#the fact that it’s called the easy way out

[hairmetal666]

Everyone in the league knows about Eddie Munson. He has the makings of a great pitcher, except for the fact that his slider has a 75% chance of sliding too high and his fastballs mostly end up in the dirt. His technique is wild, flailing, unrestrained. Which is why Steve is beside himself when he learns about the trade.

The owners, they think that Steve being the best catcher in the league means he can work with Eddie, settle him, make him a real prospect. Steve's input isn't needed with the decision already made, but Munson--with all his tattoos piercings and leather--looks like he'd rather hock a loogie at Steve than take directions from him.

And Steve is the best in the league, the glue that keeps the team together. They're a well-oiled machine, and Eddie is--Eddie is a squeaky wheel.

They meet for the first time, briefly, in the locker room. He's seen the guy before, of course, but now, like this, he can't help but be intrigued by his pale skin and long curls and brown doe-eyes, his lightly muscled frame. And they're in the locker room, Eddie with just a towel around his waist, exposing his toned chest and stomach and the black swirl of his tattoos.

"Steve Harrington!" Eddie reaches out a hand. "Great to meet you, man."

"You too. Excited to have you with us." The handshake is quick and firm and Steve is trying not to be surprised about how excited and genuine the guy sounds, keep his mind away from thinking of how Eddie is naked aside from the towel.

With only a few weeks until the start of the regular season, Eddie starts pitching to Steve. And Steve, he so expects Eddie to fight and grumble and refuse, that his head sort of spins when, on the first day, Eddie claps him on the back with his glove, says, "where do you want me, cap?" and that's that.

He wants to say that they dislike each other, that they're a bad fit, that Eddie is full himself and refuses constructive criticism.

Instead.

Instead it's easy.

Eddie doesn't complain, doesn't argue, just watches Steve, learns him, takes his advice and notes and implements them as much as he can. They like each other, have an easy rapport, get each other. He's tight with all the pitchers, but Eddie is different. They settle each other.

They're best friends. They hangout constantly. And he doesn't have a crush; he doesn't. It would be unprofessional. They're best friends.

But sometimes, sometimes he thinks he catches Eddie looking at him. It's impossible. Of course it's impossible. Eddie couldn't be into the guy Sports Illustrated called "baseball's Ralph Lauren model" in the intro to Steve's Body Issue photo spread. And it doesn't matter one way or the other because Steve won't make a move. He won't jeopardize the team like that.

They don't touch. He touches everyone on the team, often, and Eddie particularly is a physical guy, but aside from that first handshake, he keeps his distance. Steve's afraid--even though it's silly, he's afraid--that once they start touching, he won't be able to stop, and he can't let that happen.

The team is good, competing for first place in the National League. Eddie's success has made everyone else better.

It's late July, they're in first place in the league, and Eddie's pitching a perfect game. There's only been 24 perfect games thrown in the history of Major League Baseball, but it's the eighth inning and Eddie's doing it.

A pitch goes wild, veers high over the umpire's head. Eddie's shaken, Steve can tell with how his fist tightens compulsively around the ball. The next pitch swings wide, towards the batter's knees.

The count is at 2 balls, no strikes, and he can see, even from behind home plate Steve can see, that Eddie's losing it. He heads for the mound, refuses to let it end like this. He closes the distance between them, has a quick internal debate before he puts his hand on Eddie's lower back. They've never touched, this is it, this is--warmth bleeds from Eddie's skin, through the fabric of his jersey, goes straight to Steve's head.

Eddie frowns. "I don't think I--"

"You're going to do it, Ed. I know. I can feel it." He pats his chest, over his heart. "It's gonna happen."

Eddie's breathing settles and it's only then that Steve realizes he's rubbing circles into Eddie's back with his thumb. He's not sure when he started, doesn't want to stop, loves being able to feel.

"Okay," Eddie says.

"Okay."

Steve removes his hand, heads back to home, still tingling with the warmth of Eddie's body even as he crouches behind the plate.

He closes out the inning with three definitive strike outs. The crowd goes wild.

They take the field for the top of the 9th, the crowd is screaming, ready for this, the energy zipping through every player on the field.

It goes by in a blur. Nine pitches. Eddie's perfect game is wrapped up in nine phenomenal pitches.

As the ump calls the last out, there's a moment of complete and utter quiet in the stadium, Steve's heart a pounding hum in his ears, before pandemonium breaks loose. There's screaming, fireworks, someone is crying--

All he can see is Eddie. Eddie's who's thrown his glove to the dirt, is barreling towards him with a triumphant smile bright on his face. Steve stands, runs to close the distance. He sees the moment that Eddie decides to jump into his arms, catches him easily--will always catch him--but his legs are tired and the momentum gets him, sends them tumbling back into the grass.

They're both yelling, laughing, smiling hard enough to hurt. Eddie's hair has fallen out if its tie, tumbling around his shoulders, and Steve gazes at him, can't help it, in this moment can admit that he's so, so astronomically in love.

It's only then Steve realizes that the laughter's stopped, that Eddie's gazing back. Brown eyes shining bright with happiness, cheeks flushed pink, lips parted. Thoughtless, he reaches up to caress Eddie's cheek.

The team reaches them, streaming around them, yanking Eddie and Steve to their feet. The celebration stretches around them, the moment slipping away. He wants to finish what they started but there are interviews, champagne showers, congratulations, that keep them apart. Sometimes, from across the room, their eyes meet, and there's heat there that's new, that sparks something low in Steve's gut.

Hours pass, and finally he finds himself alone in the locker room. He's just pulled on his t-shirt when the door shuts behind him. He spins, finds Eddie, waiting, watching.

He crosses the room without a word, can't not, not now, not after everything. They grapple for a second, the wanting so strong that it takes a second to settle, to find each other. They kiss hard, desperate, seething with desire.

Steve hopes it never ends and it doesn't, just tapers into soft kisses, gentle nips. He can't bring himself to step away.

"Is this for real ?" Eddie whispers.

"I've been insane about you since the trade."

Eddie's smile is blinding. "I used to have those pictures of you--the ones with the little red shorts?--in my locker in the minors. Feel like I'm living in a dream right now."

It lights him up inside, knowing that Eddie wants him, has wanted him. "Let me take you home and show you just how real it is?"

He snorts, but his dimples deepen, eyes shining. "What a line, sweetheart."

"Yeah well, the baseball field isn't the only place where I hit home runs."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #baseball au #teammates to lovers #ficlet #fluff #first kiss #feelings confession #steve thinks he'll hate eddie but he just falls in love with him instead #pitcher eddie munson #catcher steve harrington #i had this idea a month ago and forgot about it #dom/sub undertones in the way that what if steve gently doms eddie into pitching better #what if steve modeled for SI's body issue and what if eddie is obsessed with him the whole time #really playing fast and loose with how major league baseball works

[harstyle]

the styles' nanny: part two

Summary: Harry finally realizes his mistake, but is it too late? Featuring a strange encounter with Jamie’s mother, another sad drinking session and an unfiltered conversation that changes everything.

Pairing: plussize-nanny!y/n + older-singledad!harry

Word-count: 10.2k

Warnings: age gap (13 years), mentions of alcohol and drinking, kissing, mentions of sex

here’s part one!

A/N: guys!!! It’s been three months!!! I hope you haven’t completely lost interest in this story :( I’m sorry I’ve kept you waiting for so long, I just didn’t expect so many things to come up (plus somewhere along the way I lost motivation). I also hope you enjoy this second and (at least for now) last part. No smut, but maybe in a blurb/oneshot of some kind? Anyway thanks for waiting and happy reading!

—

I’m resigning. I will stay until we find a replacement but not longer than necessary. I thank you for your generosity during my time working for you, but I’m ready for a fresh start as I think it’s what would be best for me right now. 

I’ll see you soon,

Y/N

That was the text Harry had received at 11am, just one hour ago. He’d called profusely, probably ten times in total, and sent out a pathetic amount of text messages that had all gone ignored and unanswered. 

Harry had lashed out— he could see that now; he’d been horribly unfair and he had taken advantage of Y/N’s inability to express herself in situations of distress. Harry’s worst trait was his short-temperedness and while he had gone through years of therapy to work on it, sometimes it took ahold of him in ways he couldn’t realize until after the fact.

Of course the last thing he’d wanted was for her to resign, which was exactly why her message had twisted his stomach a bit more intensely than he would’ve liked; he had no idea how to rectify this situation. Most things in his life went as he wished and if they didn’t, he found it was easy to make it so they did. But not now— no, he had to think about this carefully.

It had turned one when his phone rang; he was typing away in his office, trying to distract himself.  Her caller ID flashed on his screen, but it wasn’t her voice that caught his ears— it was a man’s. A man’s who’s name was Andrew.

“I’m from the viper,” he said, and Harry could swear he started seeing red, “your friend Y/N got a little too drunk for me to feel comfortable sending her away on her own. Is there any way you could come pick her up?” 

Harry couldn’t help the string of curses which left his mouth as he gathered his house key. “Is she okay?” He asked, only to receive a conflicted hum. 

“She had too many martinis and she was crying earlier. She said something about a fight.” 

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, man. Will you keep an eye out until I get there?” 

“Of course.” 

As Harry got into his car, he felt the overwhelming urge to chastise her, to keep talking until she finally listened to him when it came to her own safety. Not even one day had passed since he’d had to pick her up the last time— no lesson learned, no regrets.

But then, as he neared the bar, the rational part of his brain advised him against it. Y/N was no child, she was aware of her actions and she knew what was best for her— so for Harry to act high and mighty would be wrong and uncalled for.

He needed to just be there for her. Drop the barrier and be there.

He was ready to offer that to her.

—

Y/N could swear her eyes were playing tricks on her. It wouldn’t be unrealistic, really, her vision had become blurry about an hour ago— but, well, she would probably recognize that silhouette anywhere. He wore jeans and a shirt and his hair was still styled for work; Andrew was pointing at her, and so his green eyes followed. When he spotted her, Y/N felt naked under his gaze.

And before she knew it, he was walking toward her.

“What are you doing here?” She demanded, lower lip jutted out in a pout. Y/N had gone drinking in the hopes of distracting herself— and yes, maybe it wasn’t exactly working, but it definitely wouldn’t start working if he was physically here.

“Andrew called me. Stand up, I’m taking you home.”

Andrew was somebody she‘d met a few hours ago. Originally he‘d flirted with her, asking questions about her as she sat at the bar willing to answer all of them soberly— but once eleven had struck, all she could talk about was Harry. Y/N wasn’t fond of airing dirty laundry so she‘d left the gory details of their fight out, but Andrew knew of a fight.

She was starting to regret it now that Harry was here.

Instead of doing as he’d asked— or ordered, more like, she leaned into the booth further.

“No.”

His eyebrow raised, “no?”

“I don’t leave or go out with dickheads. You taught me that.”

He looked ticked off and it satisfied something within her that had been needing it all night. When he breathed a sigh, eyes closing momentarily, she knew she had him.

“Y/N, would you please humor me and let me take you home? We can keep talking in the car, but not in front of these people.”

“What if I don’t want to go home, huh? Why are you always telling me what to do like you have the right? You’re not my dad.” Her words were slurred and her expression loose. Then she laughed to herself, giggled actually, ridiculously loud. “That’s funny, of course you’re not my dad cause he’s dead! Dead, six feet underground, you know? Probably lower, cause he definitely didn’t go to heaven! He’s, like, really deep underground.”

Concern warped his features.

“Y/N,” he warned, “please.”

She’d turned heads.

“But you know what you and my dad have in common? Yelling. Just yelling, for no fucking reason— yell yell yell, make it feel like my fault even though it isn’t. Right? That’s what my dad used to do to my mom, you know that? That’s why he’s in hell.” 

She was pointing an accusatory finger at him, slurring even more than before.

“And you know what I said to her when she left him? That I would never let a man treat me that way. Never! Promised, hand on my heart and everything, I promised. But you’re different, aren’t you? Cause I like you, cause you’re not like my dad.” Her face fell again into the surfaces of her palms, “you’re not like my dad, but you reminded me of him. And I feel— feel like I’m betraying my mom.” Y/N hiccuped quietly, stumbling over a few words.

The gravity of her words were not lost on him— in fact, he’d never felt as guilty in his life.

“Hey,” he beckoned her to look at him, placing his tentative hand atop her arm, “we’ll talk about it. About everything. But not now. Not here.”

“You’re so confusing, you know that? One second you’re really nice to me and then— and then you aren’t.”

“Sweetheart,” he grasped her face as a last attempt to catch her undivided attention. Harry thumbed at her cheek and stared dutifully into her clouded eyes, “let me take care of you tonight. I’ll make it better.”

In all fairness, she’d lost the fight the second his eyes had met hers. There was something about them, maybe their deep shade of green or how effortlessly she could read them, that could probably persuade her into doing anything.

“Fine,” she mumbled after a minute, letting Harry wrap an arm around her waist as they walked. On their way out Y/N said goodbye to Andrew and stayed quiet otherwise, choosing to give Harry the silent treatment. Harry knew he couldn’t expect her to speak to him, so he didn’t force it.

As they drove, Harry couldn’t help glancing over every once in a while to study her expressions. There was barely a moment she wasn’t staring out the window watching cars drive by; even when his hand instinctively landed on her thigh she didn’t react, only moving it away slightly from his touch.

“Are you driving me to my apartment?”

And although both of them knew he’d really been directed toward his house, Harry still pretended to have chosen to take another route. “Course,” he muttered hoarsely, trying to mask his embarrassment with a quiet cough. Y/N sighed, her eyes pressing shut for a moment as she tried to let the guilt roll off of her back. He doesn’t deserve your sympathy.

“Where’s Jamie?”

He clicked his tongue. “Still at my mother’s.”

“Oh.”

The stubborn thing she was, Y/N refused Harry’s help getting out of the car. Instead she opened the door by herself, almost tripped when she jumped down from her seat and kept a distance anyway. Harry still watched, though, ready to help if needed.

Y/N unlocked the door (failing to find the keyhole several times) and kept it wide open for Harry to follow behind. The first thing she did was toe off her shoes followed by falling into bed.

“Y/N, have some water.”

“Stop telling me what to do,” she uttered, but accepted the glass of water anyway.

He ignored her. “Are you hungry?”

“I’m tired.”

“You can sleep as soon as you’ve changed and washed your face.”

She groaned, pulling a blanket over her head, “Harry…”

“Y/N.”

That stern mention of her name was enough to get her out of bed, limbs pretty much hanging loosely from her body as if she had no control over them— and honestly, it felt like she didn’t. Her eyes closed as Harry wiped a cool cloth over her face, ridding it of a light layer of makeup and sweat, everything that had accumulated at the bar. There were times she leaned into him, forehead falling to his shoulder and arms wrapping instinctively around his waist for support. She could swear that for a moment he’d pressed his lips to her forehead, but the daydream she was in barred her from really registering it.

“Why’d you go out drinking again?”

“Wanted to.”

“Told you not to do that. I meant it.”

“Well people keep hurting my feelings,” she mumbled, “and drinking your pain away is kind of a tradition in my family, so.”

Y/N had never really shared personal details about her family to Harry, but… well, the words were flowing right out of her mouth and the memories reincarnated newly in her head. She was referring to her mother, the former alcoholic in the family. Growing up her mother had drunk so much that she’d almost died from liver failure. As a small child Y/N had promised herself never to end up like her, but she was starting to understand more and more why her mother spent so many years drinking.

Harry‘s thoughts stayed internalized, but he made sure to make her feel heard. Rubbing over the top of her eyebrow, his breath hit her forehead as he spoke,  “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You didn’t deserve it.”

Her eyes peeked open, the previously warm towel no longer warm. Harry ran it under water again. “Deserve what?”

“Everything, especially the way I behaved earlier. I should’ve taken a moment to myself, instead I lashed out on you.”

It wasn’t until now that Y/N noticed the close proximity between her and Harry— obviously she knew he was cleaning her face for her, but it didn’t really click until now, she supposed. She could see everything, but it didn’t really matter; there was nothing about Harry, especially on him, that could deter her from thinking of him as the most beautiful man alive. Imperfections and all.

The towel met her neck this time, the other side held upright by his steady hand. She could feel his thumb tracing shapes on the surface of her skin and although she was trying very hard not to think of him in any inappropriate way, the image of his hand wrapped around her throat awakened something horrible within the confines of her intoxicated mind. It stayed there.

It was self destructive how often she spent thinking about him, really.

“You still there, baby?”

And he was so gentle— whenever he wasn’t yelling at her, of course— and soft, knowing the lines of what she could handle and what she couldn’t. No man had ever been this considerate and while it may just be his nature, it meant everything to Y/N. As the boundaries had begun to blur more and more, it became easier to misinterpret normal gestures for something more, something so much realer than it could ever be.

But he was calling her baby, and nobody had done that before.

“Yeah.”

“You were much more mouthy back in the bar,” he breathed out, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t wanna yell at me anymore?”

“No, I‘m not like you.”

“Ouch.”

Harry was humoring her and while it was really really nice; this whole thing, the gentle touches and the giggles shared in between a serious conversation, Y/N couldn’t let it get to her head.

“You were really mean to me and I didn’t do anything.”

His eyes searched for hers, but hers were stuck to his chest. “I know. I don’t know how to make it up to you, but I’ll spend a long time trying, I promise. You’re so sweet to me, so nice, I don’t mean to hurt your feelings. You know that, right?”

And although her heart was still furiously bleeding out, she was willing to ignore that for now. Throw bandages on and refuse a trip to the hospital because really she was just fine. There was just something about how he spoke to her that made it feel like she was floating— like she really was fine. 

“Yeah.”

“Good, it’s very important to me that you do.”

Y/N’s eyes nearly glazed over when she thought about Harry being like this on the regular. It was a dangerous game they were playing.

 “Look at me,” he breathed, beckoning her to do so with the grip he still had on her throat. Her eyes looked so innocent in this moment and although Harry knew Y/N was nothing if not tainted, she looked like she’d never been touched by the realities of life. “So pretty, you know that? So beautiful.”

She felt smaller in his gaze. “You think so?”

Y/N didn’t think anyone had said that to her ever. Nothing of the sort.

“I know so.”

“Thank you.”

“How about we go find you something comfortable to sleep in, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Y/N shook her head, willing to rid herself of this weird tension in her body before allowing Harry to lead her back into the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed as Harry retrieved some clothes and looked up at him expectantly when she could barely keep upright.

“You sure?”

“I physically can’t stand up, Harry.”

And though he looked torn, he ended up reaching for her sweater to pull it over her body, revealing the lacy bra she hid underneath. Y/N’s breasts had always been the biggest ones amongst her skinny friends and growing up she often felt ridiculed for it, though she supposed she could count on Harry not to judge. They were just there, so why pretend like they weren’t?

For Harry, taking off Y/N’s sweater was a completely different experience and although he didn’t wish to be a creep, he couldn’t help but letting out an awkward but knowing cough when he accidentally stared right down them. He hastily threw the shirt he’d brought her onto her torso, scared of what would happen if he were to delay it any longer. Harry prided himself on being a respectful man, but being with Y/N had always tested that quality of his.

“What?” She asked, a touch of feigned innocence to her tone, and he rushed to shake his head.

She knew what.

“Nothing.”

“M’kay.”

“Stand up for me?”

Y/N felt less amazing about her thighs, to be frank. She couldn’t really explain it, but they weren’t visually pleasing to her; cellulite littered the back of them and she obviously didn’t have a thigh gap, but that had become less of an issue. Y/N felt like her thighs had no real redeeming quality. It was a destructive way of thinking, she would admit, but… well, she’d carried that around since childhood.

As Harry pulled down her jeans, she felt void of anything. She didn’t exactly feel great, but better than when other guys had taken off her trousers. It was probably his age. She figured maturity increased as age did, and if Harry were to dislike the look of her body, he would be graceful about it.

“Hold onto my shoulders and lift your right leg.”

He got on his knees in front of her, pulling one leg in after the other. After doing so successfully, he allowed her to get under the covers.

“I’m still mad at you,” she mumbled into the covers, eyes fluttering to a close.

He hummed, “I know.”

“But thank you.”

“Don’t have to thank me for taking care of you.”

“Mhm,” she breathed, “it’ll be the last time, I promise.”

Sleep was pulling at her eyelids.

“Last time what?”

He received no answer. Upon a closer look, he saw Y/N completely overtaken by sleep. Her lips were situated in a pout and her foot peeked out of her thick comforter in the way he had already seen last time he’d brought her to bed.

He allowed himself more time to watch over her this time, scared that if he were to leave it would be the last he saw of her. The anxiety settled on his chest in heavy waves and the image of a precious Y/N was slipping further away from his mind. He had been a horrible person, allowing himself to become the type of man he’d always tried not to be… and he couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t let this be that with her. He couldn’t bare it.

Harry had always thought of himself to be tattooed with imperfections. As he stared down at Y/N’s sleeping body, he couldn’t help the guilt that wrapped around him like a torture blanket. To him, she was perfect. She was kind and beautiful, she carried her heart out on her sleeve and overcame her past to grow in spite of painful trauma.

What he didn’t know, though, was that she thought the same of him. She thought of him as the most capable person, strong and kind. Her heart yearned for him in ways no one could comprehend.

She thought of him as everything but instead of embracing it, he’d pushed her away… and now both of them had to suffer the consequences.

—

Harry had stayed the night, but he hadn‘t slept; he‘d spent the night lying on Y/N‘s uncomfortable couch with various thoughts swirling around in his head. At eight he‘d stood up, started preparing breakfast and wasted time looking through social media to distract himself from the girl sleeping in the next room.

Y/N slipped out thirty minutes later, surprised when she saw Harry moving through her kitchen as though he knew it like the back of his hand. She coughed, not knowing where to put her arms and folding them in instead.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he tried to smile, “I hope you’re hungry, I made you a bagel with eggs if that’s okay.”

“That’s… yeah,” she swallowed a lump in her throat, stepping close to the counter, “thank you. You didn’t have to.”

“My pleasure. You—“ he pointed at the side of her face, “you have something there.”

“Oh, I—“ Harry reached forward to swipe at it, wiping his finger clean on his trousers and stroking her cheek once for good measure. “Thanks. Probably toothpaste.”

“Probably.”

Silence decorated their next few seconds, awkward glances and uncomfortable tension felt down to the bones. Then Harry straightened up and breathed in, simultaneously Y/N opened her mouth.

“I—“

“Are you— oh, sorry.”

“No, you go on,” she urged, waving a dismissive hand at him.

Harry smiled, “are you okay?”

“Uh, yes. Yeah, I am actually. Bit of a headache but that‘s expected. Thanks for…picking me up, I guess. I didn‘t want to be a burden, but I kind of told Andrew about you and he got a hold of my phone…“

Harry’s eyebrows drew together, “no, I’m glad he called. You should always reach out to me when you’re in trouble.”

“Yeah, but last time didn’t go over very well, so…”

Harry cleared his throat. “Right, I’m sorry about that. I was out of line, but that doesn‘t mean I don‘t want you to call when you need help getting home. There’s nothing more important than your safety, Y/N.”

“Yeah, but…” Y/N shook her head, overwhelming thoughts swirling endlessly inside rendering her speechless. There wasn’t anything she could say to efficiently express these concerns to him— Y/N had always been bad at communication and the last thing she wanted was to poke the bear even more.

“No go on, tell me.”

“I just… I don’t know. I felt like shit after last time.”

“I know,” he breathed out lowly, “I know you did, and I’m sorry. I didn‘t mean it.”

“But clearly you did if you felt the need to say it. I mean, it doesn’t just come out of nowhere, those accusations. You felt them. And I was thinking about it all day yesterday and… you were probably right, we are too unprofessional.”

“No, sweetheart. I enjoy our dinner sessions and I appreciate that you feel comfortable to talk to me when something bothers you—“ It didn’t matter, though. There was nothing he could say to change her mind.

The words that left her mouth were mostly involuntary. They were a protective barrier, a reason to say no, back off and a clear indication that she had no capacity for this. And although it hurt somewhere deep within her chest to express them, to become a viscous reminder of last night, especially when Harry’s eyebrows drew together in deep regret, it needed to be said.

“Harry, I meant it when I quit last night.”

A reasonable response was lost on Harry. For a moment he needed to think, to gather his thoughts— not that there were very many. He had to admit, he’d hoped they would gloss over her drunken text and pretend as though it hadn’t been. He’d hoped that Y/N felt a small spark of embarrassment when she thought about it, that she looked back on it with regret. Alas, she didn’t.

“Oh.”

He pulled back, shoulders tensing when the gravity of her statement had pulled him down along with it.

“Yeah. I mean, I love working with Jamie, I do, but I—“ I’m scared that I’ll form an attachment I will never recover from. I’m scared of the proximity we share, of how sometimes you let your fingers brush over my thigh. I’m scared because I don’t know what you mean, scared because psychoanalyzing doesn’t work on you. Or maybe— maybe I’m scared of love. With you. Or with anyone. Maybe I’m not capable of being loved. And maybe I’m not even capable of loving and maybe— just maybe, this will be the end of me. And for what? For you to say that the affection you extend to me is customary? That I have a tainted perception of reality, of love? Because I know I do. I know I do, and yet hearing it from you would hurt much more. And so maybe… maybe in this case, finding out isn’t worth the hassle. You’ll probably find I’m not either.

There was so much to say and such little capacity to say it. All Y/N could think to do was sputter words she didn’t mean and hope he understood because the alternative was ridding herself of every. little string of dignity she still possessed and she simply couldn’t do that. She couldn’t allow herself to unfold in front of the only person who’s perception of her she wanted to nurture. No one had stayed. Even if he would come to leave, she wanted him to leave with a sound picture of her.

“But you…”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t… because of yesterday?”

“No. I mean, I guess that was a bit of an eye opener, but I—“ Y/N breathed in, “I think I’m getting too attached to you. You and Jamie.”

His eyes widened just a bit and he took a small step toward her. It was so small she hardly felt him entering her space. “I don’t mind that, Y/N, you don’t need to quit—“

“I do though,” she interrupted him, a stern undertone to her voice. She coughed and said again, “I mind.”

“I think you’re still angry about yesterday.”

She had to contain the urge to roll her eyes, “I’m not. This is separate from that.”

“So it’s the attachment that’s the problem?”

“Yes.”

Harry scoffed, “that’s ridiculous. There’s nothing wrong with attachment.”

“It depends on what kind, doesn’t it?”

“Enlighten me then.”

Y/N’s mouth closed. She couldn’t do that.

So she deflected.

“Harry, my contract says that as long as I stay long enough to find a fitting replacement—“

“Fuck the contract, Y/N,” the volume of his voice almost caused Y/N to flinch into herself, “I know what my contract says. What I don’t know is why you’re giving up a job that you love, a job that pays you well, for reasons you can’t even explain to me.”

“Is my resignation not enough for you? Would hearing my reasoning really change anything if I will keep insisting on resigning no matter how often you’ll advise me against it? I doubt it matters. I doubt you would even so much as give a shit, Harry."

Y/N shook her head, tears building in the ducts of her eyes. Her father had been of great emotional abuse, her mother had spent half of her life drinking herself to liver failure and her brother had moved to Madrid as soon as he’d turned eighteen, leaving Y/N to fend for herself in a household that contained not one ounce of love— and yet this felt worse. This felt like her heart was being ripped from her chest, dropped on the floor beating and bleeding.

“You think I don’t give a shit? Really?” Y/N couldn’t help rolling her eyes, huffing when he tapped her on the wrist, muttering with a steady furrow in his brow, “don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“You know why I’m quitting and yet you want to hear it come out of my mouth. I’m not going to do it.”

“I don’t know.”

She almost laughed, “sure”

“Sweetheart—“

“Don’t call me that.” She gave him a sharp glance before heading back to her bedroom, arms falling to the sides of her timid frame. Harry stopped her just short of the door, a steady hand gripping around her wrist. She couldn’t help the gasp that left her mouth, built up tears finally streaming down in heaps— embarrassment brewed in her stomach and she couldn’t bare to look him in the eye anymore. Harry’s touch elicited a spark on her skin, blistering with uncomfortable heat. “What?”

“You’re being rude. I really think you should consider this.”

“There’s nothing to consider, okay?!  I… I feel too much for you, there’s too— there’s too much, okay? There’s too fucking mu—“

What would transpire between them next was a kiss. Initiated by Harry.

It was barely a kiss, more of a brushing of the lips— tentative movements, gentle breaths. It was the minimum and yet it was more than enough. There was an electric feeling that dragged through Y/N’s entire body as she closed her eyes and let herself feel. Harry didn’t seem very much like a gentle lover— generous, without doubt, but Y/N had always pictured him as a pin-to-the-wall, bite-to-the-lip type of man and she quickly received confirmation when he began squeezing her hand as if feeling restrained.

Y/N hadn’t kissed many people; less than five, probably, but she could say with certainty that this was already better than all of the other ones combined. She knew why. She knew the reason was that she genuinely liked Harry, that he made her feel things she’d never felt before.

But then again, Harry was her boss. He was off limits, taboo. And he was absolutely out of his mind right now.

“Wait.”

His breath fanned against her chin. “You don’t want me to?”

“No I do, I just—“ she shook her head, thoughts in a disarray like they’d never been before.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

Her mouth opened but nothing came out, merely staggered breaths as she tried to regain the ability to think. The interruption came when Harry’s phone rang on the counter.

He groaned, took a glance at the screen and broke away when he saw his mother’s name flash as the caller ID.

“Yes?” He called into the speaker, frustration molding his features as he kept on listening. “Yes, okay, tell him I’m on my way. Give me twenty minutes… Love you too, bye.” When he turned to her, phone slipped into his back pocket, she could tell that he yearned to say more, that he yearned for her to say more. She knew he would halt his actions, leave time for her to get her words out before he left for whatever emergency he’d been called in for, that if she only said something he would consider putting her as a second priority after his son. She knew that he would make her feel important. But she said nothing. And nobody, not even the most patient person in the world could work with nothing. “Jamie’s asking for me. I need to go get him.”

She only nodded.

He sighed, running a tired hand down his face. “Alright. I need to go. I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

She stood at exactly the same spot as Harry slammed the door shut, unwavering.

Her heart was still pounding as the words she should’ve expressed minutes ago died on her lips.

—

Résumés had been sent to him, interviews were lined up, and Y/N had received no reply back. She hadn’t received anything, really, just a text on Thursday that he would arrange for another babysitter to come in for Jamie while he left for his late meeting, to which Y/N had typed a dry ‘ok’ and left it to sit in her inbox.

The week had started fresh and Y/N had finally left home again (only to her classes, but still). After days of not working, she was scheduled to pick up Jamie at two thirty and hoped for these last weeks to resume seamlessly. She’d gotten the car from the house, locked the door back up again and made the ten minute drive down— everything was fine.

Until now. Until Y/N set foot on preschool grounds and noticed another woman hugging her arms around Jamie’s shoulders. She seemed unfamiliar at first— glasses tipped back on her long blonde hair, a pencil skirt concealing her toned legs. Y/N had no idea who she was dealing with until she took a closer look and recognized this woman to be Stacie. Y/N had seen a picture of Stacie up in Harry’s study— she seemed to have changed a little, but the structural features she associated with her still remained intact through all these years (big blue eyes, defined cheekbones).

As soon as Jamie’s eyes set on Y/N, though, Stacie’s hands were torn away from his shoulders as he ran for her. She got on her knees, his familiar smile melting away all of the cold spots she’d developed in over a week of not seeing him.

“I miss you!” Jamie pulled away to plant a kiss right on the top of the apple of Y/N’s cheek, something he only started doing recently. She guessed he’d only really learned how to. “Daddy said you pick me up today.”

“I missed you too, buddy. I see somebody else came to see you?”

“Oh, Stacie. She wants to take me home but daddy said you pick me up.”

“Yeah, okay. Do you want to wait a second while I talk to her?”

Jamie nodded, moving to stand next to her (small hand clutched in hers, of course) while Y/N greeted Stacie. Well, greet was a bit of an exaggeration; she didn’t get to before Stacie decided to introduce herself first.

“I’m his mom, I called Harry in the morning telling him I’d come for pick up. I have a packed schedule, so I’d appreciate it if you could let go of my child.”

Y/N almost laughed, the audacity of this woman a damn near mystery to her. “Wait. Don't talk about him like some sort of property. Harry never told me about anyone else coming to pick up Jamie.”

“He must’ve forgotten. He’s a busy man, I’m sure he would confirm—“

“Well then let’s call him, shall we?”

Stacie wanted to interject, she could tell, but Y/N had dialed way too fast for that to happen. The phone only had to ring once before Harry picked up, his voice coming in clear.

“Hey, you‘ve got Jamie?”

“I’m here at preschool but Stacie showed up before me and wants to take him home. You didn’t tell me, so I…” she trailed off, hoping he’d fill in the blanks.

It seemed to take a minute to click. “Stacie? His mother showed up at school?”

“Yes, was this arranged beforehand or…”

“No. No, don’t let her take him home. Shit, we talked about this last week, I don’t—“

“You… you talked about this last week?” The confusion dripped from Y/N’s voice and all she could hear was Harry’s attempt at concealing profanities. “What did you talk about last week?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just get home, tell her to call me to clear this up. I don’t want Jamie knowing Stacie is his mother yet, okay? So just get out of there before she tells him herself.”

A frown settled over Y/N’s features before she continued to end the call, scoop Jamie up into her arms and walk away after quick word. Stacie protested, but both her and Y/N knew she wouldn’t do much more than that in fear of causing a scene.

Y/N failed to pay attention to Jamie as she fastened the belt on his seat, only registering when she looked back into the rearview mirror and noticed the little pout starting to pull at his small lips.

And when he finally asked her, little quips of fear polishing his quiet tone:  “is Stacie my mum?”, all Y/N could do was pretend she hadn’t heard and hope he would forget, knowing he wouldn’t.

—

Y/N bombarded Harry with questions the second he‘d unlocked that front door.

“Y/N—“

“No, I’m entitled to know this time. I’m entitled to know when she ambushes us at preschool. Don’t you want me to know what I’m dealing with if it happens again? That woman almost fucking kidnapped him—“

“Calm down, Y/N. Sit down and I’ll explain it to you.”

She huffed in annoyance, listening nonetheless. She set herself down on one of the kitchen stools and tried to take control of her breathing. She watched as he took a seat opposite her.

“Stacie came to visit last week on Wednesday. She’d called beforehand, asking if it would be okay. She came and we had dinner, we talked some things out while Jamie was in bed. She apologized, asked if we could start working things out again. I agreed under the condition that she would approach the idea of Jamie as a friend first. She said that she would respect my wishes and that she wouldn’t come near him unless I gave my permission. That’s it. So far all Jamie knows is that she’s a friend of mine. I didn’t—god,” Y/N felt bad when Harry buried his head in his hands, itching to reach out in comfort. She chose to play it safe, settling a gentle touch over his thigh. “I know I should’ve known but it seemed real when we spoke last, you know? I didn’t think she’d do this.”

Y/N hadn’t seen Harry this distraught over anything. “I’m sorry. That’s heavy.”

“It’s—“ he sighed, “it’s something I keep having to deal with. All she wants is to have him on the weekends, have him pose as her cute son. But she doesn’t actually care about him.”

Y/N couldn’t do much more than nod. She was caught between playing the comforting role and being honest. She wasn’t sure if this was the place, if her opinion would be welcomed or if it would contribute to Harry’s sorrows. “She seemed… uncooperative when I spoke to her at school. Like she was in a rush or something, it scared me.”

“Yeah, she’s hardheaded.”

“Right.” Y/N pulled her hand away when Harry lifted his head, clearing her throat and averting her eyes. The change in her behavior didn’t go unnoticed, though he knew he shouldn’t ask. “So when you talked… when you agreed to working things out, you meant that in a friendly manner? Or were you going to be… a couple again?”

“We… I don’t know. We kissed— well, she kissed me a few days ago when we met up again for a playdate with Jamie. Never discussed it any further.”

“Do you love her?”

Y/N had begun to hold her breath in, but she didn’t notice it.

Harry did. He noticed the suction of a deep breath and he noticed how his own hands got clammy with sweat.

Harry looked skeptical, as though there was something on his tongue ready to peek out tentatively, only it couldn’t because he had to spare her feelings. Because there was little Y/N, intimidated by everything she’d ever had to face in her lifetime— little Y/N who had rejected him and still expected loyalty. Little Y/N who couldn’t have him, but had always wanted to.

“I think a part of me will always love her. I mean, she gave me Jamie and he’s… the best thing to ever happen to me, really. I love him, and I will always love her for giving birth to him. I will always love her for the good parts of our relationship.”

Y/N hated herself for hating his answer. It was a perfectly reasonable answer, truthful as Y/N expected, yet her mind wandered past the barriers, past the barbed wire. She couldn’t fully grasp how he could still love her— and yet she understood perfectly. There was Jamie, of course, but there were many other things. There was her hair, her bright complexion, the beautiful curve of her hips and the effortless look of her makeup. There was the fashion, the business-casual look that seemed to mesh so well with Harry’s. There was this calling when Y/N pictured the two of them standing side by side, almost like they were destined to be together. She could imagine it perfectly, the many years they had spent together. She could see it. And it looked perfect.

Y/N coughed, head nodding along to his words as if she were listening to instructions and not some heartfelt confession. It seemed instinctual, though.

When it came time for her to speak, she let a smile mold her lips into a perfect crescent moon. She never thought faking a smile could hurt more than a physical injury, but she’d been proven wrong. Everything looked intact— Y/N was sure she almost seemed unaffected from the outside. She wasn’t, though, and she wondered if Harry would recognize that.

“That’s… yeah. I get that.”

This was the first time Y/N actually felt the age gap between her and Harry. He sat here, ready to air it out. He spoke about his concerns, about the state of his son, and the only thing she could fret about was herself. Her sadness had no weight, it was too insignificant in comparison to his and it made her feel pathetic. It made her feel young and stupid and pathetic.

Harry deserved better than this. He deserved careful consideration, security for his child. He deserved trust and honesty, a sort of transparency Y/N couldn’t afford to offer to him yet.

“That’s not to say that I want to approach her in that way, especially after today, but…” he trailed off, only finding his words when it’d clicked that she wasn’t responding, “I just want you to understand that it’s complicated.”

Y/N nodded. Then she cleared her throat, ready to rid herself of this spotlight. She always messed up in the spotlight.  “Um, Jamie asked me if Stacie was his mum today. I didn’t answer, but you might want to think about what you’ll say to say to him next time. I also sent you a few résumés, I’ve talked to a few people and have set up interviews, the first one is scheduled for tomorrow—“ she visibly flinched when his hand came down on her thigh, “please, Harry. I can’t. Please just let me finish this.”

“Okay.”

A deep breath, “it’s scheduled for tomorrow after you come home from work. Do you want me to come on the call, or are you okay interviewing yourself?”

“I’d like you to come.”

“Okay. I’ll stay longer tomorrow.”

“Can we talk about us now? Properly?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Harry almost laughed, “there’s a lot to talk about. We just added on a good bit today.”

“I’m quitting. That’s it.”

“You know, I don’t understand why you insist that there’s nothing going on—“

“Because there isn’t,” she snapped. “There isn’t. I’m going to check up on Jamie.”

She was teary-eyed as she slipped from the stool, ready to conceal it all for the ball of sunshine sitting in the living room. She could do it all for Jamie— she would do it all.

Before he could say any more, Y/N disappeared behind the door. Harry could hear the two of them converse in the next room and his heart felt heavy as the gravity of the situation dawned on him. Harry had always known what to do— he was a CEO, for god’s sake. He was trained to find solutions, take control of seemingly unfixable problems, to make life easy. And yet, this girl thoroughly baffled him. He had no idea what the fuck to do anymore.

And yet, he was determined to keep trying.

—

Two people had interviewed over zoom and Harry had hated every one of them. His excuses were vague, something about the lack of experience (even though they both knew that Y/N hadn’t had any when she’d started either) and the supposed ‘wrong vibe’. One time he’d criticized a woman for her ‘ridiculously shrill voice’, at which point Y/N had rolled her eyes and proceeded to walk home in a fury.

The next day Y/N showed up again, ready to interview three more people. She sat beside Harry as he set up the video call and listened as he asked questions. Y/N was mostly in attendance to listen and give her honest feedback by the end (she really did want to find someone spectacular for Jamie), so the difficult part came later. For now she could be quiet.

This woman, aside from qualified, seemed very kind. So far, it’d been the best candidate.

“So how flexible is time for you?”

“Very. I do online classes for uni, so I can very well manage my time how I see fit.”

“That sounds fine. And you’ve had plenty of experience, I see.”

“Yes, I started babysitting when I was fourteen, so for more than ten years now. The last family I worked for just moved out of the country, which is why I’m looking for something new, but I was with them three years.”  

This woman had nothing but good evidence she would be the best for the job; no doubt better than Y/N. She had the experience, she seemed mature, she looked kind— she would act in a professional manner, something Y/N had never quite figured out yet.

That didn’t matter to Harry, though, because as soon as she’d gotten off the call, he muttered a ‘no’.

“Why not?” Y/N asked, bewildered by his blunt response, “she was literally perfect for the job.”

Harry lifted his shoulders in a shrug, busying himself with his laptop, “just didn’t feel right.”

“Okay, this is just getting too unreasonable at this point. You didn’t like the lack of experience, fine, that one woman’s shrill voice, fine— but this? She just didn’t feel right?”

“I don’t expect you to understand—“

“No. We’re not doing that.”

“It’s a feeling, Y/N. When I interviewed you, I got the feeling that it’s right, that I’d feel safe leaving Jamie with you. It takes trust.”

“But she’s— she’s so qualified, she—“

“Experience isn’t everything. It’s important, but not everything. You weren’t experienced when you came for your interview but you gave me the right feeling. Thus you were qualified for the job.”

And she understood, really, but it still fucking pissed her off. “That’s fucking— you’re being too picky.”

“For good reason.”

“At least two of the people we interviewed were qualified enough for a test run.”

“We still have about fifteen to go and there’s no rush.”

Y/N found this ridiculous. She muttered under her breath, pushing some hair back with a sweaty palm.

“Why is it that everything I do makes you angry?”

“Because you’re fucking infuriating.”

He breathed a chuckle, “that’s nice,” and closed his laptop. “Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me. I’ll make your favorite pasta.”

“I don’t—“ but Harry had already gotten to work, tuning her voice out without much trouble. He smiled at her, almost mocking.

“Do you have another job lined up?“

“Uh,” Y/N didn’t want to admit no, that she hadn’t even begun looking properly (save for that one café down the street from her apartment), knowing the consequences and aware of the tiring reprimanding from Harry ahead. A pitied glance. A pathetic speech. “I’ve applied.”

“Where?”

“A cafe.”

“Where?”

“You wouldn’t know it.”

“Are you hired?”

She huffed, “no.”

“Where else?”

“Um, a… another café. It’s in... near my apartment.”

“Would be bad if it wasn’t,” he quipped, paying her a shortened glance from over his cooking pot. “Do you need help?”

“No.”

“Financial help, maybe?”

Y/N groaned, “no.”

“Because I wouldn’t mind sending you some money—“

“Harry,” she cut him off in an instant, glaring daggers at him, “I’ll just send it back. I’ve saved up enough to get by for a few weeks.“

“That doesn’t exactly ease my—“

“Can we just— can we not?”

And they didn’t. Harry closed his mouth— forced it closed, actually— having to clench his jaw to stop himself from voicing unwanted thoughts.  Y/N looked away, pretending this conversation hadn’t happened at all. It was easier that way, to pretend he hadn’t conveyed such an open and honest display of care, to pretend that it hadn’t ripped her heart to shreds.

There was so much he wanted to say, but he couldn't. It was the first time in a while that Y/N stayed (somewhat voluntarily) after her shift, and he couldn't risk pushing her away further.

For now, he had to be okay with this.

—

Y/N couldn‘t keep her eyes off of Harry, images of last night flashing in between conflicting thoughts.

She was in bed. She was clutching her blanket, a wet spot and the outline of her body marked by sweat on the sheets. He‘d looked so real fucking her, he‘d sounded so genuine whispering into her ear as he thrust up into her cunt.

He‘d called her a good girl, and she‘d run with it, afraid to look back.

But it hadn‘t been real, had it?

It‘d been a dream. But god, was it a good one.

Would he do it all the same? Would be hold her close, spreading his fingers over the expanse of her breast as he kissed her neck? Would he glide them up, and wrap them around her throat? Would he— fuck. No. She couldn’t.

But he would. And they‘d look so pretty resting there. And she‘d feel so pretty as he overwhelmed her with his presence, his chest pressing against hers. He‘d look so right as he danced along the fine line of praise and degradation— the line of rough and sweet, cold and warm. Because he would know. He would know exactly what she would need.

Wouldn‘t he?

He would. As she watched him move through the space of his living room, she knew he would. She‘d always known, really.

And Jamie wasn’t here anymore, he’d fled up the stairs. And Y/N really, really shouldn’t be here with him alone.

She was biting on her nails, eyes cast downwards in avoidance as Harry read his book on the other end of the couch. He had an arm stretched along the back of the couch and her legs were tucked to her chest as she scrolled on her phone, trying her hardest not to let her gaze run wild. It proved especially difficult when his arm fell mere inches from her legs. And when he touched her, warm thumb rubbing comforting circles into the cold of her skin, she couldn’t help biting her lip.

“You okay?”

“Hm? Yes. Why?”

A smile stretched his mouth wide, “just seem distracted, is all. Squirmy.”

“What? No, I’m fine.”

God, she was feeling small under his gaze.

“You sure?”

“Yes,” she mumbled. Harry saw her eyes, though, tired dark circles resting where they don’t belong. He saw how they widened, how desperate they seemed for something she didn’t want to disclose to him and he wanted so badly to satisfy that need for her. “I should go home.”

His grip tightened ever so slightly. “Would you like me to drive you?”

“Um, no. It’s okay. Thank you.”

But she failed to move.

Y/N had shut him out for so long that the effect he’d always had on her multiplied by ten. It was much much worse and the finger on her leg burned through her skin with ease.

“Sweetheart?”

“Hm?”

“Come here,” he demanded softly, watching as a war unfolded on her face. He could read her like a book, sensing the exact moment her heart won and her head gave up. He pulled her to him, fingers dancing up and down her shoulder. “You seem tired.”

Y/N cleared her throat, tips of fingers holding onto the edge of safety and threatening to let her cascade into the depths of danger. “I had three classes in the morning and I’ve been writing this paper, so—“ she allowed him control as he made her face the other way, legs outstretched, her back just inches from his chest and his hands massaging her tense shoulders. Her eyes closed in pleasure at the sensation. “And last night, I—“

“Last night you what?”

“I had… I had this dream and—“

She didn’t want to finish and he didn’t need her to.

“Is this okay?”

His voice felt soft and comfortable against her neck. “Yes, thank you. You’re good at that.”

He hummed.

“I really should go home though,” she mumbled, getting quieter with each word. She knew she wouldn’t dare push him away now, but she supposed it was more about convincing herself that she’d tried. “Cause I have classes early in the morning.”

“It’s only seven.”

“Yeah.”

Harry snickered quietly, her awful try at resistance not surprising him in the least. He had never seen her quite like this though, weak and smitten in his arms, on the verge of purring like a cat.  He definitely couldn’t complain when she inched closer and dropped her head so it could rest comfortably on his shoulder. 

“Can you do my arms?”

“Of course, baby.”

She could’ve melted. In fact, she probably had without noticing.  

And when she felt his lips pressing to her skin… well, then it was game over.

“Is this okay?”

She nodded promptly, heart racing.

Y/N was tired of rejecting this feeling, tired of pretending as though she didn’t want Harry’s affection. Because truly, it was all she wanted, all she’d longed for.

A love like his would feel so great.

“You look really beautiful, you know that?”

“Thank you,” she squeaked, sensing Harry’s chuckle rolling against her back at the response.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

“Me neither.”

“You’re the one who keeps running.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

Y/N took her time answering, grateful when Harry didn’t rush her. He would sit here waiting for an hour if he needed to, she was confident in that. There was no hurry, just soft hands on scalps and warm kisses on necks— Y/N hadn’t experienced such an overwhelming feeling of comfort in the arms of a man.

“I’m scared to stay.”

He sounded unfazed, giving her a surge of confidence when he asked, “why?”

“Because we’re such different people. You’re a dad, a very accomplished ceo. I’m a student, so much younger—“

“Don’t make me out to be so old, love.”

Her eyes rolled. “A little younger than you. And last week when I saw Stacie, I don’t know… it did something with my brain, I guess. You seemed so right together, you know? I didn’t want you to wake up one day and regret anything, don’t think I could bear that.”

“Look at me,” he muttered, tilting her head so that he could pin her down with a stern stare, “I couldn’t regret you, sweetheart. I regret much in life, but I wouldn’t regret you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Eh, I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

“Harry,” she warned, “I’m not the most lovable person once you get to know me.”

“I doubt that,” he retorted.

“Past experiences have proven as much.”

He gave gentle strokes to her cheek, a glaze he didn‘t expect overcoming her eyes, pulling him in, “so let me show you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, his nose mere inches away from hers. “Show me what?”

“How easy it is to love you.”

Time stood still, but it couldn’t not have with a statement of that kind. It seemed so easy for him to brush off concerns as something undeserving of thought, to create an allusion of simplicity where it didn‘t belong. Those words meant everything to her.

“You must know how wonderful that sounds coming from your mouth.”

Harry breathed a chuckle, nose nudging against hers softly. When he asked for permission, Y/N couldn’t deny him of another kiss.

And if it could’ve gotten any better than their first kiss, then it definitely had. There was a newfound sense of freedom and security with this kiss, unspoken thoughts reduced to small details rather than what had been when they’d spent time together last.

When they parted, nothing needed to be said. They already knew it all.

—

A month later.

“Y/N, will you hand me another bowl for the soup, please?”

As Y/N fulfilled Harry’s plea, she couldn’t help but let her giddiness dictate her movements. Things were fresh, things were good— but they were also scary. He was scary. Anxious butterflies spread in her lower tummy at the mention of his name and infested it with the low sound of his voice.

She waited by his side as he tidied up, ready to be of assistance. It was pathetic, really, how awfully smitten she’d become for him.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

She hummed in reply, scared that if she were to speak all that would come out was a squeak. Harry chuckled, smirk molding into his cheekbones as he grasped Y/N by the waist and pushed his lips against hers in a gentle kiss. His hand slid lower, giving her a squeeze.

“Are you nervous?”

“Yeah.”

“It’ll be great, I promise. And whatever he says, we’ll work it out.”

“Okay,” a surge of confidence rode her to sunny dry shores, shoulders sacking in comfort, “yeah, okay. I trust you.”

“You ready then?”

“Yes.”

Things proceeded as they always had; Y/N and Jamie shared funny anecdotes of their day as Harry mostly listened, admiring the two of them with love filling his eyes. It wasn’t until desert had come that the setting changed, unbeknownst to Jamie, and Harry took the lead.

“Jamie, we want to talk to you about something.”

Jamie stared between the two of them, waiting.

“Do you remember when you came home from school and told me about Katie and Josh? That they’re boyfriend girlfriend?”

“Yes, they still are.”

Harry chuckled, “and do you remember what I said when you asked if I had a girlfriend?”

“You said that you don’t.”

“I did. And while that may have been true for that moment, things have changed.”

Her heart melted and sank all the same when his little green eyes lit up, “do you have a girlfriend now?”

“I do,” Harry laughed, “you know her.”

“Who?”

Harry smirked, motioning to Y/N with a nod of his head to draw Jamie’s attention away. Jamie’s gaze landed on Y/N and in the matter of a second it filled with excitement. His mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Are you okay with that?” She asked, timid at first but becoming more confident when a genuine smile imprinted small dimples in his cheeks, a feature he’d been lucky enough to receive from his father.

He nodded, full of movement, and hummed in confirmation.

When Y/N and Harry had put Jamie into bed later that night, and had vacated to the kitchen to enjoy a glass of wine together, things finally fell into place. The thought of happiness within a relationship was no longer a distant one— no, it had become a reality. Harry had kept up with his promise, he had shown her easy, he’d shown her effortless, and while there was no doubt in her mind that hard times were still to come, she was confident that no matter the circumstance, her gratitude for his open portrayal of love could never be put into question.

“I love you,” she shared, eyes glassy, head tilted. “You don’t have to say it back, but I just want you to know. I think I’ve loved you for quite some time, I just didn’t want to realize it.”

The silence was short lived.

He placed his glass back down on the table and smiled, though to her it almost looked awkward. “Wow.”

“I know, you don’t have to… cause I know it’s a big deal, so you don’t have to say anything.”

“I do too,” he then offered, hand traveling to rest on her knee. “I love you.”

“Really?”

“I do.”

This stumped her.

And now it was her turn: “wow.”

Harry’s laughter spread everywhere on Y/N’s skin, engraving itself into her soul and staying there to be kept and remembered forever.

“Good. Now that that’s cleared…”

She couldn’t deny him of a passionate make-out session, hands on thighs and lips everywhere they fit, everywhere they felt right. A moan slipped from her mouth, his smirk molded into her hot skin.

“Move in with me,” he muttered, dirty against her mouth, “we’re finding a new nanny for Jamie and you don’t have a new job planned yet. Just focus on university, move in with me, with us. Let me take care of you.“

“Harry—“ his mouth collided against her neck, her eyes closed shut, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

“We’ve only been together—“

“Doesn’t matter, I’ve fought for a long time to have you. I believe in us, I trust this.”

“I…“ Y/N felt torn— on one hand, she really wanted to move in with him. On the other, was that really wise? To move in with a man after a month of dating him? Albeit this was Harry, and she trusted him too. Fully. It was herself she didn’t trust. “Are you sure?”

And when she looked into his eyes, there was no not one ounce of doubt in them. They welcomed her.

“Jamie would love it just as much as me.”

“Would he?”

“Are you kidding me? He loves you so much.”

“I love him too,” she played with a strand of his hair.

“Then move in with us.”

A smile began to pull at her lips. “But I pay for groceries.”

“No,” he mumbled, “you’re too broke for me to let you do that.”

“Harry!”

“It’s true!” He laughed, massaging her thigh. “Baby, I don’t expect you to pay for anything living here. I’m more than capable—“

“I know you’re capable, but I just… I was taught not to burden other people.”

“You’re not burdening me,” he insisted, finger sliding under her chin, “it’s okay to let other people do things for you. It’s okay for others to show their love.”

“I know that.”

“So please don’t worry about it. Focus on your studies and make me proud in that way.”

“I need to make money somehow.”

“No you don’t. I’ll support you.”

“No,” she breathed right away, “I won’t depend on you for money. You’re not my… my sugar daddy.”

“Why not?” He grinned, “you call me daddy either way—“

Y/N’s eyes rolled, “shut up.”

“Told you not to roll your eyes at me.”

“Sorry.”

Harry hummed, “try it for a month. If you want to move in after, you can. If you don’t, I’ll help you find a new place. Or I’ll pay your rent while you’re here so you don’t lose out on money.”

Comfortable silence dictated the next few seconds as Y/N thought about her boyfriend’s offer, and then: “fine. We’ll try it for a month.”

Harry’s smile widened, “yeah?”

“Yes.”

“You won’t regret it."

He'd been right.

--

The end! Would love to hear your feedback :) but also like… don’t be too harsh cause I can’t handle it

tags:

@tpwk-mia @gem1712 @behindmygreyeyes, @sinarainbows @infixinfinity @adkmermaid2399 @daphnesutton @imaginexxharry @bry211 @haliastyles @watarmelon212 @impossibleme @cali-888 @dreamybabbyy @evie-119 @cumuluscranium @c-a-b3002 @buckybarnessimpp @freckles-things @harryedwardstylesluva24 @ihavesimpedovermanyfictionalmen @angelbunny222 @ivegotthecinema @harryscowgirl @vikiii07

I hope I didn’t forget anyone!

#harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x you #harry styles one shot #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #harry styles materlist #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles x nanny #harry styles ceo #harry styles fanfic rec

[ithebookhoarder]

Could you write an Anthony Bridgerton x wife!reader fic? They are newly weds and the reader wishes to pamper Anthony while he is bathing. He’s a bit cautious about it at first because he is not used to such affection. Thank youu I love your writing a lot especially the truth or dare fic.

In Your Hands (Anthony Bridgerton x Wife!Reader)

A/N: First of all, thank you so much! And I hope you like this. Thanks for sending this ask in, luckily I was already toying with a few Bridgerton ideas thanks to the new trailers so this came surprisingly easy.

Also, if any of you guys enjoy my work, or just feel like it, then consider buying me a cup of coffee here: https://ko-fi.com/ithebookhoarder ☕️

Warnings: Nudity references, the start of sexy-times, alcohol 

Masterlist

Anthony was someone who hated routine. After all, as much as he was devoted to the day to day duties that came with being the head of his family, if he had his way he would escape the city and the ton, choosing instead the peace and tranquility offered by the countryside, at Aubrey Hall. He dreamed of being able to be just a brother, son and - as of recently - a husband. 

Only married a few months, your new husband was keen to seize each and every opportunity to escape his duties when they appeared - whether it was sneaking off for long rides in the countryside, or making an early exit from whatever social gathering you both had been forced to attend as the new Viscount and Viscountess Bridgerton; Whatever allowed you both to be alone and back in one another’s arms (usually sans clothes) as soon as possible, was a good idea to him. 

It was no surprise then, that there was one part of his daily routine that Anthony actually relished: bathing. 

Oh, yes. There was little more in the world that could bring your fully-grown husband such child-like joy as being able to soak in a tub of steaming hot water for an hour or two. The sight always made you smile as you entered your bedroom: Anthony, half asleep, looking as if the stress had physically melted away. 

It was your favourite sight - and not just because of the exquisite view it granted you of his sculpted form - but because of how calm and peaceful he looked. It was as if he had transformed back into the mischievous and carefree boy you’d first fallen in love with all those years ago. Back when your only concerns had been not tripping on your skirt at your presentation, making sure you were actually asked to dance at a ball, and surviving the social season without embarrassing your family or getting yourself roped into some scandal. 

Whilst you knew neither you nor Anthony would ever change a single thing about your life together, you knew it came with a cost. In fact, today it had been enduring hours of talks with local tenants, the family’s book keeper, estate managers, and even several possible suitors looking to secure some kind of marriage contract with one of his younger sisters. (You’d been informed by several members of the household staff that those meetings had been remarkably swift, however, with each unfortunate man looking rather dejected as they were shown from the house). 

If you’d been able to spare him the pain or share his burden you would have, but unfortunately you’d been occupied with matters of your own. Being the lady of such a grand estate came with duties of its own, and you were quite done looking over seating arrangements, replying to correspondence, and paying social calls for one day.  

Still, at least you’d both survived to tell the tale - no wonder Anthony looked half asleep. Then again, maybe it had something to do with the open bottle of whiskey that sat on the table beside the tub. You knew without looking at the label which bottle it was, having smuggled it out of the library yourself to enjoy together. 

“Anthony Bridgerton!” A fake gasp of horror escaped your lips as you appeared in the doorway, a hand pressed to your chest. “You are a sneak and a traitor. That whiskey was for me too, you know.”

“And a good evening to you too, my love. Never fear, there’s plenty to share,” he teased, head relaxed, tipped backward as he took a sip from the glass in his hand. Your eyes were transfixed on the hollow of his throat, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Besides, I would apologise but I simply couldn’t wait a minute longer. Not when I couldn’t feel my back from sitting at that desk all afternoon.”

The moan that escaped his lips was almost sinful as he sank a little lower in the water.  

“Well, you’re forgiven. You look far too content for me to even dream of being mad,” you sighed, drawing close and perching on the rim of the tub. Anthony handed over the whiskey glass with a soft smile, letting you take a sip of your own before you placed it back onto the table. 

You could feel the warmth seep into your bones immediately, even if that was also likely in part to your proximity to the tub and your naked husband. 

“Do you want me to wash your hair?”

Anthony’s eyebrows rose at the question, the surprise written across his face. “What?”

“You heard me,” you teased, reaching up to run your fingers through the soft strands of hair atop his head. “I can wash your hair, and get your back for you. Unless you’d rather do it yourself, or I can ring for someone?”

“What? No, that’s uh, that’s not necessary,” he chuckled, visibly flustered - which was amusing and perplexing. After all, it wasn’t as if you two hadn’t seen and touched every single inch of the other in the weeks since your wedding. However, he looked almost confused at the idea that you would offer such a thing. “You don’t have to do that.”

“But I want to,” you soothed. “Let me take care of you, for once. Husband.”

It was probably below the belt to purr his title like that, but you knew how that one little word had the power to reduce the great Viscount Bridgerton to a puddle. That, along with the warmth of the water and the buzz of the whiskey, made him almost pliant to your every whim. Still, you knew him well enough to recognise the lingering hesitation in his eyes as he nodded in agreement. 

He very rarely let his guard down or allowed anyone to assist him in any way. You sometimes believed that had the servants not been dependant upon their work to make a living that Anthony would have dismissed them long ago and tried to run the entire estate single handedly just to prove he could. That he was worthy of the title he bore, and that he was every bit as great a man, brother, and husband as his father. 

It appeared he was the same way when it came to letting himself be taken care of and it made your heart ache for the man you loved. 

Pressing a triumphant kiss to his lips, you swiftly manoeuvred yourself, pulling up a stool and grabbing a jug from the dresser.  

“Just relax… trust me,” you murmured, waiting until he did as he was bid. The gesture alone said volumes, more so than any words ever could. 

Waiting until his eyes were shut, you reached for the soap, tilting his head against your chest as you began to massage the mixture into his scalp. Yet again, your husband seemed to transform into a cat, purring with every touch in a way that made it suddenly very difficult to resist the urge to strip off and join your husband in the water instead. 

“Enjoying yourself?” You giggled as Anthony barely managed more than a groan in reply. 

It was taking every ounce of your self control to focus your attentions solely on Anthony, and not on the way his body seemed to be reacting to your ministrations. Thankfully, you were able to last long enough to finish the job, using the jug to rinse the water through his hair, making sure to angle his head upwards so the water ran off him instead of into his eyes. 

But you were only human; the minute you were done washing the last suds from his scalp you made your move. Sliding off the stool, you knelt beside him and reached out to caress his cheek, causing him to open his eyes almost sleepily. Leaning forward you planted a soft, delicate kiss to his lips, causing him to groan in response.

Without saying a word, his hands rose, twisting their way into your hair as he deepened his kiss. It was clear what he wanted next. 

“Now, wife,” he growled, pulling back just long enough to reach down and tug teasingly at the tie of your dress-robe. You could feel the warmth of his touch as his wet body began to dampen the material. “I think it’s your turn to let me take care of you… so you’d better get in here, before I drag you in here.”

#ithebookhoarder #masterlist #thesilentmage #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #bridgerton fanfiction #jonathan bailey #Bridgerton

[pb524830]

clean up nice

part: 2 ;) pairing: paige bueckers x reader word count: 2.3k c/w: this is just straight filth i'm sorry a/n: miami post had me acting up! just kidding but not really but someone asked for a part two of this :)

The afterparty is small, in a suite at the hotel we’re all staying at. It’s just me, Paige, Azzi, Aaliyah, Nika, and Aubrey, along with the coaches and staff. The intimacy of it is sweet, comforting… until Paige’s hand lands on my thigh. Me, her, and the other girls are sitting on the couch. Paige is turned to Nika, talking to her quietly. She’s changed into something more casual - dark pants and a dark crop top, her gray boxers peeking out from the waistband of her cargos, a Seattle Storm cap balanced on her head. 

Fuck if she doesn’t look fucking devourable.

I’m sitting next to her, cross-legged, answering some work emails. Deliberately, she places her hand on my leg, just above my knee, and squeezes. I shoot her a small smile, returning to my phone. “You look stressed,” she murmurs, leaning forward so her lips are next to my ear. “All good,” I reassure her. Her fingers press into my bare skin, moving upward. “Do you wanna go? We can… relax.”

I don’t miss the suggestive tone to her voice, or the way her fingers are pushing my dress as they move further up my thigh. “Paige,” I whisper, warning. “Come on,” she urges and I shut my eyes. 

“We should take a picture!” Nika exclaims suddenly. Immediately, I shoot to my feet. “I’ll take it!” I volunteer. I’m met with immediate protests that I should be in the picture, but I wave them off. I fish my disposable camera out of my purse, and get to work posing them so that the picture is as good as I want it. “Nika, lean into Paige a little…” I instruct. My eyes flicker to Paige’s.

When she’s sure my eyes are on her, she spreads her legs and slouches back. Her hand lands on her leg, bracing it high on her thigh. She stares me down through hooded eyes, smirking sensually. “Take the picture, ma,” she calls. I shake my head, leaning back to capture all four of them on the couch. Once I’ve taken a few, I shove the camera back in my purse, trying desperately to ignore the fact that my panties are probably soaked. “I’m gonna get a drink,” I tell them hastily. I feel Paige’s eyes burning into my back as I retreat.

I’m filling a cup with vodka and cranberry juice when I feel her arms snake around my waist. Her head falls to my neck, lips ghosting over my shoulder. “You good?” She asks. “Mmm,” I murmur. “Room’s right upstairs,” she reminds me. “You’re so fucking horny,” I whisper, but the way her hand spans my waist has me clutching at the bottle of vodka for support.

“Can’t help it.” She presses an open mouthed kiss against my shoulder. “My girl so fine.”

“Paige, please,” I mutter, urging her to maintain some kind of decorum.

“Still needa take this dress off and fuck you.”

I sigh, the alcohol I’ve already consumed making me just as dizzy as her hands and words.

“You’d like that, huh?”

“Yes.”

“So easy for me, hm? Let me make you feel good, baby.”

My resolve is dampening.

“Wanna watch your pussy when you come for me this time. Wanna taste you so bad, wanna hear you scream my na-”

I groan, shoving her off of me and grabbing her hand. We make a beeline for the door, and I don’t miss the knowing smirk she shoots Aubrey. I push her into the elevator, and she turns, smirking down at me. “Quit it,” I tell her, before she can open her mouth. She shuts her mouth immediately, her grin still evident. 

We get to the hotel room, and as soon as the door shuts, Paige has me against it, her tongue in my mouth. She kisses me languidly, claiming my mouth, kneading my ass to draw out all the sounds she wants to hear. I push her back, shoving her onto the bed. Her gaze is hungry, tongue darting out to lick her lips. “Take your pants off,” I breathe. Her eyes darken, but she unbuttons them, slipping out of them. I step closer, reaching for the zipper on my dress. “Shirt,” I order. She shrugs that off too, and I nearly fall to my knees when I realize she isn’t wearing a bra.

She’s on the bed in just her boxers when I slide the dress down my body and step out of it. Paige tips her head back, groaning at the sight. “I’m so fucking lucky,” she mumbles, looking back to me and shaking her head. I scoff, stepping into her space to dance my hand over her abs. “Me? Look at you, fuck.”

“You like that?”

“You know I do.”

“Forgot how much you like my abs. You wanna ride them?” She grins at me wickedly.

I bite my lip, staring down at her with wide eyes. “Please,” I breathe, putting some whine in my tone.

She sits back against the pillows, and the up and down of her breathing flexes her stomach. I’m salivating at the thought of dragging my clit up and down her torso. “Whatever you want, ma,” she intones. I slip out of my panties, tossing them at her. She shakes her head, beckoning me closer. I crawl onto the bed, straddling her waist.

Paige’s hands latch to my hips, rubbing my ass. “Come on. Ride it.”

I lower myself slowly, my cunt screaming for contact. Then I rock against her and moan. Loud.

“Lemme hear you.”

I rock back again, throwing my head back. “Oh, my God,” I gasp. 

“So fucking pretty.”

I whine, speeding up a little. It’s too much. It’s too little. My hands grapple for my breasts.

“Fuck. Yes, play with your tits like that. You look so fucking hot right now, baby, please.”

Her hands come up to play with her own tits, massaging, pulling at her nipples, and when she moans, my hips stutter. “Don’t stop,” she begs. “Please, do not fucking stop.” I bat her hands away, replacing them with my own.

My hips speed up as I knead her tits, pinching her nipples as her large hands land on my ass, working me faster. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” I sigh, my voice cracking as I take in the sight of her lust-glazed eyes, her perfect, perky tits, her jaw slack, mouth open.

“Fucking getting off on my abs. So fucking- fucking dirty, shit.”

I moan, falling against her, the rivulets of pleasure shooting from my clit through my body. “I’m gonna come, Paige.” 

Her hands at my ass move my hips faster, and I buck against her, chasing my release desperately. 

“You close? Fuck, you’re close, come on. Come for me, ma, just let go.”

“I’m almost- fuck! Oh, shit, shit, shit, Paige!”

“There you go. Good fuckin’ girl, there you go.”

I shake against her as the orgasm racks through me, moaning into her skin. She rocks my hips against her body until she’s sure the aftershocks have subsided. “You did so good for me baby,” she soothes, rubbing my back. Her hands lace into my hair down my back, fingers getting caught. “So good for me,” she murmurs absentmindedly.

I kiss her slowly, my body fucking exhausted, but her lips so painfully tantalizing. “I made a mess, baby, I’m sorry,” I whisper. She squeezes my ass. “Clean it up, then,” she says. I sit up suddenly, eyes shooting to hers. “What?” I whisper. Paige’s hand lands sharply against my ass, the slap stinging. “Clean up. Your fucking. Mess,” she repeats. I stare at her for a moment, then slide my pussy down her body, easing off of her to hover my mouth over her stomach.

Her abs look even better now, somehow, the shadows and highlights of them glistening with my slick. “Today, ma,” she drones. I place my tongue right above the waistband of her boxers, then lick all the way up to her nipple, taking that in my mouth and sucking it off with a pop. She groans a little. “Good girl.” I continue, lapping up all of my come, occasionally attending to her nipples. When I’m finished, she’s just about drooling, and I kiss back down her stomach.

Her boxers are wet where her arousal has soaked through, and I lick my lips. “You wanna taste, baby?” She asks. I pout at her. “So bad,” I whine. “Fuck, it’s all yours. All yours,” she sighs, tipping her head back as I kiss her cunt through her boxers. I slide them down her legs, discarding them elsewhere.

I don’t bother teasing, relishing in the way her back arches when I attach my mouth to her clit. I drag my tongue through her folds, lapping at her cunt diligently.

 I suck hard on her clit. “Fuuuuuuuck,” she moans, her throat scratchy with desire. My back arches at that, ass up in the air. “Look so fuckin- pretty, oh, fuck- between my legs.”

“So wet,” I moan, knowing the vibrations of my voice will make her crazy. They do, and a hand lands in my hair, pushing me down, hips bucking into my face. The other hand covers her eyes, and it’s fucking magical - the way her body responds to my mouth, her features screwed with pleasure, the words falling from her perfect pink lips.

She fucks herself against my mouth, and I smile, feeling her nails dig into my scalp, eating her out like she’s my last fucking meal. She tastes so good - so sweet and forbidden, dripping down my chin. I can hear my tongue moving through her slick, laving filthily through her folds.

“I’m close. Shit, I’m so close. Please. Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

“Come for me, baby.”

“I’m gonna- Yes, right there, right there, just like that. Oh, fuck! Fuck!”

She falls apart against me with my name on her lips, hips bucking erratically and I moan into her, working her through it. 

Finally, her hips still, body slumping against the bed. I crawl back up her body, kissing her lazily, letting her taste herself. “So good for me,” I murmur against her lips. “Make me feel… so fuckin’ incredible,” she tells me between kisses. “Wanna taste you, ma.”

“You’re tired,” I tell her, but my pussy is soaked from getting her off. Her hands run down my back, eyes searching mine. “Sit on my face, then,” she suggests casually. I’m too tired to react appropriately, so my eyes just widen. “Paige-”

She groans. “Please, baby. I need- I need to taste you. So fucking bad, you have no idea.”

“I’m gonna suffocate you,” I try to reason.

“Damn good way to go out,” she retorts, her voice raspy. 

“Please,” she begs, lips attaching to mine again, biting my bottom one as she pulls away. I sigh, moving my hands over her torso. “Okay,” I relent. She grins against me, moving me up to hover over her mouth. “I’m… still sensitive,” I warn. She smirks at me. “Never stopped me before.”

Then she’s shoving me against her mouth, and I’m moaning her name as filthily as anyone has moaned anyone’s name before, clutching at the headboard as her tongue licks and her mouth sucks and she pushes me down against her lips. She moans into me, and when I look down, her eyes are on me. A moan falls from my mouth, followed by a whimper, and her eyes roll up into her head.

I grind against her face, letting her devour me, feeling my climax already close. “Oh, yes, Paige. That’s so good. So good,” I sigh out, my stomach already tightening. She sinks her tongue into me in response, and I gasp, my head knocking against the headboard. Then her lips latch onto my clit and suck and suck and suck until-

“Paige!” I scream, my thighs shaking, but she holds them around her face, her grip strong. I nearly sob, riding it out, my forehead braced against the headboard.

She isn’t done, though, the tears streaking down my face, spurring her on.

Paige flips us over easily, shoving my thighs open, and burying her face in my cunt again, two ringed fingers fucking into my cunt without reservation. My back arches at the same time that my thighs clench around her face, my hand at her head trying to push her away, because it’s too much and it hurts. She fucks into my cunt relentlessly, tongue laving at my clit, her hand batting mine away before thrusting my thighs back open harshly.

They burn, but the pain is so fucking good. 

“It hurts,” I gasp, tears streaking down my face. “Take it,” she growls, and then I’m coming again, stars dotting the back of my eyelids. The room spins, and perhaps goes black for a second or two. Then - it’s the sight of Paige.

Her face is fucked out.

Her hair is a mess.

Her eyes are dark - so dark, I can hardly see the clear blue of her irises.

Her nose is shiny with me, my slick coating her signature smirk, and she looks so fucking proud.

She strokes my thighs. “You take it so good, ma. Always so good for me, right?”

I nod, chest still heaving, my eyes fluttering shut. “Come here,” I say, gesturing for her to come closer. She obliges, easing out from between my thighs to slide her body against mine, entwining us together. “Could make you come a million times, it still wouldn’t be enough,” she murmurs, kissing my forehead.

I laugh hoarsely, burying my face in her neck. “Could come for you a billion, and I’d still beg for one more.” I feel her smile against my hair. I pull back to look up at her. Her mascara has flaked down right underneath her eyelids, her pupils shrinking a bit to reveal that stark blue. “We should clean up,” she murmurs. I shake my head, burrowing further into her chest. “Leave it,” I say.

“For what?” She knows the answer.

“Tomorrow morning,” I grin.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #wcbb #fic #uconn wbb #✂️ anon #ncaaw #fic talk #paige bueckers x reader

[wh1msic4alwasab1]

⋆˚࿔ 𝐃𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

synopsis: how genshin men would degrade you <3

tags: degrading (obviously) facesitting, mentions of gagging, oral, penetration, explicit

wrd cnt: 800+

a/n: cooking up an hsr version soon

Ayato is always complete and proper in his semantics, he's fair and he loves to praise you.

But tonight...you stretched his patience too thin and his only choice was to stretch your little cunt til you couldn't talk back anymore. "Fuck, you're tight, honey.. this is what you want, isn't it?"

This day was big for Ayato, but you just had to keep pestering him with question after question. Usually, he'd entertain your playfulness but tonight was stressful. So he took it out on you instead. Call it karma?

"Clenching from my vulgarity..what a whore you are." He whispered into your ear, bending you across his desk, while all the guests sat outside having tea while you got fucked hard from behind by Ayato, who put a hand over your mouth, warning you greatly to stay quiet and stop those slutty moans of yours.

"Am I wrong or, did you not hear me? Ayato said lowly, slowly growing more and more annoyed and irritated at your misbehavior.

"Do you need me to gag that mouth of yours, y/n?” Sounding more like a promised threat than a question.

The only way you can get yourself out of this is giving Mr. Kamisato all he asks for and more, and be an obedient girl.

Nothing could really piss off Alhaitham as much as you, but not in the way that's most obvious.

He hated how much you doubted yourself, looked down on yourself, and harbored deep annoyance of the fact you didn't love the things about you he can't get enough of.

Sure, he could give you a little cute pep-talk but, fucking it into you is the approach that'll really make it stick. Some reverse psychology maybe?

After hearing you badmouth yourself for what felt like hours, he's stripping you of all your clothes and sitting you onto the couch armrest, forcing you to look him in the eyes; daring you to say those things again.

"Fucking pathetic is what you are. You're lucky I'm not fucking that stupid shit out of your mouth". He said, grabbing your hips as he sat down, positioning your cunt over him.

Not sure if you should just hover, his large hand lands on your ass, surely leaving a handprint.

"Sit down y/n." Alhaitham groaned, pulling your hips down onto his face and swallowing your clit with his tongue; his eyes never leaving you and your perfect tits.

Wriothesley loved showering you with compliments and nothing but the sweetest of words, but sometimes he just can't hold back all the filthy things he knows you want from him.

Oftentimes he's just worried you're gonna start crying, but fuck is it hot when you do.

"Fuck, I'm gonna ruin your pretty little mouth." He breathes out, watching you kiss up his cock. On your knees and eyes up is his favorite way to gaze at you, and it's just so easy for him to fuck your face.

"Wrio...you said-"

"Sluts don't get to talk." He cuts you off, his brows raised in amusement as he lights up a cigarette and throws the lighter somewhere, taking his cock in one hand to push past your lips as the other keeps the cig inbetween his fingers.

"Open that dirty fucking mouth of yours... can't take it all of a sudden?" He says, shoving it deep into your throat while his hand grips the back of your head, letting you take it at your own pace before he throws his head back and thrusts his hips up as he hears all the sloppy noises, waiting for your glossy eyes to make an appearance.

Now, Childe really tries to be sweet and praiseful, but he loves how disgusting and filthy you can be, and it's even better when he gets to tells you how much he loves it.

Wearing a new outfit wasn't something you expected to lead to something like this.

Definitely not being put in a tight mating press by your lover, pressed into the couch cushions while he left marks all over your neck and collar, biting and sucking places anyone could see to leave no guessing who's you belong to.

"Look at your thighs...they're just spilling out. You look like a filthy slut, do you want me to fuck you like one? Is that it?" He asked, pulling and smacking the material of your stocking that you didn't think too much of, but the minute he saw you walk out in them his cock wanted to spring out and get in between your thighs. But your pussy was an even better spot.

Deep and deeper be thrusted, the springs in the furniture squeaking while your voice almost did the same, cursing and moaning his name while he kept you close. Small protests for him to be quick fell from your lips, urging him so the two of you could get to where you were headed prior to this..."short" break.

"Are you gonna be a good girl or a fucking headache?" He asked, only fucking your harder and slower, a hand finding to squeeze the sides of your neck.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

#jo’s posts #genshin impact smut #genshin #genshin impact #genshin imagines #degredation kink #childe smut #alhaitham smut #wriothesley smut #ayato smut

[iamasimperyk]

Just a little help -Rafe Cameron

Warnings: Corruption, Anger Issues, Not proof read, English is not my first language

Pairing: Grumpy!Rafe x Sunshine!Reader

You hated Rafe. He was a grumpy guy while you were a ray of pure sunshine. The fact that he was a Kook while you were a Pogue didn't make things any better.

You couldn't go to the other side of the island without him making rude comments. Of course, they hurt you, but by now, you were pretty much used to it.

"Where are your little friends? After our last encounter, I thought they understood that letting you walk home all by yourself is not a good idea." Rafe grinned like a maniac.

"It gets boring, you know. Everything you can do is insult the Pogues and me. If you have something new, please let me know." You smiled at him, patting his chest. 

You have always followed your instincts without hesitation. And right now, it felt right to pat Rafe's chest.

"Don't touch me with your dirty hands, Pogue." He hissed, turning around to leave.

You took a deep breath, not believing what you were about to do, "Rafe?"

After you called out his name, he turned around quickly, clearly annoyed, "What?"

"Who hurt you?" You asked carefully, to not make him even more upset. You knew it was a cliche moment, but you loved all this corny shit.

Rafe looked at you for a few seconds before he started to laugh. He was laughing directly in your face after you tried to be nice to him for once.

"I suggest you go back to your fucking side of the island and stop asking me shit." He said after calming down his laughter, his tone dangerously low.

"Come on, Rafe, you can tell me. I am actually a very good listener." You tried once again, wanting to help him.

He walked to you as fast as he could, "Listen, Pogue, I know what you are trying to do, and I can guarantee you, it won't work. Did your friends send you to me? Did they think I would go easy on you because you are known as the sunshine of the Cut?"

You quickly shook your head, "I just came from work, so it was a total coincidence that I met you."

The tension was so thick that it seemed like it could have been cut with a knife.

"Look, Rafe, you hate me, and I don't even know why. Everybody told me I was supposed to hate you as well, so I did it. I promise I am here to help you." You looked into his blue eyes, finding some sort of comfort in them.

Rafe Cameron was speechless. Never had anyone wanted to him, and now you, a Pogue, stood in front of him.

"You want to help me to get rid of my anger?" He asked, to which you nodded. 

That was all Rafe needed to see before he pressed his lips onto yours. Your eyes widen in disbelief, not expecting something like this. 

"Now, I feel better." He smirked after pulling away.

"Why would you do that?" You raised your voice at him.

The answer was he didn't know it. He never thought about you in any sexual way, but the way you looked at him, he just had to corrupt you. And that's exactly what he did.

A year later

"Here," You smiled down at Rafe, handing him a glass of whisky.

He pulled you onto his lap, kissing you roughly, "Thank you, what would I do without my little ray of sunshine."

It was like he brainwashed you. You did everything for him, just like he wanted it all those years. He finally had someone who didn't say anything against the things he did. And he intended to keep it that way.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #obx #outer banks #outer banks x reader #outer banks x y/n #outer banks x you

[debonairprincesposts]

Absolutely loved your Lucifer x Son reader!! Can we get a part 2? Im eager to see how Charlie and the gang may react!

Hello Anon! Here’s my take on what would’ve happened in the aftermath. As requested. Wasn’t really planning on making more content relating to this Au, but here we are! This is the last one, I hope. The gang haven’t met (Name) so they won’t be included in this.

Enjoy (。•̀ᴗ-)✧

Lucifer was basically contemplating every bad decision he's ever made in his life as he stares at the face of his unconscious son.

He barely managed to save (Name)’s wing by reattaching it, but it'll take a while before it's usable again.

Coat and hat off, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his hair disheveled from running his fingers through it in his moment of stress.

Eyes rimmed red from crying, cheeks stained with tears as he rubbed his eyes to get rid of the heavy feeling you usually get from crying so much.

He practically started having a mental breakdown the moment he knew that (Name)’s life wasn’t in any immediate danger. It wasn’t until a few minutes ago that he finally calmed down.

Sitting on a chair next to his son's bed, Lucifer sighs as he puts his face in his hands. He hasn't told Charlie yet. He doesn't really know how he should go about explaining what happened at the palace without freaking her out.

Wounds inflicted by angelic steel take longer to heal. He doesn’t know how long it would take for (Name) to wake up. It’s been about 3 hours since the attack, and he’s been restless ever since.

Still no sign of movement from (Name) as he lays motionless on his bed. The only way Lucifer could tell that he’s even still alive is the slow rise and fall of his chest.

Running his fingers through his hair as he stood up from his chair, reaching for his phone in his pocket, he hesitated to call Charlie. He didn’t know how to disclose the situation to her. There’s no easy way of doing this. I mean- how do you go about telling your child that her brother could possibly end up in a coma after being attacked by bloodthirsty psycho angels! That’s ridiculous! Everything about this is ridiculous! He’s ridiculous! He’s literally the King of Hell! He should’ve done more to ensure the protection of his son! If he just had the time to construct a barrier around his home then maybe this wouldn’t have happened in the first place. If he hadn’t been in a hurry to go save Charlie, he would’ve given it more thought. The fact that (Name) would be left defenseless all by himself with no one to help him. It’s basically a miracle that he even managed to survive all by himself. What with his inexperience in life or death fights. What kind of father would he be if he can’t even protect his children from harm! An incompetent one, he thinks.

His hands shake as he grips his phone. Taking a deep breath, he presses on Charlie’s contact and hopes that everything goes well.

“Dad! Thank goodness you’re okay! I’ve been trying to call you ever since you left in a hurry earlier- Is everything alright?” Just hearing Charlie’s voice over the phone makes him want to cry again.

He swallows the lump in his throat, “I-I’m okay, sweetie! It’s just- uhh,” just say it dammit! That’s her brother! She needs to know! “It’s (Name). He- he’s not doing good at the moment.” He cringes at his attempt.

“What?! Is he okay?! What happened?”

“He-,” his throat felt dry as he swallowed, “the palace was attacked.”

“WHAT?! Is (Name) okay?!” Her panicked voice could be heard over the phone. He tried to breathe properly to not breakout into another panic attack. “Dad?! Why aren’t you saying anything?!! You’re scaring me!”

“He’s-,” he winces at the break in his voice before clearing his throat, “He’s okay now! I managed to get here on time before he-,” his voice cracked again as tears wells up in his eyes.

The other side of the line goes silent for a bit. Charlie most definitely heard his pathetic attempt at trying to compose himself.

He clears his throat again, “His wounds are healing. But I don’t know when he’ll wake up.” He settled with. His voice raspy from crying.

On the other side of the line, Vaggie was standing next to Charlie, comforting her as she processes the information she just received. It was just them two in the lobby. Everybody else was either out or resting in their new rooms.

“Do you need me to come over, Dad?” Charlie asks.

“No need for that, apple pie- I’ll stay here until he recovers. You need to stay at your hotel. I can handle it. Promise.”

“Okay,” she swallows, forcing back her tears, “Call me if you need to. Okay, Dad?”

“Of course. Goodbye, sweetie.”

“Bye-,” he hangs up.

“Everything okay, babe?” Asks Vaggie, “You seem pretty worried.”

“Worried? Me? Pshh- no! Not at all! I mean- it’s not like the angels attacked my Dad’s castle and put my brother in a coma!-,” Charlie rambles.

“What?!” Vaggie yells in shock, “Is he okay?”

“Dad said that he’s okay. (Name)’s just resting-,” Charlie starts pulling at her hair. “Why would they attack him! He didn’t have anything to do with any of this!”

Vaggie doesn’t say anything. She just takes Charlie by the hand and takes her to their room as Charlie continues to worry about her brother. Which is valid cuz like- (Name)’s her brother-

When they reach their room, Vaggie takes Charlie by the hand and leads to bed.

“I’m sure he’ll be okay. He’s got your father’s blood flowing through his veins, no? He’ll wake up before you know it- Trust me.”

Charlie sniffles, “You really think so?”

Vaggie nods, “I know so. Now- why don’t we rest and cuddle. We’ve had a long day. I think we deserve some rest, don’t you think?”

Vaggie then helps Charlie change into pajamas as they both lay in each other’s arms in bed.

“Feeling better?” Vaggie asks.

Charlie nods, “I just hope he wakes up soon.” As they both continue cuddling in bed.

Imma be honest y’all. This isn’t my best work. Didn’t come out as well as I’d hoped. Kinda lost motivation half way through. Not sure if you can tell. But anyway! Here’s how I thought it would go. Hope y’all like it! Stay healthy and keep hydrated! ∠(ᐛ 」∠)

Bye babes!

-DebonairPrince

Help support your favorite author by buying them a ko-fi!

#hazbin angst #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vaggie #hazbin charlie #hazbin hotel lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel #charlie x reader #charlie morningstar #charlie x vaggie #dad lucifer #lucifer angst #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer x male reader #x reader #vaggie #charlie magne #x male reader #male reader #reader insert

[sgiandubh]

Good morning to you...as always, this person is very indignant and enraged.

https://www.tumblr.com/maximumwobblerbanditdonut/748583730081333248/the-unexpected-guests?source=share

Dear (returning) Mythomaniac Anon,

Sorry for the delay and see below why. Well, then: how was that, at their end of the rope, across the street?

I know, I am quoting BIF (that petty, nasty, condescending woman), their Main Intellectual Luminary (LOL for years), but see how easy it is to boomerang anything?

And I will even suit myself and quote her some more, lookie here:

I am not even sorry. Karma is a bitch, like that and it seems to have backfired badly on BIF's comadre, 'Max'. You see, I can immediately tell when people who have NO idea about what LAW really is, start talking about it. They will always be oh so damn literal and oh so damn mechanical in their 'reasonings'. I mean, if law were to be read as is, why would we even bother going to law school, right? Why not have AI sort it out, literally and mechanically, too (and boy does 'Max' sound like an android when she starts droning her maximum wobbling bullshit)? You see, in law, it's never enough to copy/paste something, because this is about people, money and interests, being those individual or collective. Timelines are important (and indispensable in any legal approach), but never enough: what makes the difference is always the particular context and the interpretation of facts - that is, by the way, called jurisprudence, when it becomes a legally binding precedent (not our modest case, here), in common law system countries (the UK, the US) or a complementary source of law, like in Roman/Civil law systems, such as the French and Romanian ones, which I know best. There is a technical distinction between those two concepts (legally binding precedent and complementary source of law) and I once passed a whole year written exam in Public French Law with honors, picking this exact topic, but I won't bother you with it, Anon. In a nutshell, tread carefully when you open that droning mouth and leave no stone unturned, if possible. Otherwise, you'd make a fool out of yourself, with bullshit like this:

There is no Midhope Distillery Company Ltd, you fool. There once was the Midhope Castle Distillery Ltd, as I have abundantly shown in not one, but two posts. It did not 'change its name' in 2023, it was dissolved by voluntary write-off (third time might be a charm, across the street, maybe the coin would drop?). And one more time, for you Mordor people in the back: there is no way to know who the shareholders of a given company are, based on the Company House records, nor the amount of their participation. This is confidential information, as shown also in the Planning Proposal - once more, I repost the screenshot:

' The Business Plan, submitted (...) under Private and Confidential cover, provides background information on the applicant'. Including, but not limited to, the existing investors/shareholders - it is essential to show the local authorities your business project is not a whim or a dream.

She also writes confidently stuff like:

That is simply not true. As I have also shown in my last post, Outlander is explicitly mentioned in both the first and the revised Planning Proposals, as a strong argument for the entire business project. It may serve to remember that one of the elements justifying it was to provide the 20k seasonal visitors of the Midhope Castle Grounds an opportunity to access the (vastly) improved interior of the castle, along with a whisky related experience/discovery activity, accommodation and high-end dining opportunity. Again, I repost the screenshot, because those people are mendacious by nature and it is perhaps the only way to show them some facts (not useless factoids):

That being said, we can speculate and deduct a simple correlation between a company actively looking for investors to support their now vastly revised, ten-year project and an actor-cum-entrepreneur who might be interested/already involved in that project. Unless he'd make a formal announcement himself, at some point in time, there is no way to confirm. 'Max' should perhaps learn to water down her confident tone, sometimes, especially when it is obvious she did not look at the documents herself, used only Google in the arrogant and foolish hope 'those tinhat shippers are stupid' and has 0 (zero) legal expertise.

This whole thing might be pending approval, but let's not forget the first Planning Statement was approved back in 2020 (which is a good starting point), that they have secured a business partnership with the owner of the land, Lord Hope (the 4th Marquess of Linlithgow) and that as far as I could read during those past two days, all the reports seem ok, at least up until this point in time. I see no reason why they wouldn't meet and talk about it: on which planet is that such a big deal and on which planet could that be construed as 'conflict of interest' (another one of 'Max's' arguments), given the organic link between OL and Midhope, since 2013?

I also have made a hasty mistake, in my previous post, when dealing with Ken Robertson's participation to the project. He continued to be involved, as my penned timeline shows, in both Hopetoun Estate Distillery Ltd and Hopetoun Estate Whiskies Ltd, as a Director, continuously from May 2017 until their dissolution, in December 2022. Again, it's all on the timeline - see what I just did, here? LOL for a century and a half.

And for Marple's 'Sorry' clip, I have the perfect reply. Especially the chorus, of course - ignore the rest, it's about some Seventies playboy, quite an Alternate Universe from hers:

I will stop now, Anon. With the MPC Gala just round the corner, all the eyes will be on that one. This drama will probably draw to a fizzled denouement, as they always do, in this fandom. But I will follow that business project and report from time to time. I bet the farm we'll have news, rather sooner than later.

#anon #fandom #shitshow #boozewars

[onepieceoftheoceanblues]

Batfam X One Piece Crossover AU

Someone mentioned this sort of au and I went Insane a bit ^-^' hope you guys enjoy!

Okay so a Batfam in the One Piece world au and how I think it would work/go;

I imagine the Batfam were whammied into an entirely new dimension while on patrol so we have the full costumed roster (but not the full extended clan cuz that's so many people lol) so we have Bruce/Batman, Dick/Nightwing, Jason/Red Hood, Tim/Red Robbin, Damian/Robin, Cass/Black Bat, Stephanie/Batgirl (you can pry Steph still being batgirl out of my cold dead hands), and Duke/Signal.

The First thing they do is figure out where they are, an island in something called the ___ blue (idk which they should be in lol, but it's best if they start in a blue I think), and are very obviously not in their world. (I'm gonna say for the sake of Plot either One Piece doesn't exist in their world or none of them have watched/read it because that would be too easy lol)

Ofc the second thing they do is try to find a way home and gather info but uh, they quickly realize this world doesn't have the best tech around to build something to take them home, and places/people they can get to would be either hard to find or in a place that's very dangerous to get to (Vegapunk is their best bet but... not really an option for right away due to mentioned reasons).

They think of asking this "World Government" for help for all of two seconds, before finding out how fucking awful and corrupt the whole system this world has and nixes that idea right in the bud. They're Vigilantes for a reason, after all, and know corruption in governments very well. So honestly, their best bet is either trying to go along and find someone that can help and materials, or waiting for their people from their world to come and get them.

(SO much more under cut im sorry Brain went Brrr)

Tbh it must be so wild to be in this world too tho, for some many reasons. It's close enough, but then you factor in all the different races and species, and how the world is set up. Add the fact most of it not as advanced as their world, except in some places which it is? And how half their technology runs on... snails?????? What a baffling world. Also, people can have powers and are gained from something called Devil Fruits which give you powers in exchange that the sea can and will kill you, except for some races have natural powers due to their biology.

They decide pretty quickly in world of water to not eat the Devil Fruits. Also keep an eye on Duke because his powers, while not too flashy, arnt a devil fruit, and they have no way to explain how he has them, and how he can manipulate both light and shadows.

Its probs also so jarring because like, in their world, they are used to being the peak of what humans can do. They keep up with metas and aliens and are cosidered among the best of the best for a reason, and while they often have to compensate with gear and tech, at the end of the day they can only go so far as humans.

However, it's different in this world. Clearly even though there are humans, their biological standards are different then their Earth, and even just humans without powers can go far beyond their own norm if they train and work hard enough for it.

The Batfam could easily handle the Blue's pirates and marines, and probs all cannon fodder marines, and while I think they could deal with a good chunk if not most people in Paradise baring the strongest in the first half of the grand line, there's no way they could deal with the New World even with their best gear and in peak condition for them. Which sucks because their best bets are likely in that Sea.

Idk where I'd see them, my heart wants them to be pirates of their own little run pirate crew, but I could easily see them being picked up by a canon crew or turning Revolutionaries in exchange for getting help find a way home, or pirates with connections to Revs. The only thing I can't see is them as Marines, as stated a few paragraphs above, lol, but also I figure they run into the law and go fuck you guys and what you stand for and end up with bounties so they are wanted anyways. But either way they are gonna be progressing and trying to find a way home while getting stronger.

I imagine Haki is the first thing they really try to get down after leanring about it. Idk how they managed to find out about it either in the blues or so early in the grand line, but they are expert information gatherers so they do and immediately try to learn it (either tracking someone down who knows it or how to unlock it, or finding adequate documentation in how to do it) and get to work. It's their best chances in getting a leg up in this world.

And they do unlock it! They're pretty much all geniuses, and they already have experience learning weird skills and manipulating their mental will (they can block out telepaths and have strong willpower in general against mind control canonically), so learning to manifest it into Observation and Armament Haki is less about how hard it is and more just if they can (After all they aren't from this world) and how to apply it. Thankfully, it seems they can.

Duke's Observation makes his future vision so much more powerful, so much he actually has adverse effects to it at first before he gets used to it. Observation is great, just helps what they already natrually know but Armament is very much beloved, instant armor that helps you hit harder even against normal people, let alone devil fruit users!! They are big fans.

Conquerors Haki off the table rn because A.) they don't know if they have it and B.) Who or whatever they learned Haki from didn't explain it or have it to explain so that's put to the side for now, but I'm unsure who, if any of them, have it. Maybe Bruce and Jason, and maybe Damian? I feel?? I could also see Dick unlocking his use of it in a fit of protective rage? Im largely Unsure.

I also think it would be neat if the longer they are here, their bodies adapt to this world more and more until they start being able to past their peak of what they could do before and just... keep going. It varies from each batfam member how they feel on their biology changing over time, but they can't do more than just accept it. At least it will help them survive.

Also, they have to adapt in more ways than one. They arrive and their best gear, fully stocked and mostly undamaged, but the longer they are here the more they run out of supplies and things wear down so they have to figure out how to get/make more or alternate for something better. Batarangs thankfully, while having to be made of a different material, can be made from any island with a good blacksmith who's willing to let them use their forges to make them themselves (cuz having to commission them would take money they don't actually have)

Their suits thankfully are fine and reinforced, but over time they're gonna have to likely find a fabric that could replace the stuff their suits are made of or just switch to diffrent outfits inspired by their suits. Dick's Escrima Sticks can't be charged, so they end up not electrified until they find a way to do it later. Jason's guns inevitably run out of ammo then even if he makes his own, they get just damaged so he's forced to switch to the local pirate guns, thankfully not all are just flintlocks.

Damian's sword is apparently very high grade here and is very smug about it, though annoyed other "Swordsmen" keep wanting to know more about his blade and where he learned to use his "weird style". Tim gets a boa staff that has the ends tipped in sea stone.

Their styles also adapt over time. I have this vision of Dick getting his hands on these boots, probs with Dial technology, that let him jump higher and bounce off of walls if he times it right. Jason with Dial guns. They start picking up the 6 powers as well, not all, but Geppo and Soru become very heavily utilized. I think one of them should end up with Voice of all Things, either Cass or Duke, because it's fun lol.

Im... unsure about devilfruits, but I think it would be intrestin to explore if somone ate one, likely out of despration or having little choice. Unsure who or what fruit but just would be neat i think, expecially dealin with the side effects. Tho Dick with a Wind Logia or a winged Zoan of sorts sounds SO interesting. (Can you tell who my favorite batfam memeber is? ^-^')

As for Ponyglaph Runes, Bruce and Tim def find out about it and try their best to tackle it, but It's REALLY hard to learn an entirely different language with unfamiliar sentence structure when you have absolutely no keys or references to work with. They learn of Nico Robin, and aren't stupid so figure it's likely an awful cover-up or more to the story, and decide to lowkey make it one of their goals to track her or any other knowledge on how to learn it down. If they get even a bare hint of a clue on how to translate, I'm sure they'd figure it out over time, but Robin is their best bet.

They find out about Whitebeard, and they are quietly glad Bruce's adoption problem isn't that bad but think its funny. Dick is beloved by all and makes enough friends and allies to rival Luffy's charisma, it's a skill man. I can't decide if their Epithets in this world are just their Vigilante names, and they stay masked, or they get knew Epithets and decide there's no point in hiding, or a mix of both but yee.

The OP world either speaks "Common" they can all magically speak now with some diffrent launages in diff parts of the world, OR Japanese, which some of them know and have to teach the others, OR a weird mix of English and Japanese. There's a point in time that people think Damian is Nico Robin's child or sibling because of the Robin thing, and he's a little demon child. Or hell they still do, and he's very livid while Robin is both amused but also scared for this child who is being tied to her.

They still dont kill for the most part, baring Jason, but some of them are pushed into it and they have to figure out what that means for them and what it means moving fowrard with their no kill policy. Some do better with it, some dont. Bruce still hasnt and wont kill, same with Cass, and Damian decides he doesnt want to but will if absolutly no other choice is offered, thankfully they havnt let him had to make this choice yet. (I just have so much thoughts about a assassin raised child deciding they dont want their hands more red now they have the choice).

One or more of them should end up pulled into the War at Marineford and Ace should be saved because I will try to fit a Ace Lives plot into everything lol

Overall I think if this was a fanfic the plot would be a lot of exploring the differences in their worlds, how they adapt and overcome, and trying to find a way home while also coming to like this world and overturning corruption and fucking over the government. I think them with the Strawhats or another crew would be fun, either as allies or joined idk, but I think with them as their own crew would be cool as well. If they join or ally with a crew Bruce lowkey adopts everyone, and he's given SO much shit for it but christ so many of them have such sad backstories and he wants to help

I think in the end they should get to find their way home and like no time has passed, but they're so changed, and arguably considered powered now because lol, but find a way to go back and visit safely.

Sorry for the word vomit but man im in love with this idea. Feel free to comment or send Asks with questions or comments about the au! Please Reblog, and not just like, as they do nothing <3

#mine #aus #one piece au #headcanon #batman #dc comics #dc x op #dc x one piece #batfam #pirate batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #duke thomas #straw hat pirates #whitebeard pirates #One Piece Batfam au

[applesaucesims]

While Louis was relaxing by the fireplace with his father, Emma had carried the twins to their beds. They were still a bit too excited from all the fun and gifts, but after a bedtime story about Father Winter, they had finally drifted off to sleep.

When returning downstairs, Emma made another quick detour, before joining Niall and Louis in the living room with her hands hidden behind her back.

Louis would almost not have noticed, until Emma alluded to it. Despite his impatience to see this last gift, he followed his mother's rule to wait with his eyes closed. Thinking about it, this was still the fastest way to his goal.

With one arm stretched out, Louis patiently kept his eyes shut, waiting for his last Winterfest gift. Suddenly, he felt something wooden touch his hand, but he still waited for his mother's confirmation that it was time to look.

Once Emma gave him the okay, Louis took a peek at his hand, which now held a golden nutcracker. While it was nothing as big as the puppet theatre, it felt special to him, and he knew he was going to treasure it. He stared at the little figure with stars in his eyes, already cherishing it and deciding to give it a name: Sammy.

Despite the fact that Louis loved the gift as it was, Emma and Niall gave him a knowing smile, and they revealed that this was not all there was to it. In fact, the nutcracker was a hint at where they were going to take him soon: The Nutcracker ballet! Hearing these news, Louis excitedly jumped around and into his mother's arms. Finally, he was old enough to visit the theatre with his parents, and they had not forgotten about it.

[TRANSCRIPT]

Emma: "Took me a while, but the girls are finally asleep. How are my boys doing?"

Emma: "Did you enjoy your Winterfest so far?"

Louis: "Loved it!"

Emma: "You're lucky then, it isn't over just yet!"

Louis: "What do you mean?"

Emma: "There is another surprise waiting for you, Louis."

Louis: *gasp* "What is it?"

Emma: *chuckles* "Close your eyes and you'll find out! And no peeking!"

Louis: "I'm not- fine."

...

Emma: "And... you can open them!"

Louis: "Whoa!"

Niall: "Do you know what it is?"

Louis: "It's a nutcracker! It's so pretty! I shall call him... Sammy."

Emma: "That's actually not the whole surprise. Have you heard of the Nutcracker ballet?"

Louis: "I don't think I have."

Niall: "Would you like to find out about it? You remember we promised to take you to the ballet, right?"

Louis: "Wait, we're finally going to the ballet!?"

Emma: "That's right!"

Louis: "THANK YOU SO MUCH!!"

Emma: *oof* "Easy there, Louis. I can't carry you as easily now as when you were younger."

Niall: *laughing*

Louis: "Oops, sorry!"

Emma: "Now, let's get you to bed. I'll carry you, too."

Louis: "Aww..."

#ts4 decades challenge #ts4 #sims 4 #ts4 legacy #1930s #emma jones #niall mcgregor #louis mcgregor #louis having a bit of a clara moment

[fallenclan]

RAVENSTAR’S APOLOGY

A fic by buttercup-unlimited :3

Author’s note: Here’s me drabbling for a while. Sorry if I get any lore/pronouns wrong, I’m trying my hardest but I am very tired 😭

The cave was vast and looming, the cracked rock face seeming to climb endlessly into the inky blackness above. A single word could echo dozens of times around these walls, spreading like a whispered rumour into the ear of another. The air hung heavy with bitter cold and silence, spare the eerie rustling of shrubbery from the clearing and the occasional warning call of a nearby bird.

Leaders of Fallenclan’s past only ever tended to use part of the intimidating space as a sleeping den, preferring to make their nests in a smaller corner and keep warmth in for as long as they could. Goldenstar infamously allowed kits to play in the space he left unused, simply stating that whatever was his, was the clan’s. Even Maplestar picked merely a decent chasm to curl up into, never needing anything more. Every leader that had come before, in fact, hadn’t dared to flaunt such a cathedral all for themselves.

But Ravenstar was nothing like the leaders that had come before. No, he was stronger. Smarter. Shrewder. Grander. The day that he had received his nine lives, Ravenstar had returned to camp to make a very deliberate show of slowly building his nest, twig by twig, in the very centre of the den. A statement, if you will, the marking of what was very clearly now his territory. His eyes had glowed in a strange sort of way that day. Forebodingly. If you looked close enough, you just might have seen the rush of power going straight to Ravenstar’s head. Leadership had that effect on some cats.

Littleleaf had been there. Every day, since they were born, Littleleaf had been by Ravenstar’s side. He had watched him through his apprenticeship, arguing with his mentor at even the most trivial of things. Older cats would often say that he was a strong-willed fellow, well suited for a powerful position one day. If only they had known who he would become.

Ravenstar had lost everything except Littleleaf. The two brothers were the only thing tying one another to reality, saving each other from fluttering away in the breeze—like a leaf under a rock, safe…and yet stifled.

“Ravenstar?”

Even the name bore a sense of importance, of tension. Littleleaf regretted the call as soon as he had uttered it, not helped by the constant repeat of his word as it travelled up the gossiping walls of the cave. He felt so small, so insignificant, in this place. Something about its legacy was an all-too-cruel reminder of the fleeting nature of existence—Littleleaf almost felt as if he could drop dead right there, on the ground, and it would only be a flashing moment in time.

He took a few tentative steps forward, careful not too make too much noise on the cold stone floor. Most of the den was hidden in shadow, daring any cat who wasn’t Ravenstar to even attempt to venture further.

“Do you have any time to talk? I have some news…” Littleleaf tried again, cringing at how easy it was to boom in these chambers.

“News? This should be interesting.” A voice drawled from behind him, causing Littleleaf to flinch as he turned. Ravenstar had perched himself on a jutted-out rock somewhere high up the wall, his tail tucked neatly over his paws as he observed.

“Oh, hello. You frightened me, brother.” Littleleaf chuckled nervously. Something about their relationship, usually so close and easy, had felt strained as of recently. It was no longer so easy to approach Ravenstar.

The Fallenclan leader smiled, eyes glinting maliciously. His black pelt blended in perfectly with the shadows of the rock face, almost like they had belonged here all along. This was Ravenstar’s home now, and there could be no dispute about that.

“Sincerest apologies. I’m waiting…?” The leader mewed coolly. It was clear that he had no time for small talk, not even with his kin.

“Right. Of course. Well, we weren’t sure when to tell you, but…here we go.” Littleleaf took a deep breath. It was awkward, trying to give news to someone several feet above you. “Moorthistle is expecting kits. You’re going to be an uncle.”

Boom.

A million thoughts seemed to rush through Ravenstar’s head all at once. The coolly composed tomcat, usually so calm and purposeful in his mannerisms, seemed to struggle to maintain his balance from his vantage point as he took in the news. His facade flickered, just enough for Littleleaf to notice, and for a second or two Ravenstar was just a confused young tom again.

“Kits.” Ravenstar repeated, bright eyes darting to just about every corner of the den. “Kits, belonging to you and to Moorthistle. In Fallenclan.”

Littleleaf nodded distractedly, craning his neck to get a better look at his brother. “Yes, I…are you alright, Ravenstar? You look rather shocked.”

Ravenstar seemed to snap back to attention all of a sudden, jolted back to life by the attention of his brother, momentary crisis over as soon as it had began. He straightened his neck, focused his gaze and gave his chest a few calming licks, whispering something inaudible to himself.

“Yes.” Ravenstar eventually replied, keeping his answers concise and dry—he was back to normal, indeed. “I’m fine thank you, brother. I was taken by surprise, is all.”

Littleleaf nodded. “Alright, then.”

There seemed to be eons of silence between the brothers, both unsure of what to say next. When did it become so hard to conversate?

It was only when Littleleaf seemed to be on the verge of turning and leaving that Ravenstar spoke again, blurting words in a hurry as if in an attempt to make him stay.

“This is very good news, Littleleaf.” He mewed loudly. “More kin for you and I. More kits for Fallenclan. I’m sure…I’m sure that they will grow up to be fine warriors. May Starclan bless you.”

Littleleaf knew the words were intended for comfort, but all he could find within himself to feel was hurt. Why was his brother, so high and mighty now on his pretentious throne of rock, speaking to him as if he were any other old aquaintance?

“Why do you hold me so far from your heart, brother?” Littleleaf asked before he could stop himself. He wished that he had stayed silent, seeing Ravenstar’s false smile drop. The last thing he needed for himself and Moorthistle was tension with the leader of their clan.

Ravenstar narrowed his glowing eyes, looking bemused at best. “What exactly do you mean?”

Littleleaf shook his head, suddenly feeling very warm under the roasting heat of Ravenstar’s gaze. “I didn’t mean anything. I was just thinking out loud, really, don’t listen to me…”

Ravenstar did not look convinced. As if deciding something to himself, the sleek black tom began to leap nimbly down to meet his brother on the cave floor. Was he going to berate him? Banish him? …Hug him? Littleleaf wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.

They stood face to face for the first time in what felt like moons. Equal, it appeared, if only for a moment in time. Littleleaf often forgot that he was larger than his brother—because, in so many other ways, he was not.

“I…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” Littleleaf apologised, trying to back out of the hole he had dug himself into. He had never believed Ravenstar guilty of the crimes some suggested he had committed, but he didn’t intend on finding out if the accusations were truthful tonight.

“No. I’m the one who should apologise.” Ravenstar insisted suddenly, taking Littleleaf by surprise. “I… am sorry, brother. “

Littleleaf practically sputtered. This was the first time he had ever been apologised to by his brother, and most probably the last. He felt that the occasion should become an annual celebration.

“I know I have been distant, as of late. Partly because of my new duties, but also…” Ravenstar let out a laboured sigh, full of tension and grief that Littleleaf didn’t even know he possessed. “I care very much for you. More than you know. But it’s difficult for me. I see so much of them…in you.”

Littleleaf didn’t need to ask who his brother was referring to. “I see them, too. Everywhere.” He half-whispered.

Ravenstar held up a tail to silence his brother—an old leader tactic used to indicate that he was not yet finished saying his peace.

“I wanted to protect you. Show you how strong I could be on my own. I wanted to be the best I could be for you, Littleleaf. I am sorry if this meant sacrificing the time we used to spend together.” Ravenstar confessed. It was clearly difficult for the leader to talk about his feelings for such a prolonged period of time.

Littleleaf stroked his tail along his brother’s back comfortingly, the way he had when they were kits. “Thank you.” He murmured.

Ravenstar inclined his head. “I am happy for you, Littleleaf. You will make a great father. And perhaps…perhaps I will make a great uncle.”

Littleleaf wasn’t sure what to say. Was there anything he could say?

Perhaps, in this fleeting moment in time, all Ravenstar needed was a shoulder to lean on.

(Beetle note: THIS IS SO GOOD!!!! i love the exploration of Raven and Little's relationship,,, its so awesome)

#submission #fallenfic #buttercup-unlimited

[sportswriters]

dating a rival - j. swayman

pairing: jeremy swayman x reader | suggestive, a bit smutty | established relationship | wc: 729 | warnings: swearing, dirty talking, sub!jeremy

welcome post!

dating a rival wasn’t easy. when you had to move from north carolina to boston for a job opportunity, being present as a carolina hurricanes fan became impossible. you cheered from the comfort of your home, missing the energy that only raleigh could build at the pnc arena. game day. you were split between your home team and your boyfriend’s performance. the hardest thing to deal was that jeremy couldn’t help being a fucking great goalie. the bruins weren't doing that well, but jeremy blocked every single shot from the opponent. frustrated groans left your mouth the whole game. no water, no pacing around, no hair grabbing were enough to calm you down.

“fuck. jer, why do you have to be so good?” you muttered, answering yourself seconds after, “yeah, that’s what caught my attention in the first place. fuck.”

he texted you as soon as he finished his interview, so you called him.

“hi, baby! congrats on the win, i’m so proud of you for dealing with the canes all by yourself!”

he laughed, knowing how pissed off you probably were for the loss.

“thank you, love. how are you feeling? don’t pretend to be only happy for me.”

“it was a great game, i’m proud of my other goalie too, okay?” you sighed. “you should come over, i’m gonna get us some food. it’s gonna be delivery, though. i have no brain cells left to cook.”

“no plans on poisoning my food?” he joked.

“i have some plans for you, but none of them are deadly.” you bit your lip, trying to contain yourself. lowering your voice, almost as a whisper, you said:  “come over.”

jeremy froze on the other side of the line.

“okay. be there soon.”

after dinner, you talked about the game from two different perspectives. it was chill, a moment to catch up as a couple, some laughs and all of that. but deep inside jeremy couldn’t stop thinking about the real reason you’d invited him over. couldn’t stop thinking of having you all over him tonight after this win.

“i can see your thoughts working, jer. do you want to say something else?”

“i was wondering if you, hum, if you had something other than dinner in mind.”

you tilted your head, faking a confusion jeremy didn’t notice because of how nervous he was.

“well, in fact, i was thinking of congratulating you. but i didn’t want to jump right into it.”

jeremy nodded.

“do you want that right now?”

he was trying to put himself together, finding it hard to do such a thing when your eagle eyes were watching him like that.

“tell me what you had in mind.”

you got up from your cuddling position to sit on his lap. with a soft caress on his bearded cheek, you said: “i’m really proud of you. i’m proud of how fucking great you were out there.” you gave him a peck, his eyes didn’t lose focus once. “so, this is how it’s going to be… i’m going to give you everything you deserve, you’ll decide what it is. i’ll give you everything you want, jer, because you worked for it.”

you adjusted yourself on his lap, getting a helpless moan from him. he was gone already.

“i need you to tell me what you want, baby, i need your words.” your voice turned into a whisper as you got close to his ear, leaving soft kisses on the side of his neck. “want me to start by sucking your cock? let you go all the way down my throat? or do you want me to slide over it right now? i could let you come inside, you know? i think it’s a proper special occasion.”

you could feel him hardening. all the talking with soft kisses were leaving his mind blurred.

“jer, i need your words. this time it should be all about you, then in my turn i would get what i deserve. don’t you think that’s fair enough?” you grabbed his chin, facing his fucked up expression.

you waited for his response, noticing his every move. it was fun to have him like this once in a while, you were going to enjoy every step of the long way.

“please, just… just kiss me and we’ll go from there, okay?” he gulped. “just fucking kiss me right now.”

#jeremy swayman #jeremy swayman imagines #jeremy swayman scenarios #jeremy swayman smut #nhl imagines #nhl scenarios #nhl drabbles #nhl blurbs #boston bruins imagines #jeremy swayman fluff #sportswriters ❤

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

Hey! Hope your having a good day! If you want to, could you do a story where a supervillain typically goes easy on a group of rookie heroes, as he usually fights them just for fun, and could destroy them if he wanted.

He just lets them think they can beat him.

Then, something happens (maybe they cross a line, and one of the heroes tries to stop their team from crossing that line but they don't listen) where the supervillain shows them just how powerful he actually is?

Sure. Do you mind if we stop for ice cream?

*

A Taste of Revenge

“You’ll never get away with this!” yelled one of the three Heroes from afar.

Supervillain smiled and just waved at them while flames and energy beams hit his forcefield without leaving a scratch. It was, in fact, the third time this month he was getting away with this.

The heroes were all new, of course. The town was too little for the closest hero agency to care about what was happening here, so they’d only sent their three youngest. Sometimes they popped in while he was minding his business. They always thought they’d found a way to break through his defenses, and were always wrong. He didn’t care much, amused by these three overgrown teenagers who were looking equally embarrassed and proud of their muscles, trying to speak loud to cover their awkwardness. There was no use hurting them. The hero agency would have sent someone competent in their place. If Supervillain was only mildly inconvenienced by them, and they were convinced to gloriously fight against evil, everyone was happy.

It was sunset. There was no time to sleep before another night’s work, but enough to take a break. Supervillain went home, put his citizen clothes on, called his cat who jumped on his shoulders, and went in his favorite ice cream shop. Coincidentally, it had a magnificent view on the shiny new heroes headquarters.

The door bell rang. The shop owner raised her head and smiled at him. He was a usual customer.

“Hello, Citizen.”

“Hello, sir. Hello to you two,” she added, nodding politely to his pet.

Supervillain smiled in return. To make sure he wouldn’t be ever recognized, he’d gotten a cat. Mister Whiskers was more than happy to follow him in his ice cream adventures, especially since Supervillain was the one who walked for them both. People asked to pet the kitty sometimes, but never gave his face a second glance.

“What will you take, sir?”

Supervillain pondered for a moment, answering then:

“When I was eight, my mother took me to see the ocean for the first time. I want three scoops of that memory flavor in a cup, please.”

“Right away, sir.”

She took a cup that she filled three times with white ice cream, then gently set her opened palms over it and closed her eyes. The scoops changed into a lovely turquoise. Mister Whiskers mewed with anticipation, opening and closing his mouth.

“And for the cat?”

“A kid scoop of Oyster-Caviar, lactose-free.”

She gave his orders to him. Supervillain thanked her and settled in his usual corner. While Mister Whiskers ate his own treat like he hadn’t already eaten thrice today, Supervillain took his time, glazing by the window. For the Heroes headquarters, it was the end of the day. Secretaries were pouring down the establishment. He looked at them with interest, wondering how many people was needed to manage three baby heroes. Sometimes they went in the ice cream shop, looking harassed, not giving him a second look. They never stayed long. It was just enough for him to memorize their faces and note their schedules.

Supervillain bit his lip to hide his smile when he saw the Heroic Trio getting out of the agency, their faces crumpled. Every time he saw them by the window, he wondered what would happen if they were coming here. Today, he realized that he was going to find out. After pausing, all three opened the door and went into the line that had been forming.

Supervillain took a spoonful of ice cream. It melted on his mouth as lightly as foam. It was a flavor of pure joy, with an aftertaste of melancholy. These holidays had not lasted long. Why rush his break, then? He was more than convinced that he wouldn’t get noticed, and if he was, well, that was too bad for the customers. Most of them didn’t linger anyway. They thanked Citizen and went out, hastily eating out outside, maybe because the Heroic Trio grumbled louder and louder about the wait. The line went down quickly until the moment a little boy asked for a cone.

“I can make all the flavors you want in the world, young man,” said Citizen. “Every memory, every feeling, every object, the weather, time itself, everything has a taste.”

The little boy thought long and hard, reading out loud the suggestions. After fifteen minutes, he made his choice:

“Chocolate.”

Ignoring the loud groans behind, he was about to merrily go out, when one of the heroes caught him by the shirt:

“You haven’t paid, kid.”

“She gives it to me for free,” explained the boy, pointing at Citizen.

“Really? Why is that?”

The kid shrugged, licking his cone.

“Sometimes, I do the dishes.”

“He’s right,” intervened the shop owner. “He’s done nothing wrong, let him go.”

Hero released the kid, who went away trotting and licking his prize, and turned back to the owner with a frowning face:

“What sort of business are you running here?”

Citizen raised an eyebrow:

“I don’t understand.”

“Do you see these suits, ma’am?”

“Well, yes-”

“That means we’re heroes. He-roes, you understand? We protect you all day, putting our lives in danger for you. We’ve just escaped the most dangerous criminal of this town. We’d like to give us a little respect.”

“But I didn’t-”

“You made us wait to indulge a kid who can take anything he wants? It’s bad business practice. Terrible, even. How can you make profits like that? It’s a wonder this shop is still open.”

The three heroes towering over her, the woman tried to look at Supervillain, the only customer remaining, but he avoided his gaze. He wasn’t about to blow his cover for that. Furthermore, Mister Whiskers had finished his cup and was now interested in Supervillain’s ice cream. He put it away, but as he avoided the cat’s insistent paws, he was still listening to the conversation, quietly readjusting his perception of his self-proclaimed foes. Kids they were, but bullies are of every age. He heard them making their choice (one Nova scoop, two Oncoming Storm scoops, one First Prize cup), and refusing to pay.

“ If you give free food to the bloody kid, I think you can afford to give us a free pass, too.”

The shop owner made the effort to laugh, throwing her red braid off her shoulder.

“You have a good sense of humor,” she said politely.

“I’m not joking.”

Ah, thought Supervillain, there you go. Citizen raised her tone, but they laughed at her:

“What are you going to do, use your power?”

“That’s not our fault if all you can do is ice-cream flavor', said another. “I’m sorry you can’t be a Hero, but not everyone is born equal, don’t take it on us.”

Supervillain stared at his blue ice cream melting, waiting for the shop seller to burst in tears and give in. That didn’t happen. Instead, she clenched her fists and said:

“I am more useful than you.”

The booming laughter of the Heroic trio filled the room, but the shop owner was fed up. She hit the counter with her little hand and yelled, covering their voices:

“I feed children who are hungry. I give people the taste of things they’ve forgotten and can’t have otherwise. I give people shelter when they need it. You’ve just set foot in the neighborhood and do nothing but cause property damage. I am the better Hero. Now get out of my shop.”

The laughs died out. With a stony face, one of the heroes went behind the counter, pushing her away, and took their orders by force.

“Keep telling yourself that,” he said.

The doorbell rang when they left. A heavy silence fell.

The shop seller rocked slightly on her heels, burying her face in her hands. Supervillain looked at her, then at his now melted ice cream. His mom had offered him to see the ocean to cheer him up. He remembered why, too. Because of the day before. A school day. A bitter taste in his mouth. The wall behind his back. Kids with frowning looks and mocking smiles.

“Forcefield is not even a real power.”

“You’re so uncool.”

“What can you do, uh? Hiding like the coward you are?”

Supervillain sighed, shaking his head. No, that wouldn’t do at all.

He stood up, holding out a handkerchief to the ice cream seller. She took it without looking at him. While she blew her nose, he turned his eyes towards the Hero headquarters, looking at the Heroic Trio walking away.

“They’re kids,” he said. “They don’t know a lot of things.”

“That doesn’t give them an excuse to-”

“I know. They have no respect for powers that aren’t flashy enough for them. They’re the kind of people thinking that forcefields are for defense only.”

He smiled. All the windows on the first floor of the Hero headquarters exploded.

People screamed in the streets. The Heroic Trio came back running despite the glass shards flying, trying to localize the culprit.

“They have no imagination,” he explained pleasantly at the shop owner, who was looking at the scene with wide eyes. “They don’t know how impenetrable shields that can be projected from everywhere could be used otherwise.”

He glanced at the building now cut in two, shaking his head:

“I mean, how can they realize that this kind of shield could pierce any matter like a knife through hot butter?”

The heroes wanted to rush towards the headquarters, but bounced back. The forceshield was now covering the whole building, slightly buzzing. It didn’t stop there. It got tighter and tighter until the walls cracked and collapsed under the pressure.

“People inside-” squeaked Citizen.

“It’s the end of the day, my dear.”

The heroic trio was running around, getting people away, swearing and not knowing what to do. The forcefield didn’t vanish until the building was in ruins. Only then Supervillain turned towards the show owner. She flinched hard, but he only pulled out his wallet.

“Now, how much do we owe you?”

*

Back to the Hero x Villain Masterlist.

#hero x villain #hero villain community #writeblr #writers on tumblr #villain and hero #heroes and villains #hero and villain #original fiction #my writing #writing snippet #writing dialogue #creative writing #writers #writing community #original character #hero and villain community #hero x villain community #heroes and villains community #villain x hero #oc #villain prompt #apparently lactose-free ice creams for cats exist #I already knew that oyster-caviar flavor exists and it is nasty I do not recommend

[unecoccinellenoire]

I wish you would write a fic where Gabriel, Adrien, and Nathalie get ice cream from Andre Glacier and Gabriel’s ice cream reflects Nathalie, not Emilie

It had seemed like a good idea; Nathalie had needed reassurance after being akumatised so Adrien thought to ask, and his father was being unusually attentive and indulgent so for once he could ask an expect a yes.

In fact the sound of André Glacier calling out his wares in front of the manor had seemed like fate.

Nathalie hadn't been happy with his father at breakfast, Adrien wasn't stupid enough not to see that, but his father had clearly been making an effort to win her back over- including finally acknowledging her as part of the family even if he wasn't quite ready to admit they were dating yet despite the ring he'd given her.

The two of them sharing ice cream meant for lovers should have been the ideal way to get them to reconcile, keep Nathalie from being akumatised again in her fragile state and prevent his father from falling back into the pit of grief he'd only just managed to claw his way out from.

But even as Adrien was staring at his own familar bowl of blackberry, blueberry, and strawberry choc chip and trying to convince itself that it wasn't necessarily Ladybug- that the it could be Marinette's hair and eyes and the spots in the red meant nothing his father's hand slammed down on the counter.

"That's the wrong one," He snapped at the ice cream seller. "Peach and Mint, that's what you always give me." Adrien looked up to see a bowl that looked nothing like that.

It actually looked not dissimilar to his own, the same small scoop of blueberry sat on top but-

"No, this is right," André said, "you need something a little different now, cranberry for-"

"How things have soured between us? I'm no fool I can see who this is meant to be,"

Nathalie, it had to be. As if there was any question that it those colours for his father could be anyone else the swirl of red sauce on the dark blue sorbet matching the streak on her hair made that clear.

"Isn't that a good thing?" He interupted his father, "that,"

"That it can change?" His father snarled back, "all that establishes is that this whole thing is a marketing strategy. That it's not your soulmate or the love of your life or whatever ridiculous,"

"Love is not ridiculous," André interrupted, "you can find love again Monsieur Agreste. It finds us all."

"That's-"

"Father," Adrien tried again, "if we don't hurry up then Nathalie will come looking for us."

"I'm sure Nathalie is already watching us," Gabriel spat.

Adrien blinked and stared at his father, "you said all of that knowing she might hear it? How could you? Nathalie loves you, and she's already scared because of her illness- she was just akumatised. How could you be so horrible to her?"

"Nathalie would probably say,"

"That you forget to think about other people." The woman herself startled them.

"You shouldn't be out of the house," Adrien said, feeling his cheeks go hot with embarassment.

"Your father bought me this so I could leave the house," she said, and she held out some notes to André, "here. Give me mine and we'll be gone."

"Ah, mademoiselle," he went to scope up a white ice cream, "for his icy-"

"I don't need the spiel. You've already upset one of us. Just give me something that tastes nice."

The ice cream seller handed it over. Nathalie sighed as she took it.

Once again it was easy to know who it was. Though Adrien wondered at the scoop of what looked like raspberry ripple. It looked just like one of the cravats his father used to favour, but he wasn't wearing it now.

He hadn't in fact ever since he'd finally reached out to Adrien. It didn't make sense that it was the version of his father who hadn't moved on who André had given Nathalie. Maybe Ladybug and his father were right. Making this ice cream man just put the combinations together he wanted. Maybe there was no magic.

"Thank you," Nathalie said. "Let's go."

His father stomped his way back to the house and Adrien just did not get it. No one was saying he didn't love Adrien's maman. And he'd been looked so concerned for Nathalie after his akumatisation. He didn't know how he could treat her like this, react like this now.

"Adrien," he father said suddenly, "go find us napkins. There's some in the kitchen. Nathalie and I will meet you in the garden."

He did as he was told but his father must have misjudged because Adrien was still in earshot when he heard him say, "this means nothing."

"If you say so Gabriel."

"Don't."

"I thought you asked me to call you that."

"You know," his father said, "if I was to believe in this rubbish then that cone of yours would say you still loved me."

"Does it? Or does it say that I loved the man you were."

"You're not-" his father suddenly broke off, "oh god. You are."

"Using that is cheating." Nathalie said.

Adrien frowned and peeked out the door but he couldn't see what "that" she was talking about. It just seemed to be his father and Nathalie holding nothing but their ice creams.

"But then," his father's hold on his ice cream was tight, and Adrien feared he break it, "no. No no, these things can't be real. That's just coincedence. Yours being right doesn't mean mine is."

"Thanks for making it so clear to me," Nathalie says sounding like she's making a company annoucement, "I always wanted to hear you tell me I'm not good enough for you."

His father suddenly burst out laughing. The ice cream fell from his hands to the floor.

Adrien stared in horror. This wasn't even cruelty from his father. There was no taunting in his laughter, it was all hysteria. He looked insane. Possessed.

"You think that's the problem," he said, "oh the things I could do to you Nathalie. They'd make you blush."

"Monsieur Adrien could hear you."

"I told you not to call me that." He grabbed her arm, and Adrien almost throught he was going to kiss her from how close their faces were, "don't you get it Nathalie? I could kill that man for giving me that ice cream today. I could have had this weeks ago and- and things would be different. But he gave it to me when it's too late. When I don't have the time left to-"

"Adrien," Nathalie hissed. "He might still be in the kitchen."

His father let go of her and straightens up. "It doesn't matter. This changes nothing. The only way out is the way it always has been."

Adrien didn't understand. What way out? Why didn't they have time, Nathalie's illness? Or something else?

"You should clean up that mess." Nathalie's eyes flicked to the split ice cream on the floor, the mess that had been supposed to be love for her her, "I'm going to go out after Adrien."

Her words had his feet moving, terror at getting caught moving him despite his broken heart. Something was very wrong, but all he was sure of was that them knowing he'd heard would only make things worse.

#angst #gabenath #gabriel agreste #nathalie sancoeur #if you want a happy ice cream fic go to my ao3 #my fic #prompt fic

[ethereal-night-fairy]

To the Edge of Chaos

Chapter 1

Pirate!Gaz x Female Reader (of mixed Arab decent)

Safe to say your initial plan at robbery back fired in more ways than one. The second attempt went much much worse yet somehow by the mercy of God you aren't dead. Just trapped...on a ship...with no way out. Well not until you pay for your indiscretions made against a certain sailing master that is...

Was this a blessing in disguise? Or did you just enter a new kind of hell?

Warnings: MNDI mention of death, trauma and difficult situations, embarrassing moments, fluff and teasing, slight bullying, mention of kissing and other touching but nothing explicit, slight dub con if you squint, talk of death and mourning, crude language, attempted SA and torture (not by Gaz or the 141), Lots of blood and some gore towards the end of the chapter, talk of revenge, talk of heritage, sorry if I missed any.

Pictures are for aesthetic purposes only. They do not indicate the reader.

To the Edge of Chaos

Masterlist

Words: 7.1k

The Sun was sweltering, practically beating down molten rays on your delicate skin. You weren't used to feeling the burn of the afternoon sun. Your fragile composition wasn't adequately prepared for the dehydration that followed. Especially not with the light reflecting off blue waves almost blinding you. White entered your vision, shooting a stinging pain throughout your eyes.

You were overwhelmed, overbearingly so. So much was going on at once. Too much to pay attention to if you wanted to stay sane for a while longer. Burning heat, sweating palms, queasy stomach. Your legs found themselves moving towards the railing in a hurry. Strong winds, crashing waves, people shouting. Your ears buzzed, your brain's way of signaling an oncoming headache. One that was threatening to throw you overboard. Much like your breakfast.

Sweat trickled down your back as your body lurched with the motions of the ship, It caused your stomach to clench with unease. Your hands gripped the railing so tight that you were afraid the wood would come away with your swaying. But you still held on with difficulty. Why did everyone else make it look so easy?

You clearly weren't built to walk on ships it seems…

The hussle and bussle of your new surroundings was a welcomed distraction. Moving bodies, resulted in a busy mind. Busy minds had no time to mourn or to think about past sins. You preferred it like that. You hadn't had the time to fall apart. Not among strangers that is. A change in scenery would probably do you some good. But you'd be lying if you said you were adjusting well to it.

Having never done manual labour, you had a lot to prove to gain any ounce of respect from your new companions. Regardless of the fact that your presence here was forced. By your own doing but still forced. Escaping pirates was a lot more difficult than you anticipated. There was no use dwelling on your unfortunate circumstances that had led you to try to rob him a second time… the first time you chickened out pretty quickly.

Calls could be heard overhead for sails to be adjusted. It was probably the Captain. Captain Price as you were to call him. You haven't spoken to him since Gaz had all but begged for you to be let on board. Nothing out of the ordinary of course he was a busy man.

It was a busy ship. Easily over a 100 men and women, mostly men though. You hadn't had the time to introduce yourself to everyone but a few familiar faces were starting sticking out to you now. Some you definitely preferred to avoid.

Despite not knowing anyone closely you've already accumulated a nickname among the diverse crew. You didn't want to dive into the details of how they had decided on it. You were still lamenting the stupid decision that led to it.

“Watch yer head Fish boy!” The awful nickname rings out as the other crew members brush past you. You don't get the time to feel embarrassed as Farah calls for ropes to be adjusted from the crowsnest. You duck out of their way to the best of your ability. Your legs are still a little unsteady forcing you to grab onto the nearest structure to hold you up. Which unfortunately happened to be a person.

Whoever it was, they laugh as you clutch onto them for support while the rest of the crew go about their duties. It's only when you turn your head that you realise you've made a dire mistake. Dire to your self esteem that is.

His mirthful blue eyes bore into yours while apologies dripped from your chapped lips. Not that it would spare you from what you were about to experience. You flail about, desperately trying to find something else to hold onto. Desperately trying to find an escape from whatever it was he was about to subject you to.

“Come on lad! Find yer sea legs! Farah likes ‘er deck in tip top shape,” you watch the man who you now know as Soap or Johnny as Ghost liked calling him grab you by the back of the collar as you quickly wipe your mouth clean.

He seems a little childish to be stationed as a Master Gunner. But you didn't run this ship so it shouldn't bother you who had what job. But it did…it very much did.

Him having easy access to guns made your blood run cold because he was also the man who wanted you dead not long ago (not that he realises who you truly are). You shiver envisioning a situation where he did know. What would he do to you?

He hauled you over to where you were needed or ‘stationed’ to be more accurate. Not that you knew what you were doing but cleaning shouldn't be too hard. Or ‘swabbing the deck’ as Farah (the Boatswain) had put it. You just needed to stop making a mess first.

“Oh ye fragile thing! Come on scrub like ye mean it!”, he continues his teasing while you grab a brush to scrub the deck. The other men watch snickering to themselves at situations you've found yourself in.

“What? Never worked ah day in yer life? Ah don't think we'll keep ye long if ye don't cop on.” the men around you laugh again at his words, enjoying the torment he was putting you through. A right of passage if you will. Not that you appreciated it one bit. How many days will it go on for? You knew you weren't the strongest or the smartest for that matter but you were sure you could be of some use. You just needed to find out what it was.

“I'm sorry sir…I'll try harder”, you tense your aching muscles trying to put more weight down on the brush to appease the man behind you. The threat of being left behind at the next port wasn't settling well in your stomach. You felt you were about to be sick again. You looked around hoping to spot Gaz to aid you in this teasing but he wasn't around. Your heart sinks in disappointment as you continue scrubbing.

“Come on fish boi! Earn yer keep! You can't keep relying on Gaz to save you.” The crew around you join in on the jeering while shame creeps up your neck right to your ears. With your already heated skin. The situation was making your skin crawl. You hated people looking at you so closely. It puts you on edge. Especially now that you couldn't wear your veils anymore. You were so used to being hidden that the attention wasn't at all welcomed. You haven't worn them since you escaped the dungeons of the palace. The whole ensemble would draw too much attention especially when you were disguising yourself as a boy.

“Ah pretty face ain't gonna cut it here. Not like it did for Gaz that is,” before Soap could reduce you to a pile of tears you watch Farah climb down from the crows nest pulling up her sleeves as she strides on over. Her mere presence demanded all your attention.

And what a woman she was..so much confidence in her stride alone. It made you feel both safe and inadequate all at once. You wanted to be like that, resilient like her, strong like her, fearless like her.

She delivers a hefty smack just as Soap's about to open his big mouth again. Which again is met with laughter from the crew. You see quite a few women laughing now too.

“Thats rich coming from someone who's warms the bed of our Quartermaster don't you think?”

“Hey that hurt! And besides ah have other uses apart from my pretty face unlike fish boi,” Soap rubs the back of his head to alleviate the sting while he turns to face the shorter woman. Yet it seemed somehow Farah stood taller, leveling him with an unamused look. You were surprised he was so open about his relationship but then again everything goes on pirate ships it seems. But before Farah can defend you another voice rings out across the deck.

“Actually he has plenty of uses, you just won't have the pleasure of experiencing them..”, the warm sultry voice that you hated yourself for liking makes itself known in the form of Gaz climbing onto the main deck from the side of the ship. Must have been fixing something. Your eyes roam his body, keying in on the sweat dripping down his open beige shirt. His brass necklace gleams around his neck. The amber stones adorning it as beautiful as they were, didn't come close to the beauty of his eyes.

Once you realise you were ogling you try to look away quickly as you could. But Gaz being the sly man he is, catches you at the last second despite continuing his conversation with Soap. A sinister smirk graces his features. One that you're all too familiar with. Especially when you share a hammock with him at night. He winks at you openly causing the crew to whistle at his gesture.

“I can't believe the captain allowed ye tae bring yer boy toy on board.” Soap jokes wrapping his arms around Gaz. They looked like old friends who enjoyed teasing each other. Soap certainly loves any chance to tease anyone in his vicinity.

“You hardly have the right to complain when you get to share a private room with Ghost.” Soap laughs at his comment and there's no offense in his eyes. You suspected he liked the attention.

“Perks or being pretty and useful it seems. I'm sure Ghost would have loved you too but I think I'm more his type.”

“Didn't know ‘annoying’ was his type. But then again it must be if he’s going to deal with your drunk ass all the time.” The crew join in on the teasing until Soap starts up again unfazed by the jeering. Thick skin unlike you.

“You forgot about the part about me being extremely handsome.” Soap flexes his muscles earning him chuckles from the men and women around him.

“I think the power is getting to your head mate. Might have to put in a formal complaint with the captain.” Gaz smacks Soap's arm when he doesn't stop his ridiculous flexing. You watch as Farah rolls her eyes at their stupid banter before ushering Soap towards the hull.

“Run along, don't you have some actual work to do? Unless you want to go report to your lover as to why you have a handprint on your cheek,” she looks at him sternly

“Aye ah was just on meh way,” But before he leaves Soap pulls you into a headlock. It takes you by surprise as you try to worm out of his thick biceps.

“Work hard fish boi,” he laughs as you continue your struggle to escape. He lets go quickly but ruffles your hair which you assumed was his way of apologising.

He sends you off with a hefty smack to the shoulder. One that almost sends you flying to the floor. Farah shouts at him from behind voicing her annoyance. While you rub your shoulder to alleviate some of the ache.

Were men always this rough? Your experience with them was minimal so you weren't all that used to the touching or the rough treatment for that matter. You're shocked they even bothered to allow you on board after you tried to rob their star treasure hunter and Sailing Master but then again Gaz had insisted on you being here (to pay him back more specifically).

Your weary eyes find his again only to see him supporting an amused expression. He gives you a final wink before following after Soap.

“Ok back to work everyone! Ayah! Alex! On the foremast ropes, make sure they're secure.”

“Aye Didi” “Yes ma’am” You watch as another veiled woman and a blond man make their way to the foremast deck. The foreign words aren't lost on your ears. You recognise the few you learned growing up. Mostly from your wet nurse and your personal maids after your mother's passing. You bet she would have taken great joy in teaching you, were she alive today.

You only have old portraits to reference her appearance to. Well not even that anymore given your circumstances. Many of the crew members either spoke the language fluently or in broken terms. It left something wanting in your heart. Having been denied learning anything to do with your mother's heritage, a bitterness settles on your tongue at the loss of something you never got to experience.

“Don't mind him. He doesn't mean harm. The men here like playing about,” you hear Farah approach you with sympathy. You just nod at her, unable to look her in the eyes due to your mixed feelings.

The next hour is spent with Farah teaching you to keep steady and how to scrub the deck efficiently despite probably having more important work to do. She was patient and kind but still stern enough to get the message across. Like an older sister. She made it clear you'd need to pull your weight or you wouldn't be staying long on this ship. Once she leaves you go back to throwing water on boards and scrubbing them to the best of your ability. At least your nausea wasn't so bad anymore.

-some time later

You try to focus on work, truly you do. But your body was sore from the events of a couple nights ago. Events that have led you to work on this boat. Whether you wanted to or not.

Gaz was near the captain now with a map in hand planning their next destination to god knows where. It wasn't like you had a say in where you were going. Definitely not after what happened at the river.

The skin on your lips tingle with the memory of what he did to you in the early hours of today. Salty winds sting the broken skin where he last touched you. Where he last set your skin alight. Automatically your hand reaches up to the pendant around your neck. The fiery crystal hums under your fingertips.

The magic hiding your identity, tingles across your heated skin, a constant reminder that you weren't safe here. Not completely that is.

You were convinced that he was the devil's incarnate with the way he had you pliant within seconds of having his hands on you. The last couple of nights have followed a similar structure. With him ushering you to his private corner to do unspeakable things to you. Only a filmey curtain hiding you from the sleeping crew.

He must be the devil. It's the only logical explanation as to why your mind is riddled with thoughts of him even now when you should be focusing on earning your keep and staying safe.

But despite the chiding you've given yourself, your eyes still gravitate towards his radiant face. They still seek his mischievous smile for what feels like the hundredth time today. Probably over a hundred.

You've caught yourself looking at him far too often for it to be considered normal by any means. You'd think growing up in a royal household, your lessons in decorum would kick in at some point. But no, your mind has completely betrayed you and your body was following closely behind. You couldn't trust yourself to act with rationality especially not under his smoldering gaze. It's gotten so bad that you've even gotten a couple crew members teasing you for your crush. Despite everyone but Gaz thinking you were a boy.

You needed to get a grip on yourself. You had way more important things to worry about. Like surviving longer than a couple of days on this ship.

You didn't understand why that was proving more difficult than convincing someone pigs could fly. Hell, you'll have an easier time convincing someone pigs could fly than convincing them you didn't have a crush on Gaz.

You try to shut off your brain, try to focus solely on the tasks assigned to you. But flashes of his beautiful face still haunt your mind. They infect your senses forcing you to relive the moments you keep trying to push down. Memories of his hands on your waist, his lips on your skin, his breath fanning your face. Amber eyes striping you of your defenses.

You needed to get a grip. Easier said than done.

Those kisses don't mean anything to him. Not the kisses, not his feverish touches. That's what you keep telling yourself. It couldn't have meant anything to him. He was a pirate for one and two he had plenty of women throwing themselves into his arms.

What were you in that sea of women?

...Just another grain of sand…

That's what you've kept repeating since the incident at the river. Despite this you find yourself licking the sweet remnants of his smile off your sore bitten lips, the lips he forced apart with his tongue. The lips he stole the very breath from.

You're still unable to get the feeling of him holding your jaw ever so delicately out of your mind, or the way his hands found themselves over your throat the second you had touched his coin purse at the moment you had tried to rob him. Or earlier today how his hands slowly found their way to your hips and then to your…

Your eyes burn into the wood of the deck you’re scrubbing as a way to distract yourself from the forbidden events that occurred in the early hours of this morning.

-midnight, four nights ago

You were a fool, an utter fool.

God knows what gave you the confidence to think you could seduce a pirate. And a very handsome pirate at that. One that was surrounded by beautiful women while you were dressed like a servant boy.

The alcohol probably compromised your thinking for a little bit. Glad you came to your senses then.

The red pendant on your neck heated against your skin indicating it was working to conceal your feminine features. It was only a light glamour at best you still had to bind your chest in case anyone tried touching you unexpectedly. It was too dangerous to take everything off just to seduce him. He had a harem of women already hanging over his every word, what need did he have for you?

You could hardly compete with their full bosoms and beautiful curves. Not dressed like this anyway. You weren't competing with anyone dressed like a street rat. Maybe you could just ask for some work to do in exchange for some coins and then you'd be on your merry way to safety. Yeah that option was more diplomatic. You didn't want to steal if you didn't have to.

You mull around for a bit, coming up with the best approach to guarantee your success. The second you work up the confidence to approach him, you stride over with all the poise you can muster.

That was your first mistake. Because not even a second later the eyes of nine ferocious felines descended upon you like hell fire. You freeze in front of them like a lost cub. Playing the part of someone who was clearly out of their depth. Your hands shook as you tried to introduce yourself but you couldn't even find the resolve to utter a single word. Let alone maintain eye contact with anyone. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, much to the amusement of the woman and men watching you. Fuck..say something idiot.

Any poise you had prior to this vanished in the time it takes for a pirate to down his rum. Which you watched the majestic man do as you stood there frozen in place. The umber liquid trickled down his throat as you stared at his adam's apple bob. His sharp eyes studied you like a hawk on the lookout for prey. Licking off the remnants of the sweet nectar of his lips, his kohl covered eyes scrutinize you up and down.

Curiosity was evident all over his face. Heat followed his eyes as if he was appraising your worth, appraising your value. Practically sizing up meat to put on a butcher's block. The other men weren't much different. They eyed you with suspicion but also intrigue. You presume not many people come up to them asking for things.

The longer they stared, the quicker you wanted the ground to swallow you whole, wanted the shadows to consume you, wanted to dissolve in nothingness. The men of his crew began snickering to themselves while a woman put her arms around the handsome man's neck making sure to whisper seductively in his ear. But his eyes never strayed from yours nor did his expression change. Or the expression of the man beside him.

The woman's hard eyes locked with yours before she and her friends burst into laughter. You had no idea what she had said and you definitely didn't want to find out. Mortification painted your face while heat licked at every inch of your skin. With your nails digging into your palms you hastily backtrack still unable to voice a single sentence to save any ounce of respect one would have for themselves.

You escape with your head down low as the crew bellowed in laughter, clearly entertained by the spectacle you made of yourself.

You rush out into the cold night not looking where you were going only to collide with a brick wall. Great, make an even bigger fool out of yourself, why don't you.

You stumble back only for two large hands to steady you before you fall. Strong but gentle hands steady your feet.

“Careful there boi. Watch where you're goin,” a gruff voice rings out. Your body shuts down for a second before jolting back to life. You tint your head up only to realise you've bumped into the very man you told yourself to stay away from. His obsidian eyes pierced into yours, paralysing your tongue with fear akin to venom. The night air tore into your delicate flesh as you trembled in his oddly gentle grasp.

He was a ghastly sight. That alone was enough to have you shivering with fear. With a broken skull that seemed fused to his face it looked as if death had come to deliver you to an early grave. But before you could scream or try to say anything another person joins the conversation.

“Ghost…*hiccup* please..one more.. just..one more glass…promise ah'll be.. ah’ll be good old boi *hiccup*,” you watch the man with odd haircut stumble his way away from the walk to clutch onto the back of the beastly man who was holding your shoulders. The man let's go of you with a defeated sigh only to gently hoist up his friend who clearly had too much to drink.

“Enough of that Johnny I'm taking you back to the ship.” The man called Ghost gives you a final nod before helping his friend onto his back to carry to wherever their ship was. You watch the drunk man mumble his frustration as he rests his head on the bigger man's shoulder.

Maybe you were too harsh to judge him. He seemed decent enough for a pirate if not a bit rough around the edges. He didn't seem malicious though.

You take a second to catch your breath before tightening the cloak around you. The night air was chilling you to the bone and you had nowhere to rest. Best to keep moving. It was safer that way.

-a little while before dawn

The sky took on a lilac hue as the cold air eased up on its bite. You were exhausted, truly exhausted. Your feet were now trudging along with difficulty, but despite this you knew you had to keep going.

There were many streets you shouldn't have ended up on last night. Many times forcing you to make quick detours for your own safety. But somehow you still managed to almost get dragged into an alley, twice in one night alone. Thankfully you had a dagger on you, courtesy of your uncle.

It was an heirloom from your mother's side. Gifted to you on your coming of age ceremony by your father. The ceremony you remember disappearing from the second the important parts were over. The nobles never really liked you.

You laugh remembering that you spend the day hiding in the kitchen rather than greeting guests. That was this time three years ago. You don't think you've attended many events after that, not if you could avoid them that is. You wonder if your uncle was ok. Was the royal council in shambles at your disappearance? What were they going to do once they found out the execution wasn't going to happen?

Your mind wanders as you spot some merchants wheeling their goods to the market. The smell of freshly baked bread caused your stomach to constrict in pain. It's been a while since you've eaten well. The dungeons weren't the most accommodating towards you.

The food reminded you of more simple days when your personal maid would bring you fresh fruits and scones for breakfast. Faiza was her name. The daughter of your mother's personal maid. She was one of your best friends. One who'd often conspire with you on the best plan to avoid your classes for the day. That memory seemed so distant now. You wondered what happened to her after your arrest.

Law studies were never really your forte nor were any of the other boring and tedious classes you were forced to attend. Not that you actually attended them. It was done out of spite really. You hated the royal tutors as much as they hated you.

They denied you the knowledge you wished to attain. It was often snatched from you. Books ripped to shreds when you were caught with them. Your mother's history, her native language, her home, her heritage. You were denied everything. You were denied parts of yourself.

You don't understand why the marriage happened between your parents if all the noble families hated your mother so much. At least your father loved her.

Your father tried to help the best he could but his hands were often tied. Because of the guilt he held he never forced the role of crown princess on you despite you being the only heir to the throne. He valued your happiness above anything else. You suppose he gave you all the freedom he could.

But you're understanding now how selfish that was of you. Especially when you had duties to look after, people to care for. Funny how you only realise how good life was once everything gets taken from you. There was so much guilt in your heart, you felt disgusted with yourself. There was an urge to claw at your skin in rage. But you held yourself back.

You couldn't fall apart right now, not when you were so weak. The men here would eat you alive at the first drop of blood. Like hounds sniffing for prey, any cut on you would lead wolves to your den. You steel yourself the best you can, fighting back the tears that were threatening to spill over.

Your heart ached with the memories of your father and a mother you never got to know. Now left alone with no family to turn to. You pulled your cloak around you tighter, mimicking the way your father would often tuck you into bed when you were little.

He was a kind and forgiving king and an even more forgiving father. Far too kind, far too trusting for his own good. But so were you. You had learned it from him. Neither of you saw this situation coming until it was too late.

Now death haunts you while guilt runs through your veins. You needed to prove your innocence. For your father's sake if not your own. But for that you needed money to survive. Which you didn't have much off. The last few pennies chime in your hidden purse. It wouldn't be enough, you know it wouldn't.

This side of the city was very different to the streets you were used to. There was an air of pain here you couldn't really describe or explain. Things were gloomier, more stout, less vibrant. You see children as little as four doing menial labour to survive. A sight you were never accustomed to. You keep your head low as you wander near the stalls.

One bread wouldn't hurt to take, right?

But that wasn't the right thing to do. You were raised better than that. The merchants seemed to be struggling themselves. Maybe you could ask to help in exchange for bread. The only reason you were going to steal from the pirates was because you looked like they had plenty to spare and the majority of it was probably stolen from some nobles anyway. So that knowledge made it somewhat acceptable in your mind.

You make your way towards the baker to ask if you could work in exchange for some food but before you can reach the market centre some naval officers saunter in from the east side. They were clearly drunk as they stumbled down the cobblestone road while mirthfully laughing at their own stupid jokes. You could practically smell the booze off them from where you stood.

“Oi pretty girl! Yeah you! Do ye have permits to sell here!” You watch one of guards stumble his way towards the stall of a pretty young woman. It's not long after that his friends are crowding her too. You watch them puff out their chest, trying to appear bigger than they were. They looked like fools.

“Permit? I w-wasn’t told about any permits”, the poor woman stands there perplexed by the question, unable to come up with an answer to the rapid words the men were spewing at her. She's fresh faced, new to business anyone could see that from a glance. Her stall is small with only a few flowers and medicinal herbs on display. Cowards picking on someone smaller than them.

“Yeah, a permit! You think just anyone is allowed to sell around the market!?”, you watch as a younger guard slur out his words at the poor woman. He was practically spitting his annoyance at her.

“I'm sorry sir I didn't know! Please forgive me! I'll pack up right away!” The woman hastily tries to pack and get away from the vile men but a blond bearded guard snatches her arms as she tries to put away her goods. Something boils in your blood as you watch the mannerisms they were subjugating her to.

You looked around perplexed that no one was willing to help. Everyone either ignores what was going on or looks away hastily to avoid making eye contact with the guards. How often did this happen?

“No can do sweetheart. We'll have to lock you up for the sale of illegal goods. Come with us!”, you watch as they try to haul her feeble figure across the road with them. She struggles and begs but no one does anything.

“Please sir! I have a sick sister to care of! Please spare me! It won't happen again!”, you're trembling with rage as you watch on but still unable to move. Fear grips your limbs cementing you in place.

Coward, do something! You have a dagger! Do something! Do anything!

“If you don't want to go to prison love, we have other ways for you to repay us,” the naval officers laughed as if this whole situation was a joke to them. You watch one of the men squeeze the woman's hips as she cries in pain.

At that point you don't know what came over but you grab the biggest rock laying nearby, hurling it towards the man who had his hands on her.

“Ah fuck! Who threw that!” The rock hits him square in the head, pretty hard at that too. Blood pools on his receding hairline as he clutches his head in agony. But you can't seem to care. Your nerves were vibrating and if no one was going to help, you would!

The whole group turns towards you in anger while hushed whispers circulate through the market. You watch as people duck behind their stall for safety anticipating the brawl they were about to witness.

“Me you stupid Pig!” In for a penny in a for pound as they say. You've already hit them once. What's a few more times going to do?

“Run!”, you shout at the sobbing woman before hurling rocks at the drunk officers. Adrenaline courses through your veins while you continue throwing your projectiles at them, taking great joy in their anger and pain. You watch the rocks soar through the air, landing on with a satisfying thud and a musical scream that follows.

At least your archery lessons paid off in some sense. Your understanding of range was pretty good. It was the most alive you've felt in a long time. Not counting the time you managed to slip truth serum into the punch at a ball. That was an extremely good day. So many snobby nobles got punished for insulting the royal family.

Well insulting you more specifically for your mixed blood. It's the reason you wore veils at events and in public. It would piss them off to no end. Since it was something your mother often used. Even your portraits are all with some sort of veil obstructing your face. You used it so often everyone's forgotten what you look like.

But now you couldn't wear it, it would draw too much attention since it was associated with your identity. And now that technically you were considered a boy. A cloak was the best thing you could find adjacent to what you used to wear.

“You stupid little prick! We'll drag you through the gutters for th- Fuck! Stop!” You continue to land hit after hit as you watch the woman finally put a decent distance between herself and the men. She runs like her life depended on it while you continue your onslaught.

That is until you realise the guards were getting far too close for comfort.

“Just wait till we get our hands on you!” Their faces were flushed red from rage and it gave you some sick satisfaction that you were able to piss them off. Filthy swines, they deserved every ounce of pain!

You send a final rock soaring directly into the loins of the blond man before turning and running away as fast as you could.

“Ugh! I'll fucking skin you alive boy!” You don't get to hear the rest of his cursing as you skid and duck into a nearby alley. The men give chase, hot on your trail despite them being drunk. But you were well aware of how dangerous drunk men could be like. Especially men who had any ounce of power to wield.

You navigate the winding alleys with difficulty but are still able to manage to stay ahead for the time being. Buildings blur past you as you stay vigilant on your path. But running was proving to be difficult on an empty stomach. And your muscles seemed on the brink of collapse not long after weaving through alleys.

Winds whips by your face as you hold your hood in place to protect your identity. The small streets split into many smaller routes causing you to panic in your choice, you run right not familiar with the area.

A very bad choice it turns out to be. A wall blocks your way. The stone abrasive over your panicked hands. You hear their voice gaining up on you but you can't turn back. You'd be caught between them if you did.

Your mind races with a solution and the only thing you can do is try to climb over it before it's too late. Sharp stones dig into your delicate flesh while your arms scream in pain as you pull yourself up with great difficulty.

Your only halfway up when they come into view. Their bodies hunched over as their faces scrunched up in rage. Your legs dangle down as you try pushing yourself over. You're able to hurry over just as they try to drag your legs down. Their inhibitions were clearly lacking as they slurred curses at you as you escaped. You laugh as you hear the men groan in frustration.

Your relief is short lived to your utter shock. What you hadn't taken into account was that one of them had taken a different route and was now blocking your exit when you had climbed down, essentially trapping you between him and the wall.

“Nowhere to run now little mouse. We'll show you what we do to disobedient little boys.” He lears at you. The bleeding man looks ready to rip you to shreds. Your blood runs cold all the bravo you were experiencing had vanished in the matter of seconds. Despite this you prepare yourself to run past him.

But luck isn't on your side anymore. You try to swerve him in a panic, only to be thrown to the ground. Pain shoots up your elbow that slams into the stone. Fuck that hurt.

You hope you didn't break it. The rest of the men had climbed over by this point so there were three to your back and a large man to your front. Hastily you try to scramble to get off the ground despite the shooting pain everywhere, only to be kicked back down.

Your muscles scream in pain as the younger officer steps on your leg to keep you imobile. Your bone bends under the pressure threatening to break into two. Your nerve endings beg you to stay down, they beg you to surrender lest you break something. But you don't listen. You couldn't not when you knew what they were about to do to you.

“Don't touch me you pigs!”, you fight, you kick, you scream, you do anything to get out of their hold. Your body was ignited with rage you've never experienced before but it wasn't enough to escape the hold of four men.

“Shut it you brat!”, the man you had hit on the head tries to cover your mouth with his grimy hands while the rest of the men hold you down. But you bite down hard resulting in him back handing you as he screamed in agony. You spit out whatever filth entered your mouth, afraid it'll give you some disease. The second time he backhands you, you feel your lip slit. The metallic taste felt heavy on your tongue as blood coated your mouth.

“Hold him down idiot!”, the vile man shouted. While you continued to fight with all your might.

“I'm trying!” Greedy hands roam your body trying to unbutton your cloak. But you continued your fight, continued the struggle. Your skin crawls with disgust. This time you land a mean kick to the groin of the person trying to take your clothes off.

“Ugh You stupid bastard!” Their pain gives you enough momentum and shock value to grab the dagger in your boot to slice across the men holding you. They scream and move back enough for you to dig the dagger deeper into the man blocking your exit. The vile bastard you had no remorse for.

A spray of blood splatters across your face as you pull the dagger out of his thigh with a sickening squelch. The warm liquid felt odd on your chilled skin. It pooled around you like a spreading disease.

Blood curdling screams bounce off the walls surrounding you. But your hearing is obstructed by blood rushing to your ears. The noises don't deter you as you continue slicing across the air and their skin as they try approach you.

You're pretty sure you might have sliced someone's finger off since it lay on the floor beside you. But you couldn't stay to make sure it was your doing.

Everything from that point is a blur, you're covered in crimson. Red sticky fluid painting your hands and knees. Your body forces you to block out their curses and screams. The walls are stained red. Bodies lay covered in pools of blood. It was all too much.

You run, you don't look back, eyes always ahead. Dagger heavy in your hand you continue running, passing by unfamiliar streets and houses until only your heartbeat could be heard by you.

Red stained your vision. It haunted your sight. It was everywhere, absolutely everywhere. Blood on the ground, blood on the walls, blood on your hands. Skin marred with deep gashes and cuts. Sticky substance coating everything. Severed body parts. Streams of red chasing your feet. A river of red was carving its path towards you. The trail was leading to you.

You push it down focusing on yourself. Your heart, your breathing, your pain. Nothing else, only you. Only you. You needed to worry about you. Streets blur until they start getting sparser and sparser giving way to familiar green lush. A serene haven at the edge of what felt like a crimson hell.

It's only when you break away completely from the hard stone roads do you collapse onto the grass gasping for air like your life depended on it. The wretched smell of metallic iron finally dissipates if only a little bit. You left like you could breathe again.

You look back making sure the city is out of sight before you try sitting down for a second. Your heart continues to hammer as you look down at your blood stained hands, dagger still held tightly.

What have you done..Did you kill them?

You don't get the time to dwell on it when you hear distant shouts of people screaming. They know…the blood is on your hands..of course they know…

Hide! You needed to hide!

Using a nearby tree to haul yourself up you try to find your footing again. Your muscles scream at you to stop and rest but your mind told you to run. And run you do. Deep into the forest where the trees shrouded your sins. Where they blocked out the screams.

You needed to find water to clean the blood away. Something to wash away the sin….

Copyright © by ethereal-night-fairy. 2024. All Rights Reserved. Writing not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or to use with AI technologies.

#To the Edge of Chaos #pirate!au #pirate!141 #pirate!gaz #pirate!price #pirate!ghost #pirate!soap #pirate!farah #pirate!alex #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick #sergeant kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle gaz garrick smut #kyle gaz smut #kyle gaz x you #kyle gaz x reader #gaz x female reader #gaz x y/n #ghoap #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #captain john price #farah karim #alex keller #cod x reader #call of duty

[ap1ckl3]

Genre: Smut

Parings: Enemies to lovers BangChan x f!reader

warnings: mature content!! Meandom!BangChan x sub!femreader, LOTS of degrading, mirror sex, pet names such as ‘Princess’ ‘babygirl’ ‘Channie’ and ‘handsome’, namecalling such as ‘slut’ ‘whore’ etc, slight daddy kink if you squint, after care, mentions of cheating, slight possessiveness if you squint, choking, hair pulling, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex (don’t do this!! Wrap it before you tap it), edging, overstimulation.

ANGRY CHAN HAS MY HEART FR😭🩷😍

No one knows how the two got to this point. I mean they were sworn enemies right? They shouldn't be tangled all up with each other in bed but they were. Let's rewind real quick.

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You and Chan used to be best friends. Like attached at the hip type of best friends. Until, you took his girlfriend from him a few years ago. That hurt him for many reasons. One because that was his girlfriend and you were his best friend, his girl best friend at that. And that brings me to the second reason, you never came out to him. You never told him you were bisexual which made him just feel horrible. So you two came to the conclusion to be enemies and left it at that. But something in Chan just couldn't let you go. Maybe it was the way your smile lit up the room or the way your laugh made his day. That was probably why he wasn't so mad about finding you in bed with his girlfriend. He was more.. jealous. But not of you, his girlfriend. He couldn't take these feelings so he stopped talking to you as much but it wasn't very easy since you guys were in the same friend group.

This brought you two to today. Another argument, a silly one that ended up getting bigger. This time it was about who was in the wrong for a game you all were playing with the group. You guys somehow ended up in BangChan's bedroom as he was hosting a party, yelling at each other. You were leaned up against the wall while Chan was sitting on the bed.

"God you always fucking do this. You're so insensitive and selfish all the fucking time." Chan yelled out at you as he got off the bed, getting slightly more heated at the words that came out of your mouth.

"No, you don't get to say that. Fuck you Christopher." You yelled back as he made his way over to you. You couldn't help the feeling that rushed through you at the angry look on his face while he made his way to you. He didn't say anything as he got closer which just made him more scary but you did a good job at hiding that fact.

"Fucking damn Chris, you're always so sensitive about these things." You mumbled as you looked away, crossing your arms over your chest. You were about to say something else smart when a hand on your neck cut you off, making you choke on your words. You instantly turn to face him, being met with an angry faced BangChan. You didn't know what it was that set him off so much. It could've been your words or the fact that you called him 'Christopher' or he was just tired of hearing your mouth. Whatever it was, his hand around your next had your heart pumping. He tightened his grip against your neck, squeezing just enough to cut some air from you which made you let out a whine, a look of fear flashing in your eyes.

"Say my name like that again. I dare you." His words sounded threatening enough without his hand being around your neck but that little detail just made you squirm. He pushed his body up against yours even more as he stared into your eyes which honestly didn't know where to look. You didn't know where to look because these feelings were just too strong right now. You tried to speak but your words failed you so you swallowed and just stayed quiet.

"What? Too stunned to speak. Cat got your tongue?" He teased as he leaned down closer to you, wasting no time connecting his lips to yours. His actions caused you to gasp softly, letting his tongue slip into your mouth before you finally relaxed a little. Your eyes closed as his hand on your neck brought you closer to him as he kissed you harsher, his other hand resting on your waist as he kept you pinned between him and the wall. Sure you guys were enemies but I mean why not have a small break between that.

Your thoughts were cut short as a knee came up between your thighs, just making you wetter than you already were. You let out a small whine into his mouth as his knee pushed on your core, making him chuckle a little as he pulled away to look at you.

"God you're such a fucking slut. First you go and fuck my girlfriend then you come to me." He paused for a second as a chuckle cut him off, a dark look in his eyes. "You're such a whore and you know it. Now tell me, whose who're are you huh." He degraded which honestly just made you hornier and more needy for him. You tried to speak but only a small whimper left your lips to which he chuckled at again before pulling you off the wall and pushing you onto the bed, making you fall back onto it as he locked the door. You sat up a little with a red tint on your face as he pulled off his shirt. Your eyes locked onto his toned stomach as he got closer to you, pushing your body down onto the soft mattress beneath you. You let out a small moan as his lips connected to your neck in a hurry, not being anywhere near gentle as he sucked and bit down on the sensitive area. You could feel him through his jeans as he slid himself in between your legs which seemed to be shaking in anticipation. His hands slid down your body and eventually made it to the hem of your shirt as he started to push it up before stopping and pulling away from your neck to look at you. No matter how much you thought he hated you, he would at least make sure you were okay with doing this before absolutely ruining you.

"Is this okay?" His whispered softly as he looked down at you, still wanting to make sure this was okay with you before continuing. Once you nodded he wasted no time with pulling your shirt off and throwing it into a random part of his already sort of messy room as he reattached his lips to your body, his target being your collarbone now. His hands worked on unclasping the laced material that kept something he wanted from him. Once the piece of clothing was removed, you felt a shiver go down your spine as his lips attacked the sensitive bud on your right boob while his left hand played with the other, pinching the piece of skin between his fingers which drew lewd sounds from your lips. He hadn't even really touched you and you were already a whiny mess.

He soon moved away from your tits and down your stomach as his hands worked on removing your shorts. He was so impatient it was almost pathetic but the sight of you right now was even more pathetic. Almost humiliating. Once he got your shorts off he threw them on the opposite side of the room from your shirt as he immediately started working on your clit. The feeling of his tongue against your pussy with your panties blocking it felt so weird but good at the same time. He ignored your hand in his hair as he went down on you like a starved man, making you so close in such little time but of course your pride wasn't gonna let you show that.

You didn't even get to have a chance to speak before BangChan pulled away, looking at you with a smug look on his face. Like he was proud of edging you like that. You let out a whine as you looked down at him before saying something that would definitely come back to haunt you.

"Humph, you can't even make me cum." Chan's face changed almost immediately, his eyes turning a darker shade of brown as he practically ripped your panties off and thew them with your other clothes on the floor before pulling his pants and boxers down in one go. He practically manhandled you onto all fours before you felt him slip into you easily with how wet he made you before. Which made all this more exciting yet a little scary. He wasted no time with moving, fucking you at an almost hungry pace as his fingers digged into your hips. The way he fucked you made your head spin as loud moans slipped from your lips, not being able to keep them in. One of his hands moved up to your hair as he pulled on it, his other staying on your hip as he had a cocky smirk on his face as he fucked you. He was making you look at that pathetic look on your face in the large mirror he had beside his bed. Anytime you were forced to come to his house for a get together and snuck off to his room because you were nosy, you've always wondered what this mirror was for. Now you know.

"Look at you. Looking like a pathetic little whore. You're such a slut," He let out a small chuckle as he picked up his pace a little, making you whine out. "but you're my slut. No one else's." He growled into your ear almost possessively as he fucked you harder, making you closer to another orgasm faster since the first one was pulled away from you. His degradation and passiveness made you whine as it was mostly what pushed you to your orgasm. He let out a hiss as he felt the warm liquid surround his sensitive cock. One thing about Chan is that he was either going to overstimulate you or under-stimulate you. That's just how he was as a person.

"God, first you fuck my girlfriend then you fuck me. You just can't get enough huh. Was her pussy not good enough for you? or maybe it was her tongue. You just had to run to me." He hissed in your ear, having no problem with degrading you. It's not like he didn't do this all the time. He would degrade you any chance he got and now that he got to fuck you while doing it was just pure bliss for both of you. You were seeing stars now as he found your g-spot which made you yell out his name, any cockiness or bratty things you had to say earlier were long forgotten as he fucked you like an angry bull. Seeing this passionate side of BangChan was honestly new to you. Even when you guys were best friends he wasn't ever really this passionate. You let out soft whimpers of his name as you felt your body starting to give out. Chan felt this so he let his hand that was on your hip wrap around your waist to keep you up as the other hand pulled you up so your back was to his chest, both bodies being sweaty as the smell of sex filled the room.

"You're not finished yet babygirl, I still haven't gotten to cum yet and that's a problem to me." Chan growled into your ear as his hand on your waist moved down to rub your clit which made you whimper as you laid your head back on his shoulder. As he saw that his movements only got faster as he started to suck and bite at your neck, not knowing how he got this far without cumming yet as you just looked to beautiful so fucked out like this. You felt your body shudder as you got close to another orgasm.

"Fuck Chris, I'm-" you didn't get to finish your sentence as he suddenly stopped moving his hips but not his hand which made you whine.

"Not my name princess, try again then I might let you cum." His pettiness made you whine a little more but you couldn't possibly think of what else to call him before it dawned on you. Now you weren't the type to beg and you both knew that but you were just so in the moment and just wanted to cum so you couldn't help but beg.

"Please daddy, just let me cum.." you whimpered pathetically which made him chuckle as he started to move again, knowing he won this huge argument you two have been having for the past few years. You felt your back arch as he so effortlessly found your g-spot again. You didn't even get to warn him this time as you came again, not being able to help it. He wasn't too far behind you, painting your insides white as he shot his load inside you. He let out a small growl as he pulled out, watching both yours and his cum spill out of you. He planted small kisses to the bruises he made on your neck, in a weird way soothing the skin. You felt your body go limp in his arms—which didn't go unnoticed by him, as he practically fucked you dumb. He cooed at the sight as he picked you up bridal style as he lead you towards his bathroom.

Once the pair made it to the bathroom, he sat you down on the counter as he turned on the shower while waiting for it to get warm. You looked down at your hands that were not sat in your lap as you thought about the events that just occurred. The life changing events that you can't go back on.

"I'm sorry.. for everything.." Your words surprised both you and BangChan as he turned over to look at you in which you had tears in your eyes for whatever reason. In all honesty he really couldn't care less about you fucking his girlfriend. In all honesty he was happy with you for getting rid of her from his life since she was totally chaos and not in a good way. He really didn't even know why he wanted to be your enemy, he was just so in the moment for weeks and he's guessing the feeling just stuck.

"No babygirl, I'm sorry. I've been mad at you for absolutely no reason these past few years. In all honesty I didn't even care that you did that. If anything I was happy. I don't even know why I was mad. All of this was my fault and I should've been more clear with my emotions." BangChan stated as he cupped your face in his hands, kissing away the stray tears on your cheeks. You couldn't help but feel flustered at his touch and you nodded at his words.

"So this all means you forgive me?" You mumbled as you looked at him, hoping that this did mean exactly what you thought. Your eyes lit up as he nodded which made him chuckle a little, falling in love with you more every time you looked at him. He's been ignoring his feelings for long and being able to express them today was a huge stress reliever for him. He looked over at the bath, noticing it was halfway full which was a good place to stop it had so he did and picked you up again, placing you down in the bath before getting in behind you and making sure you were comfortable.

After he was done taking care of you and himself, he dried you both off and dressed you in one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers since he kind of ripped your panties. He was trying not to get hard again from the sight of you in his clothes but it was hard since you just looked so beautiful. He laid you down in his bed again as he got comfortable with you, laying your head on his chest as he held you close to him like he was afraid of letting go. You were drawing shapes on his bare chest in comfortable silence before he spoke up.

"Y/n... I think I'm.. I think I'm in love with you.." he mumbled as his lips pressed against your soft hair. You had a red tint on your face after hearing his words and a soft smile.

"I love you too Channie.." you mumbled against his skin as you pressed a chaste kiss to his chest which made him chuckle a little. God how you missed that chuckle. You then pulled back to look at him with puppy eyes.

"Does this mean we're a thing now? Or was this just a one time thing. Because if so then we can really just-" Hearing what you were talking about and seeing the excitement drain from your eyes is what caused Chan to place a kiss to your lips to stop you from talking. That surprised you a little bit you eventually gave in and kissed him back. He pulled away after a while before pulling your head to your chest, resting his chin on your head.

"Of course we are silly. You're all mine now.." he mumbled which made you smile as your eyes closed, falling asleep on the chest of someone you knew you loved dearly...

BONUS

You woke up slightly after Chan did, being met with his beautiful brown eyes just admiring your beautiful face. Once he noticed he was caught he turned red as a small smile appeared on both of your faces. You leaned up and placed a soft kiss to his nose in which he returned the favor by kissing your knuckles before intertwining your fingers.

"Good morning princess.." he mumbles, his morning voice sounding raspy and a bit deep as he smiled down at your flustered face.

" 'morning handsome.." you mumble as you just admired his features. It was hard to not think he was handsome. He let out a small chuckle as he pulled you close to him. He then let out a groan at remembering he had to clean up after last night. He would rather get it done as soon as possible than just leaving his place trashed. He leaned down and placed a kiss to your forehead before sitting up which made you whine a little.

"Where are you going.." you mumbled in a tired voice as you looked up at him with tired eyes. He let out a chuckle at your expression. It was like a switch flipped with your guys' relationship. What used to be constant fighting turned into pure love and admiration.

"I'm going to clean, I'll be back as soon as I'm finished love. Just rest here." He told you before getting out the bed and making his way out his room. You huffed a little before hearing a ding on your phone. You furrowed your eyebrows as you rolled over to grab it as it was on the charger. Chan must've done that last night after you fell asleep. That small gesture made you feel all giddy inside. You checked your phone to see notifications from your friend group chat.

MinHOE😍: now now now.. y/nnie, don’t you have something to tell us?

Drama Queen👑🎀: ooooh, some tea??☕️

Y/N🎀: what are you talking about??

MinHOE😍: yk from last night😏

Outtie😚🩷: WAIT NO WAY. WHO’D SHE FUCK IN CHANNIE HYUNGS HOUSE???

Y/N🎀: Minnie please we can talk about this😭

Babygirl🎀: what do me and Minho get for being quiet about this??

Y/N🎀: HAN JISUNG AND LEE MINHO PLEASE ILL DO ANYTHING🙏🏽😭😭

Fried chicken☺️🐥: yk now I’m very curious. Please do tell hyung.

MinHOE😍: so the old man and this lil girl right here did a lil sum last night..

Y/N🎀:MINHO PLEASE😭 I SWEAR ILL TAKE YOUR PUDDING

MinHOE😍: you better not. I’ll do you like Hyunjin and shove a bunch of tissues in your mouth until you suffocate.

Minnie👇🏼the🏢: Oop-

A bitch named Chris🖕🏼: stop fucking threatening my girlfriend.

Best rapper (lies👎🏽): IM SORRY GIRLFRIEND??

Outtie😚🩷: WHATTTTTTTTTTT

Drama Queen👑🎀: OML PLOT TWIST OF THE CENTURY

Minnie👇🏼the🏢: I KNEW IT. THE WAY THEY ARGUED WAS TOO TENSION FILLED FOR THEM TO NOT BE IN LOVE

Y/N🎀: Channie!! I thought you weren’t gonna tell them😔

A bitch named Chris🖕🏼: I think I’ve made it pretty clear who you belonged to last night. Plus they were gonna find out anyways.

Babygirl🎀: okay lovebirds🙄

You couldn’t help but smile a little as Chan’s text really sunk in. You just turned off your phone, ignoring the shock from your friends as you nuzzled into BangChan’s blanket, knowing you found your new favorite smell..

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A/N: so… this took me about three days to write because I kept getting distracted and just didn’t feel like finishing what I was writing so 👍🏽. Also, I will be posting this on both tumbler and Wattpad. Also will be taking requests!!

#stray kids #skz #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz smut #skz hard thoughts #stray kids smut #stray kids hard thoughts #straykids imagines #kpop smut #kpop x reader #skz x female reader #kpop x fem reader #wh1mp