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laurfilijames · 3 years

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Desired Effect

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Pairing: Fili x female reader

Words: 2,718

Warnings: rated E. M/F unprotected intercourse. Fili is a cheeky bastard

Summary: Fili buys you a scandalous dress to wear to an event, and effectively teases you until you can’t take it any more, dragging him home for some fun.

Requested by @lilith15000, I hope this is everything you were hoping for, love! It was a pleasure to write for you, thank you for always supporting my work. Enjoy!

Weaving through the corridors on your way back to your chambers, you took in the decor around you. Tapestries hung from the ceiling, many more than normal, and all the dwarrow around you were bustling about more than usual. You smiled to yourself, excited for the reason for all of this commotion; a party.

It wasn’t going to be anything huge and extravagant, but you always looked forward to an event like this, an excuse to dress up, to have Fili standing proudly beside you the whole night with his arm locked around yours, his attention always focused on you.

Thinking about what gown you would wear as you walked through your chambers to the bathing room to run a bath, something on your bed caught your eye, making you pause and turn to look.

To your surprise, a stunning gown was laid out on the bed before you. Deep red in colour with gold details adorning it, a perfect match to Fili’s red robes he wore often to events such as tonight’s.

The closer you got to it, the more you realized it looked more like a nightgown as opposed to a formal dress. It couldn’t be for tonight, you thought, the material was thin and silky, and surely would reveal every part of you, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Fili must have intended for you to wear it around your chambers, in the comfort of your husband's company alone. You held it up in front of you and turned to look in the mirror. The neckline plunged extremely deep and there were even cut outs along the sides, acting as windows to display your skin.

You placed the dress back on the bed and began to remove your current outfit, curious to see how it would look on your body.

The feel of it against your bare skin made you feel like a Queen as soon as the hem hit the floor, the material floating over your features and accentuating every curve of you.

You tucked your lip in your teeth as you admired your reflection, thinking how Fili would no doubt have this torn off of you in an instant.

“I see you found my gift…” Fili’s voice appeared suddenly, causing you to turn in his direction to see him leaning casually against the doorway with his arms folded across his chest as he admired you.

“Fili, it’s beautiful! Thank you! I’ll wear it while I get ready for tonight.” You twisted your body back to face the mirror, a smile unable to be erased from your lips due to his sweet gesture.

“No, amralime,” he said with a playful tone, taking a step toward you. “You’ll be wearing it all night.”

You turned to him again, shocked at his statement. Barely stringing the words together, you gawked at him, “There’s no way! It’s hardly containing me!”

Now his hands were on your hips, gliding over your sides where the dress left you exposed and you heard him hum in satisfaction.

Fili gave you that look; the one where his eyes darkened, his eyebrows rose higher on his head and his lips pulled into a sly smirk, the very one that made fire pull deep within you.

“That’s exactly the point. I want everyone to see you. To see that you’re mine. You’re too beautiful to keep hidden.”

“But Fili—” you began to protest but he stopped you, his index finger landing on your lips to stop your words.

“Trust me.”

A sigh left your lungs, and suddenly you didn’t feel the need to argue anymore. Fili removed his finger from your lips and replaced it with his, his tongue demanding entrance to your mouth that you easily allowed. Trust was something you always had with Fili, so why should this be any different? Only it was the mischievous look that lingered on his face that told you he might have something else up his sleeve.

The night had been wonderful so far and it wasn’t near being over. You felt excited and exhilarated, but it wasn’t the party that had you feeling this way.

As usual, Fili couldn’t keep his hands off of you, always clutching your own or wrapping his arm around your waist while in conversation with someone, his heavy hand resting on your thigh when you were at your place at the table. Although this was a normal occurrence for the two of you, everything between you felt more charged than it typically was. It probably had everything to do with the things Fili kept whispering in your ear, or sometimes even out loud, but quiet and subtle enough that only you were able to hear. Those around you were likely thinking you were having nothing other than a warm exchange between lovers based on the smile that crossed your lips and the way Fili chuckled at your reactions.

Little did they know Fili was quickly placing you under a spell with every word that passed his lips. Things like; “See everyone watching you? They’re all thinking about the things they want to do to you. Too bad for them I’m the only one who gets to.”

Or he would discreetly trail his fingers up your thigh where your dress parted in a high cut slit, briefly touching you at the apex of your legs, his eyes dark with lust as they bore into you, saying in a low voice, “The best part about seeing you in this dress is knowing I’ll get to see you out of it soon.”

Every one of these promises made you shiver, finding yourself pressing your thighs together in an attempt to restrain yourself from spreading them apart for him right there.

You were a mess.

You even went so far as to avoid your own husband, putting distance between you any time he came near again, but it was no use. Even from across the room he knew how to make you squirm, looking you up and down like he would take you in front of everyone in the room.

It took everything in you to focus on the conversations around you, but Fili was unrelenting, determined and persistent in making you break.

Nodding along to a story you wouldn’t be able to recall the subject of even if you tried, told to you by a dwarf whose name you had long forgotten, you felt Fili brush his hand over the opening on your waist, the action making you swallow harshly and close your eyes. Curse him!

The dwarf before you continued his story, and thankfully there was a group surrounding you so he didn’t take notice of your rude behaviour.

“Did you have some dessert, amralime?” Fili asked beside you, having set his plate down on the table nearest to where you both stood before placing his hand on his hip and looking at you curiously.

“No, Fili, I did not. I’ve been slightly distracted…” you said with a playful warning.

He chuckled and his tongue darted out to lick his lips, you watching it happen like it was in slow motion.

“That’s too bad, it was delicious,” his lips turned upwards and his dimples made a more prominent appearance, making you weak once more. Choosing to ignore the effect he had on you, you turned back toward the story-teller, vowing not to succumb to the hunger that lingered in your stomach that wasn’t because you wanted dessert.

Fili leaned closer to you, his mouth beside your ear, his breath hot and sweet like the berries he’d just consumed and goosebumps erupted on your skin instantly. “It was good, but you’re going to taste better…”

That was your breaking point. You politely excused yourself from the group and gripped Fili’s arm with your hand, turning him to follow you and practically dragging him through the crowd to the doors. The cheeky dwarf dared to laugh as he struggled to keep up with you which only fueled your fire. You were going to wipe that smug grin off of his face.

As soon as you were both through the doors you moved to press him against the wall, hastily attaching your lips to his, your mouths immediately opening in your breathlessness to allow your tongues to tangle together. His hand flew up to hold your cheek, moving off the wall to replace his body with yours, your back slamming against the stone with a thud. His knee drove between your legs to part them, his hands moving down your sides tantalizingly slow. He took your hands in his and reached them up over your head at the same time he ground his hard bulge against your mound, the material gliding over the wet that had accumulated in your folds.

He pulled away from you slightly, watching your chest heave, his eyes dancing over every area of your body that the dress revealed.

“Mahal, you are a sight to behold,” Fili praised you. “This dress was the best money I’ve ever spent,” he continued, laughing before diving down to kiss your throat, pulling a drawn out moan from you.

“Although I can’t decide if I want to take you while you’re still wearing it, or rip it off of you.” His words mumbled against your skin as he explored you further, making you forget you weren’t yet in the privacy of your chambers. Then he stopped, his hands now braced on either side of your head, his pupils completely dilated as he looked at you menacingly.

“Probably both.”

You gasped when he latched onto your taught nipple through the thin fabric of the dress and quite frankly you didn’t care what happened to the dress, you simply needed him to end this ceaseless torture he’d put you through all night.

“Fìli!” you pleaded, “Take me home this instant, I’ve suffered enough!”

He grinned at you again, clearly amused by your frustrations and pulled you from the wall, making his way down the corridor toward your chambers with your hand in his.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise!”

“This is exactly what you wanted to happen, wasn’t it?” you accused him as you realized his intention for buying you such a scandalous gown, your mouth hanging open, mockingly aghast.

“I had to make it so it was your idea to leave! I didn’t want to go in the first place.”

“You’re terrible, Fili.”

Giving you a sideways glance, you all but combusted on the spot when you heard his next words.

“I’m about to show you how terrible I can be.”

Fili’s robes were being torn off and discarded on the floor, the hem of your dress hiked up to your hips even before your door was unlatched, both of you frantic to access the other. As soon as you were completely through the threshold Fili kicked the door shut with his boot, managing to push it off his foot in the process.

Buttons fell to the floor as you tore open his tunic, revealing his bare torso to you.

“Easy, now, my love. We can’t go ruining all of our best clothes.” He dared to laugh again but it was cut off, changing to a hiss when you reached forward and pulled at the laces on his trousers, his cock hanging out heavily in the cool air.

“I’m not letting you ruin this dress, Fili. I quite like the effect it had on you.” You watched him melt to your touch as you stroked his length, his head tipping back in ecstasy. His head returned to its normal position and his eyes opened to look at you when you suddenly stopped touching him, moving away to sit on the small desk that occupied the space beside the door.

Fili strode over to you, closing the short distance quickly with a ferocity that worried you slightly. His hands roughly covered your knees and pushed them apart, making room for him to stand between your legs. He pressed his forehead against yours, his fingers now roaming up the backs of your thighs to cue you to wrap your legs around his thick waist.

“I’ll do my best to refrain from ruining the gown, amralime,” he whispered in a husky voice, his lips brushing yours. He lifted it further up your body, the silky skirt pooling at your hips, exposing your abundant arousal to him. “I can’t make the same promise for you though.” The tips of his fingers grazed over you and Fili growled at how ready you were, and before he could waste another moment gripped his throbbing cock and lined it up to push through your tight entrance.

You both cried out at finally getting what you both had desired all night, your hips pushing forward to meet his already intense thrusts.

The sound of the desk banging against the wall echoed throughout your chambers, the feral tempo you worked to set revealed with every clap of wood on stone.

Teeth crashed together with every desperate kiss, nothing of what your hands and mouths were doing made any sense other than that it was as if you were trying to grasp onto each other for dear life with every touch. Curses spilled from Fili’s wet lips, making you question whether it was to prolong this session and prevent his nearing climax, when all it was doing was spurring yours on. He roared in your ear as you began your ascent, your walls closing around him, squeezing and coaxing out all he had to offer you. In your blind passion you sensed his hands grip your side, groping and clawing at you in his own frantic pursuit. His fingers slipped through one of the cutouts on the side of your gown, the sound of material ripping registering on you just as you shouted through your high.

There was no time to care, still focused on riding out the shuddering bliss that rattled through you while Fili pounded into you in search of his own. His mouth covered yours, sloppy and clumsy, and with a growl that reverberated through you, you felt him coat your insides with his hot spend.

After a few moments of panting and kissing, Fili pulled out of you and took a step back, running his fingers through his sweaty hair that you’d efficiently messed up during your activities. He stumbled slightly, moving his hands from his hair to run over his beard like he was trying to catch his bearings again. His body was coated in a layer of sweat from his exertion, and despite your very small annoyance that your dress was ruined you couldn’t help but admire the masterpiece that was your husband standing before you in all his glory.

You cleared your throat to regain his attention, fiddling with the tattered piece of dress between your fingers to draw his gaze there.

A sigh left him and he placed his hands on his hips, shrugging slightly as a sated smile pulled at his dimples. “I’m sorry, I truly didn’t mean to ruin it,” he said vaguely, his attempt at an apology weak.

Unconvinced, you gave him a pointed look but then squirmed where you remained when he took a step toward you again, gathering the edge of your dress in his hands, his expression hungry once more.

“Seeing as it is now torn,” he looked from your exposed midsection up to your eyes with renewed spirit, “I’m going to have to take it off of you and take you for a second time without any part of you hidden from me.”

A yelp escaped you when Fili gripped your bottom and slid you off the desk, dragging you down to the floor with him. Both of you erupted in laughter, the thin and scratchy rug not softening the landing whatsoever, but your discomfort was soon forgotten when you were slowly guided to lay on your back, your dress slipped up and over your head, the silky garment now used as your blanket.

Fili settled himself between your legs, slowly kissing you while gently rubbing his thumb over your cheek, an indication that this next round would be unhurried and measured, a stark contrast to the rush you both found yourselves in earlier.

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Everything: @guardianofrivendell @midearthwritings @cassiabaggins @lilith15000 @trishthedishofreis @linasofia @unbeatablecurlgirl @the-poldarkian @lathalea

Fili: @shethereadinghobbit

#fili #fili smut #fili smut request #fili oneshot #the hobbit fili #fili x reader #fili x female reader #smut #the hobbit #fili durin

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subwaysurf45 · 3 years

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Winter Makes Ice (Ep. 4)

Summary: you’re captured after a brawl at the Avengers building, Bucky and others must save you before Hydra makes a new Winter Soldier out of you, Bucky has given up that title.

Words: 4123

Episode: Four

Warning: violence, gore, description of violence, fighting

Masterlist! Winter Makes Ice Episode: Three

Time: 3:20am

Date: October 3rd 2024

Wakanda was always calm when Steve went, the people who lived there just seemed to understand the ways of life. There was never a catcall or fight in an alley, people greeted each other with kindness and a soft bow, Steve always copied but felt like he was too stiff when he did so. He found he walked with his back a little straighter and his chin a little higher, he felt unstoppable in the warm climate, filled with power and generosity.

Natasha on the other hand hated Wakanda, not because of the people but for the same reason as Steve; it was too peaceful. She’d always get the dirtiest looks when trying to explain her case, no one seemed to understand the concept of ‘too much comfort is uncomfortable’. She ran to Bucky once after a moment and asked him why he liked it so much, she thought he off all people would hate comfort, he’d always be one to sleep on the floor because the mattress would feel like it was swallowing him. He just shook his head and shrugged, he’d never tell anyone why; Nat found out he never even told you.

Natasha had been trained to trust no one other than yourself, but after escaping the Red Room she questioned the one in the mirror all too often. People would smile and while Steve smiled and waved Natasha thought of ulterior motives, why were they smiling to them and not the people slightly behind them? but then they’d smile to the people behind Natasha and she’d question if it was to cover themselves. The welcoming's to almost everywhere felt weird, she wanted to break in or have to fake her way to what she wanted, having doors opened for her felt like a slap in the face for all the things she’s done for those years before.

“God, gives me the creeps,” Natasha faked a shiver, Steve just rolled his eyes. They were walking in the palace now, T’Challa would be waiting for them in Shuri’s tech room.

Apparently Shuri had been wanting to try a new type of cuff, one made of- obviously -vibranium that tightens at a lie. There were little needles that poke into the culprit's nervous system, it picks up on someone’s sign that they are lying and tightens when the little pins are triggered. If someone's breath picked up or heart rate doubled, it would squeeze a little bit more until their hands were blue. Nat thought it was amazing when she heard it over the phone, her mind was picturing it the entire flight over.

Steve had been thinking about Bucky, Steve was well aware of Bucky’s deep connection to you. You’d been dating for over a year and it was love at first sight (then Bucky quietly loving you from the other side of the room), Bucky was never one to fall for someone, he’d never have the confidence in himself that he’d be here for too long. But it was the little things Bucky began to do that made Steve appreciate you even more. He’d watch from his spot on the kitchen counter, quietly sipping coffee and reading the paper, which wasn’t actually paper because it was on his phone, while glancing over every so often to see you and Bucky in your own little world, both giggling at something. There's this moment for Bucky when he’d just look at you, Steve had seen it happen so often, like Bucky was taking a step back and realizing he had someone who loved him unconditionally. The laugh would die down and Bucky would whisper something, it would alway be along the lines of ‘thank you’ but it could change. He’d sometimes do it with Steve as well, both you and Steve would say the same thing, ‘no need to thank me, but you’re welcome’ because that’s what Bucky liked best.

You were just an agent when you arrived, nothing more. Slowly you had gotten to know who everyone was by going out of your way to give out cookies to everyone who walked by you, it was a little thing Bucky seemed to really enjoy. After your talents were discovered from past jobs you were moved to a spy, you’d used to work for a private firm where they’d track down people who launder money, you’d have to get so much evidence it often led you to get jobs at mattress stores or random shops. With that and a lifeguard certification- that you got when you were a teen- under your belt you were perfect to be an agent, Fury introduced you to Bucky for combat training because Bucky needed to learn how to work with others; Steve actually told Fury to give Bucky the assignment.

You’d spar everyday and the both of you would get into it. There would be times where you wouldn’t talk to each other for the rest of the day because the other cheated. Everyone would laugh but you’d take it very seriously, Bucky would always say you weren’t strong enough to go out into the field, so you lifted weights. He’d say you weren’t fast enough, then he’d see you sprinting on the treadmill a day later.

Steve knew you were good for Bucky when you were about to start dating, it was at that part where you were going on dates but you weren’t dating. With all the things Bucky had criticized you on, you flipped it on him with one simple task: keep your fiddle-leaf fig plant alive. It would’ve taken Bucky one google search to find out that 61% of people can’t keep this house plant alive, it’s the hardest one to take care of. It was a metaphor of sorts, for you and for your relationship.

It wasn’t a surprise to find it dead when you got home, Steve came to you with his shoulders slumped. Apparently Bucky had been crying for three days straight because he killed your plant and he thought you’d dump him because of it. It was the weird feelings when Steve saw you start to laugh, this was his best friend who was crying of guilt and you were laughing, he’d wanted to punch you square in the jaw.

“What’s so funny?” he asked way too harshly.

“Oh nothing…” you wiped the tear that had fallen.

“Baby, I’m so sorry!” Bucky had left his room and came running to you, his face was red and his eyes were barely open from how puffy they were. He quickly pulled you in for a hug, “I messed up your plant, I’m sorry.”

Steve was getting redder and redder the more you laughed, “what’s so fucking funny, huh?” Steve boomed, he was getting protective.

You had dropped the act then, both of them were very emotional at the moment and laughing wouldn’t be the best choice of action. “Don’t worry, Bucky,” you soothed him, “you weren’t supposed to keep alive.”

“What?” he pulled away and sniffled, “but you asked me to-”

“To try,” you paused with emphasis, “and keep one of the hardest plants to keep alive, alive.” you smiled, “I was proud that I had kept it alive for as long as I did, but I needed to see what you would do with something like this.”

“Why?” Steve asked for Bucky, still very protective.

“Did you buy a new one and hope I didn’t notice?” You asked, Bucky shook his head no. “did you get mad at me because I gave you a stupid chore?” He also said no to that. “Did you make Wanda keep it alive with her powers?” all these options ran through Bucky’s head and he didn’t even think of them, “you put so much effort into this, and even if you did fail you still cared a lot, that’s all I ever want. I want this relationship to work and if you run at the first sign of adversity then this won’t work, but you buckle down and keep pushing, and if it doesn’t work? Then I know you actually cared, and you tried. That’s all.”

“You’re a keeper.,” Steve said before walking away and giving them space to catch up.

Nat waved a hand in front of Steve’s face, and it turns out he’d been staring at T’Challa for a while while he was talking. They had walked the entire way and Steve just stared at the ground with a blank expression, he needed to look out for you in order to keep Bucky sane.

“S-sorry, I zoned out.” Steve straightened his posture a bit, hands on hips and shoulders rolled back.

“No worries, captain Rogers.” T’Challa spoke calm as ever, “I have the criminals in the room, they have the new tech that’s already set up, my sister wanted to set it up.” T’Challa opened one arm and guided them to the secret room where two men sat with their hands cuffed and on their laps. “Neither of them have any record of being born, probably a fake identity.” The king linked arms with Shuri and walked out of the small room.

Seeing how grand and futuristic Shuri’s lab was made it shocking to be in a normal interrogation cell, two rusty chairs that were occupied and no table. Steve looked to see the single light that hung from the ceiling, it wasn’t a soft yellow like the one’s at the Avenger building but purple, vibranium always casted a purple/blue hue.

“Where are you from?” Steve asked.

“Iceland.” the one on Steve’s left answered.

“Is Hydra now stationed in Iceland?” Nat cut in and asked.

“One station, there’s many.” The same man on the left kept talking, the other one had his head all the way down with his forehead touching his knees.

Steve leaned up against the wall, “you attacked Princes Shuri, why?”

“Because she is the one that made us start from the very beginning, she's the one that erased the trigger words from your friend and our weapon.” He snarled, “She needed to pay for what she did, we should have known Wakanda was the hardest place to attack, we’d need a Winter Soldier for that.” A smirk grew from the right side of his mouth.

“What are you smiling about?” Nat pressed, she walked closer.

“Oh, nothing- ow!” the handcuffs tightened, his breathing rate doubled as he tried to ride out the initial shock.

“Tell us!” Steve smashed the wall, causing a dent to grow from it.

“Fine…” the man adjusted, “once we found out we’d never get our Winter Soldier back we quickly moved on, no one can break Wakanda’s tech, it’s impossible.” The man sighed and looked off, “so we chose to start again, make a new way, create a new trial. It’s safe to say we did.” he took a deep breath and leaded back against his chair, his fingertips were beginning to turn purple, it was difficult to see with the purple hue of the room. “When we attacked your building we didn’t want Barnes, we wanted someone, anyone. This girl was the closest to us, and it seemed to be the closest to Barnes, am I right?” he quizzed, seemed to be genuinely wondering. “She’d wake up and forget where she is, normally she’d pat the ground beside her and call out for a man named Bucky, that’s Barnes. It was the perfect choice, completely on a whim.” He looked at Nat, “she got her confidence from you, the entire time we were slowly poisoning her she completely believed she was here for ransom, it was funny to see her face when he told her what we did to her, how we now control her. The look on her face when we asked who wiped Barnes’ trigger words… She spit them out but her face was full of fear, her voice and thoughts weren’t her own.”

“Why would you tell us all of this?” Steve asked.

“I know I will die,” the cuffs didn’t tighten, “and my friend is already dead, I’d like to go with a bullet and not torture.” He looked up to them. “I think my father has passed, he worked for Hydra and I’d like to see him, to ask for forgiveness.”

Natasha pushed back the other man who hadn’t spoken a word to find his hands blackened and completely dead, the tightness had cut off all circulation. Right near the edge of the cuff and on the man’s skin was starting to split, there was no blood to leak out of the cut because there wasn’t blood in the veins, it was slowly falling and peeling away.

“You tortured my friend- two of them actually!” Steve screamed, “I hope to god you die slowly.” Steve lifted his gun to the man’s face, he closed his eyes. But Steve moved the aim to the thigh, you had told him that a shot to the femoral artery was fatel after ten seconds of bleeding, you had also told him that the femur- which was what the femoral artery is attached to -is the most painful break for bones.

So Steve shot at the middle of the thigh, he and Nat watched without emotion as the man quickly bled out, the blood squirted in the air and rolled down his pants. Blood coming from an artery is bright red and tends to squirt, but from a vein makes the blood more slow and dark. When the final squirt of blood managed to hit the man’s face, Steve knew he hit right on target; and that you were right for all those things.

Time: 5:59am

Date: October 3rd 2024

Bucky and Wanda walked through the forest, most of the leaves had fallen off the trees due to the season so they could see further into the thick woods. Not a lot of talking was happening between the two of them, Bucky was way too focused on keeping his cool while Wanda used her powers to see if there was any form of life around.

The wind blew softly and the leaves that held on for dear life were now getting pushed aside off the flimsy twigs, they would fall and join the other countless leaves that met the same fate. Wanda loved the fall, she’d jump into a pile of leaves any chance she got. Right now she was purposely stepping on the ones that looked the most dry which would give a good crunch. Her nose was a little red due to the cold but everywhere else she was yellow and happy, it seemed she gave off heat.

Bucky hated the fall, the sound of stepping on leaves sounded like someone was right behind him. If there was a Hydra agent out in these woods they would have heard them from a mile away with all of Wanda’s jumping and giggling. Bucky loved Wanda in a motherly kind of way, but sometimes she was just too...happy…

When everything seemed lost, Bucky and Wanda’s phones began to vibrate, Bucky was quick to pick up. Both Bucky and Wanda made their way to a tree stump to take a moment to listen. Wanda sat on the ground floor and picked at the tons of leaves that covered the ground, she’d pick and rip them apart one by one.

“It’s Steve,” Bucky whispered before picking up, “Steve?”

“Buck, you have to listen to me,” his voice was shaken and distraught, “I’ve sent the coordinates, she’s there but I don’t know how much of her is left.”

“What does that mean?” Bucky asked as he looked over to see Wanda looking at the coordinates on her phone.

“I don’t know how much has happened to her, they’ve brainwashed her.” Steve took a deep breath, Bucky could hear Nat in the background, “we have to act fast, we’re on our way, do not wait for us.” he commanded and Bucky nodded but he knew Steve couldn't see, there was a type of mind reading between the two of them that really came in handy for times like these.

“Roger that.” Bucky hung up and began to move again, Wanda had read the location and it turned out they weren’t that far away, at the final stretch they saw the building through the empty trees.

The forest had been cleared around the building, the grass seems healthy but it was starting to brown with the changing weather. The building itself was very small for it to be the most dangerous Hydra facility, it was only one story. There were no windows and the outer wall was all one grey colour, no symbols or tanks ready to fire; there wasn’t even a guard around the building. It seemed too vacant for it to be true, the wind seemed to stop as they got closer into the open field, it was completely still and almost dead.

Bucky or Wanda actually had a plan, everything had been so fast there wasn’t anything drawn out or spoken about at some meeting, this was all instinct. Though there were no windows and security cameras they both knew something had to be watching the outside, they were low to the ground in the open field but the grass was way too short to cover them. Bucky had his gun ready while Wanda’s hands were in a position to create a shield for the both of them, at the sound of a vibration Wanda checked her phone.

“Steve and Nat have landed, they are five minuets out,” she whispered.

“Copy.” was all Bucky could think to say.

Both of their backs smashed against the wall, with their final moments of bliss before fighting a couple deep breaths were taken and eyes remained shut. Bucky’s finger fiddled on the trigger of the gun, Imagining what it would look like to blow the man who hurt you to oblivion. Bucky moved further and farther away from his Winter Soldier thoughts, the mass murder and robotic revenge. But when it came to someone hurting you, he’d even put the mask back on.

On the count of three the door was bursted open, and right away agents on the inside began to fire. Wanda and Bucky took them down their own way.

One agent was still alive, Bucky ran up and gripped his throat. “Where is she!” he screamed.

“You’ll never know-”

A gun was placed to his head.

“-Alright! Alright!” The man shrieked, “third door on the left, please don’t kill me!” the man cried.

“I won’t kill you,” Bucky lowered his gun but the grip on his neck tightened, “I’ll torture you slowly before.'' His left hand gripped so tight around the agent’s neck he could hear the bone shattering, clear fluid from the agent’s spine leaked from his eye and ear before blood followed. Bucky watched emotionlessly as the agent’s face turned blue and almost popped like a balloon. “Wanda, get them all outside.”

“Yes, sergeant!” Wanda yelled, she was fighting off everyone else.

Bucky blew by everyone as they ran to see the commotion, so ran right by Bucky without thinking he was the threat. Wanda was now outside and in a matter of seconds the eeriness of the outside matched the inside, the air was still and stuffy, it smelt like the beginning of decomposing. Bucky had his gun ready but it seemed no one was in here, his only threat was you.

Bucky took note of the stone grey floors, and stone grey walls, and stone grey ceilings. HYDRA didn’t put much money into design like the Avenger’s did, all the funds they collected went straight into the tech they made and Bucky was sure that’s why they were still around, they had so much money saved that they could pay people to turn their cheek and walk the other way.

As Bucky scanned for something to give away where all the scientists were, his eye met another door in the very corner of the room, it was exactly the same colour of the stone grey walls but the brass door knob caught his eye. All you could hear was the boot of Bucky’s combat boots on the floor, his breath was even scaring him. His hand reached out for the door and when he opened it he found what he was worrying about.

A cell. More specifically: an empty cell.

There were chains hanging from the ceiling, one large cuff, one for what seemed to be used for a neck and then four cuffs for wrists and ankles. Bucky completely forgot where he was, he didn’t remember there was an entire lab behind him, all his mind was throwing at his memories of a cell just like this.

Bucky didn’t remember much about cells in the early days fighting against HYDRA in a cell, in the 40’s. He did, however, remember what it was like to come out of ice when he was needed. The concept of life didn’t exist when he was frozen, it felt like a long blink, it didn’t seem like he’d been asleep for years.

He’d wake up and for a second he was still normal. He’d think it’s cold because it was winter and his house back in the 40’s didn’t have any type of heating system except for a small fireplace, his boots and pants were still on because he got hammered the night before- also explaining the headache -and just fell into bed. All his convincing would go away when his brain would fog again, and he’d look down and catch the shine of his left arm, all at once he’d fall back into place. The dissociating happens after dreams but it came from waking up and not really knowing who he was, as he’d walk to whatever commander was in charge that year he’d ask himself what he was, all the memories and answers in his brain would seem to pull further away, like a word in the tip of his tongue.

He was ripped from his thoughts manually, he thought of you. He thought he was hypnotizing himself when he looked in there at first, too triggered by what he saw to think straight, but he took another moment to look, he saw the chains swinging back and forth ever so slightly.

His stomach dropped, he knew you were still in the room. “Sweetheart?” he called like he always did, “it’s Bucky, we’re gonna get you out of here, come out, baby.” he tried to sound as soothing as possible, he looked under every lab table and every chair.

He flipped through pages on his desk, reading the details of what they did to you. “What is I.C.E.?” Bucky asked himself.

“Injected Complying Enhancement.”

Bucky turned as fast as he could to see you behind him. You were completely naked, body covered in dirt and grime, your hair was hacked and it seemed to have been pulled. Bucky just looked at your body, words were carved into your skin, every single one of them were infected, puss bubbles around the angry red scars. As his eyes trailed up he saw blue on your finger tips, then he reached your face to see a sunken cheekbone and massive cut on your forehead, but nothing compared to a generous piece of your nose hanging on by a thread, the tip was black.

“Baby, do you know me?” Bucky asked through heavy tears, this wasn’t what he was expecting.

You scanned over him, “Sergeant, James Buchanan Barnes, 32557038.”

Right at that moment, he knew you were gone.

Winter Makes Ice tag list: @small-death-and-codeine @commonintrest @buckyys-doll @lil-baby-nor

let me know if you want a tag!

#winter soldier fic #winter soldier oneshot #wintersoldier #winter soldier #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fluff #bucky barnes #bucky #barnes #bucky barns imagine #bucky series #bucky barnes series #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky angst #bucky love

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ptergwen · 3 years

Text

call me cupid

w/c: 3.5k

warnings: very mild angst and a few swears

summary: despite your hatred for valentine’s day, peter attempts to make you a card

a/n: happy valentine’s day my loves!! i hope y’all get to spend some time with your people today and eat lots of chocolate <3 love you & enjoy mwah

it’s no secret that peter is terrible with words. he gets so flustered he can’t talk or forgets what he wants to say altogether. school presentations are torture. ordering food out is impossible. he’s accepted it at this point, that speaking just isn’t for him.

the one place it doesn’t come across is on paper. peter is ridiculously smart, and he knows all the right words to string together, which is why writing you a valentine should be no trouble at all. should be no trouble at all.

to tell the truth, he’s been sitting at his kitchen table with a blank sheet of paper in front of him for what feels like hours. nothing is coming to him. he’s not sure why this is so hard. you’re his girlfriend, he loves you, he’s said it so many times in every way he could think to. what’s different about it now?

everyone puts way too much pressure on giving the perfect gift when they should really just be enjoying each other’s company on a holiday about love. or, in your words, a meaningless holiday that was created by capitalists as another excuse to take people’s money.

alright, you aren’t too fond of valentine’s day.

it makes anyone who’s single feel like shit and anyone who’s in a relationship lose their shit.

only mj agreed when you shared your criticisms. ned and betty gave you looks like you were insane, and flash muttered something about you being undateable. peter had laughed and swung an arm around your shoulders, but he didn’t fully agree.

although valentine’s day has its flaws, peter likes to see it as twenty four hours of extra appreciation for the people in his life. you can buy chocolate for your friends and family. it doesn’t have to be a significant other, really. him and ned would do it before he had you and ned had betty.

peter wants to remind you how loved you are even if you’re not into the festivities like he is, that bringing him to writing your card. it’s a simple and clinically underrated way of expressing his gratitude. he’d write you love letters every day if he didn’t suck at them.

may comes out of her room to see peter in the same place he’s been since he got home from school. she looks at him through her glasses, smiling as she comes into the room. he’s tapping his pencil on the table, eraser down, searching his mind for anything to write.

“still nothing?” may asks him, making her way over to the cabinets. peter puts down the pencil and sighs. his shoulders slump. “nope. i haven’t gotten past the intro.” “intro, huh?” she teases her newphew and grabs a jar of sauce. “y/n isn’t your teacher, kiddo. you’re not writing her an essay.” she looks at peter over her shoulder. a sheepish smile creeps onto his face.

“you know what i mean.” he reads over the only words on his paper at the moment. dear y/n. he’s starting to feel like spongebob the one time he wrote a paper. “what are you making?” peter asks may so he can temporarily take the focus off his unwritten valentine. “pasta,” may shakes the box in her hand. “and meatballs.”

“should i dial 911 now or wait until we’re in flames?” peter jokes about her awful cooking skills. may shoos him off and puts the box of pasta on the counter. “worry about your own kitchen nightmare.” she nods at the sheet of paper tormenting him. frowning, he glances back at her. “i’m the worst, may. i really don’t know what to write.”

may struggles to open the jar of sauce as she replies. “i thought you said- jesus.” it pops off. “y/n doesn’t like valentine’s day.” she slides over a pot from the stove and dumps the sauce in. peter stares up at the ceiling. “she doesn’t.” that’s probably why he’s having such a hard time. “why are you writing her a card, then?” may questions, turning on a burner.

“because, i dunno, it’s nice? it’ll make her happy? she might not care, but i do.” he mumbles the last part. he’s a bit of a hopeless romantic, so he hasn’t quite adjusted to the idea you had of not getting each other presents. you’re treating it like a regular day. some takeout and cuddles is all you’re doing.

peter would rather buy you things until his pockets are empty. not that there’s much in them, anyway. the point is that you deserve proper spoiling instead of corny words in his shitty handwriting.

“peter, honey. it might be better to stick with what y/n wants,” may suggests while stirring the sauce in the pot. she’s well aware that a few paragraphs from peter won’t change your mind. your opinions belong to you, and there’s nothing he can do about it, though he does have good intentions.

ignoring what may just said, peter makes a request. “what if you help me write it?” she faces the stove again. he can picture her playful smile when she quirks back, “she’s not my girlfriend.” “no, but you’re a girl... a woman,” he corrects himself, earning a scoff from may. “you’d probably know what sounds good.”

“you know y/n better than me, peter. do it on your own,” she exhales and turns back around with the wooden spoon in her hand. “it’ll be more... heartfelt.” peter hates that may is right because he’s completely stuck. his heart is being stupid today. “okay. i’ll try.” he gives her a slow nod. “why don’t you take a break? come stir the sauce. i’ll start the pasta.”

peter gets up from the table and grabs the spoon from may. she pinches his cheek on her way to the sink, getting a tight lipped smile from him.

this is not good.

the next day at school, peter asks around the lunch table for advice while you’re on line getting food. he feels guilty about it because may told him not to. he’s never going to get your valentine done if he doesn’t, though. it isn’t the worst thing in the world to bring on some co-writers.

“ok, what do you have so far?” betty asks, fully invested in the situation. she’s hoping this will switch up your views on valentine’s day. peter pulls out the same piece of paper from last night and says verbatim what’s on it. “dear y/n.” he looks up at ned and betty, the corners of his mouth twitching down. ned motions with his hand for peter to go on.

“that’s it,” peter confesses and folds the paper back up in shame. “dude, you told us it was a work in progress,” ned winces, betty taking his hand that’s resting on her shoulder. “where’s the progress?” betty patronizes him. they’re making him feel worse than he already did. what great co-writers he’s collaborating with.

peter throws a hand up, an eye roll included. “yeah, it’s terrible. can you help me or not?” mj narrows her own eyes at peter from the other end of his bench. she’s not interested in participating when the conversation is about forcing you to celebrate a holiday you don’t like.

“ooh!” betty squeals and squeezes ned’s hand. “you should make a list.” ned grins, leaning his head on hers. “genius, babe.” “a list of what?” peter furrows his eyebrows as he looks between the two of them. “what you love about y/n,” she explains, ned adding on, “stuff you do together, or you appreciate.”

“put whatever you come up with into sentences and voilà,” betty says in her best french accent. “oui oui,” ned agrees, both of them giggling. that doesn’t sound half bad. peter could manage a list about you. “thank you so much, guys. you literally just saved valentine’s day,” he confidently tucks his paper into his pocket. “it’s what we do,” ned tells him coolly.

“you never asked what i think,” mj cuts in, staring down her friends, who reluctantly meet her gaze. she pushes her bag of goldfish aside and raises an eyebrow. “mj, we know how you feel about valentine’s day.” peter presses his lips together. “y/n feels the same way,” mj reminds him dryly.

it’s true, but he doesn’t want to hear that right now. he’s having a breakthrough.

like clockwork, you appear at the table. you slip into the spot next to peter and put down your lunch tray. “what’d i miss?” you comment on the obvious tension, eyeing betty for an explanation. mj gives it to you. “valentine’s day discourse,” she tells you knowingly. peter shifts in his seat, uncomfortable, like he’s been caught doing something he isn’t supposed to.

he technically has.

“yuck,” you murmur, winding your arms around peter’s neck. “yuck, yuck, yuck.” he finds your words ironic because you then kiss his cheek, and peck his lips when he turns his head. peter puts a hand on your side and lets his eyes go up and down your face. a smile spreads across it, which he returns without thinking about. mj huffs in disapproval. she’s seen enough pda.

peter makes his list later that night. he decided he isn’t being inauthentic because he’s coming up with everything himself. he breezes right through it, jotting down what he loves most about you across the paper. it’s a mess. scribbled out misspellings and shreds of eraser, single words and whole phrases covering both sides. he’s proud of his actual progress.

he’ll write the official letter tomorrow since you’re coming over tonight. he at least has his material. the next, thankfully final, step is to reword it.

you’re ranting to peter about some drama with one of your teachers. he listens intently as always, chuckling when you crack jokes and grinning the entire time, feeling so lucky to have the most passionate, say whatever is on her mind girlfriend ever. seriously, it’s inspiring to watch.

“no, like, i never know what’s going on in that class,” you snort, peter snaking his arms around your middle from behind. “because you don’t pay attention,” he hums with his face nuzzled into the back of your neck. “because it doesn’t make any sense!” you defend yourself. his lips brush against your bare skin, drawing a giggle out of you.

“back to what i was saying,” your voice drips with sarcasm. the two of you naturally gravitate to his room, you walking in first. “she called on me, and i- what’s this?” you escape peter’s arms and head over to his desk. crap, he was working on your valentine and forgot to put it away. it caught your attention because it’s surrounded by crumpled papers and glitter.

peter was... experimenting... with designs for the front of the card. he’s learned that he isn’t too artistic either.

“wait, don’t read that,“ peter tries, but you’ve already got the list in your hands. he anxiously sucks his lower lip into his mouth and comes to stand next to you.

you first see the ‘dear y/n,’ then focus in on a few other words. my person forever, which makes you coo at the paper. insane (in the best way), which makes you gasp dramatically. i know you don’t like valentine’s day, but...

you drop the card back on the desk and let out a breath, shutting your eyes as irritation creeps in. it wouldn’t be fair for you to be mad at peter because it’s a sweet gesture, it really is. just, not for you personally. you’re on opposite sides of the valentine’s spectrum. you despise it, he sort of loves it. you’d hoped to meet somewhere in the middle.

“i thought we said no gifts,” you keep your voice level and spin around to look at peter. his face is painted with guilt. “it’s a card,” he murmurs, then meets your eyes with his brows knitted together. “i can’t even give you a card?” “i mean...” you shrug and shake your head. “look, peter. we had an agreement. i’m not doing valentine’s day.”

his disappointment comes out in the form of hanging his head. “yeah, you’re right. sorry.”

may tried to tell him this would happen, mj tried to tell him, and now you’re telling him. he should’ve expected it. he isn’t sure why he’s being so mopey about it because he was fully aware of your hatred for anything with the word valentine in it. it still hurts. peter just wishes you’d let him have the one day to love you and only you, give you some special attention.

“it’s nothing against you, babe,” you reassure him, noticing the shift in his mood. you put a hand on his shoulder. “i really just don’t like valentine’s day. it feels so... fake to me.” peter musters up a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. it drops when you loop your arms around his torso.

“if i celebrated, you’d be the first person i’d wanna spend it with.” you punctuate your words with a kiss to his cheek. he rests his chin on your head, you nuzzling your own cheek into his sweater. he’s feeling a bit better now. it’s not about him, that’s what he needs to remind himself. “thanks, baby,” peter speaks lowly into the air. you hum as if to say no problem.

scratch literally everything he’s done.

peter rolls over in his bed, rubbing at his eyes as his alarm goes off. it’s today. happy valentine’s day to... himself. he doesn’t think you’d want to hear it.

he’s not as broken up about everything as the other day. you have your reasons for not celebrating, and peter accepts them. hey, he still gets to spend the whole day with you. you’re technically having an unspoken valentine’s date.

he gets up from his bed with a yawn and starts to dig through his drawers for an outfit. you should be over soon.

before you head over to peter’s, you decide to make a quick stop at cvs for a few things. you ended up feeling pretty terrible about snapping on him essentially for loving you. it was over a harmless valentine, something to make you feel good and be an outlet for the hundreds of romantic bones in his body. basically, you were bitter about having a thoughtful boyfriend.

you want to make it up to him by giving him gifts instead. you’ll never be down with the whole exploitive and capitalistic side of valentine’s day, but there’s a deeper meaning to it than what you give it credit for. you see that now. peter was able to show his love for you through a homemade mess of a card, and you felt it. the price tags don’t matter. the meaning does.

dressed in his nicest sweater with his hair all styled, peter answers your knocking at his door. a grin instantly paints his face as he takes you in. you’re bundled up in a coat and holding a bag by your side. “hey,” he greets you and lets you past him. you shut the door behind him, returning the smile and winding an arm around his neck for a hug. his drapes around your back.

“hey. happy valentine’s day.” “happy valentine’s-“ peter realizes what he’s about to say and what you just said, then stops himself. “what?” he breaks the hug, squinting at your odd behavior. you’re the last person he’d expected to hear that from. “it’s valentine’s day. so, happy valentine’s day,” you tell him like it’s nothing.

he stays quiet while you shrug off your coat and throw it over one of the kitchen chairs. you bring your bag along with you, peter following you in. he’s suspicious. intrigued, and suspicious. it’s been less than a day since he last say you. you had a change of heart that fast? you aren’t the biggest valentine’s day anti he knows anymore?

“where’s may?” you wonder aloud, taking both of peter’s hands in your now free ones. he eyes the shopping bag you put down while you lace your fingers together. “with happy. they’re getting brunch.” he’s never particularly psyched to talk about their relationship. it’s always been in a joking way, though. now, he sounds genuinely upset to go over may’s whereabouts.

“they’re so cute,” you comment, tugging on peter’s hands so he looks at you. “you good?” “great,” peter half lies and nods, then presses a reassuring kiss to your cheek. he’s not bad. puzzled is the word. what you say next only adds to it.

“good. i have a few things for you,” you beam at him and grab your shopping bag off the chair. that’s what that’s for? peter isn’t fully sure what you’re up to. it doesn’t stop a smile from stretching across his lips, though.

“what happened to no presents?” he tests you as you reach into the bag. “well, i feel bad about how i acted the other day.” you pull out a heart shaped box of chocolates. “the card was really sweet, and i was too caught off guard to appreciate it. i’m sorry, pete.” peter’s eyes twinkle at you, gazing as you give him a smile with a hint of shyness behind it. you’re leaving your comfort zone and entering his.

“i was wrong and cynical and just, yeah. happy valentine’s day,” you add on and shove the box into his hand. he finally grins, so wide and then lets out a breathy laugh. “thanks, y/n. i know it was probably hard to shop being surrounded by this stuff.” he holds up the box. he’s right. you’ll unfortunately be seeing pink and red for weeks. “it was, but i did it for you.” you happily open up your arms for him.

peter puts down the chocolates and pulls you into his arms, his cheek squished against the side of your head as he hugs you to his chest. “oh my god, i love you so much,” he mumbles out, you squeezing him in response. “i love you, pete.” you press a quick kiss to his neck and hold him at arm’s length so you can see him. “i have something else for you.”

“baby,” peter coos, a pout on his lips. “you don’t have to do all of this. i would’ve been fine without the chocolates, even.” “stop, you deserve it,” you shut down the part of him that’s way too nice and selfless. “you’re my real present,” he says lower and with a toothy smile. shaking your head, you reach behind you and into the bag.

he can’t believe you’ve switched stances on valentine’s day. you’re the present pusher, and he’s refusing them. peter thinks it’s some sort of miracle that you’re not only acknowledging the holiday, you’re also partaking in it. his hopeless romantic side tells him it’s actually love, and it is. that’s the cheesy, hallmark movie truth. you suffered through shopping at a heart themed cvs because you love him. simple.

you return with a pink envelope that you place into peter’s hand. his face softens as he closes his fingers around it. “y/n, you made me a card?” “kind of,” you laugh at his overstatement. it’s obviously pre-made. you’d used a pen to fill it out in the store, scribbled a few words and tucked it into the envelope.

“it really doesn’t compare to yours, though,” you simultaneously warn and compliment him. peter dismisses you with a lighthearted click of his tongue. “oh, shush. that was only a rough draft.” “which proves my point even more. open it.” you grip onto the bottom of his sweater and grin.

he keeps his eyes on you while ripping open the envelope, then looks down and chuckles at the gag of the card. it has r2d2 and r4d4 from star wars on the front. inside is already written, “r4 is red and r2 is blue. if i was the force then i’d be with you.” you giggle to yourself, watching him read what you wrote next. i love you more every day, especially on valentine’s. xo, y/n.

peter holds the card to his side and slings an arm around your waist. “they make star wars valentines?” he murmurs, another smile breaking out on his face, one that you of course return. you use his sweater to pull him closer. “apparently. perfect for you.” peter tosses the card down next to the chocolates, both arms now holding you.

“thank you so much, baby. you’re an angel,” he sighs and pecks your lips after. “call me cupid,” you answer.

you give him a longer kiss back, tilting your head up to deepen it. your hands find their place on his biceps, earning a hum from peter as he moves his lips against yours. you can feel his love in every little movement, how he hugs your waist like you’re made of glass, rests his forehead against yours. when your lips mutually detach, peter speaks first, voice slightly husky.

“happy valentine’s day, cupid.”

you breathe out, peter closing his eyes in content.

“happy valentine’s day, r2.”

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland smut #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker smut

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imagineredwood · 3 years

Text

Atonement

Summary: Miguel gave you strict instructions; instructions that you went above and beyond to disobey. Now you have to deal with the consequences.

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x reader

Warnings: Implied sexual content, sex toys, Dom/sub undertones, punishments

Word count: 2,960

A/N: How are y’all feeling about this one?

“Miguel, come on!”

The cartel leader shook his head as he shrugged into his jacket, his face showing no empathy for you nor any remorse.

“You disobeyed me and now this is your punishment. There will be no negotiations.”

He had been overwhelmingly busy this week, working hard to clean up his public image and make sure that future business partners were convinced that he was legit. Between architecture and agriculture, he had rubbed elbows and shook hands with many people this week and he knew that he needed to be focused for it. That was why he had asked you to make sure you only reached out to him if it was an absolute emergency. For anything else, you were to call Nestor or one of the other guards.

So when his phone had begun buzzing, the screen showing that you were trying to facetime him, he had gotten worried and excused himself from the meeting, only to answer the call and be confronted with the sight of you laying in your shared luxurious bed, toys scattered all around you as you writhed and arched, the most mischievous smile on your face. Miguel had hung up without a word and had given you what you had thought was your punishment.

But this morning you had woken up to the sound of him locking up the safe, your toys now secured behind the near-impenetrable metal. He had also erased your plan before you had even said it out loud.

‘I changed the code so you can’t get in. Don’t even try.’

And now he was going away for business, not due to be back for another four days. All the while you were expected to not use any of your toys, and it hadn’t mattered how much you had begged and pleaded; the boss had not budged.

With that, he was grabbing his sunglasses from the top of your shared dresser and keeping them in his hand. Taking three steps toward you, he reached forward and placed his hand on the back of your neck, binging you forward toward him. His lips were warm and soft as he pressed them first to your lips and then to your forehead.

“Be a good girl and I’ll make it up to you when I come back home.”

Your pout was pronounced as you looked at him through your lashes, voice small and persuasive.

“But daddy…”

Miguel sucked his teeth before giving a small chuckle, impressed with you hard you were trying.

“Usually that will work but not this time, baby. You’re just gonna have to suck it up. Maybe next time you’ll think twice before teasing me when you know I need to be focused on these new business deals.”

He was pulling away from you then and walking out of the bedroom in silence as you trailed behind him all the way down the stairs and to the front door, Nestor already by the car waiting for him outside.

“Miguel, please. Just let me get one out. Just one.”

He did not even respond to your plea, only told you that he loved you as he walked out of the door, your frustration growing more and more with each passing second. With a huff, you closed the door behind him and stalked inside, trying to think of something else to get your mind off the fact that other than your fingers, you had no way of bringing yourself pleasure, at least not how you were used to. And as luck would have it, the knowledge that you had no access to your assortment of bliss had you craving them even more than normal.

You walked around the house and tidied up, dusting, and organizing, rearranging your perfumes on the beige marble bathroom counter. You made a snack and sat outside to feel the wind on your face. You did everything you could to try and get your mind off the punishment that you had been dealt out, but it didn’t seem to be working. You still felt needy as ever and your phone lighting up with a text from Miguel did not help. Opening it up, you saw the little airplane emoji that he always sent when he was already taking off and you grumbled. How dare he leave you here without any toys? You felt yourself growing irritated about it again, the brat in you firing up.

Then you had a thought.

And if Miguel had still been there, he would have known that the smirk that appeared on your lips meant trouble.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

You hummed to yourself cheerfully as you walked back inside, package in hand. You had spent a good hour late-night scrolling through your favorite site for toys, picking out a new one and you did not hold back. If Miguel wanted to leave you high and dry, you would just have to make do. So, you had bought the expensive toy that you had been eyeing for months; the one Miguel said you couldn’t get because he wanted you to wait until he got it for your birthday.

You had decided in your bratty nature to buy the toy regardless, spending the extra money to have it overnighted.

And used his card to purchase it no less.

You knew Miguel wasn’t going to be upset about the money as that was no object. It was the principle and the flat-out, premeditated disobedience. That was what was going to get you into the biggest trouble. You took the package to your bathroom and then set it up with his card next to it, snapping a quick photo before sending it to Miguel with the caption ‘Hope you don’t mind. You always said to use the card for whatever I need.’

With your death warrant now signed, you put the phone to the side and began unboxing the toy, cleaning it thoroughly. You were setting it down to dry when your phone buzzed, Miguel’s reply waiting to be read. Your heart was stammering in anticipation and it took you a handful of seconds to pick the phone back up. When you did it was a quite simple warning.

‘Leave it in the box. If it’s still packaged when I get back, I’ll make it easier on you.’

Your heart skipped a beat. It was easier when you were making the choice to make things harder for yourself. You were already done for now though and you knew it as you looked over the shredded box it had come in. There was no way for you to fake it or even cover your tracks and with a sigh, you reached for the toy, the anticipation of what Miguel was going to do to you once he returned making you sweat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

The days flew by soon enough, Nestor was texting you that he and Miguel were on their way, ten minutes out.

Of course, your bratty attitude had faded quickly after you had found your release and it did not take long for the guilt to settle in. You felt bad for being disobedient and you felt bad for using his card to do it. The prospect of whatever punishment he was going to unleash on you also did nothing for soothing your worries and you found yourself in a position that was familiar.

Guilty and remorseful now that you had gotten what you wanted.

You knew Miguel wasn’t going to actually be mad at you, nor would he ever deal out a punishment that you weren’t ok with, but that didn’t make the anticipation any less intimidating. You had done everything that you could do try and weaken the blow when it came. You had followed all his other rules, including never leaving the house without a guard, keeping your phone on at all times, and making sure to eat well-balanced meals throughout your days, not just quick snacks.

You had a good feeling that those things wouldn’t matter though.

Soon enough the front door was opening, and Miguel was walking through it along with Nestor, both dressed down and looking somewhat tired after the flight. You smiled as they walked in, both men returning it. It was already well into the evening and dinner was ready, the table set. Nestor walked past you first, leaning down for a quick hug before closing and locking the door behind Miguel. Now it was Miguel’s turn and you stepped toward him hesitantly, trying to read the room. He smiled as he saw you, appearing as if nothing were wrong. Almost as if he had forgotten your transgression, though you knew that was never the case.

The cartel boss hugged you tightly, pressing a kiss to your lips that was just as full of love as it always was, and you relished in it. Pulling away, he smiled as he took a deep breath, smelling the food.

And then just like that, he was walking away from you and toward the kitchen.

With brows knitted, you followed behind him, not used to him leaving you alone so quickly after coming back home and not seeing you for days. He was sitting down at the head of the table as per usual, unbuttoning the first two top buttons on his shirt and rolling up his sleeves. The cook was already plating and serving, and you happily trotted over to take your seat next to your husband as you did every night, only for him to shake his head and point to the seat exactly opposite of him at the furthest end of the table.

“You can sit over there tonight.”

He didn’t even dignify you with a look, simply began arranging his silverware as he waited for his plate. You on the other hand stood like a fish out of water, not even knowing what to do or think. Nestor was beginning to make his way over and so Miguel spoke again with a lower tone.

“Did I stutter?”

Consumed by confusion, you relented and made your way over to sit where he had instructed, Nestor’s dark brow arching as he saw you in such an unfamiliar place at the table. Not daring to question Miguel, he simply took his own seat, and soon dinner was in front of everyone.

You sat and ate, listening to Miguel and Nestor talk between bites as they went over plans for this next coming week. Something about a meeting on Wednesday in the morning and you smiled internally, thankful that since it was in the morning, it wouldn’t conflict with your weekly Wednesday evening ice cream plans. Swallowing your bite of food, you inquired about Miguel’s trip.

“How was the flight, babe?”

Your question fell on deaf ears however, Miguel simply picking back up the conversation with Nestor that he had started, ignoring you entirely. You and Nestor exchanged a look, the guard’s eyes leaving yours quickly and returning to his plate, not feeling like getting in the middle of whatever the two of you had going on. You realized then that this was going to be your punishment and despite there not being any overstimulation or spankings, you could quickly tell that this was going to be one of the worst punishments you had ever been dealt out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

It was bedtime now and you were doing your skincare when Miguel came into the bathroom, stepping up to his sink right beside you and beginning to brush his teeth. With your moisturizer and serum done, you washed your hands quickly before coming up behind him, wrapping your arms around his bare middle.

“I missed you.”

Miguel mumbled around his toothbrush and continued with his dental hygiene. He had kept up the charade all night and you were desperately hoping that he would put a stop to it by the time you were both slipping into bed. You held onto him as he finished up, wiping his mouth, and then drying his face before standing. You stayed holding him, pressing small kisses to his back in hopes that he would take pity on you. Your voice was small as you apologized.

“I’m sorry for not listening and for being a brat.”

It sounded foreign coming from you; usually, you could pay for your forgiveness with your body. You weren’t used to having to apologize. At least not for being a brat. The cartel leader simply turned around in your arms and you smiled, figuring that the punishment was over only for him to hold onto your elbows and gently remove your arms from him, walking away from you and into the bedroom to go to bed.

Once more you stood like a statue with your mouth open, unable to believe that he was ignoring you still. The behavior stung for a moment and then it made you irritated, that remorse and need for forgiveness from earlier disappearing. With a huff, you stripped everything off and then made your way into the bedroom behind him, Miguel already in bed facing away from your side and giving you his back. You climbed in bedside him and tried to snuggle up into him, voice sultry and wanton and you stroked his bare skin.

“Miguellllll. Please baby, just talk to me. I missed you.”

The man shrugged you and stayed facing away if only to stop you from seeing on his face how badly he wanted you.

“Go to sleep, mi amor.”

He paid you no mind after that, not even when you rolled over onto your back and began to run your hands over your naked body, wishing desperately that they were his. Your soft moans and whimpers made him rock hard, but you couldn’t tell, his discipline and self-control top tier. You tried and tried but to no avail. Giving up, you grumbled and covered yourself with the blanket, muttering out a goodnight and not expecting a response.

“Goodnight. I love you.”

That little bit of reciprocation made you smile, and you knew you would be able to crack him by tomorrow.

“I love you too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

It was now three days since your punishment had begun and all battiness had evaded you. You no longer wished to be a pain, nor did you want to keep pushing his buttons. You just wanted to have your husband back. You wanted to have him cuddle and caress you the way he always did. To hold you for a full half-hour in the mornings when you wake up. To let you sit on his lap while he does paperwork at his desk. To press kisses to your forehead while telling you how important you were to him before bed. You missed it all, and with eyes that were due to fill with tears at any moment, you walked yourself into his office. He looked up as you entered, his eyes flinching as he saw the sadness in your features. There were a few tense moments of staring at each other before you cracked and walked over to him. He stood as you made your way over, not an ounce of defiance in you anymore.

He faced you as you came to a stop in front of him, eyes dark and warm as they looked at you. You stood defeated, fully aware that you had lost this one.

“You’ve made your point.”

Your voice was quiet, a touch of misery audible. Miguel simply chuckled, never taking his eyes off you.

“Have I?”

You nodded, looking at him through your lashes, hands clasped together in front of you.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I fucked up.”

“Yeah, you did.”

You nodded once more, struggled with trying to apologize as he stared at you, waiting.

“I shouldn’t have facetimed you that day when I knew that you were busy, and I shouldn’t have gone around my punishment.”

“And?”

You winced and looked down, laughing nervously.

“And I shouldn’t have used your card to buy the toy.”

“And?”

You sunk down further and further into yourself with every prompt, uncomfortable to say the least.

“And I shouldn’t have rubbed it in your face by sending you the picture.”

Miguel stayed looking at you for a handful of seconds with an unreadable face before nodded, his shoulders relaxing some from their raised position of dominance.

“So, what do you say?”

You didn’t hesitate, knowing that it was best to simply get it over with.

“I’m sorry and I hope you forgive me. I promise I won’t ever do it again.”

He stared at you for a little while more, putting on the heat before he let the side of his mouth lift slightly. His hand reached out to you, cradling the side of your face gently. It was the first affectionate touch you had received from him in the near four days after your fuck up and it felt so good you could cry. Eyes closing on their own, your head leaned into his touch, your own hands coming up to hold his where it was. You nuzzled into his palm as much as you could, the cartel leader letting out a soft sigh of content as he watched you relish in his touch.

“You had to learn your lesson.”

You nodded, eyes still closed for a moment before you opened them.

“I did.”

Miguel nodded himself and offered you a loving smile, tugging you into him.

“Then all is forgiven.”

He was hugging you tightly then, his own eyes closing as he enjoyed the sensation of having you in his arms again.

“That was harder for me than it was for you.”

You scoffed and shook your head against his shoulder.

“Doubt it.”

He chuckled, happy to have things back to the way they should be.

“Maybe you’re right.”

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#miguel galindo #Mayans MC #miguel x reader #galindo cartel #mayans imagine #miguel galindo x reader #mayans fx #imagines

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anntoldst0ries · 3 years

Text

Coda (Ethan x MC)

Book: Open Heart 3, Chapter 7 Pairing: Dr Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr Noelle Valentine) Word Count: 3.1k Rating: 18+ (NSFW) Summary: Things got heated between Dr Ramsey and Dr Valentine during Bloom’s event. Will they finish what they’ve started?

Warning: This fic contains adult content, don’t read if you’re a minor.

A/N: Happy Easter, folks! So, let’s pretend this horror of a dress (which, let’s be honest, even Bloom’s PA wouldn’t wear) never happened. Also, this is my first time ever publishing NSFW fic, so please be understanding 🙈 That being said, I always appreciate feedback and am forever grateful for all of you, because you help me grow 💜

Huge shoutout to Bree @jamespotterthefirst who was so lovely to pre-read it and actually encouraged me to post, girl you are golden and I just cannot thank you enough! We are all so lucky to have you 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼😍

Even though he was trying to be sensible about this, every molecule of sense left him during his left palm’s chance encounter with Noelle Valentine’s bare thigh.

But has anything about their touching bodies ever been truly accidental?

Although, if he was honest, this was just the culmination point.

His rational mind’s death by a thousand cuts.

It all started when she entered the premises of the venue in her provocative dress and he had to blink rapidly a few times, thinking that his eyes were deceiving him, breath trapped in his throat.

Cut.

Her every step gracious and light, as if she’s been the human embodiment of a wood nymph.

As if she’s stolen the world's entire allure.

Cut.

Her silky waves, cascading like a waterfall - he wanted to dive into them, lose himself in them.

Drown in them.

Cut.

She was a prodigy, a goddess descending from mount Olympus, who, for some mysterious reason, decided to grace the mortals with her overwhelming presence.

Some guests were standing agape, the others smiled wide and showered her with rain of compliments; a few people had tiny lightnings of jealousy flickering in their eyes.

But no one was left indifferent by her grand entrance.

Strangely, Ethan didn’t feel jealousy.

In fact, he couldn’t be more proud.

His eyes, like x-rays, have relentlessly been reminding him of the perfect shapes hiding under the layers of the sophisticated, silky material. In this regard, he envied everyone else. Unlike him, imagination was all they had.

He knew. He touched. He teased. He tasted. He caressed.

Sometimes, ignorance was truly a bliss.

Today, ignorance was certainly not going to help him get through this evening.

* * * * * *

He almost lost it on the balcony.

Then, the sudden appearance of musicians interrupted them.

He wasn’t startled.

He was angry.

Freaking Bloom and his jazz band, he thought to himself. How on earth was he constantly able to rain on Ethan’s parade, even when they weren’t physically in the same room?

Noelle’s pearly laugh dissipated all thoughts in an instant, her impossibly beautiful face now turned to him. Entwining their hands, Ethan knew he had no choice but to play along.

Inside, he was laughing out of the other side of his mouth.

They were coming back to the room full of buffoons and right now her presence was as comforting as it was driving him further into insanity.

Before he was even able to sit down, someone has already slipped a drink into his hand and when Ethan was ready to sigh and curse the fate that sent him to Bloom’s 4th circle of hell*, a sudden realisation struck him.

This evening wasn’t lost yet.

In fact, it wasn’t lost at all.

And as he was thinking, a small smile ran past his lips.

The answer was right there in front of him.

* * * * * *

“Dr Ramsey, you’re still here?” Ethan had heard the unwanted and all too loud voice, followed by an even more unwanted pat on the back, accompanied by his nemesis’ reddened face and alcohol breath.

He plastered a fake smile, mustering the remains of politeness.

“You didn’t strike me as a party type, I thought you’d be making excuses a long time ago.” Leland grinned like a Cheshire cat. For a second, an outsider could have almost thought these two hold each other in high regard.

Almost being the key word.

“This is the most pleasant surprise.” Leland continued. “You see, I am rarely wrong, so it’s one of these moments when not only am I wrong, but also being wrong actually makes me happy.” He laughed as if he’s just delivered the best punch line in the world.

“Well, we are representing the hospital after all and I wouldn’t be too much of an example if I left before the rest of my team.” Ethan put on his best charming smile, not without a superhuman effort.

You don’t play the game, you play the opponent, he reminded himself.

“It looks like we are finally agreeing on something, doctor.” A sleazy smile ran past his lips, as he left to mingle with another circle. Inside, Ethan shuddered. There was just something about Bloom that didn’t add up and he was yet to figure what it was… but now his focus shifted to something else entirely.

Just like he predicted (or diagnosed, if you will) with every sip, every passing minute, the guests were falling deeper and deeper into inebriation - the excellent staff made sure that every time someone emptied their glass, a new dose of liquid happiness was ready for them. Dr Ramsey knew this must have been Bloom’s doing.

They may have had money and resources but during these events, they were like wild animals held captive and then suddenly let loose. Their problem was that they thought money could pay for everything, but it certainly couldn’t buy back dignity, redeem bad manners and erase terrible first impressions.

Tonight, he will use this flawed logic to his advantage.

* * * * * *

Noelle was sitting across the table, not even trying to hide anymore that whatever the tech moguls were trying to sell, she wasn’t buying.

Neither their fancy apps nor their bullshit.

Ethan finished yet another glass of scotch and stood up, his height towering over everyone else at the table.

“Well, it’s about time I was moving. Thank you for a very… revelatory evening, gentlemen.” The other table occupiers didn’t even pay too much attention and murmured something, shifting their focus back to the beautiful female doctor. “Dr Valentine, can I offer you a ride home? That is, if you were planning to leave soon…”

“That would be great, thank you, Dr Ramsey.” If her eyes could speak up, they would have definitely thanked him for throwing her a lifebelt.

“Fantastic, meet me outside in 10 minutes then? I have…one more business to attend to beforehand.”

She wasn’t exactly sure what it was — the look, the pause between words, the accentuation - but something told her that whatever business he meant, she was very much a part of it.

Her suspicion has soon turned out to be justified, as his tall figure wandered off and disappeared around the corner.

A corner he had absolutely no reason to disappear around.

The younger doctor waited a minute before making her excuses and assuring her companions that a future partnership with Edenbrook couldn’t look any brighter, Noelle turned around and followed the man in black suit.

Walking as fast as her hurting feet and long gown were allowing her, Noelle entered a long corridor at the back of the fancy restaurant and had to admit that even this place, which must have simply led to different utility rooms, looked spectacular and stylish. Almost like those fairytale corridors, which lead to other dimensions.

But only if a voice summons you and guides you there.

Just as the thought popped into her head, a firm grip tightened around one of her wrists, making her jump.

When she turned around, his index finger was on his lips in a clear message.

Quiet.

They only made a couple of steps before he cautiously opened the door and rushed her into a room. It looked like a sophisticated pantry or a wine cellar and she thought the stock must have been worth more than her annual salary.

The room was dark, bar for the little window, which wasn’t much helpful with providing the light, given that the world outside was hugged by the arms of the night.

“Ethan, what’s goi—“ She never had a chance to finish the sentence, before he took her breath away with his lips, not for the first time this evening. He didn’t stop there, pushing her towards the counter, like a famished animal backing its victim into the corner.

“You said you’ll be looking for an encore, didn’t you?” She was trying to accustom her sight to the darkness, the gleam in the blue of his eyes her only reference point.

“Although, if I’m not mistaken and my opera knowledge is still sharp, I think coda** is actually the word you’re looking for.”

She stilled, a shiver running through her spine, the electric feel both hot and cold. An audible swallow filled the silence that lingered after his words, not for long as he continued his monologue.

“And I’m sorry, Dr Valentine, but I’m not a patient man today…I’ve exhausted all my patience on senseless endeavours this evening.” Almost as if to prove the sincerity of his words, he started moving towards her, his every gesture deliberate; there was no space for randomness.

Every word hit her like a wrecking ball, her remaining senses overkeen. She couldn’t rely on her eyes anymore and her hearing, smell and touch suddenly became heavily heightened, almost supernatural.

She couldn’t reflect on this for too long though, as he backed her further towards the counter, blocking her moves.

“H-how… how do you know no one’s gonna come in?”

Even in the dark, she could see the corners of his lips going up, in a smile which wasn’t affectionate. It was dark, almost sinister.

And hot as hell.

Ethan leaned into her and dropped his voice even lower than she thought was humanly possible, whispering straight into her ear.

“I don’t, but… my diagnostic instincts rarely fail me, Noelle Valentine. Plus… that’s a part of the thrill, isn’t it?” He paused for a second to gloat upon the effect his ministrations had on her. Dr Ramsey enjoyed controlling the situation - more than he’d care to admit.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t fantasised of this, of losing yourself in me completely… except you couldn’t, because of a tiny detail, a stubborn question in your pretty head… what if someone walks in on us? What if it happens when you are overwhelmed by pure ecstasy, knowing there is no coming back, that the only way is forward…”

Ethan knew immediately that these words hit the jackpot. If she wasn’t before, she was definitely shaking now, her treacherous body betraying her in all ways possible.

That’s how she knew all these months ago. Maybe her mind could, but her body could never lie to Ethan Freaking Ramsey.

Ethan’s hands started roaming her body, discovering his favourite promised land, as if he had not been touching her on that balcony earlier, as if he’d never touched her before.

Because for him, every time with her was first and last. And he hoped things would always feel this way.

“Who are you and what have you done to Ethan Ramsey?”

She couldn’t see the smirk that appeared on his painfully handsome face.

“If I were you, I’d be more worried about what’s to be done to you, Dr Valentine.”

With this, he lifted her up by grabbing her ass and sat her on the counter, pressing her back against the cold wall, which felt strangely warm against her body.

Or not so strangely, given there was a fire inside of her.

Securing her neck with his palm, he pulled her closer for a long, wet and greedy kiss, the obscene sounds of their mouths filling the otherwise silent space.

“Touch me.” A silent plea fell off her lips, her voice a quiet sob. Usually, he’d enjoy teasing her forever, playing little games, checking how far she would go to get what she wanted. But not tonight.

Tonight… he’s gonna give her exactly what she wants.

Because he wants it even more.

His middle and index finger slipped past the silky material of the dress and the band of her underwear. Noelle parted her lips slightly and drew a shallow breath, waiting in anticipation. Her wish was granted a couple of seconds later, when he ran up and down her folds, eliciting a small, guttural moan, which he was sure would forever be his favourite sound in the whole world.

Before she was even able to get used to the feeling, he pushed 2 digits into her without warning, making her eyes wide with amazement. But the movement stilled a second later. Maybe he couldn’t not tease her after all.

“Please.” The sound that came out of her was almost inaudible, yet extremely high pitched. Even if he tried, Ethan simply didn’t know the words that could come close to describing what these reactions were doing to him.

“You know I will give you the world… I will give you anything you want, Noelle. You just need to tell me what it is that you desire.”

She didn’t know what was the biggest turn on - his sultry voice dripping with desire, the feeling of his digits inside her or the well thought out choice of words. But it gave her an answer immediately.

“Fuck me with your fingers, Ethan.”

There was something shy and yet confident about the way she said it, he couldn’t explain it. Whatever it was, it made him even harder, which, at this point he thought wasn’t humanly possible. Although he was painfully aware of his own desire, he couldn’t rid neither her nor himself of the pleasure of watching her come undone on his fingers.

“As you wish, my naughty girl.”

His fingers started moving in come-hither motion, first slowly and teasingly. Just when she opened her mouth to beg him again, his thumb circled her swollen clit and pressed the sensitive bundle of nerves with precision, sending her mind into overdrive. She had to bite her own shoulder to suppress what she was sure would turn into a scream.

“Fuck… yes, right there.” She was an incoherent mess, while his fingers curved and touched places that made her eyes roll. “Faster, Ethan.” She commanded weakly as his fingers picked up the face, going in and out of her furiously.

She was pleading and moaning for god knows what and her hands were desperate to grip something, just anything.

Soon, he knew as well as she did that the peak was close, for her body kept moving and shaking on its own accord.

“I’m…this…you…” She cried, making even less sense than before.

“I know. Let go… let go now, Noelle. I know you needed this so much. Come for me now, baby.”

Sinking her teeth, this time in his shoulder, and tightening her grip on him, Noelle clenched around his fingers, the feeling so arousing that he thought he’s going to explode himself. He had to hold her with all the strength he had in his free arm, as she was all over the place, trembling, cursing, riding out what must have been one of the strongest orgasms she’s ever experienced.

When the feeling settled, Ethan slowly loosened his grip over her and slid his fingers out, bringing them to his lips. The taste of her astounded him every single time.

“In case I haven’t told you before… nothing can compare to the way you taste. Maybe apart from the way you feel, but I need to check to be certain.”

Before he was able to do so himself, she reached for his belt and unbuckled it hastily, letting his pants pool at his feet. Ethan hissed when she was ridding him of the last layer separating them, his throbbing member oversensitive to the slightest touch. He responded in kind, slipping her thongs down.

He stared at her as if he’s forgotten how to blink before saying:

“If I were you, I’d hold on tight.”

She grabbed the edge of the counter and tightened her grip, leaning onto her other arm, palm pressed flat onto the surface. Ethan positioned himself in front of her and the moment his tip met her sex, a wild lust overtook him completely, from top to bottom. He pushed hard, their bodies finally connecting.

He didn’t waste time to make himself or her feel comfortable. Right now, he wasn’t a guest - he was the invader, the intruder, the conqueror.

“Fuck, it’s impossible you’re still so tight.”

In answer, she clenched her muscles around him even more, earning herself a throaty sound.

“You little minx.”

She was going to be the death of him and what an epic death it would be.

“Ethan, fuck me like you mean it.” Noelle bit her lower lip, knowing the effect this tiny gesture always had on him. He didn’t need anything more. The sound of fast thrusts soon filled the air, making it thick and dense. The race started, two lovers chasing their gratification like it was the last thing they were ever going to do.

This wasn’t vanilla.

It was chilli, whiskey neat and flames.

A dance of carnal desires, intense and salient, leading to the grand finale. Nothing finesse, quite the contrary - a satiation of the most primal of human desires.

Ethan kept thrusting into her so deep that she felt blood when she had to bite her lip, trying to stop the animalistic scream trapped in her throat, begging to be released. She felt every vein, every nerve inside of her, every place he was reaching. Her hands and arms hurt, but her mind, currently controlled by Ethan’s cock moving in and out of her in killer pace, has overridden any physical sensations other than pure pleasure.

“So…so close.” She panted weakly, rolling her eyes as waves of pleasure kept crashing on her.

Leaning into her, he caught her earlobe and as he kissed her ear, Ethan groaned. “You’re so,” thrust, “fucking”, thrust, “hot”, thrust, “when”, thrust, “you come.”

And with that, she came.

Her whole body arched and hot white pleasure turned every cell of her body into bliss. It was like jumping into the pool on a sunny day, submerging yourself completely and then just… floating.

Ethan followed her instantly, her climax triggering his own. They were holding onto each other for dear life, compounding the intensity of their sensations and silently praying for this moment to never, ever stop.

When their breathing returned back to normal a few moments later, the older doctor pushed aside strands of her hair that stuck to her face and then cupped her cheeks.

“You ok?” The tenderness in his voice almost made her heart stop.

As if she hasn’t already been dead.

“Ok? No, I’m not ok. I am pretty fucking great.”

“That you are.” He smiled wide. “You are pretty fucking great.”

“Well you are not too bad yourself. How are you feeling?”

“I feel like I died and was reborn, all at the same time.”

They laughed at each other’s choice of words, still in a tight embrace.

“Ready for the next part, Ramsey?”

“Next part?”

“Now we need to sneak out of here for real.”

* * *

* This is a reference to Dante’s poem “Inferno” from “Divine Comedy”

** coda - The final part of a play, film, or narrative in which the strands of the plot are drawn together and matters are explained or resolved

Tag 🏷 list: @starrystarrytrouble @genevievemd @sophxwithers @terrm9 @maurine07 @the-pale-goddess @drakewalkerfantasy @iemcpbchoices @oldminniemcg @schnitzelbutterfingers @mercury84choices @lsvdw-blog @archxxronrookie @queencarb @qrkowna @utterlyinevitable @lucy-268 @udishaman @stygianflood @romereadingshop @romewritingshop @caseyvalentineramsey @xxsugarplumfluffsxx @liaromancewriter @mrs-ramsey @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @fayeswiftie @tsrookie @lisha1valecha @alina-yol-ramsey @stateofgracious @lem-20 @fireycookie

#Ethan Ramsey x mc #open heart #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey #play choices #Ethan x noelle

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starlight-starwrites · 3 years

Text

home for the holidays

agent whiskey x female reader wc: 4.3k summary: jack daniels has been away on a mission, but promised he’d be back in time for christmas. sure enough as the holiday arrives, he returns and you welcome him back. warning: fluffy smut!! oral (f recieving), piv sex, creampie, some biting, jack talks in bed, you swear at him, dirty jokes note: Merry Christmas from your secret santa @whatanoof !!!! i did not mean to post so late but here we are. i hope you enjoy this one, i really liked writing it!

The menu in front of you offered a plethora of options, but you didn’t need to look at them. You already knew you’d order your usual dish. The drink options however…you scanned those intently. You had the time to anyway, since your date seemed to be late even though he insisted it would take no time at all for him to report to headquarters and then arrive at the restaurant. You’re not surprised he’s taking longer than usual.

The dining room is gorgeous, the ambient lighting and the tall ceilings setting a romantic feel. You were distracted by the twinkling crystal chandeliers at first, but as time passed, your hunger made you focus on the menu instead. Your eyes flit over the page, choosing to ignore the hard liquors to glance at the wines instead.

“Will it just be you tonight?” The voice pulls you from your reading, and you smile up at the young waitress.

“Oh no, I’m just waiting for—”

Before you could continue, you were distracted by a pair of soft lips pressed to your cheek. “Evening, darlin,” Jack slides into view, flashing you a winning smile as he takes a seat across from you. “I hope I’m not too late.”

You sigh in relief at his presence, eyes following his hands as he unbuttons his suit jacket and gets comfortable.

“Just waiting for him.” You smile at him before turning back to the waitress. “Could we get a bottle of your finest wine? Red, please,” you say to her, and she smiles and nods, leaving you two to have a moment.

“Finest red?” Jack leans forward in his seat, still smirking. “You sure know how to spend my money, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I’m not spending your money, Agent Whiskey.”

“What, you buying dinner tonight? My lucky day.”

You laugh. “No, no, dear. This dinner is courtesy of Statesman.”

“Is it now? I didn’t realize this was a work meeting.” He raises an eyebrow, and you notice his smile fall for a moment, as though he really believes you’d bring him here for anything related to the agency.

You giggle again and reach to hold his hand across the table. “As far as Statesman is concerned, I never said it wasn’t…”

The waitress returns, filling both your glasses and leaving the bottle at the table.

“Ain’t you a devious little thing. Alright,” he lifts his full glass, toasting to you. “To Statesman. For dinner with my best girl.”

You lean forward as he rubs his thumb across your knuckles, clinking your glass against his. “To you coming back to me in one piece,” you say earnestly. It’s a moment of honesty, and he catches it, smiling at you with teasing eyes.

“You really that worried about me, darlin?” He pulls your hand closer to him, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile on your face. “Stop that,” you scold him, pulling your hand back to intwine your fingers on the table. “I thought you were smarter than that, Agent.”

He laughs before taking a sip of the wine. He squeezes your hand. “I missed you.”

His eyes flick across your face, and you take in his, admiring his warm, brown eyes, the neat mustache over his plush lips. He must have shaved before he came here you think. His hair is mostly hidden under his black Stetson, but you can see the sides from how he wears his hat. It looks damp, he must have showered too. You smile at the thought, rememorizing the curve of his nose and the crease in his brow.

“I missed you too,” you whisper back.

You smile at each other, relieved to just be in each other’s company, with no more worries for the rest of the season. The waitress comes back in a moment and you order while Jack quickly peruses the menu, too caught up with you to remember the reason for being at the restaurant in the first place. The two of you catch up over the meal, Jack telling you everything that went down—though you believe he may be sparing you some of the details. You let him know what has been happening at HQ while he’s been away, but the two of you eat quickly. There are other things you’d rather be doing.

The waitress returns just as you finish, making sure everything is all right. The food was delicious, and the wine bottle now sits empty at the side.

She picks up your empty plates. “Can I get any dessert for you two?”

As good as some of the options sound, you’re full already, and you give Jack a look.

“I think we’ll be having dessert at home,” he winks at you, and your heart beats faster.

It only takes moments to pay on Statesman’s dime, and then Jack takes his hand in yours to practically drag you away.

He holds your hand as he pulls you out of the restaurant and into the cab, keeps your fingers interlaced as you enter your apartment building and run up the stairs, clasps you tightly as you step into your home, bringing you close and tightening his grip on your hand.

The two of you easily settle in, shedding your coat and shoes before he pulls you back into him. He tells you how good you look, hands roaming over your body as you walk him further backward into the apartment, tells you how much he thought of you as you loosen his tie to unbutton the collar of his shirt.

He ducks his head to kiss you without bumping you with the brim of his hat. His lips were warm and soft against yours and you hum. It’s a sweet, chaste kiss that he repeats before pulling away to look at you.

“Missed you, darlin.” He unbuttons his jacket, shrugging it off and tosses it on the back of the couch without ever looking away from you. His large hands came to cup either side of your face as he leaned in to kiss you again. “Been waiting for this.”

His next kiss leaves you breathless, his mouth moving against yours and taking command. You take the hat from his head, tossing it like a frisbee to the side, not caring where it lands. He leans in as he parts your lips, making you take a small step backward. He follows you closely, walking you across the living area and toward the hall to your shared bedroom.

His hands drift from your face, one moving to cradle the back of your neck as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss. You could still taste the fine wine on his tongue, feel the heat of his breath as he breathed you in. Your stomach fluttered as his other hand drifted down to feel you, sweeping over your shoulder and down your back before he took a handful of your ass. Tensing in his tight grasp, and you laughed into his mouth and reached up to muss his hair. You felt the curve of his lips and the tickle of his mustache on your skin as he smiled back, a deep rumbling chuckle warming you from the inside out.

“Jack.” You whispered it against his smile, relishing in every brush of your lips against his as you spoke. “Take me to bed.”

He grinned at that, and you reached up to fondly trace over the dimple in his cheek.

“Yes ma’am.” His hands came to grip around your waist, spinning you around as you stumbled to the door, the two of you laughing like idiots. Your arms came around his neck, holding your body tightly to his as the two of you passed down the hall, threw open the door, knocking into nearly every piece of furniture as you kissed.

Not wanting to waste another minute, Jack’s arms tightened around you before he nearly tossed you onto the king-sized bed. You bounced onto the plush mattress, laughing at his eagerness, and just barely propped yourself up on your elbows before he was crawling on top of you and pushing you back down.

The soft bed beneath you was much more comfortable when Jack was here, and his passionate kisses erased the memories of lying in his bed alone, praying he would come back safe. Your hands greedily took hold of him, reaching for any and every part of him—you threaded your fingers through his hair, pushed down on his shoulders to press his chest to yours, splayed a hand on his abdomen and slid it up to his collar. Even though his tie dangled between you and got in the way, you took advantage, grasping the red silk—an early gift from you—and using it to pull him back into a kiss when he tried to mouth at your neck.

“Jack, honey, as good as you look in the suit, you are wearing way too much right now.”

His nose bumps yours, and he takes your bottom lip between his teeth. You feel his hands run down the length of your body, over your breasts and down your sides to grasp at your hips, tugging up the skirt of your dress.

“I ain’t the only one, sweetheart.” His lips go to your ear, the words sending shivers down your spine. “I believe I was promised dessert.”

His fingers trail over the skin of your leg, slipping under your skirt and massaging the inside of your thigh, reaching higher and higher until he touches the velvet that covers you. His eyebrows raise and mouth opens as he feels it, quickly looking up at you in surprise.

You smirk at him and lie back, placing a finger over his lips before he can ask. “Why don’t you get me out of this dress then, hmm?”

You know it’s what he’s been thinking about all through dinner, likely long before dinner if you were being honest. He smiles under the press of your finger, excitedly reaching for the zipper in back, pulling at fabric and making you move under him so he can pull it off you, the two of you laughing as you shimmy out of the tight burgundy dress, stealing kisses as though this was still new.

He takes his time getting you comfortable as he presses kisses along your face and neck, eagerly tasting any skin that is revealed. He marvels for a moment when the dress is finally tossed in the corner, looking at you splayed beneath him, wearing one of the sexiest matching sets he has ever seen.

Black lace trim and straps stretch over the slope of your breast and the curve of your hips, but it’s the deep red velvet matching your dress that covers you just enough to make him lose his mind that does him in. He groans and leans back to admire you, certain that this is the best Christmas present he could receive. Arguably, it may be even better than the lingerie he got for you, still waiting and neatly wrapped under the tree.

Now with you uncovered, he finds himself much too overdressed for the situation. His tie comes off first, flung somewhere along with your dress, and he only gets a few of the top buttons undone before his impatience gets the better of him. He rolls up his sleeves before diving in, mouth going to attack the inside of your thighs. The sounds you make turn something in his gut, heading lower as he tastes you. His pants are starting to feel much too tight, but he’s much too distracted by the feel of you under his hands, your legs around him to do something about it. His mouth makes a path up your thigh, he takes his time to kiss over your stomach, loving every inch of your body he had missed so much.

His large hands come up to feel the velvet over your breasts, squeezing you gently and rubbing his thumbs over your nipples through the fabric. You moan, trying to shift your hips to find any friction, but it seems Jack was purposely keeping you spread open, without the contacted you so needed.

“Jack I swear to God if you don’t stop teasing…” he hummed as he kissed along your skin, stopping to plant a kiss right over your heart before his face tilted up and he captured your lips with his. You nipped at him, tightening your legs around him to pull him closer, but he had other plans.

A hand slipped in between your bodies, pressing right between your hips so you were pressed back to the mattress. He gave you one last peck before grinning over you, his mussed hair dangling on his forehead as he gazed down at you, and you slipped a hand under his shirt feeling his bared chest, the other wrapping around his arm.

“I missed you,” you tell him again. It’s the truth, and it feels good to say it even if you have ulterior motives for saying it now. “Missed having you in our bed. Missed your body, missed your mouth—”

He surges forward then, kissing you fiercely and slipping his tongue in your mouth before ducking his head to bite at your throat and quickly moving back down your body. You know he’s straining, surprised he’s lasted this long already. His hand moves lower to cup between your legs, stroking the soft velvet over your core. He’s focused now, no longer gentle and playful touches, reacquainting himself with the feel of your body. No. Now he’s intent on getting to you, getting you off.

You gasp when his fingers skip under the material, swiping at your slick folds, briefly teasing your clit before returning to your entrance. You shift under his care, impatient for more but appreciating the feel of his weight on you, the strength in his hands, his shoulders. You reach to touch his hair, running your fingers through the soft locks as he kisses your hips, a finger sliding in to stroke you and you sigh.

He starts of slow, building you up, but soon enough you’re grinding your hips in time with his strokes, pulling at his head from where he’s focused on making marks along the inside of your leg to where you need him most. You had intended on removing the lingerie, making it easier for the two of you to continue, but Jack apparently doesn’t feel the same. Though he does stop sucking a bruise at the apex of your thigh, he only slides the thin strip of fabric to the side and dives in.

You whine at the sensation of his mouth on you, his finger joined by a second as he swirls his tongue around your clit. Your body jerks for a moment, overwhelmed by his touches. You moan again, leaning your head back into the pillow as you clutch his head tightly, arching toward his mouth and fingers. He finds a spot deep inside you, stroking you gently with gaining speed, and he continues to suck and lick at your bundle of nerves, making your body shudder under him.

You had nearly forgotten just how good his mouth was when he wasn’t running it. He’s learned your body well, and you remember just how fast he can have you shaking and screaming around him. You moan his name, warning him of the rising pressure inside you. His fingers continue in their rhythmic motion, and you can hear just how wet you are. His tongue dips to lap at your folds before returning to your clit, drinking from you like a man starved. You can see him moving too when you glance down, knowing that he must be grinding his own hips into the mattress. He groans into your core, making you shudder again.

“Jack,” you cry his name, “Jack, fuck please.” You’re getting closer, legs clamping around his head. He doesn’t mind it, you know for a fact he enjoys it, and his faze nuzzles further into your heat when you do. He pumps his fingers faster, and even you can feel how fucking soaking you are. “Fuck, Jack, I’m—”

It comes quickly, his lips around you and sucking while his tongue still teases your clit. Your legs become a vise around his head as you press your hips to his mouth, your own opening in a silent scream. His hand is tight on your hip, the only thing keeping you grounded, as his fingers and mouth don’t cease in their movements, keeping you at your high.

You choke out a gasp as you hold his head to you still, unable and afraid to pull him away. He’s so good, so fucking good with that goddamn mouth swirling around and his large fucking fingers pumping into you just right and oh fuck, he’s isn’t stopping and you’re shaking, your legs are shaking, and you think you’ve stopped breathing, but you’re so fucking wet you can feel it on your legs, but shit—can he even breathe with his face buried in you like that?

Just like that it becomes too much. Your legs drop from around him and your hands that once held him tightly to you now shove him away. His face comes up so you can see him, and he immediately gasps for air, panting as he pulls his fingers from you, and you flinch at the loss of him inside you. His hands immediately go to his belt, and he manages to unbuckle it and open the front of his pants to lessen the restraint on the cock tenting his pants.

You still shake even without his touch, panting just as he is as you go through aftershocks. You realize your face is wet, a tear running along the side of your face. You can only stare up at him, mouth agape as you watch him, kneeling between your spread legs. His face is soaked, hair tousled so it lies over his forehead, his usually neat part nowhere to be seen. Your slick coats his mustache and chin, and you can see a sheen of sweat over the top of his chest. His eyes are glazed with lust, but he still smirks down at you looking almost as wrecked as you feel.

“What’s the matter darlin? I finally manage to silence your smart mouth?” It makes you angry that you can’t respond, mind too dazed to come up with a response.

Without his body near you, you shiver from the cold air you feel, legs still trembling. You can’t do anything but eye the bulge still under his boxers, knowing that despite how hard he just made you cum, you still want more.

“Jack Daniels, you shut the hell up, and you get over here and fuck me right,” you snap.

His eyes widen in shock for a moment, but then he’s grinning like he’s won the world, dropping his pants enough to free his hard and heavy cock, and he pounces. He never bothered to take off his shirt, or his pants, or likely even his shoes you realize. You don’t care at the moment, too needy to think of anything else as his lips meet yours and you feel his length at your hip. You can taste yourself on him as you kiss him, but you don’t mind it.

He’s hot and solid against you, and your hands slip under his open shirt to claw at his back as he takes himself into his hand and pushes into you. You both moan together, his lips on your cheek. He’s large, stretching you more than his fingers and it feels right. This is how you were meant to be, filled like this, overwhelmed by the stretch and the feel of him inside you. His hand comes behind you knee, lifting your leg to rest at his side as he pulls out and pushes back in. At this angle, you can feel every ridge, the velvet of his skin, and your legs start shaking again. He gazes down at you with wonder, watching as your breasts move with his thrusts, the way your eyes glaze over as you stare up at him, jaw slack and making little sounds for him that make his cock twitch as he fucks you.

“Fuck baby, you look so good like this.” He looks down to where you two meet, watches as he disappears inside of you again and again and again. He can feel the pull in his gut, straining to hold out. “You should see how good you take me, how good you make me feel, oh fuck—” He nearly loses himself right then, feeling you clench tighter around him. “Damn, you can’t just do that to me,” he groans, picking up his pace, unable to control himself.

It’s rough, and you feel like he’s pushing you deeper into the mattress, the feel of his cock reaching deep inside you. The moan that comes from your throat is uncontrolled, and the sounds of you moving together overwhelm you. You don’t know if you can cum again but fuck, he feels so good like this, your entire body warm and tingling, calling for his touch. He leans forward, hovering over you and you try to pull him even closer.

“You’re so wet, baby, so wet for me. Look at this,” he takes a hand between the two of you, pace stuttering for a moment before picking back up again. He brings his slick covered fingers to your face, and you don’t hesitate to take them in your mouth. He tenses, rolling his hips into yours. “I’m not gonna last, sweetheart, uhng—” You bring your legs around him, pulling him in as you grind back into him. “Missed you too much, baby, I can’t—” He stops, his face pulling tight into a grimace as he struggles to hold on.

You give one last suck to his fingers before you pull them away. “Then come baby,” you say, voice hoarse, “fill me up, Jack. Need to feel you again. Feel your cum inside me.” Your voice is nothing more than a whine, begging really. It has been a while and he’s always had this power to make you so weak for him. As he moves, you feel the warmth spread throughout your body, and you hold him close, arching your back, legs at his thighs to push him into you again.

His mouth drops open, and after a particularly hard thrust, he’s coming. You feel the way his muscles tense, feel the warm spurt inside you and the two of you moan together. He drops to his forearms above you and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, holding him close as he comes down from his high, rocking gently into you, and the tension leaves his body. He rests his forehead on your collarbone, and you turn your head to press kisses into his hair. You feel spent and exhausted, and you know his day has been longer than yours.

“Goddamn darlin, you know how to wreck me,” he says into your neck. His breath on your skin tickles, and you smile up at the ceiling. Before you can respond, his finger reaches down to where you are joined, and you clench.

“Ohh,” you catch yourself for a moment, leaning up to press your teeth to his shoulder. “You watch yourself, Daniels, don’t start something you can’t finish.”

He laughs, rolling off of you finally, both of you tensing as you part. You hear the familiar tell of his shoes hitting the floor, and he slides off his pants fully to toss them off the bed.

“I most definitely plan on finishing.” He looks to the side as he lays on his back, meeting your eyes and grinning at you. “So why don’t you take off that pretty little lace for me and get on back up here, cowgirl.”

You look at him in shock for a moment, expecting him to pass out for the night, not pat his lap for round two. “You sure about that, old man?” you ask him, knowing you’re wandering into dangerous territory.

His arm snatches out, pulling you on top of his chest, and you push the rest of his dress shirt off his shoulders and dump it on the floor. “You won’t be calling me old in a minute,” he teases back, and sure enough, you feel him begin to harden behind you.

You quickly remove your bra, dangling it over him before that too is tossed to the floor and you lean down to press your chest to his. He holds you tight to him, and you press messy kisses to each other’s faces, relieved to be back in this feeling of having your love in your arms.

The kisses slow, and you enjoy the feeling of his lips moving languidly against yours. “Merry Christmas,” you whisper to him, even as you grind back down on his cock.

“Mmm,” he hums under you then leans up to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth, “Merry Christmas, darlin.” You melt into the touch of his hands running along your bare back and down to your ass. “This is what I needed right here, just you. Right here,” he whispers to you, before pulling you down for another kiss.

You kiss him back with fervor, pouring in your love for him. The apartment had been decorated and gifts wrapped long ago, and even now, soft flurries fell from the sky, perfect for the season. But to you, all that mattered was being with him, and having him here, home for the holidays.

#pedros12daysofchristmas #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey #jack daniels #agent whiskey fic #kingsman the golden circle

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the-lady-writes-what · 4 years

Text

Swing

1920′s Gangster AU

You're working one night at the club, singing on stage, when you catch the eye of dangerous yet handsome man. You can't help yourself when he sweeps your off your feet for the night and shows you more pleasure than you ever imagined.

Content: one instance of hair pulling and spanking, doggie style, voyeurism (if you squint), praise, a hint of fluff

---080---

The air was choked by cigarette smoke, cheap booze, and lilac perfume. The syrupy-sweet fragrance stung the most. It was like huffing a can of hairspray that faintly smelled like flowers. You put up with the perfume and cloying cigarette smoke and a myriad of other things because of one vital thing. Money. You needed it. There was no other way to survive. In the world of bootleggers, gangsters, and smugglers, you were just a girl with a mic and love of music. You worked hard to earn your current position, starting from the bottom as one of those cigar girls parading around the club. It wasn't easy, either. If the boss hadn't just so happened to hear you singing to yourself as you helped clear out the dishes in the kitchen, you wouldn't be getting ready to go on stage.

The stage was a simple affair built with just enough space for you, a piano, and several sax and clarinet players. Your spotlights were dingy yellowish beams with only enough power to shine on one person on stage. Considering you were typically the prettiest thing on stage, the spotlight always shined on you. The curtains were still tied off either because nobody wanted to bother giving you the special entrance of a dramatically raised curtain. Besides, the curtains were little more than glorified rugs hung from the rafters. They smelled of dust and old cigar smoke, and you had to concentrate on not sneezing through your whole set.

You looked out from around the stage, but could hardly see anything through the haze of smoke. Nobody seemed to care or notice the clouds of cigarette smoke. Glasses clinked with boot-legged alcohol and laughter resounded in the air. Small tongues of the fire flickered in and out of the smoke, and another cigarette was sparked into life. You scrunched your nose up at the smell and looked down at your dress. Though it was a new number in your favorite color, you hated that it was coming home with your smelling of the club, and you couldn't afford dry cleaning. You berated yourself for not keeping it at home and wear a dress that you didn't mind smelling like cheap booze and cigar smoke. Oh well, too late now.

Your boss Toshinori complimented your 'wise' choice at the clingy chiffon that hugged your curves. He didn't say that in so many words, but you knew what he was thinking. At first, your brows furrowed at his words. Toshinori sweated up a storm and wiped his forehead with his handkerchief. When you asked what the matter was, his face turned white as a sheet. Toshinori refused to say at first, however threatening to not go on stage made him reconsider. After your boss explained the situation, you wished that you hadn't asked in the first place. Now, you were suffering from an overpopulation of butterflies in your stomach. Your eyes glued themselves to the front entrance through which Toshinori's guests of honor were supposed to arrive. Assuming they weren't being tailed by the police or a rival gang.

However, the second you thought this, you chuckled. Rival gang? Like anyone would be stupid or crazy enough to go against Shouta "Eraserhead" Aizawa and his highly competent lieutenants, Present Mic and Midnight. Most of those who tried ended up in coffins. No wonder Toshinori looked like he was ready to give up the ghost.

It was ten minutes before showtime when you heard a bustle of activity at the front entrance. From where you stood on the stage, half-hiding behind the curtain, you barely saw the doors burst open. At first, you thought it could be the coppers come to shut down the bar and start passing around silver bracelets. Your eyes were glued on the trio entering the club. The blonde on the right wore a black and silver three-piece with his jacket unbuttoned, and his white leather shoes shined. The lady on the left wore a white double-breasted suit jacket and matching skirt. Her whole outfit was designed to show off her ample chest and long legs to distract from the fact that she twirled a knife in her hands like a child's toy. But these characters held little interest to you because your eyes were fixed on the man walking in the middle.

He wore a dark gray three-piece and a black coat that hung off his shoulders like a king's royal cape. Like you, his eyes were half-hidden behind a curtain of dark hair and the shadows of a black fedora. He walked with his hands in his pockets and with the air of someone who couldn't be touched. The man owned the room, and every set of eyeballs in it. Drinking and laughter died when he entered. Toshinori appeared scurrying out of his office as if told at the last minute that they arrived. He continued to wipe his drenched forehead with his handkerchief. He directed the trio to a booth, which faced the stage directly. You watched your boss bow profusely from the waist. The trio that just entered sat too far away from you to be able to hear. Exactly how they walked in, the blonde man sat on the right, the lady on the left, and the powerful individual with the black fedora sat in between them. You couldn't stop staring.

You glanced at the woman in the middle one's left. You swore you'd seen her somewhere before, but couldn't quite place it. It's rude to stare, yet you couldn't help yourself. Your hands fisted the old velvet curtains. Were these the people Toshinori invited to the club? The woman on the left noticed you staring. Before you could retreat, she locked eyes on you and winked. A boulder fell into your stomach.

You realized just where you saw her before at the club a couple weeks ago. The woman appeared to be a chatty, flirty customer but otherwise harmless.

"That's Nemuri "Midnight" Kayama. Second lieutenant to Eraserhead."

You jumped out of your skin at the sound of your pianist, Hitoshi, talking behind you.

"W-what? Her? But I thought—"

"That Midnight was a man? Don't let her looks fool you. I heard that she once highjacked a police van and helped the convicts inside escape."

"Then, who are the other guys?" You might have been better off not knowing, yet your curiosity got the better of you.

"The one on the right is Hizashi "Present Mic" Yamada. They say he's robbed every bank from here to New York. Thing is, nobody can pin them on him despite his boasting. He's loud, but he gets the job done."

"That means," you swallowed, "The one in the middle is…"

"Yup," said Hitoshi. "That's Eraserhead. The kingpin of this city. You see that scar? That's the only thing he got after fighting off the Shigaraki group a couple years ago. The man's quirk can erase his opponent's, so long as he doesn't blink."

Your legs turned to pudding. That man, oh, how you wished you could tear your eyes away. You rubbed your thighs. Something wet made your legs stick together; you hoped you were just nervously sweating and hadn't creamed yourself only by looking at the man. He was a bit shorter than the gigantic figure newspapers made him out to be, although not by many margins. With all of that black and the dark suit, Eraserhead made an imposing—if not terrifying—figure. Despite the dark material, you could still see the defined muscle rippling beneath the clothes he wore. He hadn't yet taken off his coat and hat, and it made you wonder if he was playing on leaving soon. His lieutenants appeared to be making themselves comfortable by ordering food and drink. However, their boss seemed less inclined to follow. All he got was a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass. Eraserhead served himself after testing the brand. Testing the taste or for poison, he left it to your imagination to choose which.

"I wouldn't get close if were you, Y/N. Eraserhead's got a thing for cute little ladies like you. I wouldn't want to be on the wrong end of his affection if I wanted to play safe," said Hitoshi.

"I-I can handle myself," you replied.

Even you didn't believe a word you said.

The first set started off like any other night. You looked past Eraserhead's table, trying not to make eye contact. You decided not to look at him, but that didn't stop Eraserhead from looking at 'you.' The whole time you performed to Hitoshi's piano accompaniment, you felt eyes burning a hole into your gut. It was like staring down the barrel of a shotgun. The worse part was you didn't know when it would go off. You stumbled once or twice through the setlist. Thankfully, hardly anyone noticed thanks to the sax and piano. You scanned over the crowds and quickly passed over that table set in the middle of the club. Harder than you thought because all you wanted to do that evening was to lock eyes with that dangerous man.

By the end of your second set, you were thirsty and not necessarily for water. You managed to escape walking past Eraserhead's table and made your way to the bar. You ordered two shot glasses for yourself. The bartender, Shoto, didn't offer any remarks but got you your drinks. You downed them before the ice began to melt. The alcohol didn't do anything to alieve the weight tied to your neck. Each second you were on stage, it was harder for you to focus on 'not' looking at him. Your gaze kept getting too close to looking at him. It didn't matter if it was rude. You weren't about to get yourself mixed up with mobsters, even handsome ones.

"May I buy your next round?"

You almost did a spit take on Shoto's pristine bar counter. Slowly, you turned to find Eraserhead. He was without his great big black coat and looking far more casual than before. You swallowed past the hard lump that formed in your throat.

"I-I gotta get back to work. I'm only allowed two drinks a night while I'm working."

Eraserhead's dark brow shot upwards. Curious, he asked, "Toshinori lets you drink on the job?"

You shrugged. "Two drinks isn't enough to get me tipsy, and a spot of liquid courage now and then helps."

You almost looked at his face. Quickly, you cast your eyes down. Eraserhead takes one step towards you. His form looms over you like a shadow, and his hand reaches out. You didn't know what you were expecting, but you certainly didn't expect him to cup your chin between his finger and thumb. Eraserhead tilted your chin up. You felt his free hand lean against the back of your stool, inches from you. You could feel him looking down at you. After the pressure in your belly grew to be too much, your eyelids fluttered open.

Your face turned red as a tomato looking up at him. Up close and personal, Shouta "Eraserhead" Aizawa was much more impressive from this angle. He was a bit scruffy, but the stubble on his face made him appear more….manly? No, that wasn't quite right. Even if he shaved, you would have never mistaken him as not being so. Every movement he made screamed of power and control. Eraserhead moved like a wildcat in the jungle. You wouldn't know the predator was watching you until it was too late. No, no, his scruffy-looking face added something a bit more. He couldn't be lazy, not with the way he dressed. Without his black coat, Eraserhead's body looked bigger. You gawked at how big his arms looked this close to him.

"If you're going to stare, at least stare at my face. Some might consider you rude," said Eraserhead.

You fixed your eyes on his face at the suggestion. It was a hypnotic pull that made you look at him the way he wanted you to. Who were you to tell him no? This was especially so when the sound of his low-timber voice made your legs quake and heat pool in your lower belly. Though tired-looking, Eraserhead's gaze never left yours. It was the same pair of eyes you felt staring at you all night. Performing made it easier to forget that he'd been watching you the moment you set foot. He's why your voice cracked once or twice while you were trying not to think about him. Your stomach quivered. Eraserhead had yet to take his hand or his eyes off you. His presence was starting to become unnerving.

"What are your plans for the evening?"

"Well, uh, I have to get back on stage eventually."

"The pianist sounds competent and talented enough to carry on without you," said Eraserhead.

Before you knew it, you were being led by Eraserhead through the front entrance. Toshinori saw and tried to protest until one of Eraserhead's lieutenants, Present Mic, handed him a fat stack of cash, which quickly shut him up. Eraserhead's coat almost swallowed you as he put it on your shoulders. His hand sat at your waist, and his thumb drew infinite circles on your hip. Midnight got into the car behind Eraserhead's while you, Present Mic, and the kingpin climbed into another. Both vehicles had personal drivers while you sat in the spacious back of the limo. You were seated next to Eraserhead, obviously, and Present Mic took the seat that faced you. You wished he'd instead have taken the passenger seat up front with the driver. Eraserhead didn't make it easy for you. Not with his hand still on your waist and rubbing circles into your hip. Present Mic rolled down the windows by a little just to let out some smoke from his fresh cigarette.

You'd be content with staring at your feet if it hadn't been for Eraserhead. His hand wandered down to your thigh. Heat rushed to your face. Your eyes first snapped up to look at Present Mic, who was looking out the window and blowing clouds of smoke into the air as they drove. Then, you cautioned a glance at your host. His nonchalant mask gave you goosebumps.

"E-Eraser…"

"Even if he was paying attention," Eraserhead whispered next to your ear, "It wouldn't matter. He's not interested in young ladies. I wouldn't show off like this in front of 'em if he wasn't."

He kissed your temple. Eraserhead's hand moved no higher than the meaty part of your thigh. You could have been grateful for that if you weren't so conflicted. You wanted him to shift his hand under your chiffon dress and tease off your garters. In contrast, another part wanted to jump out of the moving vehicle out of sheer embarrassment. His thumb continued to draw circles into your skin over the fabric.

You jolted in your seat when Eraserhead's teeth grazed the lobe of your ear.

"And…call me, Shouta," he demanded.

It would be hard for you to remember that considering his name sounded so much like your coworker's at the club. Eraserhead—Shouta gripped your hip and pulled you even closer to him. With his hand on you like that made escape impossible also if you wanted to. Lips caressed the side of your neck to send goosebumps over your skin.

"S-Shouta!" You whined.

You tried not to look at the man sitting across from you who suddenly found his fingernails to be so exciting. Present Mic didn't appear interested in you. But somebody was.

A finger trailed under your dress's skirt and up your inner thigh, edging dangerously close to your undergarments. Shouta toyed with the lace trim as if you two didn't have an audience. He continued to kiss and lick the side of your neck and relishing in the warmth spreading over your face. Shouta's caresses caused you to shudder under his touch. A bead of sweat ran down your face. Shouta lapped it up with his tongue before it reached your jaw.

"I'm going to have so much fun with you, Doll Face," Shouta murmured against your ear.

Shouta kissed your neck, shoulders, and even your hands. You rubbed your thighs together to ease the need for friction between them. Present Mic seemed the least bit interested in what his boss was doing to you. In fact, he played it so nonchalantly that he insisted on talking business around you. There was nothing in the conversation that would put you in danger, but you were intelligent enough to get the gist. During the ride, Shouta stopped kissed you all over and kept his hand on your hip. The trip lasted for another half hour, you guessed before the vehicle came to a full stop. Present Mic left the car, went around, and opened the other door. Shouta helped you out because your legs wouldn't have been able to carry you on their own.

You craned your neck as you approached the mansion set before your eyes. You knew that Shouta—Eraserhead—had a lot of money; you just didn't realize how much. You walked across a gravel path leading up to a columned portico. With his hand on your lower back, Shouta leads you inside. His coat was taken up by a butler along with your shawl and hat. You followed Shouta upstairs. You were shaking head to toe in anticipation. You passed several doors before you came to the biggest one, a set of green doors plated with gold-leaf. Shouta opened it and called for a bottle of champagne to his room. You set your purse aside on a chest of drawers and sat down on the settee. Shouta made himself comfortable by removing his jacket, vest, and bowtie. When the champagne arrived, Shouta answered the door himself and handed you a glass. You sipped as he sat next to you and resumed his previous kissing activity wherever he pleased.

You had trouble holding your glass and avoiding spilling any of the expensive alcohol. You and Shouta drank until the tips of both your noses were red. You set aside your empty glass to wrap your hands behind his neck. Your lips touched his with tenderness and licked him. Shouta gave you open access to his mouth and pressed his hand on the back of your head, bringing you closer. Your soft moans were swallowed up in the kiss. Hands trailed down each other's bodies, but Shouta managed to find the buttons on the back of your dress. He popped them open one at a time. You knew he finished when you felt the warmth of the fire grazing your spine. Shouta gave you a kiss that made your head spin. He nibbled on your bottom lip, took it into his mouth, and sucked softly. When he let you go, Shouta looked at you and pinned you with a heavy-loaded gaze.

"Undress for me."

You blinked, unsure you heard him correctly. Surely a man like the infamous gangster Eraserhead would have his women and strip them too. His hand raked up the back of your neck and grabbed a fistful of your carefully curled hair. Shouta kissed the base of your throat. Looking up, he said, "Don't make me repeat myself, my dear."

Slowly, you nodded. Shouta released you and leaned into the settee. You rose from your seat and made to stand in front of him. Shouta had down half the work for you. All you had to do was pulled the straps down and let gravity do most of the work. A simple task such as that did nothing to keep your hands from shaking. Your hands trembled as you reached for the straps. One at a time, you slipped them off your shoulders. Shouta's eyes never left you and traveled downward as you dragged the dress off your body inch by inch. You shimmied it out of the way and stepped out of pooling on the floor.

Your silk combinations must have caught his attention as Shouta couldn't take his eyes off your undergarments. You wore a cheap waist-cincher with a built-in garter belt to hold up your stockings. You didn't move while he drank you in. After a while, Shouta nodded and gave you a sign with his hand to remove the rest. You weren't alone in this. Shouta removed his shoes, socks, shirt, spenders, etc. until he wore only his slacks. Your fingers trembled too much to unhook the cincher with much success. Shouta did the work for you, peeling the cincher away and tossing it behind the setee. His hands were on you; the second the garment fell apart from you. Shouta's fingers groped you through the thin silk, slid his hands down your legs, and rolled them off. You kicked your kitten heels off and climbed into his lap.

Shouta lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, and carried you to bed. The silk combination was shifted off your body before Shouta settled you on the enormous bed. You climbed on top of the sheets, rested your head on the mountain of pillows, and pressed your legs together while you waited. You didn't have to do that for very long as Shouta followed immediately behind you. This time he was equally naked as you were. Shouta forced your legs apart and crept between them. He kissed and licked your inner thighs and left bruises to remind you of him the next time you went to take a bath.

He climbed unto his knees. By the firelight, you saw him. His body was littered with scars from bullets and knives. Some of them looked almost fatal. You reached up to touch him. You ran your hands down the length of his body before stopping at the stiff member jutting out. You wrapped your hand around him and give his cock a few experimental thrusts. The groan escaping him filled you with the confidence needed to rub him faster. You kept pumping him and watching his face contort to one of pleasure.

Then, all of a sudden, he pulled your hand away.

Shouta pinned your hand to the bed while he used his other to lift one leg and hook it around his waist. He didn't need to guide himself in. In one fell swoop, Shouta's cock was planted deep inside and nestled within your soaking walls. His hand left yours on the bed to grab your hips and pull you flush against him. His hips snapped into yours slowly and harshly. Shouta kept his tempo slow but hard to tease you. It didn't take long for him to become impatient. You squeezing his cock pushed him over the edge.

Your bodies pressed close together as Shouta moved within you. You slid along his body, breasts flush against his solid chest. Shouta bent and suckled on each nipple of yours until they were taut peaks. He playfully clapped his hands over them, slapping the skin, which was becoming slick with sweat. His teeth found your throat to leave behind purpling bruises as if to say who you belonged to. You didn't know what to do with your hands or where to put them. You longed to reach up and tug on Shouta's hair but was too afraid to take offense and stop. Instead, you voted to wrap your hands in the bedsheets and hold onto dear life. Tugging on the sheets beneath you grounded your being in reality while Shouta pounded you into the mattress.

"So tight for me, Y/N. A man could get used to this," Shouta growled and started thrusting faster and harder into you.

Sweat and other fluids mixed between your legs. You clamped around him and held on. Without pulling out, Shouta turned you on your stomach and resumed thrusting. His rough hands that killed a lot of people were yet still tender when touching you. To be sure, he wouldn't leave you without a few souvenirs to remember him by, but Shouta wasn't about hurting women. He grunted in your ear as he pressed his chest against your back. He pulled you tight against to leave no room between your bodies. You cried out in the pillows and scratched at the silken sheets.

The room, which had been warm since Shouta lit the fireplace, became unbearably hot. The air grew to be too stifling for you. Sweat poured out of your body and made you slick. Well lubricated, it made Shouta's job easier. He pushed and pulled, his hips never slowing its tattoo* against yours. The wet slap of skin against skin filled the room along with you moaning. Your sounds drowned him out, but you could still feel him rumble with every grunt against your ear. If not for all the furnishings, you would mistake yourself to be cave-people as Shouta unleashed a primeval urge to thoroughly fuck you. He was an animal between your legs; he claimed your hips with every powerful thrust.

A tight, hot coil settled in your stomach and began to tighten. With every push of Shouta inside of you, the rigid veins of his cock rubbing every secret part, you began to wail. Your walls tightened around him. When the time came, you gushed around him. Shouta was a minute behind. He pulled out beforehand. You would remember the way he groaned for the rest of your days. Shouta was an animal who just claimed his mate and was now planting the indelible mark on their body. You felt a spray of something warm and syrupy coating your skin. It took you a moment to realize that Shouta finished on your back.

Despite the mess you just made of you, Shouta leaned down, kissed the back of your neck then your cheek. He wiped the sweat from your brow. You bashfully smiled back.

"I-I haven't done that that in a while, you know. Sorry if I wasn't as experienced as you're used to," you mumbled.

One of Shouta's dark brows rose. "Why would I care about that? Did you not enjoy yourself?"

"Well, yes, but I—"

Shouta kissed you, silencing any protests you might have had. His cock slipped inside of you. You gasped at how quickly he was hard again.

"Let's make one thing clear, Doll Face. You don't get to decide if I liked it. That's what you were about to say? Some bullshit like that, right?"

His hand came down on your ass cheek. You yelped in both surprise and pain. Shouta massaged the red handprint as he slowly began to start a new rhythm

"I get to decide whether you're good and whether I want you," he grunted between thrusts, which were starting to pick up again, "And I say, I want you. Your experience with other men means shit to me. You're with me now, and my girl gets the best, understand?"

You nodded before letting the flow of his lust take over you. Shouta flipped you back over, so you looked at each other. You reached behind his neck to hold on as his pace picked up to a punishing speed.

"Don't…ever…think less of…yourself. You're fucking mine from now on, got it?" He growled.

And that was how you ended up a gangster's girlfriend.

---080---

#my hero academia #mha fanfiction #mha smut #reader fic #aizawa #shouta aizawa #gansterAU Aizawa #Eraserhead #aizawa x reader #eraserhead x reader #minors begone

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five-miles-over · 3 years

Text

Misery Loves Company (Clay Bidwell x Reader)

Summary: After leaving his hometown and all of its chaos, Clay Bidwell meets the reader at a strange bar and the two of them have a much-needed break from their troubles.

Word Count: 2,262

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death (allusions to suicide), and some references to the film Clay Pigeons

If there was one thing that Clay Bidwell could change, it would be his decision to trust Lester Long. I mean, what the hell was he thinking, trusting some new guy in town with a big old grin to keep him safe. That guy's self-appointed nickname said it all: Lester the Molester. What a son of a bitch. What a smiling, cheery, fucking son of a bitch.

He should've seen something wrong when Lester opened his mouth and laughed like a goddamn coyote. He should've seen something wrong when Lester kept a cheery spirit around a corpse floating around in a river. Who in their right mind wouldn't be freaked out by something so creepy? Clay himself vomited at the sight, way before he could even catch any of the stench from the rotting body.

Until his best friend Earl shot himself in front of Clay, he'd never even seen a dead person before. Even though he was from a town so small that everyone knew everyone else and their business, death was always something so…covert. It was a covered-up thing, something private. The family would have their little funeral, and next week the obituary would show up in the newspapers. No one ever really kept the casket open, and it was just assumed that the deceased were off to a better place.

It turned out Earl was just the first one in a morbid domino effect. Next, Clay's ex-girlfriend was shot dead…while she was fooling around with Clay. Finally, Earl's widow, who was fooling around with Clay before Earl died, was found dead in her own home.

And of course, Clay was found to be the common thread linking all of those murders. The cops tried to string together a bunch of bullshit and frame him - Clay fucking Bidwell - as some serial killer with women issues or something like that. He could still hear Agent Shelby interrogating him. "You're dating one victim, you're having an affair with another, and you find the body of the third. Kind of a coincidence, wouldn't you say?" The agents even came into his house one night and conducted some stupid raid for no reason. Right, they thought he had weapons. But hunting was a tradition in his hometown; almost every guy his age had at least one shot gun in their house, even if it was their dad's or uncle's.

So much for having faith in law enforcement to punish the guilty.

Thank goodness they finally came to their senses and went after Lester Long instead. Clay didn't remember much after watching the police cars chase after Lester. All he wanted to do at that time was leave. Leave this small town, and never look back.

So he did just that. As soon as the sirens began to quiet down, Clay jumped into his creaky pick-up truck, stepped on the gas and drove as far from town as possible. He didn't know where he was going, what direction, what road, or any of that shit. All he knew was that he was leaving the town that had nothing left for him anymore. He drove and drove for hours until the sun went down.

It was a long journey, and Clay found himself thanking his past self for leaving a few beers in the passenger seat. They were all empty by the time that twilight turned into night. Though, if Clay was being honest to himself, it probably wouldn't be enough alcohol for him to forget about spending a night in jail on false accusation, or erase all the death he'd seen.

With some of the money left in his glovebox, he pulled over at some gas station and filled up the tank. According to a sign on the road, he was about fifty miles from some city called Great Falls. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea, Clay thought to himself as he held the diesel nozzle, to try his luck in a big city. He heard stories about people having their own rags-to-riches story by leaving their small hometowns behind for busier places. And if nothing else, it'd be great to try and drive around the state just for the hell of it.

With a sigh, Clay watched as the meter reached its limit and the gasoline stopped flowing through the nozzle. The price wasn't all that bad for its mediocre quality, though it probably meant that Clay would have to sleep in his car tonight. It was hard to gauge the quality of the motels around this unfamiliar place, but he was sure that it would cost a lot more than whatever spare change Clay had left. Better to buy a drink, and get some sleep in the backseat, than to risk sleeping at some flea-infested room and wake up to a missing truck.

He parked the truck close to a neon sign - probably some saloon founded by a jaded business fellow - and walked inside. The place wasn't too crowded, with a few heads turning as soon as Clay walked in. Some of the guys were sitting around a table playing cards, and a lot of the customers seemed like they were regular patrons. Were they outlaws? Probably not. Based on the kinds of guys Clay saw in the saloon he used to go to, those guys drinking were probably just looking for an escape from their deadbeat jobs.

He almost smiled a little when he saw a pool table in the center, though it was strange to him that there was no one playing at the moment. Nevertheless, it reminded him of the good days when Earl and him would perfect their skills. By the time Clay turned nineteen, he was one of the best players in town. If he wasn't so blue right now, he'd be willing to show this new place a trick or two.

Clay looked out the window for a moment as he lit a cigarette. No cops in sight tonight? Good.

Taking a seat at the bar, he continued to people-watch until the bartender came up to him and asked for his order. Just as Clay told the bartender the kind of beer he wanted, you walked right inside and sat next to him.

While the bartender went behind to get the cold bottle, Clay looked you up and down, his lip curling upwards into a tiny boyish smirk. Maybe it was the after-effect of the alcohol from this afternoon, but you looked gorgeous to him…and almost a little mysterious, but also approachable. And you definitely looked nothing like the other customers in the saloon. Maybe you didn't come here often, or you were from another town, just like him.

"Hi."

"Oh…um, hi," Clay stammered, realizing you'd caught him staring. "Um…"

Taking control of the conversation, you introduced yourself to him and reached out to shake his hand. "How do you do?"

"I'm fine. You come here often?"

"Not like this." You shook your head and chuckled to yourself before ordering a drink for yourself. Clay sipped from his beer, listening to you tell him that you used to come here with a partner, on a Friday night after the two of you were done with work. "We had a lot of fun," you told him. "But things eventually just went south, we started fighting, and…I found them in bed with someone they'd been seeing on the side. So I packed my things and left…straight here. My stuff is literally sitting in my car right now."

"I'm sorry," you apologized casually, taking your drink. "I just met you. I don't even know your name and I'm already telling you about my break-up."

"It's fine," he replied with a crooked smile. "I'm Clay, by the way."

"So what brings you here, Clay?"

"Um…just, rough times. Needed to leave." He lied, not wanting to talk much about the things that really forced him here. "Sorry about your break-up. I know what it's like. It really sucks."

"To sucky lives and leaving shitty things behind." You toasted in a mock-celebratory tone, raising your drink and clinking it against his bottle. Clay's smile grew just a bit wider, and he even laughed a little.

The next hour felt like it passed by in the blink of an eye. Over the course of two beers (and who knows how many songs on the jukebox), Clay felt like he'd known you for years. Just by the way you talked about how you were almost done with school, and how much you hated your own little town just like he hated his…it was refreshing, to say the least. You seemed earnest, decent, and probably not tangled up in some kind of crime.

"Do you, by any chance, play?" He asked you after a bit of silence.

"Play what?"

"Um, pool." Clay pointed to the table at the center.

"No, never tried it before."

"I could…I could teach you if you like," he suggested. Now the beer was really taking his toll, making him want to show off a little for you.

"I'd love to learn."

You let him lead you towards the table, where the balls were already arranged for a new game. Clay was really friendly in teaching you the basics, on how to hold the pool stick (which was called a cue). He came up behind you, carefully guiding your hand to the right place on the stick and telling you to keep a good grip. Placing a hand over yours, Clay told you that a good shot involved getting the right angle. With another hand on your waist, he shifted you around nonchalantly so that you faced the right pockets of the table.

The alcohol was quite present in his breath while he spoke, but his voice…damn, you could listen to him talk all night. It was nice that you could get him out of his shell by agreeing to learn. And the way his hands felt on you was pretty nice. Eventually, you were able to make a few combination shots, and Clay was pleased.

"Damn, you're a fast learner."

"Thanks. You're a good teacher."

"Put enough quarters on a table like this one, I sure as hell have to be a pro." Clay bragged a little before the two of you laughed.

Suddenly, you put the stick down and walked closer to him with a smirk, not sure about what had gotten into you. "I…uh, I like the way you put your hands on me," you confessed in a whisper.

Catching your tone, he leaned against the table with a raised eyebrow "You did?"

You gave him a nod and mimicked his posture, leaning against the table as well. "I kinda like you, Clay."

"Yeah…I like you too." He goofily admitted, saying your name like it was something absolutely precious.

Making the first move, you gently pecked him on the cheek and ran your fingers through his messy, dark brown hair. A naughty glint in his green eyes, he took your gesture as encouragement…for something he'd shamelessly thought about since he led you over to the pool table. Boldly wrapping his arms around you, he crashed his lips into yours.

You moaned a little, surprised by how dizzying his kiss felt. "Take this…somewhere else?"

"Fuck, yeah."

The two of you made your way over to a slightly more private booth in the saloon, not wasting any time and continuing your make-out session. Clay didn't hesitate to pin you against the wall, bringing your leg up to get closer to you. Soon, his kisses grew sloppier and hungrier, covering your jawline and your neck. Right now, everything else seemed pretty much like a blur to him.

Kissing him back and lightly tugging at his hair, you painfully gasped his name the moment he got a bit too carried away and sucked at your collarbone. That was definitely going to leave a mark for the next morning…but it was totally worth it.

"Stop," you panted, breaking your lips away from his when you both needed air. "That was…that was...wow."

"Yeah, it really was." Clay agreed, his fingers still brushing your thigh. "You're really pretty. Like movie pretty."

"Maybe you're pretty drunk," you retorted. "A cute, pretty drunk who happens to be great at teaching pool."

"Maybe I'm drunk on you."

"What a line." Giggling, you smoothed your hair before going back to the bar, placing some change for the drink you had.

"You leaving already?" Clay followed you with a surprised and crestfallen expression.

You told him it was almost closing time, pointing out how empty the saloon had gotten since you arrived. "I'll tell you what, Clay." Taking a a pen lying around, you wrote your phone number on a napkin and handed it to him. "It's actually my friend's number, but they'll take a message. Besides, that's where I'm heading to stay until I can find my own place."

"That sounds great. I'll, uh, see you around."

"See you around. Thanks for a great night, Clay." You smiled, leaving him with one last kiss before walking out.

Clay took a long look at the napkin before folding it up and keeping it in his jeans pocket. Throwing some of his change on the bar, he left the bar and sat down in his truck. Closing his eyes, he rested his head on the wheel and hoped he'd be sober enough to drive again tomorrow.

#clay bidwell #clay pigeons #joaquin phoenix #joaquin phoenix fic #clay bidwell x reader

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red-as-mars · 3 years

Text

Speechless

Saeyoung Choi x F!MC

Word count: 4K+

Summary: In which Saeyoung meets the girl of his dreams... but she thinks he’s a girl.

A beautiful stranger looks at him from afar. Saeyoung noticed her since the moment she came into Jaehee’s cafe, as she unknowingly sat down at the table next to Saeran. His ears captured the melodic tone of her voice after she stood up to order a bubble milk tea and a waffle, just as he did one hour before. Hearing her laughing with Jaehee makes his curiosity spark, but something is stopping him—the emptiness in his stomach is not normal, not after gulping down several milk teas just to keep himself busy. Suddenly the air conditioner of the cafe is not enough. As he is about to run a hand through his hair, a guy sits right in front of him.

Suddenly, he remembers they are not the only ones in the cafe and that he almost, almost, messes up the wig he spent several minutes putting on—with the help of Saeran, much to the latter’s despise. He changes the route of his hand midair and awkwardly moves to grab his bubble tea, just to notice that there is nothing left. He smiles at the guy in front of him to try and erase whatever weird actions he had done as he thought about the stranger. There’s a light blush covering the guy’s cheeks and he can barely make eye contact with him.

“Noona, do you want me to buy you more bubble tea?” asks Yoosung, suddenly appearing by his side. He is way too happy to monetize from his ‘noona’ to notice how distracted Saeyoung is. He nods without truly understanding what the youngest told him, but he doesn’t care. All his energy is being used on trying to focus on the guy in front of him rather than on the pretty stranger, who is back at the table sipping from her drink.

“Saeyoung, I have been a fan of yours for a long time. Your cosplays are so amazing… and you are… so beautiful… I mean, you have set the bar too high! There’s no way I can go out with other girls knowing that you are my ideal type… so… will you be responsible for my singleness?”, says the guy way too fast for Saeyoung to understand him.

It takes him a moment to realize what he has just been told and, as soon as he gets it, he can’t help but furiously blush. No matter how long he has been cosplaying, hearing things like that still makes him uncomfortable, mostly when he knows that the girl they claim to love was born out of his will to mess up with Yoosung. He never thought that a simple joke could get this far—sure, he used a Tripter bot to gain several followers, but who would have thought that he would remain popular with the bot gone?

Just as the guy he was talking to, others had come to see him… her… and they were patiently waiting for their turn while ordering food and drinks. Even though she was against the idea of holding a LOLOL event in her café, Jaehee now seemed happy with the decent amount of customers giving her money while waiting for a chance to talk with pretty Saeyoung. No matter how embarrassed he was with all the attention, he had to act cool as the customers were focused on everything he said. He remembered Yoosung’s motivation before the event started (“Hyung, I am counting on you!”), and that was enough to encourage him to reply.

“Oh my, what are you talking about? There are plenty of girls more beautiful than me out there. I am nothing in comparison,” he replies in a cheerful, slightly playful, tone. Just as Yoosung comes back with his bubble tea, he manages to hear Saeran chuckle. As his attention moves to his twin, he locks eyes with the pretty stranger and his mind goes blank. There’s a light blush spread across the girl’s cheeks and it only makes her look more gorgeous. He knows she heard him when her lips break into a slight smile. He can’t help but wonder what she’s thinking, “but I really appreciate your words! They mean a lot, so thank you for coming to see me!”

He doesn’t really get embarrassed when posing as a girl, but there are some factors making him feel insecure. He can’t help but feel Jaehee slightly judging him as he unconsciously flirts with the guys. Or Saeran smirking as he writes down things to later tease him. Or Yoosung saying ‘noona’ every time he gets a chance just to remember the guys that they are close. Or how the stranger keeps on glancing at him every 2.35 seconds with a curiosity-filled gaze, making feel trail off mid-sentence. His nervousness is a vicious cycle. The more nervous he gets, the more flirty stuff he says while thinking of the stranger, but… as long as he can look at her, he doesn’t mind.

Even if that means being teased for the rest of his life.

______________________________________

Almost two hours later, the café is empty except for the beautiful stranger who remains seated a few tables away from him. As the number of customers decreased, she stopped gazing at him and instead focused herself on the screen of her computer, headphones covering her ears, as she slightly moved her head to the rhythm of the music. There are no more gazes, no more blushes, no more hearts skipping a beat or two—Saeyoung can’t help but feel like he’s missing something, but can’t he be more silly? Missing something he never had.

They are just strangers who happen to be at the same place at the same time. Tomorrow morning, she will have forgotten about him and keep on going with her life. There’s no way they are randomly meeting again in a city as big as Seoul. She must live near the café, but his apartment is on the other side of the city, near the river. Seeing her again would be more like a miracle.

“I didn’t think a lot of people would be interested in this kind of event,” says Jaehee, finally taking a seat next to Saeran after making drinks non-stop for three hours, “but I think I sold more than average.”

“Never underestimate the power of LOLOL!” says Yoosung, as if he didn’t just monetize from other people’s fantasies in the name of his guild.

“...or a wig…,” adds Saeran, drinking from his cup of black tea.

Saeyoung can’t help but glance at the stranger, but she is too busy on her work to hear what they are saying. He feels slightly relieved, as taking down his wig right now would only make things awkward. He doesn’t mind bearing with the itchiness on his scalp as long as he can keep on looking at her, the way she pouts as her fingers stop smashing the keys, the way her brows furrow as she unconsciously licks her lips, the way her eyes shine after blinking several times…

All her actions stop as her phone rings. She quickly picks up the call and a warm feeling invades his stomach as he listens to her voice once more. The warmth quickly goes away as he hears her say “I’ll be there in an hour”, collecting her stuff as she thanks Jaehee for her service. Before she reaches the door, she stops and with her, Saeyoung’s heart. What is she doing? Is she missing something? Or… no, that’s not possible. She turns around, takes a napkin from the counter and leaves the café.

Immediately, Saeyoung smashes himself against the table.

“…are you okay?” says Saeran, although his voice holds anything but worry. At this point in his life, Saeran is used to Saeyoung’s sudden actions so he’s rarely surprised by whatever his twin does. Was he okay? Well, he just missed the opportunity to speak with the prettiest girl he has ever seen… He barely manages to give Saeran a thumbs up.

“Oh no, the girl left some stuff…” says Jaehee, slightly worried. Without thinking about it, Saeyoung stands up and the next thing he knows, he’s standing right in front of the table where the beautiful stranger sat. He ignores the suspicious looks of his friends as he looks at what she left: her transportation card and… one of the banners they made for the event, featuring Saeyoung’s most-liked Instagram post. Surprisingly, his face is surrounded by hearts and he can’t stop his cheeks from burning.

Saeran takes the paper from his hands and looks at it, then at him. “...guess she came to see you.”

“What?! But she didn’t come close to her… him!!!” exclaims Yoosung, looking at the banner with his eyes wide open.

“Maybe she was shy. I mean, it is always intimidating to talk to someone you admire,” shares Jaehee knowingly.

Saeyoung is barely listening to them. His mind is focused on the hearts surrounding his face, triggering the memories of their discreet eye contact, the blush on her face as they looked into each other’s eyes from afar… His heart starts beating like crazy, skipping more than a beat. A sudden wave of adrenaline invades his body as he realizes something.

“So… this pretty girl… actually came… to see… me?” he asks, although he already knows the answer. Listening to the confirmation of his friends is enough to give him back his confidence. He puts on his coat as he takes the transportation card and the banner from Saeran’s hands.

“Wait—where are you going? You better not do something weird to her!” exclaims Jaehee.

“What do you mean weird? She’s not going anywhere without her transportation card, so I’m giving it back to her,” he replies as he storms out of the café. Before crossing the door, he adds “It’s just a girl helping out another girl!”

And he ventures into the coldness of the night.

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Although there are a few bus stops near Jaehee’s café, Saeyoung is lucky enough to find her at the nearest stop. She’s waiting there with one hand hidden in the pocket of her coat and the other one holding her phone. As he gets closer, he can clearly see several pictures of him on her screen. He suddenly feels hot as he realizes that she’s looking at the pictures he’s tagged at, most of them from today’s event. He feels some warm weight on his stomach, just as if a cat had fallen asleep on his tummy.

He stands right behind her without moving, carefully thinking about the best way to approach her as he doesn’t want to mess up this opportunity. Just as he gathers enough courage to talk to her, a pair of buses arrive and the beautiful stranger looks up from her phone to get in one. Before she can walk closer to her transportation, Saeyoung quickly puts his hand on her shoulder to stop her from going away. She immediately turns around in surprise, red tainting her cheeks as she locks eyes with him.

“Wait—I mean, uhm, sorry if I startled you,” he slightly laughs, trying to compensate for the awkwardness of his actions, “it’s just that you forgot this at the café.”

He gives her the transportation card and as she is about to thank him, he shows her the banner with his face surrounded by the cutest doodles he has ever seen. The pretty stranger stumbles over her words as her cheeks and ears burn red from embarrassment. Before she can justify herself, the bus closes its doors and begins its journey. Saeyoung is in shock. Did he just make her miss her bus? He begins to apologize, but the stranger laughs it off.

“Don’t worry, there’s another one coming in about… ten minutes, I guess? I just have to wait for it,” she says and Saeyoung can’t help but think that her voice sounds ten thousand better when she is talking to him, “Thank you for bringing it to me. I don’t know what I would have done without it.”

That’s a lie, of course. Saeyoung knows it pretty well. She would have to pay the driver in cash and, maybe tomorrow, buy another one at the nearest convenience store. Nothing bad would have happened if she missed the card—someone else could be using it—and that made him feel worse, after making her miss her bus. Yet here she is, smiling gently at him as if somehow she was glad of having to wait some minutes for the next bus.

“I guess I will wait for you, then. I mean, if you don’t mind,” he manages to suggest calmly, although he is nervous inside, “It is already dark and there are not many people left. I would be preoccupied leaving you here.”

He is not saying the truth, but he is not exactly lying. He is just omitting information to avoid looking like a creeper. I want to talk to you for a little bit longer, is what he actually wants to say, but there’s no way he’s actually saying it. Not without blushing extra hard. When she accepts his company, he just stands by her side, trying hard to focus on what to say and not on how fast his heart is beating. She is the first one to talk, formerly introducing each other. Saeyoung can’t help but keep on repeating her name in his mind, enjoying how each letter combines into making the most pleasing sound he has ever heard.

“I, uh, well- I, ah,” he doesn’t really know how to start talking to her, not when she is looking so endearingly at him, ”I was just wondering why… why didn't you come to take a picture with me… when you were already there…”

The beautiful girl blushes slightly, gazing at her feet.

“I didn’t expect a lot of guys to be there. I thought there would be at least another girl besides you and me, but there wasn’t. Well, except for the owner, I mean,” she admits, playing with her phone in her fingers, “I thought it would be weird to be the only girl approaching you, so I waited until the guys were left to do it, but I got really shy at the end.”

Saeyoung’s heart is beating even faster than before. He can’t believe what he is actually hearing, but even though they just met, he trusts in her words, so his confidence increases.

“Well, you can’t go home without completing your mission, right?” he says while taking her phone away from her fingers and opening the camera. He positions himself beside her and makes a half-heart with his free hand. She looks at him in awe, clearly shocked at his actions, but doesn’t follow him. “Really? You are going to leave my heart waiting? Come on, people are staring at me weirdly.”

And that is enough to make her move. Their fingers faintly touch each other, but that’s enough to send warm waves through his body. He can’t help but wonder if she’s filling it too or if he's just crazy. All his happiness disappears as soon as he sees himself on the screen. He manages to snap the picture before his smile collapses, reminding himself that currently, he’s not yucky Saeyoung, but pretty Saeyoung, and that means the beautiful girl is interested in her, not him. However, there’s something about the glow in her eyes as she thanks him for the picture that makes him decide to ignore it and continue as it is. She asks for her Instagram username before the bus arrives. She’s quick to search herself on his phone, and waves goodbye before the bus departs.

Saeyoung is left alone at the bus station with his phone in his hand, looking at the feed of the girl. Somehow, when he sees her warm smile through her pictures, he doesn’t feel alone anymore.

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Saeyoung clicks the notification as soon as it pops into the screen. He contains himself from liking it when he sees her bright smile on the picture and actually refreshes the page waiting for someone to like it before he does it. Once the heart is coloured in red, he goes into the comments and writes the nicest thing he can think of. She’s quick to reply back.

They have been chatting nonstop for a while. They have met a few times, too, but calling it a date is way too much. They were going out not only as friends but as girl friends. Just one girl meeting another girl at the subway station to get lost on the streets of Seoul, walking several miles per day without even noticing. It was just them finding new restaurants to enjoy, going together to get their nails done—and even getting friendship bracelets that they wear all the time. It was like a dream come true… except she still thought he was she.

“Hey, are you even listening?” Saeran’s voice brings him back to the moment. “Of course you aren’t.”

“Yes, I am,” says Saeyoung, although it’s not true. Ever since he met her, he can’t help but keep his phone in his hand, ready to answer her texts, but she hasn’t been pretty active today.

“...you’re thinking about that girl, right?” he asks, although something about his tone tells him that he already knows the answer. “You shouldn’t hide anymore. You have been talking enough to tell her how you’re feeling. The real you, I mean.”

“It’s not easy. I don’t wanna mess this up,” Saeyoung confesses, gazing down. ”Before I do that… I just wanna know if she likes Saeyoung more than Saeyoung!”

“...what are you even saying?”

“I mean, how am I supposed to know if she likes yucky me more than pretty me? I look gorgeous in a dress, the competition is harsh enough!” his cheeks are burning. It is time to change the topic, “Wanna look into that store?”

“...that’s what I told you before…”

They are looking for new clothes for Saeran since Saeyoung accidentally mixed a red t-shirt into his pale clothes. Saeran is surprisingly picky with the clothing he chooses, so after almost two hours of searching into various shops in Hongdae, Saeyoung decided to take him to Apgujeong. So far they have visited three different stores and Saeran has (thankfully) picked some new clothes for him, although he is still searching for a vest.

As soon as they enter, Saeran starts touching the clothes, feeling the materials as he walks. He stops to pick up around three and, as he is about to enter the changing room, he stops. Saeyoung has been watching his twin so far, trying to calm himself down because of the lack of texts from the pretty girl, so he noticed how Saeran glanced at a shirt several times as he was choosing the clothes. Before Saeran can head back to pick it up, Saeyoung is already giving it to him. Saeran thanks him before disappearing behind the curtains.

Now that he is alone, Saeyoung starts walking around the store looking at the clothes. His style differs from Saeran, so many of the clothes are not appealing to him, yet there are some that he wouldn’t mind trying just for the sake of diversifying his style. As pretty Saeyoung, he dresses fashionable and mature; but as himself, as yucky Saeyoung, he wears whatever is clean—or less dirty, depending on whether he did his laundry or not. He can’t help but wonder what kind of guy the beautiful girl likes… or if she even likes guys. Up until now, he hasn’t really gotten information about that. Whenever he tries to find out if she would be interested in him—the real him—, she just changes the subject or answers back with another question.

He doesn’t know when he ended up in the women section, yet there he is. Standing in front of several accessories that he can’t help but think would look incredible on the beautiful girl. Soon he is busy looking at them all, trying to find the best one for her… but he can’t give her that as if it was nothing… maybe if he… bought two… one for her and one for him…

That would be nice.

He settles up for a pair of necklaces. Saeyoung is smart: he knows that if Saeran sees them, he won’t stop bothering him, so he is quick to go to the cashier to pay for them before Saeran comes out of the changing room. Yet as he gets closer to the cashier to pay, his heart stops as soon as he is greeted.

It is her.

The beautiful stranger is here, in front of him, smiling sweetly even though he is looking as terrible as he always does whenever he is not dressed up as a girl. She doesn’t seem to recognize him, but he keeps her head low as he pays for the necklaces. Oh my, he can’t give it to her now that she has seen them. It would be so obvious…

His face is burning red from embarrassment. He can’t believe that out of all the stores she could be working at, he just happened to come into the one… Then it clicks. Hasn’t she been answering lately because she is working?

“Would you like a bag for your necklaces?” her voice brings him back from his thoughts. He tries to hide his emotions by holding his breath. He says ‘no’ with his head, scared that she might recognize his voice even though he always makes sure to keep it higher than usual when he’s talking to her. There’s no way she’s recognizing him… right?

He slightly bows as soon as he pays, deciding to wait outside for Saeran as he might die from embarrassment if he stays close to her. Just as he is about to exit the shop, his phone rings. He waits until he is outside to answer the call.

“Hello?” he says, looking for the keys to his car.

“Saeyoung?” the voice on the other side makes him freeze.

He turns around and, on the other side of the window, there she is. His sun smiling back at him even though she now recognizes him as a liar. He wants to run away as she approaches him, but it is like his feet are stuck to the floor. He can’t move—and maybe he doesn’t want to. There’s something about her smile, the warm look in her eyes, that stops him from running away and hiding in his room for the rest of his life.

She’s now in front of him, but before he can explain himself… she’s hugging him tightly.

“Oh my, thank goodness you’re a guy! I felt really insecure whenever we went out because you’re so gorgeous and everyone looks at you in awe. But with your actual appearance, I can be the pretty one of the duo!”, she says brightly, surprisingly relieved.

Saeyoung is at a loss for words. Maybe, just maybe, a few tears are forming in his eyes. Why is she acting like this when he lied to her?

“...did you just call me ugly?” he says, but as much as he wants to sound offended, he can’t hold back a giggle.

“In comparison to me, yes, of course.” she releases him, and suddenly it feels cold outside.

“Can’t deny you’re beautiful,” he mumbles looking at his feet. They stay quiet for a while before Saeyoung gathers the courage to speak again. “I didn’t mean to hide my identity from you. It’s just that you were so happy with pretty Saeyoung that I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“Well, I enjoy it whenever I am around you. My opinion is not based on your appearance, you know,” she says, “To be honest, I kinda already knew you were a guy, but I didn’t want to mention it as I thought you had a good reason to keep it to yourself.”

Saeyoung meets her gaze, slightly leaning his head to the side. “Then why did you just call me now?”

It is now her turn to look away, her cheeks tainted in red. “You looked as if you were about to have a panic attack. I just wanted to let you know I am here for you. After all, we’re friends.”

“I wish we weren’t… Wait, I, uh, I mean…Gaaah!” he can’t believe he just messed up. “It’s just that… I think you’re… extremely pretty and I, well, you know, maybe I like you?”

He is pathetic and he knows it. She just came up to tell him all this beautiful stuff about accepting himself as he is, and he has to mess up? It’s almost as he subconsciously wants to auto-sabotage himself.

“Just maybe? Because I like you a lot,” she says, getting closer to him.

Suddenly his hands are not empty anymore. They had held hands before, but this time it’s different. It may be the fact that she is right in front of him and not by his side, that their chests are one step away from touching it other… or maybe that her thumbs are tracing circles in his palms, sending an electric sensation through his whole body.

“Saeyoung, I really like you. No matter if you're prettier than me or not,” there’s a playful grin on her face as she says so. He gulps, nervous that she is either being honest or playing with him. “For real, I liked you ever since I saw you, but all this time we have been going out… I think I have fallen for you. Really hard. So, please, if you like me, don’t just say maybe.”

There’s hope both in her voice and in her eyes. He can’t think clear anymore, not when she is this close, telling him something he thought he would never get to hear. He wants to tell her how much he likes her, for how long he has been waiting for this moment… but he can’t.

Not when his body is moving on its own, hugging her waist to pull her closer until their faces are a few inches apart. Not when his head is leaning to the side as he closes the gap between them. Not when his eyes close and he feels the warmth of her lips on his own.

Not when love has made him speechless and the only way to show his feelings is with actions.

#mysme saeyoung #saeyoung x mc #707 #mysme luciel #luciel choi #saeyoung choi #choi saeyoung #choi luciel #mystic messenger #mysme #mysmerbb #mysme reverse big bang

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spideyxmee · 3 years

Text

The Moon's Dark Side Loves Better

A/N: Hi everybody! Thank you for giving time for this short oneshot of a (messed up) scenario I had.

On a serious note, please read in caution. This mildly contains serious topics which I won't specify in case I spoil everything. If you have any trauma or anything in regards to serious and disturbing topics, please proceed with caution or just don't read this at all and move on to the next fic.

Lastly, it is not my intention to hate/bash any canon characters.

I hope you would enjoy it!

socials | ao3 | intro

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Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Specific traumas I won't specify (please go to the next fic if you don't want to see any), some swear words

Pairing: Lily/Male OC, Jily

Genre: Dark

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Elio Gebber was a normal Ravenclaw with a pure heart. He was always kind-hearted and sweet to everyone he came across. The teachers adored his witty attitude in class and his clean reputation. It attracted a lot of people, even the ones older than him. He had attractive features that could charm anyone, long dirty blond hair, and grey-blue eyes. You could see his confidence in the way he walks and talks.

The students know nothing about Elio's hobbies and personal life. He would let others talk about themselves rather than tell something about him. Others describe him as reticent, while others call him mysterious, but this didn't stop students drool all over him.

It all changed when he showed interest in Lily Evans suddenly at the start of his 5th year. Though he was a year younger than her, he didn't care at all what others say. The news spread like wildfire and eventually alerted Lily's other courter James Potter, who was the complete opposite of Elio. But he was as popular among students.

"He's no match for me, right, Sirius?" James asks his best friend for reassurance that his long-time crush would eventually pick him rather than that "nerd." His best friend, Sirius, offered to bully and threaten Elio until he wouldn't even mention Lily's name. James was mature enough to turn down his offer and be a better man for his love.

"Hi, Evans!" Wearing a charming smile, the sanguine Ravenclaw leaned into a pillar to talk to the redhead in front of him at the Gryffindor table.

"You look wonderful today. Would you mind having some Butterbeer with me this Saturday? I would like to get to know you better."

Lily was staring at Elio, astonished. The whole table chattered, and the event eventually reached the far Slytherin table.

"Damn, that was smooth,"

"Maybe I should take him out, huh, Prongs." Sirius's gay heart leaped, while his group of friends shushed him and comforted the down James while he can only watch as the girl he liked for many years gets taken by a boy below his year. He refused to do his old tactics of aggression and respect Lily's decision.

From all the peer pressure, she agreed to give Elio a chance at dating. From what she knew, he was decent boyfriend material, but she would also like to know other things about him. They met up in the Three Broomsticks and had a successful date. He was nice enough to pay for everything they would buy.

On their second date, they enjoyed playing with the fallen leaves and buying candy at Honeydukes. He had great humor. He asked if she would like a kiss, both knew it was too quick for that, but he presented a muggle chocolate Lily adored called Kisses.

For their third date, a month later, they announced that they were officially dating. Elio knew everything about her. Now it's his turn to share things about himself. He told her that he had a hard childhood and didn't like sharing it with anyone. She understood him and promise to avoid mentioning it in the future.

"Hey, Lily! How are you doing?"

An old friend of hers, Frank Longbottom, approached them while sitting at a table in the Three Broomsticks. He was visiting Hogsmeade for a break from his Auror training. She tried to hug him, but Elio was being overprotective and pushed Frank hard away from her. It was the first time anyone saw him being physical.

"Elio! That is so unnecessary," she pulled the boy back and stared at him in shock while asking herself why he was out of character.

"This is my friend, Frank. Frank, this is my Boyfriend, Elio." She blushed while she helps her friend stand up from the fall. The boy that wore a dark expression didn't even apologize and sat down again. He wanted the other two to sit down and ask questions that sound too protective for other people but seem normal to him.

Frank had to go and was only passing by to say hello. The boys both looked at each other intensely. That wasn't a good first impression with Lily's close friend.

As they walk back to Hogwarts after their date, Lily asks Elio if he was ok and grabbed his hand. It was cold and clenched tight.

A few dates came and go, but it got worse and worse. Elio became more aggressive over Lily's simple mistakes like misplacing borrowed things. He turned into a two-faced idiot that seems nice when people were looking. But when alone with his girlfriend, Elio sounded manipulative and self-centered. He wanted the love of his life to be perfect just for him.

After no time at all, she broke up with him. He threatened her that he would die if she broke up with him, but this didn't work on the bright woman at all. She was over his idiotic tactics and two-faced ass.

She told the whole school about him, but none of the students believe her. Elio became depressed and suicidal, and Lily was the one he blames. The entire school despised her, and rumor spread that she only dated Elio for his popularity and looks. The teachers could only do little for the broken-hearted's well-being. Their respective House heads talked to them he looked in a better state. Lily has no proof of abuse to accuse him.

"Lily, can we talk?" James patiently waited for her to come out of their House Head's chamber. Now is the time to at least comfort her.

"Since when do you call me by my first name, Potter?"

It was hard for her to hold back tears from her talk with Professor McGonagall. The teacher offered to look more into her ex for her. But that's all she can do for now.

"I-" Before he could get to say anything, she attempted to walk away. James went in front of her to stop her and gave her a concerned look. Lily stood straight and raised an eyebrow.

"I am here to say that I trust you and know that you would never lie about what Elio has done to you. You can always come to me if you want to talk."

She doesn't have any reason to trust the toe rag back after what he's done to her ex-best friend in their previous school years. But from what he's done this year and the Shrieking Shack incident, she feels that James is a better person and less of a toe rag.

Weeks went by, and the two talked more and more each day. Elio thought this was preposterous and made a scene breaking down and crying every time he sees them together in public. People around felt sorry for him and criticize the two friends that were soon to be a couple.

The school soon didn't care about the drama anymore and focused on other things, which Elio didn't fathom would happen. He hid and kept a low profile for years.

On his 17th birthday, Elio obliviated his mother to erase every memory of him. His mother, Sharon Gebber, didn't care about her own child. Ever since his mother and father divorced in the summer before his 5th year, his mother abused him. She would often use him as a slave and never notice the achievements that he did so that his own mother would pay attention. This lead to his thirst for recognition in public.

Elio successfully erased her mother's memory so she could fuck off his life. He learned about the power of the spell for a specific plan of his. But clearing his mother's memory was just a practice run.

After he graduated, Elio took a job at the daily prophet to earn some money. People there think he's mental. He credits every team achievement to himself and seeks attention every chance he gets.

And even after five years, he was still not over his "love" for Lily. Elio wanted her to love him since he believes that he deserves her.

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While Lily was shopping for baby Harry's stuff at Diagon Alley, she came across an old friend of hers. Elio was sitting at Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour, writing on a notepad about news from Gringotts. She winced as she recalled all the unpleasant memories of him shouting and making her feel bad about herself. Though it was a long time ago, it still left a faint scar on Lily.

When Lily was about to turn away, he looked up, and they met eye-to-eye. He ran up to her and was about to hug her until she stood back.

"Oh Merlin, Lily! How are you?"

She thought of getting mad at him and ignore him for the things he did. But she thought, what if he's changed? He's matured physically, maybe emotionally and mentally too.

"I'm ok. How about you?" She talked slowly, and her voice was softer than usual.

They sat down and chatted for a bit. Lily was clearly uncomfortable, while Elio was very talkative and talked about himself a lot.

"He didn't seem to change a bit." She thought as she prepared an excuse to leave.

"Elio, I think it's time for me to go."

"Oh, you're already about to leave? Why so soon?" he smiled and talked at the same time, looking like a maniac planning. Which he indeed was.

"I have to really take care of my son, excuse me." she grasped her bag hard, trying to hold back the tears as she watched the same smile Elio wore when they dated fade. She left sniffling and wishing that her spouse, James Potter, to be on her side. But he was protecting their 2-month-old son from the dangers ahead.

"Son?" Elio realized that his first love has had a family with another guy. He gave out a psychotic laugh and cried his heart out. People around stared as the adult threw a child-like tantrum.

Lily heard this from far away, but she learned to never look back.

While crying, Elio thought of something. He then chased Lily and decided that it was time for his plan.

He cornered her in a dark alleyway between shops. He covered Lily's mouth with his hand and chanted a spell to stop her from making any noise. He then snatched her wand, tied her feet, and tied her arms behind her with rope from his wand.

"I have wanted to do this ever since I heard rumors of you and that Potter guy's marriage. Now you and he have a child! I can't stand it, Lily. I thought you loved me!" He stopped and scanned around the environment. "Bystanders will notice all my shouting."

"How about we talk at my humble flat here in London. How does that sound?" Elio wrapped his arms around his sweet childhood sweetheart. Lily tried to scream in hopes that someone or anyone would help her. No sound came out of her mouth as she shed tears silently. She fought her best against the stronger, more muscular man armed with a wand she wished she had.

After not long, they apparated together to his flat. To no surprise at all, his place was eerily clean, and the walls painted white. It pretty much looked like a well-furnished white torture room.

"Sit, my love." Elio dragged Lily, holding her arm with his nails sink into her skin. He locked all the doors to keep Lily in his living room as he'll get some water.

When he left, Lily tried to remove her arms and legs from the rope, but she had no luck. She tried to wriggle her limbs out and cut the ropes using sharp objects around. Alas, none of her tactics worked.

Elio returned, seeing Lily with her face wet with tears.

"Oh, love. Don't cry. I'm here. Drink some water." He wore his demented grin again. He was talking to her like nothing happened between them. It was like they were dating again.

She shook her head and bit her lip, making her facial expressions more emotional and angry.

"Wouldn't hydrate, ey? Not drinking water and keeping hydrated is bad for you, baby."

He raised her chin and looked at her face with awe. Lily tried to bite his finger off, but he pulled it away immediately.

"Ah, a little feistier than I remembered." Elio came closer to her lips as he prepared to kiss her. She gave him a painful headbutt, giving both a throbbing headache.

"Ok, Lily. I have had enough. We will come to my room and have some fun playing, won't we?" He sprung to his feet while rubbing his head to relieve the ache. His voice and face were a mix of angriness and excitement.

Knowing what he means, she got to her knees and attempted to talk, "Why, Elio. Please, I have done nothing but be nice to you."

He stopped from pulling her into the bedroom. He sat to her level to meet her eyes.

"That's the point. You did nothing to make me happy." Elio continued to pull her. The chains he used to attach Lily to the bed were ready. The whole room was filled with candles and rose petals, all ready for their steamy night.

"Don't resist me, my Lily! I deserve your love. I need your love." He clenched his teeth, making his words sound hard and scary.

It was the last thing she heard before all of her trauma.

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The morning sun arose. Elio prepared eggs and toast for breakfast without releasing Lily.

"Your bed in breakfast is here, love!" He places the small table on her lap. Elio was covered in bruises which he calls hickeys. The sleeping Lily was the most bruised, not just physically.

Elio obliviated her, confident that he replaced all of her memories with false memories of both of them together, being a happy and normal couple. He didn't know that he messed up.

"If you ever tell anyone about all this, I will kill you and your whole family."

He was removing her chains and undoing the silencing spell when he heard a knock on the door. Aurors arrived at his house for the interview he needed for an article. It was scheduled for 8 pm, but they misunderstood it for 8 am.

While Elio was away attending the Aurors, Lily woke up remembering everything except Elio's face and identity. She did, in fact, hear the mysterious man's threat involving her family. Lily wanted to get out immediately. She found all her stuff and clothes in the room. Luckily with the help of magic, she left out of the window and gently fell to the ground without scraping her already damaged body.

Elio returned to the room after chatting with his guests. He found no one there. He thinks this was mind-boggling and impossible. He prepared all this thoroughly, and he saw no one to blame but himself. The thought of it made him ask his guests to leave his home and throw things around the house.

Lily healed her scars that left unnoticeable traces at first glance and then apparated back to her home. She told the worried Order of the Phoenix members and her panicked husband that she went to her muggle friend's house that had no telephone. She also assured them that she was unable to contact anyone since it was an emergency.

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"James, I'm pregnant."

Her husband celebrated while carrying and dancing with baby Harry in his hands. While he was happy, Lily worried if it was actually her husband's baby she's bearing.

The whole Order of the Phoenix knew. Others say to be careful of this new baby because they know that the he who must not be named is coming for their first child.

While doing an interview at the Leaky Cauldron, Elio looked terrible. Dark circles under his eyes, and he reeked the smell of alcohol. The good-looking young man was nowhere to be found. He worked day and night, punishing himself for losing "his whole world."

He was a workaholic without any motivation for any other things, even the news of Lily's second child he overheard from a random person at the bar.

"I deserve this miserable life. I don't deserve happiness, and most importantly, Lily." he thought after wrapping up the interview and ordering alcohol.

⌇⌇⌇⁃⌇⁃⌇⌇⁃⌇⁃⌇⌇⌇

After a long day of work, Elio didn't stop find stories for work. His workaholic ass made him travel far. He reached West England just for the story about the undiscovered magical creatures around the area.

While searching around a village called Godric's Hollow, he heard a familiar scream. In a house, he saw a silhouette of a woman fall to the floor through a window. Elio wanted to see what happened, but he didn't want to be a suspect. So he covered any trace of him like wearing removing his shoes, wore gloves, and summoned a hairnet. It looked ridiculous but at least he won't be seen by the Aurors as a suspect.

He rushed inside to see James Potter, lifeless. He then realized. Lily must be the woman. He hurried up the stairs thinking about multiple things. "What happened? Will I report this? Who did this? This might make a good story. Is her child dead too? Is Lily dead?"

The first thing Elio saw was a swaddled, blonde infant cooing. Despite the cries of the toddler and her inert mother, she remained calm and silent. The sight of the infant made Elio's heart warm. She looked a lot like him.

His sharp and quick mind made it seem that this little bundle of light that reflected his past beautiful self's features is his own child. The thought pushed his panic buttons. He told himself, "I have made enough mistakes. I let Lily down and abandoned her. I will fix all of them."

Elio left the house with the child, and still, she didn't cry.

He did everything he can for his child. He quitted his job, changed his identity, and started a new life just for his child. He met a woman and he planned to obliviate her into thinking they have a family, and the girl is their child.

Without knowing it, Elio's wand was broken when he chanted the spell. He forgot all his memories that involved Lily, which was a lucky coincidence. The bad things he did to her? Kidnapping Lily's child? All forgotten.

He also forgot his act of acting to be nice and friendly to his "family." Elio's personality changed to match the kind of person he pretended to be.

He's successfully released a magazine of his own. He raised his girl to be better than his old self, even after his spouse died when their daughter was nine. The smart, little Ravenclaw girl loved everyone better than the person she reflected. And after all the bad things Gebber has done before, he helped some hero complete his mission.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

This was the life of Xenophilius Lovegood.

#hp fanfic #oneshot #original character #lily evans #dark #harry potter fandom #harry potter fic #harry potter au #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #marauders era #lily/oc #lily/james #lily evans fanfiction #lily evans x oc #jily #lily evans oneshot #hp one shot

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jstlikemagic · 4 years

Text

One Night Chance. - Jeff Wittek Imagine

Title: One Night Chance.

Pairings: Jeff Wittek/Reader

Rating: R (For swears tho)

Summary: Being friends with benefits has always been fun but what about when two makes three? Also, what are the chances Y/N goes into labor at Jeff’s stand-up show?

TW: Drugs and alcohol (both lightly mentioned)

A/N: Hi y’all! Ya girl is BACK AGAIN!!! This time I have a “pre-sober” Jeff imagine! I decided to write this because I really wanted to write something pregnancy-related, a little bit of a comedy, and also something serious. If you liked this, please reblog/like! Thank you!

MY MASTERLIST

Taking a good look around Jeff’s dressing room, you started having flashbacks about what life was like eight months ago. The patron that was spilt on the carpet, reminded you of all times you and the guys would get fucked up at David’s house parties. The keef residue that was left on the table, reminded you of when you’d just be chilling in the living room with a bong in your hand, thinking life couldn’t get any better. You were so happy with your lifestyle and how much fun you’d been having. Soon enough though, life took a turn.

-Eight Months Ago-

The past few weeks had been rough. You were so tired that you almost fell asleep in the car a few times. You were so hungry, that Postmates was your new best friend. The toilet was your new home since you’d been puking and pissing a lot recently. Feeling uneasy one day and puking up a delicious breakfast burrito, you had that feeling.

Forcing yourself up from the bathroom floor, you grabbed your car keys and busted out of your apartment. Jumping into your car, you floored it to the nearest convenience store. After you parked your car, you speed walked into the store due to your heightened anxiety. As you walked down the aisles, you finally spotted the women’s health aisle. Pregnancy tests. Pregnancy tests. Where would those be. A lightbulb shot up in your head once you spotted the array of pee sticks. Shaky hands reached for the Clear Blue pregnancy tests, grabbing eight “just in case.” Going up to the counter, you hurriedly placed the tests on the counter. “Aw, sweetie. I see the anticipation. Have you been trying?” said the counter employee.

“Yes, I’m very much anticipating a little shit that’s gonna run my money dry and ruin my life,” you sarcastically said. With the employee looking shocked as hell and you already handing the cash over, you decided it was best to just leave as fast as possible. Taking the bag, you gave one of those bitchy smiles and said “have a nice day.” Fucking bitch.

Flooring it home, you nearly sprinted into your bathroom. Making sure you could provide for eight samples, you drank at least three bottles of water. After providing for each sample, you left each test on the sink counter.

You weren’t going to cry but god damn, what if you were actually pregnant… with Jeff’s baby. The two of you were only friends, who fooled around occasionally. Backtracking to how possible it could be, you started freaking yourself out even more. Jeff had been fucking you for at least three months straight so that’d be very possible. Plus, you both relied on the “reliable” pull out method.

Creeping back into the bathroom seven out of the eight tests looked like they were done. With both ends on the edge of the counter, your head slowly drooped down to look at the sticks. Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. Not Pregnant, oh I like this one. Pregnant. Suddenly, you saw the last test blinking which meant it was about to read the result. Every last bit of you wanted it to say not pregnant but it didn’t even matter at this point. Still keeping hope alive, you lifted the stick up to your face. Pregnant.

Well, the next obstacle was telling Jeff you were having his baby.

-One Week Later-

“Hey Y/N. What’s up?” His voice alone could make your heart flutter. Reconsidering if a phone call was how you wanted to do this, you erased the consideration out of your head and proceeded with the phone call. It was easier anyways, you wouldn’t be able to see the shock and disappointment on his face.

“So, I have some big news. I mean I guess not big news, small news as of now that will get bigger eventually,” you spoke really fast.

“Did ya get the job ya wanted? I know you’re only a secretary but you’ll work your way up and life will be great!” he exclaimed.

Trying not to be salty because you didn’t get the job he was talking about, you laughed it off. “I, uh-, didn’t get the job. I actually have some other news that involves you. I’m pregnant and it’s very much yours,” you blurted It out. Without hearing his response, you felt a huge weight just fall off your shoulders. Hearing a sigh come from the other end of the phone, it was soon followed by empty moments of silence.

“Are ya sure? Like are you sure that you’re pregnant? And are ya sure that you want this? Y/N, we’re in our 20s. We’re living it up and living our best lives.”

“Jeff, I am 100% pregnant. I’ll mail you out all the sticks I pissed on. You can have all water bottles I used too.” Taking a moment to think of his last question, you started to feel hot tears roll down your cheek. “I think I want this. This could be my wakeup call to cut the shit. This is my endgame... Actually, of course I want this. I think what I want to know is, do you want this? I’ll do this with or without-“

“Yes, I want this. I want you. I want this baby. I just wanted to put the ball in your court because it is your body, your choice. The idea of having a baby right now is a little frightening but maybe I need this wakeup call too. Ya know we do stupid shit. I wanna have someone to wanna come home to. I wanna have someone pop in my head every time I see ten shots lined up for me and it makes me not want to do it. With that being said. I’m down if you’re down,” he interrupted. Feeling so overwhelmed by his support and letting you have this decision just made you burst into tears.

-Eight Months Later-

Getting up to go the bathroom, which felt like the millionth time today, Jeff grabbed your hand to help lift you off that comfortable couch. “I got this,” you agitatedly said. Being almost nine months pregnant, you hated everything. You either puked or pissed yourself. The smell of certain food would throw you over the edge. Moving around got harder because your huge belly that got in the way. You also partially resented Jeff because he shot his sperm up inside of you. He was really good dealing with your mood swings though. He knew when to give you space and is very assuring about everything you do.

Walking into the bathroom, you lifted your dress up and pulled your underwear down so fast, just to make sure you didn’t piss your pants. Immediately sitting on the toilet, you could feel some pressure in your uterus from the sudden and fast movements. Placing one hand on your stomach, you said “I’m sorry, baby. Mommy’s just making sure she doesn’t spring a leak on this god-awful linoleum floor. But I just want to let you know, that you need to get the fuck out of me.” Your voice got louder every word in your last sentiment.

“Is everything okay in there?” Jeff hollered from the other side of the dressing room.

“Yes, and please shut the fuck up. I’m concentrating!” you screamed back while rolling your eyes. Sitting on the toilet, you suddenly felt a huge wave of liquid pass through you. Knowing you didn’t put any pressure like you were pissing, your first instinct was to get up and look in the toilet. You immediately wiped yourself and threw that in the toilet. Spotting a little bit of blood and few solid pieces which resembled skin, you knew it was time. The time. Feeling a wave of panic and anxiety, you flushed the toilet, washed your hands, and called Jeff over to the front of the bathroom door. With a smile on his face, he dutifully walked towards you.

“What’s up, baby? Is everything okay? Is the baby okay?” he started questioning you. He could tell from the look on your face that something was happening.

“Okay, so don’t panic. That’s my first rule okay,” you whispered, making sure no one else was going to hear the next thing. “I believe that I’m in labor but like not too sure. But I think I am.” Seeing Jeff’s eyes go wide, you immediately covered his mouth with your hand. “Don’t you fucking say anything. Help me get in the tour bus and figure this out.” Threatening him wasn’t a part of the plan and you had to do what was necessary so no one else in the room heightened the panic.

Jeff took your hand and led you through what felt like endless rooms to the cool outside. While passing by people, you painted a smile on your face. The last thing you wanted was for someone to tweet that you were in labor. This whole pregnancy, you had been scared if any information would leak. Such as if the hospital was leaked and people put two-and-two together, that fans would show up. Finally reaching the bus, he grabbed both of your hands and walked you up the bus. You went to sit down onto the couch but instantly felt a contraction. People weren’t kidding when they said contractions were a bitch. As the contraction passed through your body, you finally sat yourself down with him right next to you.

“Not to be an insensitive asshole but I also have a show in like thirty minutes but we’re also having a baby! I’m gonna look up online how to stop labor for a little bit, just to buy us time.” Never have you ever shot him such a nasty ass look. You didn’t give a flying fuck about his show, you had a baby who just received their eviction notice.

“No! You can’t just web it the fuck up and expect it to stop!” you screamed. Out of everything he could’ve said during this stressful time, he decided to say that. Feeling another contraction, you threw your head backed and moaned at the pain. Looking at Jeff, you both just knew you two were in for one hell of a night, maybe even days. If there’s one thing you two understood was that you agreed on this together and knew you two have to work together to get this baby out.

#jeff wittek #jeff wittek imagines #jeff wittek blurbs #vlog squad imagines

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aj-writes-here · 4 years

Text

Couldn’t help it and I ended up writing this in the middle of a class

Birthday Gift

It was December 23th, and you've been thinking since November about what the hell give Levi. It was not only Christmas, but it was also his birthday and you still haven't come up with something to give to him. You tried to look for clues, glimpses of things that he might like, but every time you tried to ask a subtle question his answer was the same, I don't want anything, so don't stress yourself.

But you were stubborn, and he was your boyfriend. And it was a very important date and you wanted to make it special. Snowflakes were falling as you walked through the market, looking for different alternatives, or trying to get ideas. Some shop owners knew you, either because you were a popular Squad Leader or because you always visited them, but not even in that way you could think about something to give to him. You saw a small tea shop, and you stood in front of it thinking, maybe a new blend of tea? No, I bought him one last week. A set of cups? These are all ugly. What about a pot? There are plenty of those. Damn it.

You knew he loved tea, and even once in a late night conversation where every honest word came out, he had confessed to you that he would like to have his own tea shop. Maybe one day, but it was just a thought he had.

And then it hit you.

You walked away the tea shop, knowing the things that you were going to buy.

The rest of the day was spent away from Levi, he couldn't find out what you were doing or planning on giving him, so you had asked Erwin to use his office for a couple of minutes, promising to left it cleaner than already was, and he agreed with a calm smile.

And in this way, the night before the 25th arrived. The dining hall was full, smiley cadets were sitting in front of different things to eat, and some of them were exchanging gifts that very same night.

You smiled looking at how Eren and Jean were arguing again on who was going to give their gift first to Mikasa, too excited to way for morning next, and she was just looking at them with a vague smile, Armin was trying to calm them down as Connie was trying to control Sasha, the girl had already eaten three potatoes in less than five minutes. Hanji sat next to you, and both of you agreed that the place was looking happy, with the ornaments, laughs, food, and colors. No one was planning on sleeping earlier, in the end, it was winter and the day next was free for everyone, so a snowball fight was coming quicker than anticipated. Levi arrived next to Erwin, and they joined you and the rest of the vets on the table, certainly it was a good atmosphere, but Levi was looking bored as usual.

It was impossible for Hanji not to throw a comment about his birthday approaching, and he just answered back with a shitty comment, making the rest laugh. They knew him, and they didn't put pressure on him.

The night kept that way, shiny and happy among the darkness that it was usually faced. A few hours later, Levi and you decided that it was time to leave, and saying goodbye you made your way to the bedroom you both shared.

After a few minutes, the clock stroke midnight and at the dining hall Hanji stood up rapidly, but Erwin's voice stopped her.

''Where are you going, Hanji?'' The blonde man asked taking a sip of his beverage.

''It's shorty's birthday already! I'm not letting him escape my congratulations this time''

''I'm sure you can wait until tomorrow, let the love birds have a bit of space, they hardly ever have time for themselves.'' He said calmly and the rest of the vets agreed with his comment.

She sat down and grabbed a cookie, Erwin was right, she was going to wait until tomorrow morning, and maybe she could greet him with a snowball, that was a better plan, definitely.

Meanwhile, at the bedroom, Levi had change into his nightwear and as he was washing his teeth you took out the small bag you had hidden very good, because with his cleaning skills he would have found it and ruined the surprise.

To you, the gift was a wonderful idea and you were sure he was going to like it. But that was when you were all hyped in the making process, now every single insecurity was taking over. Maybe it was a shitty thing, and he was not going to like it, but you had to give it a try, and it was no time to think about it again because you heard the water stop running. Placing the bag over the bed, you went back to the office and smiled when Levi was finally out of the bathroom, looking at him with sparkling eyes.

''Oi, what's wrong, why do you have that idiotic fac-'' He couldn't continue because you hug him tight against your body, he hesitated at the first second but then his hands were on your back.

''Happy birthday'' You answer against his chest, lifting your eyes to him. ''It is 00:07, so it is 25th already.'' his expression softened just a bit.

''Thank you, brat'' Levi's voice was low, and he answered to your kiss, he couldn't resist to them.

''Now come here, I have something for you.'' You grabbed his hand and dragged him to the bedroom.

''Tch, I told you not to buy anything.'' He said furrowing his expression, but then looking with curiosity at the bag with a blue ornament.

''And you know I was not going to listen to you. It is Christmas, and your birthday, so shut up and open it,'' You laughed and he huffed, lifting the bag, and it was heavier than it looked ''Careful.'' You said, nervousness in your voice.

He looked at you quickly and then his attention was on the bag again, and when he put his hand to take out the object, he had no idea of what it could be. At first, he thought it was a watch, or maybe even a new cravat but it was to heavy for that, and it felt... Like wood. Wood? He thought to himself, pulling out the object. His eyes opening and his jaw dropping a bit when he saw what it was. No shitty comments, no questions, just silence.

''I... I didn't know what to get you, but once you mentioned that... That you wanted to get your own tea shop. I don't have the money enough to buy and actual building, but... This one can help you not to forget this sort of dream you have,'' You smiled shyly ''I'm sorry if it's ugly, I'm terrible at doing crafts, you can tell me if you hate it tho, I won't die''

You smiled at your own words, but he didn't seem to listen. His eyes were still placed on the object, you saw his adam apple when he swallowed, he was getting many emotions that he was controlling. No one ever had given him something that meaningful, something you had made with your own hands, even splintering and cutting your fingers in the process. It was a tiny tea shop, made it out of wood and painting, it was on a wooden based and it even had a very small chair and a table, it was not a professional work, that's true, but the idea was beyond clear and beautiful. It had details such as windows, doors, a hanging sign painted with your handwriting, even a very detailed roof.

Levi's eyes didn't leave the figure for a second, but then all you could feel was his strong hand on your nape, abruptly pulling you towards his body. You opened your eyes wide in surprise because of his reaction.

''Don't be an idiot. It's perfect.'' He mumbled against your hair. ''I don't even have words.'' You allowed yourself to stay in his embrace for a while longer, feeling at home when you were trapped in his arms.

''So did you like it?'' you asked looking back at him.

''I did,'' He caressed your cheek and then looked at the mini tea shop in his other hand ''No one ever had done something like this for me, thank you brat.'' His hand stopped and cupped your cheek, kissing you slowly.

''I'm glad you did,'' no one could erase the smile from your face at that point ''Happy birthday and Merry Christmas'' you finished kissing him again.

''Speaking of which, I have something for you too. But you'll need to wait until tomorrow'' He stated.

''Why is that?''

''Because I say so.'' You laughed and slapped him playfully on his shoulder.

He left a caress on your cheek, and moved back to the office. Following him, you saw that the put the tiny tea shop on the desk, carefully and away from the edges to keep it free from falling. 'I won't let you have not even a speck of dust.' He said to himself, looking at it for another while.

''It's perfect.'' Levi said ''Now I'm ashamed of my shitty gift.'' You laughed and hugged him by his torso.

''Maybe If I see it I could judge''

''Sure thing. But you'll judge tomorrow.''

''I hate you so much'' You mumbled against his lips

''I doubt it'' He replied, his lips moving softly against yours, and you noticed he was thanking you again for your gift. That's how he showed his feelings, through actions.

''Now, I have something else for you'' You said with a teasing voice, lifting an eyebrow.

''I thought you hated me'' He replied, looking at you with daring eyes.

''Just at times'' Finishing with a laugh, you kissed him again. But then, you heard some rapid steps, someone was running? You didn't care and kept kissing him, but then the steps got louder.

''Oi, are you lis-'' He asked pulling away, but got interrupted ''You've got to be kidding me.'' Levi walked to the door, maybe if he was fast enough he could lock it.

But it was too late.

''SHOOOOOOOOOORTYYYYYYY'' And then you knew it. The door was open loudly and Hanji entered running and screaming with joy. ''HAPPY BIRTHDAY!'' She hugged and he whined, you laughed when you saw the bottle she had in her hands.

''I'm sorry, I tried to stop her but then she just disappeared from my sight.'' Erwin said, looking at the scene from outside the door.

''Let me go now, shitty four eyes. Or else you'll meet the interiors of a titan''

''Come in, Erwin.'' You invited him and he entered with a funny smile on his face. When Levi was free from Hanji, you grabbed some glasses and set them on the table. ''Guess you will have to wait until tomorrow for your gift, Levi'' you laughed, and sat down, inviting Hanji next to you.

''You're all so damn rowdy.''

Giving up, he sat down in front of Erwin and grabbed a drink, he looked as if he wanted to kill them, but the truth was that he was happy he could spend part of that date with the people he cared about the most.

However, Levi couldn't stop thinking about the small tea shop you had given him, because for him that was by far the best gift he'd ever received, and most importantly it was done by the woman he loved the most.

#attack on titan #attack on titan imagine #levi ackerman #levi ackerman imagines #levi ackerman headcanons #levi x reader

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random-mha-thoughts · 4 years

Text

Name (Todoroki x Reader)

Pairing: Todoroki x fem!Reader

Anon asked: “suggestion for Todoroki angst : he got in an arranged marriage with S/O because of his dad who offered a large amount of money to her family for this. Indeed it’s not what they are both looking for but Todoroki really acts cold, is sharp, openly criticizes her (a bit OOC ik) ... S/O is hurt but is still trying to be a good wife around the house to make the best of the situation and hide her insecurities. It’s just an idea, if it does not inspire you I hope you will find something better!! xx

Genre: Angst. Just...angst. I’m so sorry in advance plz don’t hate me

Warnings: Grab your tissues, this is a long roller coaster that’s only going downhill OH GOD I’M SO SORRY

Word count: 3,059

Tags: @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog

a/n: (Submission 1/3 for my post asking for todo angst ideas! Thanks for the ask anon!)

Um. This is...depressing. Really depressing and really intense. I didn’t expect it would turn out this way. But it did. I had 2 other endings, but I instinctively wrote this one. I actually had to stop and cry for a few minutes because it was just really painful I mean, I know I said I was ready to but I didn’t actually mEAn it

I tried a different style for this, but I think it suits the story well. It’s 3rd person limited because I wanted you to experience everyone’s feelings in this (gotta maximize on the angst yknow) and half past tense bc of reasons you’ll find out.

God I’m afraid to post this. Is it bad that I love it, I honestly spent so much time writing this, but it hurts sO mUch?? Y’all are gonna hate me, you’re gonna kill me, oh no, just read the thing already, I’m hiding.

Buy me a coffee?

Shoto didn't know how to react to the news. It's not that he had his eye on anyone in particular, or that he was even interested in marriage for that matter. But because he proposed it, the man who had spent his entire childhood controlling every aspect of his life, he refused to accept any other intrusions from the man he should call "father."

The strange man across from his father spoke those words so casually. "So Endeavor, when are these two tying the knot?"

At first, he thought he had misheard or misunderstood. And then his father responded just as casually, "The date is set for next month."

The normally calm and collected boy almost burst the entire room into flames. He clenched the silverware so hard his knuckles turned white and his teeth ground together, but he couldn't say anything in front of his father's guest and his daughter for fear of shaming himself. The girl across from him offered a sympathetic look, but he turned away, already preparing the earful he's going to give his father.

"I want nothing to do with this!" he whirled on Endeavor as soon as they were home. "You've made my life a living hell controlling every single thing! And now you even want to control my marriage?!"

"I'm doing this for you!" Endeavor bellowed right back. "For the Todoroki name! For your future!"

"This is all for you! I want no part-!"

"If you don't agree, you'll never see your mother or the siblings again."

The calm threat was enough to drench Shoto's wrath into submissive fear. The flaming monster in front of him proved once again that he hasn't an ounce of sympathy for his blood. He's learned that family is the only thing keeping his son under his thumb and he still actively exploits that weakness.

All the boy can do is swallow and walk away, retreating to the outside world to escape his bitter reality even temporarily. Shoto doesn't have outbursts often, but there are times when the straw finally breaks the camel's back, and this is one of them. All he can do is run until he can't run anymore, reaching somewhere secluded enough where he can burst out in flames and ice without hurting anyone, finally getting to a forest where he can do exactly that and scream to his heart's content. It's the only thing he can do that is under his own control.

In the month that followed up to the wedding, Shoto barely spoke a word to anyone, choosing to isolate himself. He only came out when he absolutely had to show his face at functions to the bride's family and look presentable. His mind was always absent, the time flying in a blur of colors and white. Thankfully, his father did the preparations, so all he had to do was go along with everything. Shoto was simply playing a role in a play or movie, he was an actor who deserved an award for being in character for a month.

The night of the wedding, he and his newly-wedded wife were whisked away to their new home, being alone for the first time together. He didn't even know what she looked like nor did he care. As soon as they walked through the door of their already-furnished house, he released a heavy breath, brushed past her, unbuttoned his tuxedo, and - cold as his ice quirk - instructed, "I'm going to bed. Don't come up tonight." It was the first time he had ever spoken directly to her.

His wife, through this entire ordeal, was patient with him. She didn't want this arrangement either, but she figured they could at least talk and come to a mutual agreement. The entire month, she never pushed him to speak to her. She anticipated that he would be rational about this, as she was told by her family, and that they would be able to talk things over when they were finally alone. Just as she was going to speak her mind the way she had rehearsed it many times, he dismissed her. She was hurt, but she understood. He's exhausted after a whole month of stress and preparations, she rationalized, He just wants to rest. I wouldn't want to talk to a stranger after all that either.

Resolving to try again tomorrow morning, she undressed (with great difficulty), crept into the master bedroom for her clothes while Shoto showers, retrieved her pajamas quietly, and retreated back to the living room. The girl searched all the closets for a thick enough blanket and settles down to sleep on a couch, the exhaustion putting her right to sleep.

The next morning, the new Mrs. Todoroki woke up bright and early to make breakfast for her husband as an olive branch. She toiled away in the kitchen, somewhat making a racket even though she wanted to stay quiet so Shoto can sleep. Just as she finished setting the table and had to face the question of how to wake him, the boy padded down from the room.

"Oh, morning!" she smiled brightly at him.

He murmured a greeting back only to be polite, his face devoid of any real emotions other than coldness. He sat as far away from her a possible, thanking her for the meal halfheartedly and digging in without another word.

After waiting a few moments to let him satisfy his hunger, she cleared her throat. "So, um-"

"Your tamagoyaki needs more soy sauce and butter," he stated bluntly.

She blinked at the harsh comment. It was shocking he said anything to her at all, and the first thing he said was an insult.

"And the miso has no flavor," he continued in the same tone.

The girl finally gathered her wits. "I'll do better tomorrow. Thanks for the feedback, I guess?" she laughed nervously, trying to erase the immense tension Shoto bled into the atmosphere. When he didn't respond, she tried again. "I know this isn't something either of us wanted, but that doesn't mean we have to live here like enemies. We could be friends, or even just roommates!"

"I'd rather be strangers," he interjected harshly.

It felt like a stab in the heart. Here she was, trying to make their lives somewhat bearable together through their common misfortune, and all he wanted to do was live like ghosts in the same house.

Shoto placed his chopsticks down firmly, glaring her straight in the eyes with the iciest hatred she's ever seen. "Just to be clear, I want no part of you. You live your life and I live mine. You can have the bedroom to sleep at night if you want, but it's mine when I come home to shower and prepare for bed. We will not sleep, talk, or breathe near each other as long as we are in this house."

She dipped her head in defeat, unable to bear the weight of his stare. "C-Can we at least have our meals together?" she asked feebly.

It's something he respected, coming from family values no matter how broken. It's the only exception he made to their less-than relationship.

Months passed and she kept her end of the bargain through a suffocating routine. At first, the girl was kind, trying to get him to open up to her somehow without overstepping her boundaries. She made excuses for him constantly. He's just tired. The least I can do is leave him alone. I can't comfort him anyway, I'm a stranger. He's still upset about the whole thing, he'll come around. She even begged her boss to let her leave a little early every day to make sure she had ample amount of time to get home, shower, and prepare dinner before Shoto returned. When he did, he wordlessly showered, sat down to dinner, nitpicked at her cooking, finished eating, and went to sleep on the living room couch, all without even sparing her a glance.

But as every day passed, she grew more weary and worn in her efforts to please him. She tried to fix every little complaint Shoto had about her cooking or the cleanliness of the house or the laundry, but nothing seemed to satisfy him. She tried to hold onto the silver lining. At least he never touched me wrong or took advantage of me, she would think bitterly. He has the decency not to take his anger out on me.

Then the dark thoughts closed in as he continued ignoring her. Surely, Shoto's only disgusted with his father, he doesn't harbor hatred for her personally. Then she would remember the hate and disgust in his mismatched eyes the first day of their marriage. She realized no matter how desperately she tried, he wouldn't show her any signs of warmth or appreciation. No more did she try to make conversation with him during meals or greet him when he came home. There were days she thought, Why should I even try? He wouldn't like it either way. What's the point of getting up today? Maybe he'll even criticize how I sleep. But she still rose out of bed every morning and carried out her routine because it could always be worse.

A sliver of hope came in the form of Shoto's birthday. The girl figured if she did something just a little special, he would acknowledge her even the tiniest bit. She spent days beforehand researching and testing out the perfect cold soba recipe because she knew it was his favorite. She lit some candles on the table and bought a small cake for them to share.

When he came home, she was sure he would notice and say something, but he didn't; he went straight up to the bathroom as he usually did without a word. Though she felt the glimmer lessen in her heart, she didn't give up. For the first time in a while, she verbalized her thoughts to him.

"I made your favorite for your birthday!" she chirped as he sat down, setting the plate and a cup of dipping sauce in front of him. She was so eager for him to try it because she was confident she'd gotten it right this time. If she were a dog, her tail would've wagged in anticipation as he slurped the noodles into his mouth. She waited patiently for his feedback, leaning forward in excitement as he swallowed.

"The noodles are slightly overcooked. And the dipping sauce is too strong, you didn't add enough water."

Her hopes came crashing to a halt. She couldn't even muster anything else to say as he hastily finished his dinner and rose to leave.

She stood up, heart hammering in her chest. "What about the cake?" Anything, something!

"I don't want it." He turned his back to her.

"I got it for you!" It was the first time she explicitly stated her intentions, the first time she made herself vulnerable.

"You shouldn't have gotten it at all. It was a waste of time. Why did you even try?" The calm and cold words stung her as he got up and left her in the dining room alone.

His words echoed against the empty walls of the dining room. She looked down at the cake he disregarded, feeling cold and dizzy. She took a shaky breath in and out before resting her head on the cold glass table to stabilize herself. The voice stabs through her even as she closed her eyes to block them out.

It was then she felt bluntly in her mind. He hates me.

The girl feels nothing but numbing cold, both on her face and inside. Rolling up to sit, her neck and back cry out in soreness from sleeping on the table, pale light greeting her from the nearby window. Her face feels strange, and she trudges to the bathroom mirror to check why. She knows she should be preparing for work, but what's the point? Her reflection reveals lines across her cheek, probably from sleeping on the edge of the table. She shuffles to the kitchen because she should probably start breakfast, but why should she? Leaning against the counter, she can't bring herself to move anywhere. Her brain buffers as she tries to force herself to think of what to do now. She doesn't feel sick, but there's a dull, cool feeling in her limbs that she can't face.

The phone rings, catching her off guard. Glancing at the number, she doesn't hesitate to answer. "Hello?"

"Hi, baby. It's me."

Her eyebrows relax, appreciating the sound of a familiar voice. "Hey, Mom. What's up?" She knows her voice sounds weak, she's hoping the woman can't hear it.

"I'm just checking in, you haven't called in a while. Is something up? You don't sound good."

"I'm...fine," she stumbles over the word. "How's dad?"

"He's doing well. You sure you're not sick, sweetie?"

"I'm not." She leans her back on the counter.

"Is Shoto there? How is he?"

And just like that, she feels something dislodge in her throat. "He's going to work, he probably left early." She doesn't know, there hasn't been any rustling in the house.

Her mom is silent for a while. "Tell me the truth. What happened?"

The sound of her mother's stern voice moves something in her chest. "It's nothing, I just made a mistake."

"Doing what?"

"I tried making Shoto's favorite dish for his birthday yesterday. I put so much time and energy into perfecting it for him to enjoy it, but I fell short again." She laughs bitterly, tears starting to fill her eyes. "He didn't even want the cake I got for him, he said it was a waste. I shouldn't have bothered with it." She blinks and a tear slides down her face. "I don't know why I was expecting something different to happen, I'm so stupid."

"Honey, where is this coming from? What's going on?"

She wipes her face, but more spill out of her eyes as she slides down the cabinet onto the cold floor. "It's just a little frustrating when you're sharing a house with someone you're married to and they barely acknowledge you. I mean, I expected there to be problems at first given the circumstances, but I didn't expect this." Her voice shakes with every word. "God, what did I do to deserve this? I've lived in this house for 5 months, and never has he even said 'thank you' to me. Hasn't breathed a word of appreciation to me. I do so much for him. I've bent over backwards for him just to make everything done the way he wants it, I've worked my entire routine, my entire life in this house to cater to him, but all he does is complain!" She sobs into the phone, curling up into a ball as tremors wrack through her body. "I'm just so tired. I don't know how much more I can take. I've made so many excuses for him, but I just can't do anything right. Why am I even still here?"

Her mother is silent on the other line. "My baby, if I knew this would happen, I wouldn't have allowed this marriage. I can't believe you're going through this."

The girl can't formulate words or think anything coherent. She drops the phone out of her hand, wrapping her legs to her chest as the tremors continue in waves, muffled whimpers the only thing escaping her lips because she's afraid to cry out loud despite being in an empty, lonely house.

Shoto heard something he probably shouldn't have, but he definitely needed to hear. It bothered him for the rest of the day. It was a sobering slap in the face that made him feel shame and regret, a hard-to-swallow pill that sat in his stomach the entire day.

On his way back home, the sound of her sobs echoes in his mind. He curses his behavior from the past few months. At the very least, he made a lady cry, and at the most, he's been a complete asshole. It's all his fault, that is something he's completely aware of and is ready to take full responsibility for. All this time, he was stupidly neglecting her out of spite for his father, but he broke her in the process. He's angry that he had to hear her crying to realize that. The only thing he can do now is hurry home to profusely apologize for what he's done and hope they can start over new and she forgives him, which he's prepared for her not to do.

Honestly, he deserves all the hate from her that he's shown her. After everything she's done for him and all the effort she's put into their imbalanced relationship, he wouldn't be surprised if she yelled at him and called him all sorts of names.

Shoto walks through the door, the atmosphere different. The house is quiet as usual, but it's more eerie than he remembers, as if that means anything with how aloof he was. He slips into the bedroom and changes quickly, returning back to the quiet dining room where his dinner waits for him at his place.

He tentatively sits and spares a quick glance at the girl who's supposed to be his wife. Her eyes are still puffy and she's tugging at her sleeves. It seems she's avoiding him and he was avoiding her before. He questions how things should start. When is the right time to speak his piece. Would she listen to him now? He decides to take a bite first and chews slowly. I guess a 'thank you' is a good place to start-

"We're getting a divorce."

He stops suddenly, almost choking.

"You don't owe me anything, and I don't want anything from you." She isn't looking at him, voice calm and collected. "Besides, it's better this way since it's what you wanted." She rises from her seat smoothly. "I've already packed for the next few nights. I'll have some workers come in the following weeks to clear out the rest, and the papers will be delivered promptly." Her footsteps recede from the room.

Shoto turns around to call out to her, and his minds comes up blank.

He never even bothered to remember her name.

Sequel?

Sequel!

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #todoroki angst #todoroki imagine #todoroki scenario #female reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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yuusa · 3 years

Text

𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝟕

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟑𝟑𝟑𝟏

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫

𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝟕:

You walked around the shopping district with a list of items you needed. It was the start of the weekend and you planned on spending the entire day running errands and completing housework. A part of your stomach still felt sick from yesterday’s events. You have silenced your phone throughout the day and muted text messages with Tohru and Yuki. You didn’t know why you wanted to avoid Tohru, if anyone was in the wrong, it would be you rather than her.

You went into a gift shop and explored the various stationaries stacked against each other. You grazed each of the items, admiring their craftsmanship and detail. On your list you wanted to buy new pens and supplies as the ink on your original pen has started to run out. As you scanned the different designs, you paused when you saw a wooden fountain pen with a painted Zodiac Rat design surrounding its body.

You silently gawked at the pen for a while, catching the attention of the store owner who walked over to your side. She was a gentle old lady who owned this store for several years, her grey hair was tied back in a bun, and in her hand was a wooden cane, her name seemed to be engraved onto the side.

“Are you looking at this one dear? It’s a good choice.” She picked up the pen with her wrinkled hands and held it up to you, “not many people choose this design, but it’s one of the prettiest ones in my opinion.”

“O-Oh, thank you.” You bowed down in front of her to express your appreciation.

“Do you like the year of the rat?” She asked, examining your expressions.

“Yes, I do.” You replied, holding up the pen as you admired it, your heart twisted at the memory beginning to resurface, but you quickly extinguished it.

“Is something the matter?” She asked, seeing your eyes dim down from underneath the store lights.

“N-Not really.” You mumbled, picking through a stack of erasers and ink cartilages.

“Hmm. . . Your eyes say that you’re lying,” She said, “why don’t you talk about it for a bit?”

“A-Ah. . .” You pressed your lips together into a firm line, the sinking feeling coming back to you as your memories began to slowly drip into your consciousness like a faucet. “Well. . . A friend and I. . . Got into a fight.”

Could you really consider it to be a fight? You were the only one acting irrationally in the situation and got angry at him when he wasn’t responsible for anything. He owed nothing to you and you blew him off. It seemed too childish when you looked back, and you didn’t know what you wanted to do with your feelings.

“What was it about dear? This can just be between us.” She gave you a kind smile, one that seemed to brighten under the lights.

“I-It’s just. . .” You held up a jelly eraser in your hand, admiring the pink flower shape and specks of sparkles embedded, “I got mad that he didn’t tell me something important during the school festival. . . I just felt like he was holding back a secret but when. . .”

The old woman listened to each of your words as you continued speaking, the urge to bite your lip being restrained, “. . . Whenever he talks to me, I always thought he was being honest with me.”

You placed the eraser down, your eyes cast downwards as you tried not to think about the situation too much. The woman hummed in acknowledgment but picked up the eraser you discarded.

“Perhaps he wanted to protect you from something he thought would hurt you.” She said, holding up the eraser and picking up a second one, one that was shaped to be a childish bear for children.

“There are a lot of things we do for someone, and one of those things is keeping things that you are afraid of.” She toyed with the eraser, bring it up over the flower eraser and shaking it, making it play the role of a scary bear. “We often want to protect what we find is beautiful and valuable.”

She picked up a third eraser, one that was much more plain looking, using it as a barrier between the bear and flower. “Although they don’t look like much on the outside, they’re much more than that on the inside.”

She pulled back the paper covering to reveal the plain white color fading into a vast array of colors of different colors underneath, the small specks of gold similarly embedded like the flower. She grasped onto both of the erasers and placed it into your hands before guiding your fingers to wrap around them.

“Be sure to talk to the young man dear, he might even be waiting for you.” She patted your hand before slowly walking back to the counter.

“A-Ah! The price!” You quickly tried to walk over to her but she stopped you with her hand.

“Think of it as a gift for listening to an old woman’s conversation.” Before you could even place the money on the counter, she had already left through the curtains.

You stared down at the gifts you received from the woman, still thinking about the lesson you learned from her. You clutched the erasers tightly to your chest before placing it into your bag and leaving the store. When you made your way to the other side of the street to go home, your phone constantly began buzzing.

You held up your phone and finally picked up the call, “who is this?”

“(Y/n)-kun!~” A familiar voice called out.

“Sh. . . Shigure-san?” You could hear him hum a victorious tune from the other side of the phone.

“You got that right! Are you busy right now?” He asked.

“Um. . . Not really, why? Also, how did you even get my phone number?”

“Oh! Tohru-kun just wanted to invite you over to stay for the night.” Shigure twirled the phone coil around his finger. You frowned when he ignored your second question.

“What for?” You walked towards a nearby bench and sat down, resting your bag by your side, “I never heard of this.”

“Well~ She has been meaning to tell you but she got caught up in some business, but she really wanted me to tell you that she wants you to sleep over for the night!”

This was a complete lie actually. Shigure was purposefully trying to lure you into the house. Ever since he saw Yuki come home with a blank expression he assumed he got into a fight with someone at school, he highly doubts it was with Kyo or Tohru since he still talked to them normally. When asking Yuki if he had a fight with you, he quickly slammed the door to his room shut.

“So can you come right now?~ If you come early I might even give you one of my books.” He cooed.

You paused for a moment, thinking about the possibility of reading another one of his books, “what about my clothes?”

“Don’t worry about that! We got clothes at home! Just come over.”

“Why the sudden rush?” You heard nothing from the other line and checked your phone, seeing that he had hung up on you unexpectedly.

You turned off your phone and sat on the bench for a moment, staring up at the birds flying to the different trees in the area. You looked down at the erasers which sat at the bottom of your bag, the flower resting against the plain white one.

A knock on the door interrupted the conversation at the table. Yuki turned his head towards Shigure who was simply giving him an extremely cocky smile. As Tohru was about to get up to the door, Shigure only told her to stay with Uotani and Hanajima. He quietly slipped away from the table and slid open your door, revealing your form with your shopping bags still. When you said to Yuki you would be coming over the weekend, you meant the actual weekend and not earlier like today.

“Yo (Y/n)-kun~,” He whispered.

You whispered back, “why are you whispering? Why are we whispering?” You walked inside and took off your shoes, raising your eyebrow at the light coming from the main room.

“We’re playing a game of hide and seek~” He placed his pointer finger over his lips to signal the ‘sh’ sound.

You nodded and walked over to the main room, realizing that not only was Kyo and Yuki sitting there, Hanajima and Uotani were invited as well. There was this brief moment of awkward silence between the group and you. You made eye contact with Yuki and quickly spun around to leave the house, only for Shigure to slam the door in your face as you were running.

“A-Ah! (Y/n)-kun are you okay?!” Tohru ran over towards the door, seeing a small bloodstain on the entrance.

“Sorry (Y/n)-kun, this was all just a trap!” Shigure ‘apologized’.

You held onto your bleeding nose as you glared at him from the floor, “you lied to me. . . Shigure-san. . . ”

“Eek!” Shigure fled towards his room while you slowly picked yourself up from the floor, still holding onto the bridge of your nose as blood continued to drip down.

Now you were just pissed off at this point. Not only were you not promised that it was simply a sleepover with you and Tohru, but you also had to stay the night over without any of your clothes since Shigure made you rush over, and you had a bleeding nose. You shoved past Tohru and banged on Shigure’s door, trying to force him out of the room. He had to be holding the sliding door closed with his body as you yelled at him.

“Get the hell out right now! I’m going to beat your goddamn ass!” You vigorously knocked on the door with enough force to almost blow it off of its hinges.

“Calm down woman!” Kyo shouted, standing up from his position to try and stop you from destroying Shigure’s room.

“Huh? What did you say?” You ominously turned towards him, your piercing (e/c) eyes withering his self-confidence down significantly. “Did you say something?”

“N-Nothing!” He shrunk back to the corner. Uotani and Hanajima sweatdropped at the sight, they had never taken you for someone extremely violent. From this day forward, Kyo learned not to piss you off any further.

Tohru held onto your shoulder, guiding you towards the bathroom upstairs, “(Y/n)-kun you’re still bleeding onto your shirt! Let me help you!”

You sighed as you let her drag you into the bathroom, you closed your eyes on the journey there to calm down. You didn’t want to look at the color of blood at all.

“A-Ah. . . (Y/n)-kun, did Shigure-san invite you over?” She dried the blood with tissues as you sat down on the covered seat.

“He said you wanted me to come over, but since you didn’t I will be taking my leave after this.” Tohru placed a bandage on your nose and forehead, the red skin being covered up by the white medical supply.

“(Y/n)-kun, it’s okay to stay we don’t mind.”

You cracked your eyes open to see Tohru giving you a warm, inviting smile. You released another sigh and realized your clothes have been sullied with the disgusting, foul color. You both heard the knock on the door and Tohru opened it to reveal Shigure with a plain button up shirt. You quickly sat up from the seat to make your way towards him but he quickly threw the shirt onto your face and shut the door.

“Wear this for now (Y/n)-kun!~” You groaned at his childishness.

Tohru covered her eyes and faced the door, “O-Oh you can change here (Y/n)-kun! I promise I’m not looking!”

“Yes yes, okay.” You slipped off your shirt and draped the clothing over your body, buttoning it slowly. You realized that this shirt smelled clean, it certainly didn’t smell like something that came right from the store. Thank goodness, you didn’t know how many pranks you wanted to endure from Shigure.

“Tohru-kun, I’m finished.” She nodded before opening the door and letting you out of the bathroom.

As you made your way down to the main area, you noticed that your bags were gone. You glared at Shigure who was sitting at the table, sipping on a warm cup of tea, acting completely oblivious to the murderous aura you exuded.

“Oh? Nice shirt you’re wearing (Y/n)-kun!” The group deadpanned at his casualness, despite being moments away from getting his head ripped off.

“Where are my bags?” You asked, searching the room for your belongings.

“We put them in Yuki-kun’s room since there's no more room for you to sleep in Tohru-kun’s! The shirt you’re wearing is also Yuki-kun’s! Nice and clean right?”

Stop talking! Everyone else but you and Shigure internally panicked when you quickly went over to him and began gripping his neck tightly with an innocent smile. Although it was great to see you smiling, she really didn’t want you to do it while holding up Shigure in the air by the neck, Tohru sweatdropped.

“So it was you who planned this!” You let out a comedically dark laugh before tightening your grip onto him, “do you have a death wish?”

“I got no idea what you’re talking about!” He replied.

When you heard Tohru’s panicked cries telling you to relax, you emotionlessly dropped Shigure to the ground and groaned. The man coughed before smiling with a flowery aura around him.

“Anyway! Yuki-kun show her to your room please!”

Before you could get another word into Shigure’s ear, Yuki pulled you by the arm and dragged you upstairs, much to your displeasure. On the first couple of steps, you almost tripped but his strength continued to pull you up through every single obstacle.

“Oi! Get your hands off of me!” You forcefully tried to pull yourself away from him, but your socks were sliding against the wooden floor, making it much easier for him to take you to his room. “Let go of me!”

He silently pushed you towards the bed as you fell down onto the floor next to it. He shut the door behind him as he approached you, his eyes still looking as guilty as you last saw them. You watched as he places his hand on either side of your body, firmly trapping you between the bed and him, leaving little room to escape.

“What’s up with you?” You muttered, pulling your knees towards your chest, the rift forming between the two of you.

“Do you hate me?” He asked, tilting his head downwards to avoid your gaze.

You remained silent underneath him, unsure of what to say. You wanted to believe in the woman’s voice but it was becoming increasingly difficult when you were faced with your problems. Your lips were tightly pressed together as you watched his body tremble slightly.

“You hate me don’t you?” He whispered, his voice getting weaker every time he spoke, “of course you would. . .”

“I. . .” You felt your voice slipping away as you clutched the shirt you were wearing. “I don’t hate you. . . I never hated you.”

“You should.” His voice was at a mere whisper at this point.

“I still don’t.”

“Why?”

“Because. . . You did nothing wrong.” You mumbled.

“Don’t you think I betrayed you?”

“. . . At first, but. . . You had your reasons didn’t you?” He stared up at you in shock, his grey eyes finally making contact with yours. “I don’t think you betrayed me Sohma-san. I don’t hate you for what happened. I assume you’re going through a lot so. . .”

He leaned forward, bringing his forehead onto your shoulder as the space occupied by your legs kept him at a distance away. You could hear him breathe a sigh of relief as his shoulders relaxed. You didn’t know what to do in this position, you were at this awkward moment where most people would hug but you knew that you and Yuki weren’t ready for this moment. You sat still underneath his body as he calmed down.

“Thank god. . .” He whispered.

You now realized from looking over his shoulder, his room was a lot messier than yours. There were clothes thrown around onto the floor with sheets of paper underneath his table and chairs. The only object he had near his desk was a tissue box and his desk light. You wondered why he kept his room messier than yours, but you presumed it was because he was as lazy as you were when it came to cleaning.

“Sohma-san, how long are you going to stay like this?”

“O-Oh!” He quickly stepped back, giving you more space, “s-sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You turned over to look at the clock, seeing that it was around night time already. Did you sit in his room doing nothing for that long?

“Has your room always been messier than mine?” You asked.

“Ah. . . I just haven’t had time to clean up.” He said, which was an actual lie, he was simply lazy and didn’t want to bother when it would only get messy again. He didn’t expect Shigure to invite you over so he hadn’t cleaned up at all.

“I can’t believe Shigure-san tricked me. . .” You leaned your head back, feeling the soft material of his bedsheets underneath you. “I really want to kill him now.” You groaned.

Yuki chuckled, “you can sleep on my bed tonight, I wouldn’t want you sleeping on the floor.”

“Oh? What makes you think I’m letting you sleep on the floor?” You responded.

“You’re the guest here, I insist.” He argued.

“No, you live here, I can sleep in the corner.”

“Sorry, what corner? I see it being occupied by my clothes so how about you sleep in the bed.”

“Maybe you should clean up your room then, Sohma-san?”

Both of you playfully glared at each other before turning away at the same time. You giggled before standing up.

“Why don’t you sleep on one side of the bed, and I’ll sleep on the other side.” Your cheeks started to heat up at your idea, but it was the only compromise that worked in both of your favors.

“Eh? Are you sure about that?” Yuki felt his cheeks heat up as he raised his arm to cover his blushing face, “a boy and girl shouldn’t sleep in the same bed. . .” He muttered.

“It’s whatever, just stay on your side and I’ll stay on mine.” You stumbled towards the door, picking up your journal that was inside your shopping bag and taking out the newly bought pen. He avoided your gaze as he tried to cool down the heat that rushed to his cheeks.

You sat on Yuki’s bed, beginning to write in your journal to document the day as he sat next to you, casually resting his head on your shoulder. The two of you relaxed in each other's presence before it was time to sleep. Somehow, just by simply communicating the smallest misunderstandings was enough to make tensions disappear.

“Is that pen new?” He pointed at the fountain pen you used to write, “it looks nice.”

“You think so?” You hummed, “the woman at the store told me it was the prettiest one she saw.” You silently reminisced about the previous memory as you continued to write about your experiences.

“I see. Are you still mad at Shigure-san for tricking you?”

“Yes. I hope to strangle him the next time I see him.”

“Hm. . . Weirdo.”

“You’re one to talk.”

From beyond the closed door, Shigure, Uotani, and Hanajima were leaning their ears against the wooden barrier, trying to snoop on your conversations but unable to hear anything.

#fruits basket #fruits basket x reader #x reader #yuki sohma #yuki sohma x reader #yuki soma #yuki soma x reader

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andaxay · 3 years

Text

Preservation of Self

My entry for February’s @telltalemonthlychallenge. February’s theme: Black History Month.

Hyperion has been cutthroat since the day she accepted the offer of employment. Yvette does what she thinks she needs to. To thrive. To survive.

-----------------------------------------

One last coffee before they left.

Secreted away in a quiet room, away from prying eyes that would question why Vaughn the mild-mannered accountant had an important looking Hyperion briefcase chained to his arm. Best to avoid such questions.

"You're really doing this?" Yvette wrapped one slender leg around the other as she sat, sipping a latte, looking from one best friend to another with a skeptical eyebrow raised.

"Oh, we are doing this," Rhys leaned forward with a smug smile and raised eyebrow. Vaughn rubbed the back of his neck as he stared, wide-eyed, at the table in front of them, perhaps questioning every life decision he'd ever made that had led him to this point. "We are doing this so much. Who else is going to screw over Vasquez?"

"Vasquez is more than capable of screwing himself over, given enough time," Yvette said dryly, folding her arms.

"And how long will that take? Are you willing to wait for years for that to happen?"

"He might get eaten by a skag the second he sets foot on Pandora," Vaughn chimed in, wearing an expression that said 'and the same could happen to us'.

"And he might not," Rhys countered, "in which case, enjoy being middle management saps for the next ten to fifteen years. I, however, am not willing to clean up Vasquez's damn trash three times a day, just so he can drink in how much power he has."

"Fair point," Vaughn conceded and Yvette nodded solemnly.

"Well, then," she said after taking the last sip of her latte, "you have everything you need." She paused, looking at both of them. A twist in her gut. "Good luck. Try not to die - there's an awful lot of paperwork to fill out if you do."

"We'll miss you, too."

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Vasquez's furious shouting reached Yvette's ears before the man himself stormed into her office. She steeled herself, remaining cool and calm, tapping away at her keyboard as he stalked up to her desk.

"Mr. Vasquez?" Polite, despite her gut curling at the sight of him. Slimeball.

"Yvette!" Vasquez glared down at her, breathing heavily, before he appeared to relax slightly, stepping into the persona he often reserved for buttering up management. "Yvette. Just the lady I was looking for." He stepped around her desk and sat on the edge of it, looming over her. "Urgent business. Confidential, of course. Management... I, need to meet with Rhys. Only he, ah, seems to be difficult to pin down." Vasquez stared down at her, his eyes burning. She stared right back, innocently, collected. "You had lunch together, shared plans for the afternoon..."

"As far as I'm aware, he's working," Yvette offered coolly. "I haven't seen him, or spoken to him, since lunch."

"Oh? Working on his next eridium mining contract? Or, maybe, stealing ten million dollars of Hyperion's money and taking it to a Pandoran named August to buy a Vault Key?" Vasquez folded his arms as he leaned in slightly. Trying to intimidate her. Yvette had dealt with much worse in her time at Hyperion.

"I have never heard of August and, like I said, I assumed Rhys had gone back to work after lunch," Yvette said firmly, "so, I'm afraid I can't help you."

"Trying to cover for him? Or, have you washed your hands of him already?" Vasquez leered down at her. "He'll be so happy to hear it when we pick him up and drag his soon-to-be-dead ass into a cell for stealing Hyperion property." He smiled, an ugly, sinister curve of a thing that didn't reach his eyes. "Speaking of which, exactly how did he get hold of the money? He isn't an accountant, doesn't have access to funds. Unless... he had help. If I recall, you're both good friends with the man who just happens to manage valuable Hyperion funds and assets. What was his name again? Vinny? Vance?"

Yvette remained poker-faced, raising her eyebrows slightly, questioningly. A vein in Vasquez's temple was twitching.

"I won't deny that I'm friends with them," she said calmly, sitting back into her chair and folding her arms, "but that's all I can tell you. Whatever this is? You're asking the wrong person."

"Mmm-hmm," Vasquez fixed her with a firm glare. "So, that's how it's going to be. Alright, then." He stood and turned to leave, but paused. "I would think about where your loyalties lie, Yvette. Hyperion can set you up for life." He turned again to face her. She remained impassive. "And it can also end it. We can trace everything. Think about that, while you decide your future."

She only allowed herself to exhale once the heavy blast doors closed behind him. Some chewing of her thumbnail, the only show of anxiety she would allow herself.

-----------------------------------------

Rhys and Vaughn had lost the money. They were as good as dead.

Hyperion didn't yet know. It didn't matter. They would.

Rhys and Vaughn would either die on Pandora, or die the minute they stepped foot on Helios.

Climbing the ranks of Hyperion was a colossal challenge that very, very few could ever hope to rise to. The toxic culture, knives in so many backs - sometimes literally. Yvette had dared to hope, when she and Rhys and Vaughn had become friends. One person alone couldn't even begin to chip away at the Hyperion machine, but the three of them, working together?

It was over. It had been silly to think it could have happened in the first place.

Her office phone rang. The caller ID read 'Hugo Vasquez'.

She sighed heavily, then answered it.

"The situation has changed. Meet me in my office. Ten minutes." He hung up before she'd even said a word.

-----------------------------------------

"Your involvement in the stealing of ten million dollars can be... erased, Yvette. Nobody higher up needs to know. ID logs can be manipulated. Traces erased."

She folded her arms. "... If?"

Vasquez was the most serious-looking she'd ever seen him.

"I'll be honest. We need the data in Rhys's systems far more than ten million dollars."

Systems. Like Rhys wasn't a walking, living human being.

"Let's just say that Hyperion is willing to pay a lot to recover this data. To the person, or people, responsible for recovering it" Vasquez folded his arms as he leaned against his desk. Behind him, Pandora was framed nicely within the window of his office. What had once been Henderson's office, before he'd been... terminated.

Henderson had been a racist prick, she didn't miss him, mourn him or even feel sorry for him, but it was a nice reminder about what Vasquez was capable of.

"So," Vasquez continued, "you help me, I help you. You track Rhys, keep tabs on his location and give me all of the information you know. And I'll make sure you're not implicated in anything... unsavoury. And, give you a cut of the reward."

Yvette stood, calm on the outside and reeling on the inside.

Her best friends.

Her best friends who were likely dead regardless.

Likely. Ha. They were toast.

Could she live with being an active part in their demise, though?

Vasquez glared, impatient.

"You make a very compelling argument, Vasquez," Yvette plastered a snakelike smile on her face and part of her died within. "You have a deal."

-----------------------------------------

She gasped as the cold water she'd scooped and thrown into her face hit her skin. The swanky bathroom of her cushy Helios apartment was dimly lit, but she could still see every feature of her face in the mirror. Every line of the troubled expression marring her features.

Vasquez had gone down to Pandora to find Rhys and Vaughn. On the back of information that she had given to him.

Rhys and Vaughn were going to die anyway.

Assuming Vasquez was successful and brought Rhys, or whatever remained of him, back to Helios. The next steps were glaringly obvious. Vasquez would claim all of the reward for himself. Yvette would be exposed, her role in the disappearance of ten million dollars and two intrepid, naïve Hyperion employees with it, one of whom was hiding some incredibly important program in his head, apparently.

She'd be thrown out of an airlock the second Vasquez stepped back onto Helios.

This was about survival, now.

Yvette had quietly been gathering evidence on Vasquez's involvement in this mess. Bribery, incompetence. She was ready to strike. Ready to claim the reward for herself, to survive something else that Hyperion had to throw at her.

But she had to play along, for now.

Which meant leading Vasquez right to Rhys and Vaughn.

Maybe Vasquez would lose. Maybe her best friends would outsmart him, work their way out and escape into the sunset. Yvette couldn't see it happening. Much as she loved them, they'd be hopeless in any kind of fight-or-flight response.

As much as she had loved them.

Because now she'd struck a deal with the devil and anyone who truly cared for their friends wouldn't serve them to their deaths on a silver platter.

It was them, or her.

Welcome to Hyperion.

-----------------------------------------

Vasquez had rolled up in some old, hulking build-it-yourself spaceship that would have looked more at home in a scrapyard and, what was more, had failed to bring Rhys, or any part of him, back with him.

To say Yvette was furious would be an understatement.

She'd stormed into his office, her office, ready to blast him to hell for failing to uphold his part of the deal. Shafting them both, not that she cared about what would happen to him, following his unauthorised trip to Pandora. Without the data in Rhys' system, he was as good as dead anyway.

Something was missing. Vasquez had been unreachable for weeks after landing on Pandora, which had driven her mad. She'd been feeding him information in all that time and he couldn't even be bothered to send her a 'thank you'. But now he was back, something was... off.

Not... not in a bad way, honestly. The malice she normally associated with him was lacking. It was disarming, but Yvette didn't have time or resources to worry about such a thing. What did it matter, in the grand scheme of things?

"You had one job," she spat out, glaring daggers at him. He was... strangely vulnerable?

"I'm on it," he said quietly. "I just need more time."

"Time's up, Vasquez. It's over. I'm calling management."

"Don't," he said, desperate yet calm, collected. "It will only end badly, and not just for me. You think I don't have evidence to back myself up? And so, so much of it points to you, Yvette." Hurt. What a strange thing to witness in his expression.

"Then I guess we're at an impasse." She folded her arms, narrowing her eyes at him.

"I can fix this. I know what to do. To save both our asses."

Yvette remained silent. Like Vasquez cared about what happened to her.

Still, they were stuck. Play along for now, then shaft him later, once she knew what this plan of his was.

"You have the rest of the working day to fix this," Yvette snapped, "and then I'm handing you in. Consequences be damned."

"I don't think you mean that," he said, voice low, almost deadly.

"You don't know anything about me," she countered, equally as deadly. "Get out of my office."

To her enormous surprise, he left.

-----------------------------------------

The escape pod rattled unsettlingly as it plummeted to Pandora. Yvette stared, dully, out at the rapidly approaching planet.

She should be dead. Maybe that would have been the better alternative.

Rhys' face as she'd gone for the escape pod... As he'd told her to go to the escape pod.

She'd sold him out and he'd repaid her by saving her life. Essentially sealing his own death warrant as he'd done so. Even after her pathetic attempts at an explanation and apology while she'd been locked in the cell.

She squeezed her eyes shut, clenched her fists until the nails drew blood. Helios was breaking apart behind her. There was no way he'd survive.

Ha. Hadn't she written him off, anyway?

She didn't deserve a friend like him. She didn't deserve friends at all. Because, as it had become blindly obvious throughout the last few weeks, she was more than willing to sell them out to save her own skin.

Maybe the pod would crash with such a force that she'd be torn apart upon impact.

At least it would put an end to the burning, lead guilt that weighed down every cell in her body.

-----------------------------------------

"Thanks, Vaughn."

"Don't mention it."

The emergency blanket felt scratchy against her skin. The soup in the bowl in her lap could barely qualify as 'warm'. It was more than she deserved.

"Why are you doing this for me?"

Vaughn stopped in his tracks, turned to face her. Exhausted. Dark circles underlined his eyes and aged him well beyond his twenty-seven years.

"You went through hell, too. I just... want to help."

She didn't know what she could say. Apologies were worthless.

"Eat the soup, Yvette, it will help."

-----------------------------------------

"To... surviving."

"I'll drink to that."

"Mmm-hmm."

Three glasses clinked together in the candlelit room, one of the more... intact ones that had mostly survived the fall from orbit.

"I'm so glad you're both ok," Rhys said quietly, staring into his chipped glass filled with an unspecified alcohol.

Yvette stared into her own glass. Both. Even after everything.

"Rhys-"

His head snapped up and mismatched eyes met her own. Alarmed, almost. He knew what was coming.

"Yvette, you don't have to-"

"I do," she said firmly. Vaughn glanced between the two of them. "I'm sorry. I really am." She sighed heavily. "I guess... I was just trying to survive. I was scared." She scratched at the side of her head. A small scar had formed there, a remnant of her crash-landing into Pandora. She felt the smooth texture underneath her finger. "It was a shitty way of doing it. You guys were - are - the best friends I've ever had. I should have done better."

They were both silent for a moment, exchanging glances.

"We've all experienced Hyperion," Vaughn finally chimed in solemnly. "'Surviving' was about all we could do."

Rhys made a noise of agreement. "You think we didn't do terrible things, too?"

"Still..."

"Yvette, it's ok," Rhys smiled at her. "It hurt, at the time. I won't lie. But I also know what it's like to be in fear for your life."

"Yeah. Who at Hyperion didn't do something shitty at some point? It was practically in the job description." Vaughn also smiled.

"I guess we all learned something," Rhys continued quietly and Vaughn nodded in agreement. "But, that's what it's all about, I guess. I think as long as we acknowledge where we go wrong, and do something to be better... No reason we can't be ok, right?"

A weight, a terrible, oppressive weight that she'd carried for so long, now. Some of it eased.

"I'll drink to that," she offered, smiling, and the three clinked their glasses together again.

#TelltaleMonthlyChallenge #Tales From The Borderlands #TFTBL #TFTB #Yvette The Lunch Leech #Rated T #General

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