and that put me even more on edge.
“I am looking for Lendaer. He visited the halls of Rohan some three moons past. He did say to call upon him should I be in the Kingdom of Mirkwood.”
“Did he now?” he raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Lendaer is not currently in Mirkwood. Would you step inside?”
I did not want to. Everything within me was screaming to turn and run but I had no weapons at the King's insistence and so I was too vulnerable. I had to accept his hospitality even if I felt in danger from it.
“Might I know your name?” I play for time.
“I am Celephindir, another of the council. Please, this way,” he ushers me in.
Once I am past the threshold, I hear something click behind me and know I am locked in. This was a mistake.
“Won't you sit?” he moves to a table with two sole chairs facing each other.
“Thank you,” I keep up the ruse of politeness.
If I tip my hand that I know I'm in difficulty, I will easily be overpowered. A shieldmaiden I may be but against an elf of a thousand years of experience? I do not stand a chance with sheer brawling.
He moves behind me, hovering and the prickling on the back of my neck starts. I keep waiting for Celephindir to speak, to do something but he just stands behind me and I refuse to look around.
Eventually I feel his hand take a lock of my hair to let it slip through his fingers as he circles to the other seat.
“You are very pleasing for a human,” his grace and posture is impeccable as he crossed one leg over the other and leant back in the high backed, artfully twisted chair. “Lendaer made advances I expect.”
“Be truthful with me.”
“And were they unwelcome?”
“I did not understand them,” I sidestep the question. “That is why I came to ask before I meet with the king.”
“You do not understand how elves could find humans pleasing? We do but your short lifespan means there is little point getting attached when you will wither so quickly before us. Only fools fall in love with humans.”
“Is Lendaer a fool?”
“Lendaer is a disgrace,” Celephindir sneers. “Fraternising with anyone that takes his eye. He will not be on the council much longer.”
If Lendaer was not in favour, I would have to change my tactics. This elf had already confessed to finding me comely so perhaps I could gain some good will with him instead.
“I did rather think it was strange behaviour. Will you be the new emissary?”
“It is looking most likely. Why? Hoping to strike up a rapport early?”
“I think it pertinent to know each other.”
Celephindir rises, coming to the side of me and slim fingers turn my face upwards towards his, tipping my head back. His gaze is clouded by something I do not recognise and I wonder if I should be afraid.
“And would you like to know me, lady of Rohan? Shall I teach you the whole of me?”
“I would like that. I would like that very much,” I feign more interest than I felt.
Celephindir bends down until I can feel the wisps of breath from his lips. Despite myself, I am caught in those eyes that promise much but also something darker and I was wilfully letting him take charge.
“The things I could teach you,” he whispers, mouth nearly to mine. “Like how to lie successively for example.”
“What?” the spell is broken as he leans back and the warmth is replaced by ice.
“Do you think I am so base that I would not realise the King of Rohan would send a spy eventually? The realms of men have ever distrusted us.”
“I am no spy,” I stand up.
“Liar!” he hisses, silvered hair falling over his shoulders in swathes in his anger. “That is exactly what you are. You saw Lendaer's perversions and thought to capitalise upon them. You were sent here to seduce information and look at what happened, I seduced you. If Rohan wants answers, they should not have sent an ill-prepared girl.”
“You may believe what you wish but I have a meeting with the king soon so I shall be on my way,” I remain firm.
“This was your meeting with the king,” his eyes flash triumphantly. “I am not Celephindir, I am Thranduil. These are the royal quarters you are in. You shall come with me.”
He opens the catch on the door before two guards are beckoned in. When they address the ired elf as 'your majesty', I know then I have been tricked. Thranduil had been anticipating my arrival and purposefully intercepted me.
With no other option, I followed him to the throne room, flanked by his guards. All of the council members had gathered to watch and humiliation at my failure was creeping in.
“This human,” Thranduil points to me from on his throne. “Thought she could seduce information on the inner workings of Mirkwood from us.”
The laughter that followed was cutting. I felt it in my soul how deeply shamed I was.
“If only she had been plain and honest from the start,” Thranduil lounges. “She would know then that we are defending the realms of men from the horrors of the North and from the South of Mirkwood also. Somehow men never think to ask, only to lie and deceive.”
I did the only thing I could, I bowed to him, “Forgive me, King Thranduil. I-”
“-Oh I know,” he interrupts. “You were just following orders. I do not hold you accountable.”
My spirits lifted for a moment but ultimately I should've known better. That cruelness I had seen glimpses of in Thranduil's eyes was not something to ignore.
“However....you shall not return to Rohan. You are now our hostage. That is of course depending on whether your King wants you back. Do you think you have any value to him? Hmm? Will he come for you?”
I stay silent, not wanting to verbalise the answer out loud. If the King of Rohan knew I had been captured, he would not risk trying to save me for fear of provoking a dishonourable war.
“Answer me,” Thranduil's voice is calm but sharp.
“No, he will not come for me. So let me pass to a different land to start over,” I try to barter.
“And waste your remaining years of beauty on peasants who would see you haggard and nursing their children? No, no I do not think so, my lady. You shall spend your best years in my dungeons, free from the interference of men but at my beck and call should I wish to look upon you. Remove her from my sight.”
So I came to call his dungeons my first home, where I paced in the tiny room, bored and hungry.
Thranduil would visit weekly at first, then a few times during the week and slowly it became daily. He would offer me luxuries, the promise of some freedoms if I would give up a secret of Rohan but my pride was great and I refused. The more I refused, the more outlandish his offers would become, like it was a matter of great personal amusement to find out what my price was.
“You will die in here if you do not acquiesce soon, my lady,” more honeyed words through my bars.
“Then I shall die here,” I lie back on the bed.
“Do you not miss the taste of fresh bread? The lustre of fine wine? A soft pillow for your head?”
“Of course I miss them!” I lose my temper, bolting up to bang at the bars though the Elvenking is unfazed. “Your ploy is weak, King Thranduil. I shall not be bent this way. So either leave me here or let me go, either from your lands or life.”
“Brave for a woman,” he muses. “Though those in Rohan have always been brave...reckless but brave. You are right, this is not working. You will be moved tomorrow.”
He just chuckles to himself before walking away, the swathes of his robe swishing behind him as he ascends the staircase to the main levels again. I am left alone to worry about his vague words and I did not sleep until his guards came to collect me.
Now I was confined to a room, a large luxurious bed, a wash space and a small reclining area with books in the Elven tongue that I could not read. Whilst I had more comforts, I did not have freedom still.
When Thranduil came to visit in these new quarters, he would sit across the table from me like he did on our first fateful meeting, delicately sipping from a goblet. He would talk of nothing in particular but seemed to enjoy trying to rile me with veiled insults and provocative statements.
I finally grew bold enough to ask why I was here one day.
“You offer me better accommodation and your company has increased,” I nibble on the food he has brought with him. “Now you visit me two times in a day. Why?”
“Does a king need a reason?”
“You are very impertinent for a human,” he frowns. “Do you think you have the upper hand here?”
“All I did was refuse your offers and yet you still gave me those luxuries. You still give me your time when I know to be a king is to be forever occupied with problems and issues. I would say you are playing with your hands bared, King Thranduil. You are lonely.”
He rose so quickly that it frightened me and I jumped up, grabbing the knife used to cut slices of bread and readied myself.
“Try,” he snarls at me. “I beg of you, try and see what you bring down upon yourself.”
I was tired of this, tired of this semi-existence and I launched forward, hoping I still held some semblance of finesse at fighting. Thranduil dodged my attack with speed and grace but I twisted on the ball of one foot and pirouetted to slam the knife towards his neck.
He caught my wrist, using it to pull me off balance before caging my arms behind my head, wrenching the knife from my hand and putting it to my own throat, my back to his chest.
“Was it worth it?” he hisses.
“Yes. I am not your pet,” I struggle against him but he uses the blade to bring my head back so he can look into my eyes.
“Oh I rather think you are. You live in my halls, I feed you, I comfort you...and now you have displeased me, I shall punish you, my little bird.”
He bends, lips ghosting over mine with each word, “You think you have felt the depths of humiliation? You have seen nothing yet but you will and when that moment comes, you will beg for this cage that I keep you in.”
I'm flung forward, landing face first on the bed as the Elvenking storms out of the room, slamming the door shut and I hear many locks fall into place. I did not care what he had in store for me, I had suffered enough with being confined for so long with nothing but his visits to keep me occupied.
I should not have been so flippant though.
Female elves came to the door with swathes of fabric and jewels, telling me I was to attend a feast. I tried to protest at being forcibly undressed but they told me Thranduil was just outside the door and he would dress me himself if I kept resisting.
So I let them drape me in flowing fabrics, glittering necklaces and a twisted vine headdress of silver birch. I felt like a doll for the king's amusement as they paraded me out to him and I saw, to my horror, I was dressed in his colours, a matching partner as he turned to me in silver robes with his crown of berries and red leaves.
“If we had much dimmer light, you could almost pass as an elf,” he smirks before taking my arm and dragging me behind him. “You will sit to the right of me and in front. You will not speak unless I speak directly to you.”
When we walked into the feasting hall, my heart froze to see the King and Prince of Rohan amongst those at the table. I knew they recognised me when their heads snapped up and the King's gaze roamed over my attire.
“Friends of Rohan,” Thranduil deposits me in the appointed chair. “I believe you are acquainted with my lover already.”
I think I forgot how to breathe. I just looked at him in disbelief as he sat on his secondary throne and I realised it was the perfect height for him to pet my head if he wished.
“This is an insult!” the Prince bristles in his seat.
“It is insulting for a king as old I as to show an interest in one of your subjects?” Thranduil says innocently enough. “Anyone else would call it a blessing. Do you not wish for closer ties between our people?”
“You have spelled her into this! She would not have chosen this of her own free will!”
“Sit down!” the King bids his son before turning to Thranduil. “This is of her own volition?”
“It is,” the Elvenking lazily strokes my hair and I avoid all eye contact. “By your order in fact, o' great Horse King. She was aiming lower initially with Lendaer but I became quite receptive. You should be proud of your spy.”
“Our...” the King of Rohan pales.
“I wonder if she had some training before you sent her to us? She is so very delicate with her touch, so receptive to it in kind and there are wonderful melodies that she makes for me in the small hours of the night.”
It was lies, all of it lies but he was so convincing, I felt embarrassed just hearing it. I could not take the disgusted stares of my people and I could not take the jeering faces of Thranduil's council and the other elves.
“We will leave,” the King of Rohan stands. “We wish no war without justifiable cause.”
“Then do not give me a justifiable cause to wage it,” the Elvenking's voice is colder than ice. “But before you leave, kiss me melethril nîn.”
Lithe fingers pulled my hair by the root until I was looking up at Thranduil and I had a choice to make. Either I refused him and caused a war or I submitted and forever became an outcast of Rohan.
I chose not to protest as his lips found mine. It was short but it was theatrical enough to get the point across.
“Now,” Thranduil straightens up. “Escort the King back to his glorified stable.”
After they leave, the atmosphere changes. I am no longer the object to be looked at but the source of cruel amusement.
“You did very well, my little bird,” Thranduil's tone is patronising as his fingers continue to trace through my hair. “You appear to have chosen your cage.”
Something within me snapped and I beat his hand away from me, standing on my feet and throwing the wine goblet over him. In an instant his silver robes turned dark, the stain spreading and the ends of his hair becoming red.
I did not wait for a response but I fled to my room unimpeded and closed the door, wrenching the headdress and the jewels off. I wanted any trace of Elven made materials off of me but I had no other clothes to change into. I knew what I had done could guarantee my death but I could not sit and be silent any longer.
The door burst open and Thranduil entered, more terrifying than I had ever seen him. He closed and locked it before advancing upon me as I backed into the wall.
“Have you had your moment of defiance now?” his voice is wavering in its anger.
“And have you had your fill of my humiliation?” I retort.
“Not nearly enough,” his hand goes to my throat. “Do not rage at me when you have chosen your path.”
“I had no choice and you knew that!”
“So make your choice now,” his eyes are aflame. “Stay here or go after your King. I do not have anything to sway your decision here at present.”
“I cannot stay here,” my heart is rattling against my chest. “But I cannot go elsewhere. You have doomed me beyond this forest with your actions and I am trapped. You act like I have a choice but the reality is that I have none. You are vile and you are cruel.”
“I am a king,” he leans down, nose to nose with me. “You came into my lands with the intention to deceive me, to snare one of my own council and you think your punishment has been cruel? I have tortured people for less. Your incarceration in my halls has been a mercy, my time I give to you is a mercy, the kiss of a king I have given to you is a mercy even though you do not see it.”
“Tell me what I should do then.”
“You should accept that I am your king now,” his gaze lowers to my mouth. “It is only your own obstinance that keeps you caged.”
“So give in?”
“No, never give in. That is not what I want from you. Just accept my rule. Fight me all you like, I do enjoy that but call me your king. Say it for me.”
“Earn it,” I growl back.
The sneer on Thranduil's face turned to delight as his hand moved from my throat to my wrists and pinned them above my head, his body pressed to mine. His lips were so close to my jaw and I found myself wanting their touch, I found myself wanting any kind of touch.
“You wanted to seduce me? Let me show you how a king will seduce you,” he murmurs before mouthing down my neck that left tingles across my skin. “And you will call me 'king' before I'm done with you.”
I was at the Elvenking's whims as he played with me, found the spots that were sensitive, that made me gasp. He became impatient, letting me go and peeling my dress away like a long time lover would do, relishing each new inch of skin as it appeared.
When I was bared to him, he pulled me to the table, lying me across it and sitting himself in the chair. I did not know what he was doing at first but when he parted my legs, I understood.
“A king does not bend, you see,” he raises an eyebrow. “A king does not bow but a king will dine on the finest of things.”
The way he took me apart with his tongue was unlike anything I had ever experienced. I had intended to keep silent to spite him but I could not. My hands were gripping the edges of the table and stuttered moans kept passing my lips. I couldn't even help when my hips bucked against him for more and he held my legs in place to stop me so he could continue his relentless teasing.
Swirling, lathing, flicking, suckling.
I felt the stirrings of release within me but before I could reach that peak, he pulled away, tracing the inside of one thigh with his mouth.
“Say the words and I will let you scream for me. Do not say them and I will keep bringing you to this edge. How much willpower do you have, Meleth nîn?”
I discovered I had very little after the fourth time he retreated.
“Please!” I beg. “Please, my king!”
“Who am I to refuse my subject?” he smirks before returning to his task.
The climax is so strong that my back arches from the table and I half scream under his touch. Anyone passing the room might think he was physically torturing me.
“And now it is time to please your ruler,” he lifts my body like it weighed nothing and sets me down on the bed before stripping his robes away and I see the marbled bare expanse of him.
I also note he does not take his crown off as he moves over me, desire evident as it seeks entrance and in one languid thrust, he slides within me. The groan he makes goes straight to the core of me.
Weeks, perhaps months of barbed words and fighting and I was undone by the sound of the Elvenking's pleasure. He had seduced me truly after all.
When he cants his hips, a slow and torturous rhythm, his hand comes to my jaw and forces me to gaze at him.
“You will watch as your king enjoys you,” he murmurs.
This was more intense, more consuming than any person I had ever been with and I willingly leaned up to kiss him which he accepted with equal hunger. We were intent on drowning in each other and did not care if we ever resurfaced.
Thranduil pushes deep, a staggered moan forced from his lips as he meets his own end and now the fog of lust has lifted, I am worried what will come next. I did not think this far ahead.
He does not move from his position when I expected him to roll away from me.
“You shall have a new cage tomorrow, my little bird,” he brushes errant hair away from my face. “They shall be my own chambers.”
“And what will become of my life?”
“Anything I wish,” he answers with a small kiss to my forehead. “You are mine now, until you fade from old age, you are mine. You were right to call me lonely, Meleth nîn but I am lonely no longer.”
Silence falls as I digest his words before I look him squarely in the eyes.
“Do not expect me to behave.”
“Oh I expect you to misbehave, quite frequently in fact,” he grins. “It is what I love about you after all.”
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The Angel and Devil on your Shoulder
Summary: One day you wake up with an angel and devil on your shoulder. And for some reason, they like to air all your feelings out to the one person you’re trying not to like. Bucky.
Word Count: 4.6k
Warnings: (+18 only. This contains sexual themes. Minors DNI and exit now.) Sexual themes. Pining. Implied sex. Swearing. I think that's it.
All Writings Masterlist
Note: This is a little different and out there but it was so much fun to write. Lucy is basically just all my dirty thoughts lol (: not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.
Any and all likes, comments, and/or reblogs are deeply appreciated (: I love that shit.
Bold for Lucy (Represents Lucifer)
Italics for Mickey (Represents Michael)
*Gifs not mine
You weren’t sure exactly when it happened. It surprised you as much as anybody. You just woke up one day to see two pocket sized creatures staring back at you on the pillow. You shrieked and threw yourself from the bed, grabbing the nearest gun you had hidden in your room and pointed at them, “What in the fuck are you?” You stammered out, breathing hard. One was what looked like a small woman dressed in a devil costume, tail and pitchfork included. The other was a small woman dressed in white with a small halo around her head. They honestly looked like cartoon characters of the sort.
“We didn’t mean to scare you.” The one in white said with a small smile, suddenly floating up in the air to float in front of you.
“Yes we did.” The devil looking one said, folding her arms with a wicked smile on her lips as she stayed laying on your pillow.
“Shut up, Lucy!”
“Make me, Mickey.”
You lowered the gun a little, wide eyes flickering between the two, “What the hell is going on?” You breathed out, wondering if you’d lost your mind.
“My apologies. I’m Mickey.” She said with a small curtsy and a smile, “That’s my sister, Lucy. We are your deities.”
“My what?” You ask confused, your brain trying to catch up with the fact that there were two tiny fairy-like people just floating in your room.
“Deities. You know, divine status.” The one named Lucy suddenly floated over and perched itself on your shoulder, “Usually humans don’t get any deities. We are pretty much reserved for gods and such.”
You looked at the small person on your shoulder before reaching a hand and flicking her off, sending her flying before she stopped midair floating and huffed at you, “Then why are you here?”
“We don’t know. We’re just your deities.”
“Well can you not be my deities?” You ask, looking back to the angelic one, “I’m not a god or a divine person so you two can just go back where you came from.”
“No can do, boss lady. You’re stuck with us.”
That is how you were introduced to your two deities. Lucy, the devil on your shoulder and Mickey, the angel on the other. You first had to make sure you weren’t going insane, calling Wanda incessantly until she came into your room with a concerned look on her face to see you pacing around. You had made Lucy and Mickey hide somewhere in the room before Wanda arrived. You paused when Wanda asked you what was wrong and looked at her, “Okay, first you can’t send me to the looney bin because I’m not crazy.” You pause, “Well maybe I am but I don’t want to go to the looney bin.”
Wanda tilts her head at you still with a confused look on her face, “No looney bin, gotcha.” She said slowly, “Now what’s going on?”
You let out a deep breathe before muttering a “come on out.” to the two deities in hiding. They slowly floated up from under the bed and floated towards Wanda who was staring at them with wide, yet confused eyes, “What are those things?”
“I don’t know, Wanda!” You say, “They just were staring at me when I woke up. They say they’re my deities.”
“I’m Mickey!” The one in white beamed, moving closer to Wanda and taking a seat on her right shoulder.
“And I’m Lucy.” The red one huffed out, floating over to Wanda’s right shoulder and kicking Mickey off Wanda’s shoulder.
Wanda stood in silence for a moment just staring at the two deities before smiling slightly, “They’re so cute!” She said before looking back to you, “Can we keep them?”
You groaned. Of course Wanda thought this was cute and not at all weird, “As much as I want to say no, I don’t have a choice. They say they’re stuck with me.” You inform, watching them float back over to you and sit themselves on either of your shoulders.
You figured out that Mickey was the parts of you that wanted to do good, be good. The part that cared and gave helpful advice while Lucy was the complete opposite. She harbored all your temptations and dirty, dark thoughts. The rest of the team figured out your secret eventually. Steve and Sam found you talking to yourself on the couch before seeing them sitting beside you asking all the questions about TV. They thought it was funny and Sam had many jokes about the angel and devil on your shoulders.The worst one was Bucky when he found out. He was a player, always having different girls up in his room almost every day of the week as well as make flirty remarks to you anytime he was in the room and that was before you had the deities. He loved the little devil on your shoulder. It got all worked up when Bucky walked in a room trying to make suggestions towards you about running your fingers through his hair or jumping his bones until your face was hot and you stormed out of the room. Luckily, you eventually figured out that you could give them orders. You once told them to leave you alone and they disappeared into thin air giving you about three hours of peace before they returned.
Now the whole team was out on a mission. Leaving you around with the person you didn’t want to be left alone with. Bucky. You were trying your best to stay away from him, especially when your deities were around. He got you so worked up which only made Lucy get worked up as well. As much as you were trying to stay away from him, there were moments where he managed to track you down. Like this morning when you were walking out of your room to head down to the training room. Bucky was walking down the hall with nothing but a towel on which made you freeze in your tracks as Lucy started fanning herself on your shoulder in a swoon, “Why are you walking on my floor with nothing but a towel on? Your room is upstairs and has it’s own shower, Barnes.” You scowled, folding your arms.
“Ah, c’mon, Y/N! Maybe if you’re nice he’ll accidentally let the towel slip.” Lucy’s words earned a smack from Mickey before she returned her arms crossed as well, mimicking your scowl.
Bucky put that signature panty-dropping grin on and came closer to you, staring down into your eyes as he towered above you, “You know, sweetheart,” He began, making Lucy giggle on your shoulder, “Maybe you should listen to your devil sometime. She’s got all the good ideas.” He finished before walking around you and to the elevator, disappearing through the doors.
“You should’ve kicked him in the shin.”
You and Mickey both look over at Lucy as she floated off your shoulder and in front of you, “What?” You ask.
“He could’ve dropped his towel if you kicked him in the shin. Then we could see the rest of him.”
You scowled at Lucy, “Shut up.” You told her before continuing on your way to the training room. You started with some weight lifting before moving onto punching the bag while Lucy and Mickey sat behind you on the ropes of the boxing ring bickering as they usually did. They both fell oddly silent and when you turned around to check on them, there was Bucky again towering over you inches away, making you jump, “Holy shit!” You gasped out, “You need a fucking bell, Barnes.” You hissed out at him for scaring you.
Bucky clicks his tongue at you, taking a step forward until you backed up against the boxing bag, a smirk growing on his lips as he had you cornered in, “Now, now Y/N. I’m not sure how your angel would feel about that kind of language.”
“I’ll allow it.”
You leaned over to look around him, glaring at your deities before straightening back up and looking back up at him, “What do you want? I thought you were done with training this morning.”
Bucky raises an eyebrow at you, “Keeping track of my schedule, doll?” He asks, reaching out a hand to brush a strand of hair that was stuck to your lip away and tucks it behind your ear.
You scowled at him, crossing your arms across your chest, “As if. Did you forget about the towel thing already?” You sneer out. You couldn’t deny it though, his light touch to your cheek made you blush and a shiver run up your spine. Bucky was hot but to you he was also a walking cesspool from all the women he had flaunting over him. At first you had the biggest crush on him but that quickly turned to slight disgust mixed with your crush. But when he was standing over you like this, lightly sweeping away a strand of hair, your knees felt weak and your breath hitches in your throat.
“Oh I couldn’t forget the face you made when you saw me nearly naked. It was the most beautiful look I’ve ever seen.” Bucky grins down at you, taking another step closer so your bodies were almost touching and he reaches up his arms over your head to rest his hands on top of hanging punching bag, practically cornering you in, “Came to see if you needed any help.”
You stare up into those stupid, pretty blue eyes of his, biting your bottom lip at how close he is. You eventually advert your gaze from his eyes and look around him, anywhere but that hypnotizing stare, “No thanks. I’m just about done.”
“Oh booooo! You two should wrestle. That’d be hot.”
“Lucy!” Mickey began then paused, “Yeah you have a point.”
“So you’re on my side now about tall, dark, and handsome?”
“He may talk like a devil but he looks like an angel.”
Bucky grins, his eyes never leaving yours as he listened to your deities’s conversation, “Hear that, sweetheart? Even your little deities think I’m the best of both worlds.” He leans his face down, closer to yours. He was so close that he could capture your lips in a moment if he wanted to and you wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop him, “You just gotta give me a chance.”
You stared back into his eyes before moving your gaze down to his lips, watching his tongue flicker out and sweep across the bottom one lightly which cause you to let out a jagged breath. You quickly remembered who Bucky was and ducked down under his arms and away from him, “No thanks, Barnes. I’m not going to be just another girl that sneaks out of your room when you’re done.” You say, going over to the bench and picking up your water bottle and making your way out of the training area.
“Who said you’d be just another girl?” Bucky tucks his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants as he watches you go, waving to your deities as they passed him to follow you out, “And who said anything about sneaking out, darlin’? I’d let you stay all night and every night after!” He called out before you slammed the door behind you. What he said was true though, Bucky would give up all the one night stands and flirting with other women if you would just give him a chance. He honestly liked you, almost to the point where the crush had grown into being in love with you. And now that you had a little devil on your shoulder that spoke all your dirty thoughts, he knew you felt some sort of the same way. He hadn’t brought another woman home since Lucy started making remarks and he noticed you would blush and quickly exit a room. He never thought he had a chance with you, thought you disliked him. But now he had a chance.
You made your way to your bedroom, shutting the door behind you and let out a deep breath before touching your cheek where Bucky had swiped some of your hair away. It was like you could still feel his touch and it sent another shiver down your spine.
“Is she okay?” Mickey asks, tilting her head at you as she and Lucy sat on your pillow.
“I think she’s getting all warm and fuzzy.” Lucy snickered.
“Warm and Fuzzy?…. Oh!”
“Shut up.” You groan, tossing your water bottle on the bed before making your way to your bathroom and shutting the door behind you to have some alone time from your deities. You pulled off your sweaty clothes from your body before turning on the shower and stepping into the warm water. You closed your eyes and tilted your head back into the warmth, your mind immediately floating to how good you felt with Bucky so close to you. The way his words rolled off his tongue like velvet. And oh god, the way his tongue danced across his bottom lip as he stared right into your eyes. You quickly shook the thoughts from your head and scrubbed yourself clean of sweat and his touch before turning off the shower and pulling a towel around your body. You brushed out your hair in the bathroom before walking out into your bedroom, freezing when you saw Bucky sprawled across your bed talking to your deities. You gripped the towel tighter around you, your eyes wide, “What are you doing?!”
Bucky looked over to you, tilting his head as he ran his eyes up and down your body that was only covered by a towel, “You saw me in only a towel, figured it’s only fair if I saw you.” He teased, placing his arms behind the back of his head on your pillow with a grin set on his lips, “Better than I could’ve imagined, sweetheart.”
You frown a little at him, picking up a book from your desk and throwing it at him which he caught with ease. Damn super soldier reflexes. You watched Mickey and Lucy slowly float from over on the bed by Bucky to sit on your shoulders, “Well can you please go so I can get dressed?”
Bucky set the book down on your bedside table before sitting up on your bed, keeping eye contact with you with every movement he made, “I’ll go on one condition.” He smirked over at you, licking his lips again.
“I hope that one condition is to join him in the bed. Yum.”
You tilted your head to glare at Lucy who quickly made a motion to zip her lips shut before returning your gaze back to Bucky who was standing from your bed and making his way over to you. You back up until your thighs hit the edge of your desk and he’s towering over you once again, “What do you want?”
“Oh he’s close-close.”
Bucky kept walking towards you until he was almost flush against your body but left a little space between. His blue eyes pierced down into yours, the smirk never wavering from his lips, “Have dinner with me tonight, doll.” He says, reaching up a hand to brush his vibranium knuckles across your cheek, making goosebumps crawl up your skin and your knees almost buckle, “Just you and me.”
“She’s getting warm and fuzzy again.”
“Warm and fuzzy over dinner?”
“She’s probably thinking about dessert.”
You shut your eyes tightly at the words of your deities, why did they have to always speak up on what you were feeling at the most inopportune times. You opened your eyes again when you heard Bucky chuckle at their words, meeting his gaze that had been unmoving from your face, “Fine. Dinner. Just dinner.” You mumble out to him, “Now can you please go so I can get dressed?”
Bucky beams at your response, “A deals a deal.” He replied, but didn’t move away from you. He tilts his head as he gave you another look over, biting his bottom lip and scrunching his nose slightly at the sight before meeting your gaze again, “I’ll be cooking. Meet me in the kitchen at six.” He said before learning in and leaving a gentle kiss on your cheek before turning and leaving your room, shutting the door behind him.
As soon as he left your room, you walked on shaky legs over to your bed and sat on the edge with a groan. Bucky doesn’t do dinner, let alone cook dinner for the women he brings back. He’s usually on one mission when it came to women and that was to get them in and out of his room as quick as possible.
“Is she okay?”
“Shit, I’m not. Did you see him bite his lip? I almost fainted.”
“Yeah that even had me swooning a little bit.”
“I’m surprised her underwear just didn’t fall off right on the spot.”
“She isn’t wearing underwear.”
“Okay! Time out!” You yell at them, glaring as your eyes flickered between the two deities. They both looked at you before disappearing into thin air, giving you some peace and quiet to process the deal you just made with Bucky. You took a deep breath, “It’s just dinner.” You tell yourself, throwing your towel into the hamper and changing into some jean shorts and your AC/DC tank. You decided it would be best to just avoid Bucky the rest of the day until dinner then you could go back to avoiding him. You tried to read to waste the time but your mind couldn’t stop drifting to the way Bucky kissed your cheek. It was soft, gentle and hesitant as if he was trying to be some sort of gentleman.
“You’ve read the same page six times.”
“I know.” You mutter out. Your deities had returned after an hour of peace and silence, but luckily they were behaving for the most part. You had another hour before you were supposed to meet Bucky in the kitchen.
“She’s thinking about Bucky.”
“Ooohhhh…. Good thinking?”
“Is there a difference?”
You groaned and brought the book up to your face, hiding in the pages, “I don’t know what he’s doing. I feel like the mouse in a game of cat and mouse.”
“I’ll be his mouse any day.”
“Well, maybe he actually likes you?”
“I don’t know if he’s capable of liking anybody in that way.”
“He hasn’t brought anybody back to his bedroom since we showed up and I started airing out your dirty laundry.”
You look over at Lucy, “How do you know that?”
“He’s nice to look at. Sometimes I go stare at him.”
“He invited you to dinner. He hasn’t done that with anybody else before.”
“And he’s cooking. Hopefully naked cooking. Or nothing but an apron on, that’ll work.”
“Yeah, I know. Bucky doesn’t do dinner for his flings, let alone cook for them.” You pause for a moment, “Oh my god, is this a date?”
“Seems like a date.”
“You should put on a skimpy dress.”
You frown at Lucy, “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“Nothing is wrong with what you’re wearing.” Mickey glared over at Lucy, “You wear whatever you’re comfortable in.”
“Thanks, Mickey.” You mumble out, putting the book down on your bedside table.
“I’m just trying to get you laid. Skimpy dresses work.”
You sigh, standing up and looking at yourself in the mirror, “Maybe I should put pants on instead of shorts so he isn’t eye fucking me.”
“Just more layers for him to strip off of you later.”
“I don’t think covering your legs will work. You were wearing leggings and a hoodie in the training room and he was still trying to undress you with his eyes.”
You bite onto your bottom lip as you look at yourself in the mirror. What was it about you that Bucky liked so much to where he was going to make you dinner? Ask you out on a date? Sure, he’s always made flirty comments with you but you thought that was the normal. He’s never made any towards Natasha which you thought was because she’d kill him in a moments notice but then he’s never flirted with Wanda either. You were the only one in the facility he bothered to flirt with and get all worked up. Maybe he did actually like you? And Lucy just confirmed it so now he was headstrong on asking you out?
Eventually the time came and you slowly walked out of your room and made your way to the kitchen, stopping when you see the table had been set with a nice white cloth, some candles, two wine glasses with a bottle of wine, and some bread.
“Definitely a date.” Mickey whispers in your ear.
Bucky turned from the stove to see you, a grin forming across his lips. He was wearing black jeans with a dark blue henley that seemed about two sizes too small on him, “Hey, sweetheart. Dinner’s just about ready.” He said, walking over to the table and pouring some wine into the glasses before walking over to you with one and stretching it out to you, “We are having steak, potatoes, and some salad. I hope that’s okay. You look beautiful by the way.”
You took the wine glass and nod, “That’s fine.” You say back to him before biting your lip. Beautiful in simple jean shorts and a band t-shirt? You couldn’t sense any lying in his voice and he was looking at you with soft, sincere eyes and a smile, “Thanks. You look good too.”
“Oh, steak. And wine. And candles. You know what they say about steak.”
“When a guy buys a girl the most expensive thing on the menu, usually they expect at least a blowjob.”
“Oh. That makes no sense. Why does steak equal blowjob?”
“Oh my god.” You say, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose with your free hand, “You two. Gone. Now.” You hiss out at your deities. Once it was silent for a moment, you opened your eyes to see they had disappeared and Bucky standing there with an amused grin on his lips.
“Just so you know, doll, I don’t expect anything.” Bucky said with a grin down at you, stepping closer and gently placing a hand on your hip, “Just wanted to treat you to a nice evening.”
You bit your lip again, the same shiver running up your back as he touched your hip and you wondered if you knew what he was doing to you. You watched him for a moment before speaking, “James, is this a date?”
Bucky raises an eyebrow at your question, “You don’t have to consider it one. But I sure do.” He told you, “I’ve always wanted to ask you out, Y/N.” He said with a sincere smile before turning away and going back to the table to grab the plates and head to the stove to dish everything up.
The whole time during dinner, Bucky was nothing but a gentleman to you. He didn’t make any snide, seductive remarks. Instead he spent his time telling you about himself, answering any question you asked honestly. He asked you questions about your hobbies, which he already knew mostly everything about. He asked what books you were currently reading. You had never seen this side of Bucky and for a moment you forgot everything about him being an annoying flirt. It wasn’t until dessert that he turned on flirt back on. Bucky pulled out a slice of chocolate cake he must’ve picked up from a bakery and sat beside you, cutting a pice off with his fork before holding the it in front of your face, “Open up, sweetheart.” He told you, that grin returning to his lips.
You give him a look but opened your mouth and took the bite of chocolate cake, smiling a little, “That is so good.” You say after swallowing the bite. You bit your lip for a moment before taking the fork from him, slicing off a piece and holding it in front of him like he did for you, “Open up.” You say with a teasing smile.
Bucky grins but parts his lip, his teeth scraping slightly against the fork as you pulled it from his lips. He chewed a little before swallowing the piece and leaning a little closer to you, “Mmm. That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” He purrs out to you.
You blush slightly at his velvety voice, “Yeah, it’s really sweet. Really good.” You reply slightly stumbling over your words, watching him lean in a little closer to you.
“I could think of something sweeter I’d like to try.” Bucky breathed out to you, his face inches from yours now. He took the fork from your hand and set it down on the table without breaking eye contact before lifting his hand to cup your cheek gently. He didn’t move closer to you though, instead scanning your face as if to ask for you permission.
You bit your bottom lip, able to smell the chocolate on his breath as well as the wine. You stared into his eyes, not moving away from his touch or away from him being so close to you. You swore you could hear your heart pounding in your ears, “Then try it.” You whisper out to him.
Within a second after your words, Bucky’s lips were on yours. It was gentle but bruising. His other hand quickly came to rest on your thigh, sneaking up until he reached your hip. He didn’t stop at one kiss, instead he kept laying sweet kisses on your lips, deepening each one until his tongue traced your bottom lip begging for entrance which you happily parted your lips for. He groaned when his tongue danced with yours, pulling you off your chair in one swift movement and onto his lap to have you straddle his waist.
You pulled away for air, not knowing when your fingers got tangled in his dark hair. You look down at him from where you sat on his lap, taking deep breathes as his eyes met yours. His hands were gripping onto your waist and he was licking his bottom lip as if to taste any remnants of your lips.
“Been thinkin’ about doin’ that forever, doll.” Bucky groaned up to you, “First time I saw you… I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about making you my girl.”
“Me too. That was hot.” Lucy said, sitting on the top of the counter with Mickey at her side.
You blushed and hid your face into Bucky’s shoulder at your deities’s words.
“Don’t stop on our account. We are just here for the show.”
“The show of them having hot sex on the table.”
“I don’t think we should watch that show.”
You lift your head to look over at your deities with a glare, “Go away. There will be no hot sex on the table.” You hissed out at them before watching them disappear again. You look back to Bucky who was staring up at you with an amused grin, “I meant that.”
“No sex on the table?” Bucky chuckles out, pulling your hips against his making a small gasp escape your lips, “That’s fine, darlin’. We can start in the bedroom and work our way out here.”
Permanent Taglist: @buckypops @bibliophilewednesday @stcrryslibrary @redhairedfeistynerd @princessnnylzays
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Hate You, Hate You Not - Armitage Hux
Pairing: General Armitage Hux x reader
Requested: By anon.
Prompts: #1 & #58 from the fluff-list.
Warnings/notes: (SHOULD I MAKE A PART 2 WITH MORE ROMANCE IN IT?) This ended up being much longer than I planned so it's most likely very boring and dull😭 Might be a bit, if not a lot, out of character since this is kinda my test-run for Hux and Star Wars in general. Getting the characters mannerisms in might take some practice. Not proofread so I apologize in advance for any mistakes. This is the first time ever that I write for Star Wars and the first time in like 5-6 months that I’m writing in general so I’m a bit rusty. Please reblog and leave comments to keep my motivation going and let me know if you’d like to be added to a Star Wars taglist <3
Summary: One of Kylo Ren’s many tantrums results in your room being inhabitable for a night, which in turn results in you having to share a room - and bed - with the person you hate the most.
Everyone who had ever, at some point in their lives, worked alongside Kylo Ren in his quest to bring the Order to power, knew how much of a hassle and inconvenience his temper, or lack thereof, could be.
Not much was needed for him to lose his cool and it happened on a much too frequent basis than what was considered normal for a man in his early 30s, at least according to you.
Of course, however, you couldn’t actually tell him that, nor could you think it, with the risk of him probing your mind.
So every time he came back from a failed mission and completely obliterated your hard work, you could do nothing but bite your tongue, clear your head and repair the damages like you’d done oh, so many times before.
That’s what you got for being one of the highest-ranked engineers of the Order, you supposed.
But on this day you would’ve, for the first time in your life, very much preferred to repair the damages left behind by your tantrum-prone leader like you always did. Because if that punishment had to be compared to the one you were now facing, you would’ve chosen the former without even a shadow of a doubt.
But, unfortunately, that was not an option this time around, as the room that had fallen victim to the sizzling beam of Kylo Ren’s lightsaber was your bedroom.
Well, not originally, of course, but sparks had flown from the totaled control panels and a piece of supposedly fireproof metal scrap had caught on fire before you and the other engineers reached the room for a damage-control, starting of as a small flame and then proceeding to spread like wildfire as fire did, in ways completely unbeknownst to you as, like already mentioned, the place was supposed to be safe from fires.
The licking flames had managed to melt through several walls before you got to the scene, and one of those walls was the wall to your bedroom.
It was late when it happened, only fifteen minutes before you were supposed to end your shift, and as you were on the verge of having a mental fucking breakdown, you personally requested an audience with Kylo and were granted permission by him after a very carefully-worded explanation to start early in the morning.
But that only took care of one of your problems, and only temporarily at that. Now you were left with the issue of finding other sleeping accommodations since your room was currently not habitable. You had no choice but to ask for another room and, of course, Hux thought that to be the perfect time to crack a sarcastic joke about throwing you into one of the prisoner cells.
You had never, in all your years of being alive, glared so fiercely at another human being as you did then. And in your moment of anger, you accidentally let your walls down and let your thoughts run freely through your head – your annoyance directed at the General, but also at Kylo Ren, being exposed.
You felt it before you saw it – that little prickle in your head, that little sting of your mind being probed – and only a second later, Kylo Ren turned his masked head in your direction, walked up to you with patronizingly slow steps and spoke:
“I think you’ll find that General Hux’s quarters will suffice for the night, until repairs can be done to your own. He has more than enough space for both of you.”
He turned his head to look at the baffled man standing behind him, all of the attitude he had previously been harboring against you now completely melted away.
“Isn’t that right, General?” Kylo continued asking, giving him the time he needed to regain his composure.
The general in question had never been very good at holding his tongue, not even when receiving orders from superiors, and was quick to protest.
As anyone would’ve been able to guess, that didn’t go very well, and you weren't even gonna try hiding the satisfaction you got from seeing Hux be force-choked against a wall for speaking out of turn.
No matter how good both of you were at hiding your spiteful thoughts toward him, Kylo knew how much the two of you hated him. And more than anything, he knew how much you hated each other.
Kylo had become very predictable to you during the time you had been there and you knew his ways good enough to know that he wouldn’t have wasted petty energy in putting the two most hateful people he knew in the same room if he hadn’t been pushed to do so.
You knew that you weren’t the reason in this scenario, despite the fact that he had probably felt your spite directed towards him, which only left one option; and that option was the bitter, infuriatingly stubborn ginger currently walking by your side.
You glanced at him from the corner of your eye and glared, clenching and unclenching your fists at your sides in the same manner you had been doing ever since Kylo had ruled his decision final and dismissed you for the night.
His eyes remained trained on the metallic corridor that seemed to be stretched out for miles in front of you and your blood boiled at the sight.
You would’ve lost your shit if he’d had the nerve to even consider looking at you after putting you in this situation, but at the same time, you were also on the verge of losing your shit about him having the audacity to ignore you.
You wanted to scream at him like you’d never screamed at anyone before, but you knew that doing that would only fuel the petty grudge Kylo had against the two of you and give him more ways to cause you torment. The only thing you and the general would ever have in common was not wanting that.
But still, what harm could a tiny bit of friendly banter do?
“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you, Armitage?” The question you’d been sucking on for the past few minutes finally slipped out into the air, making your anger known.
“Don’t call me that.”
“My apologies.” You sarcastically shot back with a dry laugh. “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you, general?”
“No, it was awfully tempting.” Was all that he replied, his eyes not once flickering and neither his stone-cold scowl nor fast-paced stride faltering.
Well, you might have absolutely despised each other but in the very least, you never bothered lying to each other. That had to count for something, right? Not that either of you cared.
No more words were exchanged, and that was probably for the best. Engineers and stormtroopers all moved out of your way as the two of you marched through the corridors, side by side, knowing better at this point than to get on your bad sides when you were together and this obviously angry both with each other and in general.
Soon enough, you finally reached the corridor in which Hux’s sleeping quarters were located and once the mechanic doors slid open, you pushed yourself past him into the room before he even got the chance to react.
He fumed behind you as he watched you make yourself at home, dropping your dirty jacket on his perfectly made bed.
“You’ll take the floor, then?” You asked as you turned around, crossing your arms over your chest and shooting him a forced smile.
“Hardly.” He spat, eyes narrowing, and you scoffed, rolling your eyes in return.
“You must be a real hit with the ladies with those manners.”
At that, he stepped further into his room, allowing the sensory-triggered door to shut behind him, successfully shutting the two of you in together.
“I don’t have time for fooling around with women.” He spat out the last word with such malice that you automatically raised an eyebrow.
“Well, that explains it.” You mused, the corner of your lip tugging upwards ever so slightly.
“Explains what, exactly?” His eyes narrowed further, and this time it was his turn to cross his arms.
“That stick you have up your ass.” You wasted no time in shooting back, and before he got a chance to reply, you continued. “I know this might be news to you seeing as you’re, well, you, but gentlemen are supposed to sacrifice their comfort and offer themselves to take the floor when a lady, due to unfortunate circumstances, is forced to stay in their room.”
You sarcastically smiled at him and sank down his bed, something that he, judging by the snarl overtaking his face, didn’t appreciate.
“You, a lady? That will be the day.” He scoffed. “Even calling you a woman is a stretch with your mannerisms.”
You could only roll your eyes.
“Well, I’m not sharing a bed with you.” The glare that had temporarily been exchanged for a teasing smirk returned to your face. “I’d rather share a bed with Millicent.”
As you said that, you picked up a single strand of cat hair from his bed, held it up for further inspection and raised your lip in disgust.
He stared at you dead serious, hands clasped behind his back and eyes burning holes into the side of your face.
“You’re allergic to cats.” He pointed out, making your head whip back around to face him with a glare equally as fierce as the one you were met with.
“Yes, that’s my point.” You deadpanned. “But it would seem that said point just went right over your thick-skulled head.”
“Do you think I am any happier about this than you are?” He scowled, and you stood up, slowly approaching him and coming to a stop right in front of him.
He took a small step back, a move that made your lip tug upward ever so slightly. The fact that he was so obviously not as tough as he wanted people to believe gave you a special kind of satisfaction and he knew it, judging by the way he only turned stiffer after that.
“You should be.” You smiled sweetly at him, keeping your eyes connected to his. “Because you’re sure as hell lucky I haven’t choked the life out of you yet for getting us into this situation in the first place.”
He glared and you glared right back, challenging, no, daring him to fight back. You knew that he wanted to, you could see that he wanted to, but in the end, not even he was that stupid.
So he said nothing, and once you realized you had finally managed to successfully back him into a corner, you backed away from him again and plastered on another forced, overly sweet smile.
“Now, I need to take a shower. I reek of burnt plastic.” You stated flatly and pushed past him, making a beeline for the one extra door in the room that you could only assume was his bathroom.
You heard the squeak of his shoes rubbing against the floor as he quickly turned around behind you, and then came the determined steps and the proximity of his body closing in on you. However, before he got the chance to object or reach you, you entered his bathroom and slammed the door shut in his face, smiling contently to yourself as you listened to the muffled string of curses that followed.
You didn’t spend any more time thinking about it, though, not wasting any time before doing what you came in there to do.
You got out of your horrid-smelling clothes, released your equally as nasty-smelling hait from its ponytail and stepped into the shower.
If there was one thing you appreciated a little extra about living at the Starkiller Base, it was that everyone used the same scented soap. Because that meant that you wouldn’t have to go around smelling specifically like Hux, but rather just like you always smelled.
Once you finished washing your hair and body, you had to stop and think for a bit.
Your clothes obviously still reeked and needed a proper wash before they could be worn again, and you obviously couldn’t go naked.
After much thought back and forth, you finally settled with your own leggings as they were the one piece of clothing from your previous attire that smelled the least of smoke, and a plain black, long-sleeved undershirt that you found in a pile of Hux’s clean laundry.
Once you vad gotten dressed, braided your hair and re-entered the bedroom accompanied by a stream of steam, you found it to be empty, Hux nowhere in sight.
You couldn’t deny that you wondered where he’d gone off to, but you shook your head free of his face pretty quickly, settling with believing that he just went to take his frustration out on some poor stormtrooper or low-rank intern like he so often did when things didn’t go his way, much like Kylo Ren beat the shit out of any control panel he could get his hands on.
While you awaited his return, you occupied yourself with going around the room and lighting the small night-lamps like you normally did in your own room before going to bed.
That obviously didn’t take long, however, so you were soon enough once again left alone with your boredom and started walking around the room, inspecting all of Hux’s belongings.
You realized pretty quickly that he was not a person to whom inanimate things had much sentimental value, as he definitely didn’t have much to his name aside from the basic interior that all of the sleeping quarters on the base had.
He had a ring on his drawer, a few books in one of his two bookshelves while the other stood empty, a small bed in a corner for his cat, clothes in his wardrobe, and that was pretty much it. He had no pictures of family, no real personal belongings that could signify any kind of emotional value.
But then again, who did in these parts?
“Is that my shirt?”
You jumped when you heard the sudden voice behind you, quickly turning around where you stood twirling the ring you had found in the light of the lamp standing beside you.
Your eyes found his form immediately, shocked meeting stern.
“Why are you wearing my shirt?” He almost instantly repeated himself when not getting a reply the first time, slowly beginning to walk in your direction with his hands clasped behind his back.
You quickly put the ring back down on the dresser and turned towards him, regaining your composure.
“Well, if you hadn’t noticed, my room and everything in it was burnt to a crisp. The smokey smell on my clothes was giving me a headache and kind of would have ruined the purpose of taking a shower so when I just so conveniently noticed a pile of clean clothes, I helped myself.” You shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, and to you, it wasn’t.
Hux, however, didn’t seem amused in the slightest.
“Yes, you seem to have a habit of thinking you’re entitled to everything you want.” He spat back at you, coming to a stop while there was still a good amount of distance between the two of you.
Any chill you had previously had melted right off and your annoyance quickly returned at the sound of his words.
“Oh, do excuse me. I just thought one headache would be enough.” You retorted and rolled your eyes, before sighing and crossing your arms over your chest. “So, how are we doing this? It’s late and I need to be up early to see to the repairs.”
“I thought that I made myself clear.” Hux was quick to scoff, his glare not faltering for as much as a second. “I’m not giving you my bed.”
Once again, all you could do was roll your eyes. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to suck it up then.” You stated flatly and sat down on the bed, wasting no time in starting to divide the pillows into two piles rather than one.
You took a few seconds to adjust the pillows to suit your needs before looking back up, eyebrow raised at the fact that he had yet to say or do anything.
Your eyes once again met his and you almost laughed out loud at the sight you were faced with, but thankfully managed to control yourself and avoid making the situation even harder than it already was.
Long story short, Hux had never looked more horrified than he did in that moment.
He basically looked at you like you had killed his cat, and that was putting it lightly.
You took a few seconds to just enjoy watching him squirm and silently scramble to make sense of the situation, but even you knew when enough was enough and raised a questioning eyebrow at him in an attempt to get him moving.
“Well? What’s it going to be?” You asked. “It’s either this or the floor, just like it was for me.”
Hux opened his mouth, hesitated, and then closed it again. He obviously hadn’t been expecting you to actually agree on sharing his bed with him and now that you had, he was left at loss for words as he clearly hadn’t been preparing for anything other than you sleeping on the floor.
But after a good moment of just standing there and looking like an idiot, he finally picked himself back up, squared his shoulders and walked around the bed to the other side with frustrated strides and a snarling lip.
The feigned confidence melted right off, however, when he reached his destination and awkwardly shuffled into bed while simultaneously avoiding your amused and mocking stare, silently grabbing the extra blanket that was folded upon his bedside table.
Both of you laid down on your backs and a heavy silence fell like a thick blanket over the room. The only sound you could hear for a few moments were each other’s breaths and your own heartbeats. For a moment, only for a microscopical moment, you were actually on your way to admit to yourself that it was kind of nice.
But that thought went flying out the window just as quickly as it had knocked on the door of your mind when Hux broke the silence by beginning to adjust himself to get ready to sleep, and in the process of doing so made the active choice to tug the pillows from right under your head.
The back of your head hit the mattress with a soft thump and you closed your eyes, your lips pulling into a straight, tight line and one, sharp breath being released through your nose as you attempted to keep your cool.
You took a moment to calm down, before you turned your head to his side of the bed where he now laid with his back to you and tugged the pillows back – maybe with a little too much force than necessary.
Hux had quickly rolled over to his other side to take them back and in anger and an eagerness to get to sleep, you exclaimed: “Stop stealing the pillows!”
He met you with a stare cold enough to have anyone else shaking in their boots and spat back. “They’re my pillows.”
You grumbled under your breath and let go of one of the two pillows, letting him pull it back to his side while you held on to the last one.
You stared at each other for a moment, both of you eventually coming to a silent, mutual agreement that you were too tired to fight and therefore he'd let you keep the pillow you were holding on to as if your life depended on it.
He, once again, laid down and turned his back to you, his hands holding on to the pillows under his head while you struggled to get comfortable again, this time with only one pillow.
“Why is your bed so damn hard?” You muttered under your breath as you angrily shoved your elbow into the mattress in an attempt to make it more comfortable – as if that was ever going to help.
“Stop complaining.” He only snapped back.
“How could I when I’m stuck in a bed with you?”
“You could’ve asked for other accommodations when you had the chance.”
“And what, be the next victim of Ren’s lightsaber?” You scoffed. “I’m the one in charge of the repairs that are needed every time he throws a wobbly. I’ve seen the kind of damage that thing can do and I’m not in any hurry to find myself at the receiving end of it.”
You muttered the last part under your breath as you finally managed to get relatively comfortable, plopping back down on your back and folding your hands over your stomach.
“How did you know I’m allergic to cats, anyway?” The question spilled out before you could stop yourself, and before you could even register that it was on the way.
Where did that even come from? Cats weren’t even close to being the subject at hand.
Hux didn’t seem to care much about the random change of subject, however, simply muttering back a reply. “You start sniffling and scratching your arms every time you’re in the same room as me for more than five minutes.”
He was clearly tired. Tired in general or just tired of you, you didn’t really know, but you guessed that it was a mixture of both since that was the case for you.
“Maybe I’m just allergic to you.” You muttered back with a shrug, even though he couldn’t see you, and he scoffed at that.
“Had that been the case I’m fairly certain it would go both ways and, unlike you, I don’t go around oozing snot everywhere I go.”
“I don’t go oozing snot everywhere.” You calmly protested, throwing the back of his head a disapproving glare before turning to lay on your side so that your back was now turned to his.
He didn’t say anything else and neither did you, sleep coming in and catching you completely by surprise and having you knocked out within the next two minutes.
When you woke up early that next morning, Hux was unsurprisingly already gone, Millicent instead laying in his place and looking right at you.
With a disgusted snarl and hesitant movements, you reached over to the other side of the bed and awkwardly patted her head twice, probably very much in the incorrect manner as you had no experience whatsoever with animals.
You got out of bed after that, put on your jacket and shoes, and wasted no time in getting to work once you’d gotten some food into your system, your team joining you in the damage-inflicted area to start on repairs like you’d done so many times before.
Everything was going fine and dandy, just a light-reckon day that started off like any other – if you didn’t count waking up in Hux’s bed with his cat – but a few hours into your workday, the unmistakable sound of Kylo Ren’s heavy steps could be heard echoing through the entire corridor you found yourself working in.
A big share of the Order’s pilots had been either killed or badly hurt a few days prior in an ambush. No one had expected any pilots to be needed for at least a few days but Kylo had gotten a sudden lead on the map that would take him to Luke Skywalker and was now walking around the base recruiting anyone capable of helping him get what he wanted.
Unfortunately for you, you were not only a highly-ranked engineer, but also a pretty decent pilot, and couldn’t say anything in protest when you were whisked away to a ship.
As anyone who wasn’t driven by an unhealthy obsession would have been able to guess, the lead was just too good to be true with a way too simple access.
Just like the last lead, this one fell through when it was revealed to be another ambush. You weren’t completely sure what happened, but over the comms, you had heard something about Leia Organa and some scavenger.
You didn’t have time to think about retired war heroes though, no matter how much you’d love to pry and the get in on the gossip, as you had to shoot yourself through a big fleet of Resistance starfighter corps, barely getting through with your ship intact.
Your fellow pilots were shot down one by one, only a small amount of you managing to get out of there. And even then, you were met by more starfighter corps just as quickly as you’d gotten away from the last line.
Everything was just a mess after that. You weren’t able to get through to anyone over the comms, only barely being able to make out a “pull back!” before your comm system was blown to pieces along with one of your main engines.
Along with several other ships, you were forced to crash-land on a small planet filled with thick woods and when your ship collided with the ground, your head slammed into the controls, rendering you unconscious for who knows how long.
By the time you came back to it, you were hanging upside down, the only thing preventing you from falling down being the seatbelt keeping you strapped in.
You struggled to get out of there but you managed, and had to take a moment to get your surroundings to stop spinning before moving forward to look for survivors as well as a ship that wasn’t completely beyond salvation.
You weren’t sure who you’d find, but the person you’d shared a bed with the previous night was definitely the last person you’d expect to have crashed in the same place as you.
And still, you recognized his ship immediately. After all, you were the one who had personalized it to fit his liking.
Lucky for you, his ship seemed to have gotten a pretty soft landing. As you circled around it, you were able to determine that no major engines had been blown out. Damaged? Definitely. But they looked intact enough to at least be able to put some more distance between you and the Resistance pilots and get you to a safer place. Hopefully, the inside would be as untouched as the outside.
The ramp was lowered to the ground but didn’t look broken, so you wasted no time in jogging inside.
The lights were out completely in the entrance area, and just flickering in the ceiling when you came further in.
The first thing you noticed when you entered the piloting pit was that the pilot was not breathing. How could you tell from that far a distance? Well, let’s just say that something that was not supposed to be stuck in his eye, was stuck in his eye.
Upon further inspection, you noticed another body on the floor. However, this one was very much alive.
You would’ve expected to be met by a desperate “help me”, maybe even some begging and pleading or in the very least a “please”, but instead, even when in the process of bleeding out on the floor, Hux narrowed his eyes at you as you approached him and asked you with ragged breaths:
“Is that my shirt?”
You panted as you dropped to your knees at his side, still pretty shaken up from your own crash. “What? No.” You replied in a breath, and you wasted no time in starting to inspect his injuries.
“Yes, it is.”
“Why would I be wearing your shirt?” You asked simply, struggling to see in the dark as the flickering lights weren’t providing much assistance by means of light.
“That’s my shirt.” He kept insisting, and flinched when your hand made contact with his lower abdomen.
Only then did your eyes register the glimmering piece of metal through your blurred and disoriented vision, sticking out of his side.
You flinched at the sight, not needing any more light than you had to know that it was really bad.
Your heart suddenly picked up in speed in your chest, and your hands began shaking as they became covered in his blood.
You had never been in the middle of the action before now, you’d always just been surrounded by metal and electricity. The most exciting thing you’d ever experienced was when a new engineer circuited a control panel the wrong way, resulting in it blowing up right by your workplace.
But it wasn’t the action in itself that had your heart about ready to burst through your chest, nor was it the blood in general, but rather the fact that it was his blood covering your hands.
His life was completely dependent on you at this moment and you had absolutely no idea how to behave accordingly.
But if there was something you knew, it was that the last thing you were supposed to do was to show a dying man your panic, so you took a deep breath and tried your hardest to steady your racing heart, going back to the conversation at hand.
“How could you tell the difference, really?” You asked. “All of our shirts look the same. All black, all equally as sufficient when used to stop blood flows.”
As you said that last part, you released another breath and ripped off a big chunk of the lower part of the shirt you were wearing.
A shirt that was, in fact, Hux's.
The man in question let his head fall back against the wall that he was propped against and his eyes squeezed shut when feeling your hands return to his side.
“Do you always wear shirts several sizes too big?” He managed to get out through clenched teeth and you replied without missing a beat.
“There was a mix-up in the laundry room.”
“So it isn’t your shirt?” He continued to be persistent and despite the seriousness of the situation, you couldn’t help but to let a small smile slip.
“Do you want to keep fighting about whether or not this shirt is mine or would you rather maybe, oh, I don’t know, focus on getting the hell out of here?” You asked him lightly and at that, he raised his head to meet your eyes with a distrusting glare.
“Why are you helping me?”
You raised your eyebrow at him, sparing just a second to meet his eyes. “You have a piece of metal stuck in your side, why the hell would I not help you?” You asked and as quickly as you had looked up, you looked back down at your hands to see what you were doing.
“You hate me, and I hate you.” He deadpanned, and you couldn’t deny you felt your heart tug in your chest.
“Who told you I hated you?” You asked, and listened as he let out a dry, struggling laugh.
“You did. On countless occasions.”
He hissed when you accidentally bumped your hand against the piece of metal. You quietly apologized but didn’t stop, knowing you didn’t have much time before the enemy would catch up with you.
“Thinking that I’m entitled to everything I want isn’t the only bad habit I have. I also have a tendency to overexaggerate.” You joked with a smile. “I do find you insufferably infuriating, though.”
Another chuckle left his lips. “Likewise.” He said and dropped his head back against the wall.
You said nothing more, ripping another two pieces off of the shirt, tying them together and wrapping it around his waist like you had the first piece. You tightened this knot significantly more than the first one, though, right above the piece of metal, and just as quickly as he had relaxed, he jerked back forward with a yell.
“I need to stop the bleeding, you need to keep still.” You hurriedly scolded and sternly pushed him back down by his chest.
He muttered bitterly in return, but didn’t protest.
“I bet you’re enjoying this.” He seethed, and you raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on your lips.
“Whenever I’m feeling down, I just think back to the multiple times I’ve had the pleasure of witnessing you being force-thrown across a room by Ren. Puts a smile on my face every time. But that doesn’t automatically mean I want you to die. So stop wallowing in your internalized self-hatred and put your hand over mine.” You told him, trying your hardest to keep a lighthearted attitude, more so for your own sake than his at this point as you were literally about to pass out.
But he did as told, contributing with the strength he had left when you got to your feet and started pulling him up and into one of the seats that were still intact.
He put a trembling hand over yours and in turn, you put your other one over his and pushed down. He hissed and you gave him a moment to adjust, and when you were sure he was pressing hard enough with his own hand, you slowly removed both of yours and fastened his seatbelt.
“Keep pressure and hold on tight. This is most likely going to be a rough ride.” You warned him, and he slowly looked up at you through a mess of ginger hair.
“It can’t be any worse than the ride here.” He retorted and you nodded, taking that as a “go ahead”.
You wasted no time in getting into the pilot’s seat after pulling the previous pilot out, as well as the thick tree branch on which his head had been impaled, and started up the controls. It took a few tries to get out of the hole the ship hade gotten stuck in when crashing, but soon enough you were up in the sky.
With a bit of dumb luck, you eventually reached your destination and got brought back in to the base by your team of fellow engineers, all ready to repair the wrecked ship.
Hux was immediately taken to the medical bay while you stayed behind to help with the ships, and from two ends of the base, the two of you silently and separately came to realize that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t hate each other as much as you thought, after all.
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