#I was low key offended to have someone come on my fic and tell me what I should be writting | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

Crackin’ the Code

prompt: Harry and YN tie the knot in a beautiful castle off the coat of Italy. Harry reflects back on his life before his love. YN has past insecurities creep on on her before the wedding.

note: this is the necklace that YN receives as (one) her wedding gifts from H and she wears it during the ceremony.

word count: 9k

warnings: smut

***<-- click for visuals throughout (super important for this one shot!)

if you enjoy this fic (which i worked REALLY hard on) please reblog, like, comment, and come talk to me!

please please considering donating to my kofi since all my work is FREE to you guys!

---

The world expected an extravagant wedding with week-long festivities, celebrations in destinations only the richest could afford, and all the big names of the business world who ran in his circle.

The media outlets were just waiting, quite impatiently, for the day that the richest man in Europe settled down with a significant other. They would have news stories for decades when it came to the couple.

Of course, Harry Styles was going to marry a household name - the public thought.

Whether it be an heiress, a model, maybe even an actress? The choices for the most eligible bachelor were limitless.

Any time he was at an event, usually a charity gala or black-tie dinner, paparazzi would take candid pictures of him with any female and then the following day publish an article about how they were a couple.

However, what the world didn’t know was that he’s been in a relationship for a year and a half, has already been engaged after the eight month mark, and moved into pretty soon after but that was hushed.

Nearly no one except a few key employees and family members knew about the couple. Everyone in his office building in the heart of London had to sign NDA’s at the beginning of their job - though almost all of them didn’t know she existed.

Harry did not put any limits on YN for the wedding planning.

No price, no expectations, nothing. If she wanted ten-thousand people or zero people in attendance that was her call. If she wanted to drop ten million dollars on a wedding or a hundred that was fine too.

The CEO never fantasized about a wedding.

Well he had but no in the terms most do. He didn’t sit and imagine the venue, the food menu, or the decorations.

No, he didn’t care about any of that, he daydreamed about the fact that he and someone would commit themselves to each other for the rest of their lives.

Harry wanted to marry his fiance after their first date.

He was usually a very patient man, couldn’t have gotten where he was if he wasn’t. When it came to this, each day he wasn’t married to the love of his life felt like torture.

Since he proposed to her in his briefs in their bedroom, he had imagined her looking immaculate in whatever she chose to wear, exchanging vows of devotion, and then being tied together for life.

He never thought he would get here. He’d never felt a connection with someone like he had with the feisty waitress who bumped into him. Begin to believe that he was broken or lacking emotion because no matter how sweet the girl was he couldn’t see himself with the person.

Don’t get him wrong.

He took many women out on dates that were downright awful. Asking him about money, suggesting he take them on expensive vacations or buy them a designer item, being too forward and palming his crotch in the middle of dinner.

One of the last dates he went on before he gave up was the one that made him stop looking all together, about six months before he ran in YN.

---

It was an expensive restaurant in the heart of London. It had a waitlist for months but one call and they could magically make an available booth for the billionaire within the hour.

The girl he was sitting across from was a so-to-speak blind date.

A set up by one of his business partners who stated that they would be a good match. Harry had rolled his eyes at that but couldn’t come up with an excuse fast enough to say ‘no.’

Her name was Aria, she had a respectable job at a local law firm as an assistant to a very well-known lawyer in the area.

She was beautiful in the way of looking just like an instagram model with long dark extensions, false eyelashes that made it hard to determine what color her eyes were, and an outfit that made Harry a bit embarrassed to be seen with her - short and low cut at a five-star restaurant.

“Yeah, I just got back from Mallorca with a group of friends,” She tells him, flipping through the photo album on her phone to show him pictures.

When she ‘accidentally’ swipes (and slowly swipes) again so that Harry definitely gets a glimpse of a nude selfie.

Harry internally groans, couldn’t be less turned on by that, and doesn’t acknowledge it - much to Aria's disappointment.

She was fishing for a compliment, maybe a request for him to take the phone and look closer at the picture like most men would.

Instead he sits back, takes a sip of his wine, and nods curtly, “It looks like you had a good time.”

She stumbles for a second, confused by his sudden standoffishness, and clicks her phone locked before putting it next to her on the table, “Did I offend you?”

He was already done with the date, with the dating scene, with fucking everything honestly.

What a goddamn waste of a night.

Harry barks out a cruel laugh, “It takes a lot more to offend me than a picture of y’tits but it’s a bit offensive that y’think so little of yourself that you think that’s how y’going to impress me. Those tits didn’t impress me much, darling.”

Aria’s eyes narrow in blatant disbelief at how much of an asshole he was being.

Granted, she did feel a bit of embarrassment creeping up in her stomach about thinking showing him that picture was a good idea but still, he didn’t need to react like that.

“It really makes sense why you don’t have a girlfriend, it’s because of what an asshole you are,” The girl sneers with venom as she tucks her phone into her clutch, swigging down the last drops of the expensive wine.

He shrugs like he’s unbothered, a nasty feeling quilling in the pit of his stomach as he keeps an outward expression of nonchalance and ease, it make the raven-haired woman even more furious as he replies cooly, “I’m not being an asshole, honesty hurts sometimes. Maybe if you think the way you attract someone is by nude pictures, you should try Tinder or Bumble.”

“I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have,” Aria tells him before pushing out her chair and leaving before the main course even arrives.

Harry sits there for a moment, swallowing and pleading with himself to not let the nasty words set in because they felt too real and too personal - she had actually struck some type of chord within and it had his stomach churning.

When he pays the bill, apologizing profusely for leaving dinner before the entree arrives but with an excuse of a company emergency - it’s eerily quiet in his car as he drives home to his massive home with no one in it.

It doesn’t happen often.

He should call his mum, Gemma, Dorothy even to talk it out but he feels so fucking alone because he can’t get it right. He can’t connect with anyone and it is starting to feel hopeless.

He is angry, so angry at himself, that he can’t shake the feeling of it and he feels like he’s losing control because he never fucking talks about his emotions.

A beautiful set of dishware was sitting out his dining room table, the housekeeper had carefully unwrapped them earlier in the day.

They were imported from Beijing, decorated with real gold, and handcrafted. It had cost him nearly forty-thousand dollars for a set of fucking plates and bowls.

I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have.

It is repeatedly on a loop in his head, glares at the items on the dinner table like they’re mocking him, and he has no wits about himself before he’s taking one of the beautiful bowls and throwing it against the wall as hard as possible.

I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have.

By the time he’s done, his chest is heaving, and his face is red.

When reality starts to set back in, every single item from the set is destroyed on the floor, the wall’s paint chipped from where he’d hurled them.

He was so fucked up.

Harry couldn’t help but relieve the feelings of that nasty flashback. He couldn’t believe that he had been at that point in his life - not when he had the most all-consuming, amazing in every single way woman laying next to him in his bed.

YN had shown Harry that he had never been broken, he had just been waiting.

She was his soulmate and he had been waiting for her since forever. He truly believed that as he looked at the girl next to him with enough emotion his heart might burst.

She was just...everything.

YN was so fucking funny - the funniest person Harry had ever met. She was loving in a way that made you feel like you belonged. Compassionate in a way that makes you want to be more selfless yourself. Intelligent enough that it was breathtaking and unreal - and that was just the tip of the iceberg.

She was uncaring of who Harry was - in the most perfect way.

Money wasn’t a personality trait that she defined him with. She loved him for who he was at the bare basics, stripped away from his public life.

She was confident in a way that girls rarely were.

Bared face and more beautiful than the highest-paid models.

Her body was her own, embracing every curve and inch of it without any shame. Let herself be authentic in front of Harry which made him feel like he had won a secret lottery.

Right now, she was fast asleep next to him in bed after stuffing herself full of oreos that she was dunking in milk. She ignored Harry’s looks of disgust at the soggy cookies and munched away happily which made him happy in turn.

She still had a dark crumb on the corner of her puffy lips, her mouth parted just the slightest amount, and her face smushed halfway into the pillow.

The shirt she had on was so oversized she was swimming in it and a pair of soft pink cheeky underwear.

Currently, she was the farthest thing from graceful and Harry loved that so fucking much.

As they lay mere days away from their wedding, remembering that nasty flashback, he can’t help but remember their first date and how he had known from them that he had finally found a spark, a connection to another human being.

Harry cannot remember the last time he had been nervous.

Maybe back in his teenage years? If that.

It was an unsettling feeling that was currently pooling in the pit of his stomach as he changed his outfit for the third time before finally being somewhat satisfied with the suit he had picked out - tighter black jeans, black button-up, black blazer - couldn’t go wrong there. ***

YN had texted him asking what she should wear for their first date when Harry told her he was going to keep it simple and take her to a restaurant.

He had to dress nice, it was an expensive restaurant that he had not taken any other dates to before, it was right outside of London - going towards the countryside with a beautiful view of a meadow and stream.

When he had arrived in front of her apartment, well he had never been on this side of town, and it quite frankly looked like the roof of her building was about to collapse at any minute. It was rough to say the least.

Harry had picked out a car he thought would impress her. He remembered her saying the doors of his Lamborghini were stupid so he picked a car with normal doors this time. It was his new Audi Quattro that had cost him upwards of 170,000 pounds. ***

YN had popped out of the front door, her face didn’t read impressed when she saw the car like he had hoped. It was interesting before YN, he did not care whether or not his dates were impressed by him - now he craved it.

She looked extraordinary in a form fitting silky black dress that hugged every single curve of her body perfectly while accentuating them at the same time. Minimal makeup, loose waves, and simple high heels - it was like a dream that he was taking this girl out on a date. ***

When she slips into the passenger seat, the smell of her floral yet cinnamon perfume makes the car smell heavenly, she looks over at him and says, “You didn’t even come open the door for me. We’re off to a bad start, Harry.”

His heart sinks, fuck - he had been blindsided by her beauty that he wasn’t even being a proper gentleman, “M’so sorry, I wa-”

She chirps out a tender laugh, patting his arm, “You’re face, oh my god. I was just fucking with you.”

Harry’s frown turns into a pout, “S’not nice, pet.”

YN shrugs before a bit self-consciously adjusting the fabric around her midsection, “Erm, I hope this outfit is nice enough? It’s really the only semi-decent thing I own.”

He shakes his head in disbelief, “Y’look absolutely stunning. I can’t even believe y’real to be honest, so fuckin’ pretty.”

YN gives him a shy, unsure smile but he can tell she’s preening at the compliment internally (which she totally is).

The restaurant is one of the nicest in England, let alone London.

There wasn’t even a menu, they just served eight courses over a few hours time by servers in suits with bowties on.

YN had never felt more out of place.

As they sat down, Harry was proud that he was able to show off his abilities for a good date, YN was looking around nervously before looking up at the server and saying, “We didn’t get menus yet.”

The man gives her a humorous expression before telling her, “We don’t do menus here, miss. Your date is a regular, I am sure he can fill you in. However, we are starting off with a Cabernet from 2001 imported from Napa, California.”

As he pours the wine into their sparkling glasses, she asks unknowingly, “I don’t really like wine. Is there any way I could get a Coke?”

Harry frowns when the server laughs meanly at her, “Ma’am this isn’t McDonald’s. We do not carry soda. I can provide you with water, if you so wish.”

Harry can’t help but snap at the waiter, “Oi, she’s never been here before. Lay off with the attitude alright?”

“My apologies, Mr. Styles,” He murmurs obediently before finishing the pouring off the whine and retreating from the table.

YN is trying to hide how uncomfortable she is but it is still obvious with how she fidgets in her seat, doesn’t quite know what to do with her hands as she doesn’t even bother to reach towards the wine glass.

“This isn’t really your scene, is it?” Harry murmurs, embarrassment with his failure to impress her with an expensive car and dinner.

It was falling flat and it was the only thing he knew how to do - flaunt his wealth, everyone else had always been impressed.

“No, it isn’t,” She agrees quietly, fingers folding the edges of the cloth napkin to keep her anxiousness directed somewhere, “I appreciate this, er, dinner. I thought we were going to go somewhere like Mary’s.”

Mary’s was a restaurant that was considered ‘nice’ to the commoners in the city. It was a bit more expensive than a pub and the attire was a bit fancier than if you were going out to a bar.

For someone like Harry, that was not considered a fancy restaurant.

However, YN was not him and this was not something that she had ever been accustomed to. He now definitely felt like an idiot.

It’s made even worse when a massive plate is put in front of each of them.

The plate is huge but the dish is merely one scallop with a lemon sauce and sprinkle of parsley on top. YN can’t even try to hide her confusion at the food.

“I’ve mucked this date up,” Harry sighs, nearly thirty minutes into the actual date.

YN had taken a small bite of the scallop before setting down her fork and not touching it again - it tasted like dirty feet. Did rich people like that taste?

She decides not to answer directly, “I already know you have money. It doesn’t ‘wow’ me. I was hoping for a fun date, this is….nice but quite truthfully, not for me. I prefer a pub or bowling - this feels more like a business meeting.”

Harry usually doesn’t have dates that are this honest with him.

He feels embarrassed but he really did appreciate her honesty. He should have known to do something different than this but he was comfortable with his normal pattern.

“Can we get out of here?” YN asks, placing the napkin back on the table and gathering up her small purse to swing over her shoulder.

He feels defeated as he nods, paying for the meal in full as he accepts that he’s fucked up the date beyond repair by being an arrogant, ignorant asshole who doesn’t truly know how to talk to a girl he likes.

It’s quiet as he starts the car and pulls back onto the road, he startles a bit when YN points to a glowing sign of a golden arch and demands, “Go there.”

With a bit of confusion, Harry pulls into the McDonald’s parking lot and then to the drive-thru as she motions for him to do so.

God, he hasn’t been to a fast food joint in years now if he was being honest.

When they pull up to the screen, YN leans across and shoots out their food order with ease before sitting back with a smug smile, “We’re going to have a date my way.”

Harry sighs with relief when he realizes the date isn’t over - but really just beginning. They sit and chat in the parking lot. He is thoroughly impressed when YN manages a box of nuggets, a fry, and a milkshake without shame.

Not like she should be shameful - just usually on dates women were hesitant to actually eat and instead picked carefully at their food instead. Their conversation in the car is bright, at some points deep and meaningful, but refreshing. It made him feel young again.

After they finished eating, she’s ordering him to drive a bit further out into the country where he can’t help but make the joke, “Are y’taking me somewhere to kill me?” YN smiles happily with a wide grin, “You’ll just have to wait to see.”

It ends up being a lake. A beautiful body of water that was surrounded by trees that were being reflected into the ripples with the light of the moon. The only sounds were of crickets chirping and the light lapping of the water against the small shore. ***

“I used to come here a lot in the summer in high school,” YN murmurs as Harry takes in the scenery of everything. It had been so long since he had appreciated nature - not the bright clear waters in the tropics but something like this.

“S’beautiful,” Harry replies, can’t help but observe this girl he’s infatuated beauty in the moonlight.

Her skin looks like it’s glowing, the moon sparkling off the twinkle of her iries, and she just looked...ethereal. Like she belonged in the beauty of the wilderness.

He couldn’t believe his eyes - had to blink harshly a few times to make sure he’s not imagining it when she pulls the thin straps of her dress down her shoulders and shimmy the garment down her body until she’s left in a delicate lace bra and cheeky pair of underwear.

Harry, always the gentleman, keeps his eyes (with effort) on her face. Unsure of what is going on in her mind before she turns around with a little run and dives headfirst into the deep waters before popping back up and giggling, “Jump in!”

She’s just so...carefree, adventurous. Harry hadn’t felt free in fucking years.

It has him shucking out of all of his clothing, just down to his tight black briefs before he’s diving in, right next to her, and feeling around. He wraps his hand around her ankle to teasingly tug her under with him before they both surface.

As they wad in the water, YN swims over to him, and wraps her legs around his waist, arms around his neck. Her soaking wet hair was dripping and he was breathing heavy, feeling his ribcage expand against her soft tummy.

She murmurs quietly over the light lapping over the water, “You haven’t even looked at me once.”

Harry swallows, feeling like a schoolboy again, “I...I didn’t want to without permission.”

“I want you to look at me,” YN replies, letting her nose nudge his and her eyes searching into his nervous ones.

He nods, closing his eyes when he feels her lips brush his, letting his large palms grip at her sides and pull her closer to his chest. Their lips not breaking when his hands begin to explore the intricate, plush curves of her body.

They don’t do anything else, don’t go any further but he groaning when she traces her fingertips down his muscular, defined abs and thumb rubbing over the trail of light hair leading into his briefs.

After a swim, filled with splashing and dunking, they retired to lay in the grass. Both of their backs, looking up at the clear night sky, moon full and stars glittering against the stark darkness that surrounds it.

YN wriggle until she’s tucked into his side, hand running up and down his chest, as she says, “I’m sorry your date didn’t go as planned. I ruined it.”

“Y’didn’t ruin anything. I...I haven’t felt like this in a long time,” Harry admits as he gives off an embarrassed laugh, “I..I’m a little bit scared, to be honest.”

“Scared? Of what?” YN asks, lips pressing against a tattoo on his bare shoulder.

“Because I already am falling for you,” Harry utters, heart racing and his eyes glued upwards and pointedly not wanting to see her interaction.

“That’s a relief.”

His eyebrows shoot up, “A relief?”

“Yeah, I would say. I’m falling too,” YN whispers before leaning up to connect their lips once more as the moon rises further in the sky and the crickets sing a little louder. They lay like that for a very long time.

Harry went home that night for the first time not feeling the empty weight of his loneliness, instead he feel asleep imagining the beautiful, spontaneous girl next to him in his bed.

It wasn’t going to be the wedding everyone expected for The Harry Styles. **

There was not many invites set out for this event. It wasn’t the wedding of the century or the most expensive wedding of the decade.

Harry would have let his wife-to-be have this day however she wanted without complaint but could say he was very happy that it was going to a be a low-key event. It was going to be some of YN’s family, though she didn’t have much, and Harry’s extended family. No one from work or business. Just family.

They had just gotten finished with the rehearsal dinner, the couple being ordered to separate rooms for the final night before they were married. It was tradition.

Harry had walked YN to her hotel room, they were staying at the venue, and pressed her up against the door. His hand coming to weave into her meticulously curled hair and cupping the back of her head, bring her mouth to his.

He wastes no time in letting his tongue find hers, hips coming to press her further back against the aged wood, and his teeth nipping roughly at her plump bottom lip, “Baby, y’gonna be m’wife tomorrow.”

YN’s eyes twinkle up at him like they did during their first date, “I can’t wait. I can’t wait to spend forever with you.”

His fiance laughs kindly as he gets a bit watery eyed, her thumb coming to swipe under his eye, she jokes, “Are you regretting proposing now?”

“Just never knew I could be this happy,” He murmurs against her lips, can’t help but reach around to grip a generous amount of her backside and pulling her flush against him where he’s hardening quickly.

“Mm, down boy. You don’t get the goods until tomorrow,” YN scolds, hand wrapping around his wrist and squeaking when he squeezes harder to get the point across - how much he wants her, all the fucking time.

“Want it now, pet,” Harry whines lowly, grinding his hips forward into her, “Give it t’me, y’mouth, y’cun-”

“Alright lovebirds! Separate now!” Gemma barks to interrupt with the laughter of their childhood friend Chloe.

They pull Harry by the back of the shirt and push him forward towards his room, Gemma smiles back at YN, “Make him put a ring on it before you give it to him!”

“Gem!” Harry scolds with a whine, giving his fiance puppy dog eyes and a pouted bottom lip, “Baby, don’t let them take me!”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, I love you!” YN shouts back, waving and smiling to herself as she opens up the door to her room and then locking it after she steps in. It feels weird being in a hotel room without him but she was a bit sweaty and her nerves were wiry so she decided a nice bath would be a good idea.

It’s past two in the morning and she was no less ready to find sleep. The worries of whether everything will be set up properly, if she’ll stutter during her vows, there were just so many things that could go wrong.

Life didn’t even seem real at this moment.

She was marrying her husband at an amazing castle on the coast of italy with family to surround them in love. She had the perfect dress, the perfect flowers, the perfect partner. ***

She had never had it easy. Never thought she would deserve something like this. Harry had made her feel worthy of all this, they deserved to have a happy ever after.

When it hits three in the morning, she can’t stand the quiet of the italian countryside anymore, and is swinging her legs over the bed. She pockets the keycard Harry gave her earlier in the day in her cotton shorts before sneaking out of her room.

After she taps the card to the sensor, the large oak doorknob clicks, she slips in and closes the door as silently as possible. YN steps in to the room, Harry's asleep in his bed on his stomach, face smushed into the pillow.

Harry’s facial expression and body language while he was awake was so severe, serious, intimidating. In sleep, his face was lax and his limbs loose. He looked more boyish when he was dreaming.

YN’s heart aches at how much she loves him, pulling the covers up, and crawling under them until she’s jostling him unintentionally, waking him from his light sleep with a mumble, “Baby, y’okay? Wha’s wrong? Y’alright?”

She giggles at his dazy panic, “I just missed you.”

“Mmm,” Harry agrees, pulling her all the way down and rolling on top of her, “Missed y’more.”

“You’re like a toaster!” YN squeals as he’s encompasses her, laying on her with his weight. His lips finding her pulse point and gently sucking. He was barely awake and he still couldn’t stop himself from her finding comfort in her body.

“I’m warmin’ y’up,” Harry growls against her neck before giving her a lick which has her giggling even more and pushing him off until he falls on his back and she’s swing her legs over his waist, straddling him.

“Y’breakin’ the tradition, m’heart.”

YN shrugs, humming while he palms at her belly, and she (much to his disappointment) ignores where he’s hard and waiting for her.

“I want t’sleep with you,” She pleas sheepishly, leaning all the way over to connect their lips in a quickie peck before she’s moving off of him and into his side.

“Never say no to you, y’know that, dovie,” Harry replies as if it’s obvious (it is).

“We’re getting married tomorrow,” YN whispers into the dark, like it’s a secret just between the two.

Harry nuzzles his nose against her temple, “Never wanted anythin’ more than I want you.”

YN can’t help but sniffle softly, overwhelmed with emotion and love, “You’re so good to me. I don’t deserve you.”

“You saved me. You saved me from myself, from where I was going. You gave me hope, feeling again. Y’are m’heart, it fuckin’ beats for you.”

It may not be tradition but YN wouldn’t of had it any other way, sleeping in a magnificent castle on the ethereal coast of Italy in a classic hotel room, and the excitement of their wedding rumbling in both of their stomachs.

“You sneaky bastards!” Bethany screeches, door flinging open with Gemma in tow as they intrude into Harry’s room - finding the couple curled up under the covers with Harry spooning YN with his face tucked into her hair.

“Fuck off,” Harry groans, pulling his fiance closer into his chest as she wriggles awake and whimpers lowly, “Mornin’ lovie.”

“Out out!” Gemma shoos, pulling the covers off of them and the sisters showing no mercy while they yank YN out of the bed and titter about how she needs to start getting ready, no time for cuddles, breaking traditions.

“Bring her back!” He whines childishly, hurling a pillow at his sister’s retreating back as they guide YN back to her own room.

“You’ll see her in a few hours!” Gemma shouts back before slamming the hotel room door and leaving Harry to doze off for just a few more minutes.

Hair and makeup went fast.

It was getting closer and closer to actually walking down the aisle towards her soon-to-be life partner and she’s never felt more nervous.

Rosemary and Bethany were all rushing around - attempting to get ready in the midst of getting the bride ready.

YN didn’t want to look like a doll or have any intense makeup. It was a soft champagne smokey eye with dewy skin and a glowing highlight. A nice lip with a bit of glittering gloss.

Her hair was in big, loose curls that cascaded down her back with the front pulled off of her face. A real white flower holding it back.

Then it was the dress. She was anxious about whether Harry would like it or not. She wasn’t sure what he was expecting her to wear - a massive ball gown, a form-fitting mermaid, or something less over-the-top?

It was a show-stopper that had her memorized when she had first seen it - could automatically imagined herself getting married in Italy with this on her body.

It was also one of the only times she didn’t even care about the price tag - she knew this was it. Yes, it was absurd to spend fifty thousand pounds on a dress but it was the one time she took advantage of Harry’s wealth.

It was flowy, reminding her of the soft waves that lapped at the coast of the italian beaches. It was sophisticated, classy with a sharp starch white that billowed into a dreamlike beauty.

What had made her fall in love was the sheer, detailed sleeves that gave the dress more of a vintage, glamour appearance than the modern tight-fit, overly sexy gowns that most brides wore nowawadays. ***

The train was long and sleek. It would trail beautifully down the aisle before being bustled for the reception. It made her feel confident in a way that an item of clothing next had made her feel before.

“Your tits look amazing,” Bethany compliments before giggling when their grandmum pinches her arm for her crude language.

YN couldn’t find it in her to laugh. She felt like her voice was stuck in her throat and it wasn’t moving.

It started to feel real.

The fact that Harry had proposed, had planned a wedding with her, that he was agreeing to marrying her today.

It was starting to scare her - no, not cold feet but anxiety that he would realize that he could do better than the lowly waitress.

Now, on a normal day, she wouldn’t be having these irrational thoughts. Today was different and it felt too good to be true.

Rosemary and Bethany sense the tension in the room, rub her shoulders, and respect her wishes when she asked for a moment alone.

YN debates picking up her phone, knowing he was busy with his bigger side of the family in the groom’s suite.

She finds herself picking up her mobile, dialing his number, and waiting with bated breath for his syrupy, warm voice to pour through the speaker.

“Everythin’ okay?” He answers, she can hear Anne and Gemma tittering about in the background, yelling at him to get a move on.

“I’m scared,” YN whispers, she holds back her tears because the last thing she wanted to do was ruin her meticulous makeup.

“Leavin’ me at the altar?” Harry jokes lowly, stepping away from prying ears.

YN giggles at his teasing tone, “Never. I…I feel like this is all too good to be true. Like it’s a dream and I’m going to wake up.”

Harry huffs, “Sweetheart. Y’my soulmate, if y’wake up - I’m right there with you, okay? God, if anyone is dreamin’ it’s me. I get t’marry the most beautiful, intelligent -“

Gemma’s voice interrupts him, “You already seduced her into marrying you! We don’t have time for this sweet talk!”

The line goes dead but YN feels much better now.

—

Rosemary was going to be the one walking her down the aisle to her new husband. It didn’t feel right to have anyone else do it as she was the one who raised her into the strong, independent woman she was today.

YN knew she wanted to have an outside wedding.

What would be more perfect than a cool evening in Italy? It was what she had dreamed about since she was little without the idea that it would ever happen.

The weather was absolutely perfect. There was a slight warm breeze that would keep the guests from being overheated, the sun was peeking in and out of vibrant white clouds that complimented the blue sky.

She knew exactly where Harry would be standing.

Underneath a beautiful, dated archway with intricate designs about.

The old material had lovingly grown luscious ivy that kissed the walls in a swirling, natural design.

YN would never forget how beautiful that ivy had looked on her wedding day, encompassing the magnificent that was her soon-to-be husband.***

The venue was open, airy but still gave off an intimacy. There weren't many rows of chairs because not many were invited to share in such an ethereal experience where soulmates have found each other and were announcing their commitment to the world.

“Are you ready, my daughter?” Her grandmother had asked quietly as they lined up behind the expansive, old brick wall that hides them from the rest of the ceremony and crowd. She could hear the whispering as people took their seats.

YN nods, her vocal cords refusing to cooperate as she imagines Harry just as nervous on the opposite side with his family.

When the twinkling, traditional music begins from the small orchestra off to the side - the realization hits her - it is actually happening, right now.

Bethany puts her bouquet in front of her, giving one last meaningful smile at her sister before she takes her cue to turn the corner and begins her walk down the aisle.

It meant Harry was up there, watching as she was about to appear.

Then the orchestra’s melody became louder, more grand in the signaling for the guests to stand and turned toward the back of the room - awaiting the bride’s entrance to the ceremony.

Rosemary takes the initiative to hook their arms and guide her past the wall.

YN clutches onto her own flowers as if it’s her lifeline. ***

Every fear, insecurity, moment of self-doubt dissipates when her eyes connect to Harry’s. There is no longer a doubt in her mind that she wasn’t enough. It was a deep, unbreakable stare as Harry’s mouth parts in a gasp of awe.

He was in a suit that was undeniably him. It displayed how fucking regal he was, how it looked like he was handcrafted into the italian design, how it fit him just perfectly.

It wasn’t a normal tuxedo. It was a perfectly tailored, custom (of course) Gucci suit that excentuate his broad shoulders and the nip of his narrow hips *** ***.

YN can’t even hear the noise of the guests - whispering about how beautiful she looks.

All she can see is her future husband, who swallows harshly as an unexpected sob wracks through his chest at the sight of his bride.

The guests can’t help but look with wide eyes as the man they know - who they’ve barely ever seen smile, let alone cry, cannot control his emotions.

Gemma, who was his ‘best man’ which they deemed ‘best woman’, rubs his back soothingly with a watery smile herself at seeing her brother so estastatic as he looks at the woman of his dreams.

Harry rubs his eyes before meeting hers again.

YN is holding back her own tears as she reaches the end of the aisle.

In tradition as old as time, Harry steps forward and Rosemary passes her hand over to him in a signal that she trusts him to take care of the girl she’s spent meticulous time raising and cultivating into the person she is today.

“I trust you to take care of my girl, she is now yours,” Rosemary tells Harry, her tone is calm and full of emotion as she allows Harry to lean over to kiss her cheek softly.

Harry nods, his usually stable voice shaky as he replies, “I promise, I’ll take care of her until the day I die.”

Rosemary nods before patting his cheek and finding her seat in the audience.

When they are finally standing face-to-face, YN reaches over to thumb off a stray tear that was sliding down his cheek before he turns his head to kiss her thumb then kissing her palm.

Harry didn’t even acknowledge that there was anyone else watching - it was just him and her.

“Y’look breathtaking, can’t believe y’mine,” Harry murmurs trembling, his chest moving faster than usual and it felt like it was nearly impossible for him to catch his breath as he looked at the woman in front of him.

When it comes to the vows, Bethany hands over her small piece of paper that she had scribbled onto and scratched out multiple times - never quite able to get the wording just right and she says just that.

“I couldn’t find the right words to explain my love for you,” She starts, voice raspy as she looks up to see Harry watching her raptly, eyes intense and only focused on her.

“And maybe there aren’t even words to explain it because nothing felt like enough. It is how I feel a lot of the time with you. I’ll never have enough of you because you’re all-consuming to me. I have never felt happiness like I have with you.”

YN is trying to stifle her tears as she continues, Harry reaches out to rub her arm in reassurance then he lightly brushes over the new necklace he had gifted her, “You’re by far the most complex, closed-off person I have ever met. I feel like you’ve allowed me to crack the code and once I did, I wasn’t disappointed. I’ve cracked my own code, you see.”

“The code to explaining my feelings for you will come with my dedication, love, loyalty to be your wife for the rest of our lives.”

Harry can’t help what he does next despite it not falling in line at the ceremony.

His hands come up to cup her jaw and he sears his lips to hers, kissing her with all the passion and emotion he cannot seem to keep in any longer. It’s too much, has to show her in that moment how much he loves her.

A few of his uncles whistle from the crowd as their wives smack their chests in warning.

YN giggles, returning the kiss before pushing him off.

The look in his eyes is one she knows extremely well - it sends shivers down her spine and makes her hair stand on end -, the stare down of lust and want.

“Mr. Styles,” The officiant redirects, nodding towards the piece of paper he has in his hand.

“Yeah, sorry,” Harry mumbles, unraveling the wrinkled notecard he had tucked in his inner suit pocket.

“I knew I was in love with you the moment you spilled that drink on me and undressed me in that dodgy employee bathroom,” Harry says with full sincerity, smirking at YN’s blush when he brings up the way they met.

“I tried to talk myself out of it. It was impossible to fall in love in mere minutes of meeting someone but it was the truth. I knew after our first date that I wanted y’to be m’wife. I knew after the second that I wanted y’to be the mother of my babies one day. And by the third date, I was planning on buying you a ring.”

“It sounds insane because it is. I’ve never been an impulsive, spur-of-the-moment, hopeful person before you. You made me throw all that out of the window, you make me feel alive, and when I tell you that you saved me. You saved me, m’love.”

“There is a lot of uncertainty in this world but I can tell you one thing that is absolutely fuckin’ certain -”

“Harry,” YN hisses with an eye-roll at his crude language.

“The one thing that is absolutely certain in this world is that I will always love you, always take care of you, and always do everythin’ in m’power to make you happy.”

The guests in the chairs are quite speechless.

They’d never heard such passionate, meaningful vows from a couple.

This was not what they were expecting of Harry who had never once put his heart on his sleeve and right now he’d laid it all out on the table.

“YN LN, do you agree to take Harry Edward Styles as your husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, until the end of your time on earth?” The officiant asks, voice ringing against the walls of the castle.

YN has to take a big breath before she replies in a strong, firm voice as her eyes bore into Harry’s, “I do.”

“Harry Edward Styles, do you agree to take YN MN LN as your wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, until the end of your time on earth?” The officiant repeats.

Harry, in ever typical fashion, in his loud, booming voice replies, “Of course I fuckin’ do.”

The guests in the audience laugh lightly as the officiant states, “I now announce to you, Mr. and Mrs. Styles. You may now kiss your bride.”

It doesn’t take more than a second for Harry to step forward, grip her face and pull her in for a kiss, it doesn’t matter that their family is there to him as he licks into her mouth which is bordering on obscene before YN brings it back to a softer, more appropriate one.

He whispers against his lips, barely audible, “Can’t believe y’my fucking wife, m’fucking heart.”

As people are moving towards the reception area, Harry manages to find a secluded area of the outside gardens where there is no one in sight.

“Baby, baby, y’married me,” Harry is nearly chanting, like he’s in disbelief, at the same time he’s cornering his new bride up against the brick wall with his mouth trailing sloppy wet kisses down her shoulder.

“Mmm, it was everything I ever imagined, it was so beautiful. Everything I had imagined for our day,” YN replies blissfully, hands running carefully through his meticulously styled hair.

When he bends down and lifts up the bottom of her dress, she giggles when he ducks his head underneath all the tulle and fabric, finding a very skimpy pair of white lace panties that are supposed to be saved for later.

“Harry,” YN scolds half-heartedly, it would only take one person to find them in this undeniable inappropriate situation but she willingly let him push her further against the brick and take one of her legs over his shoulder.

“Baby, these fuckin’ panties,” He groans, muffled by the barrier of the heavy fabric, and she hisses when pulls them down to the thick of her thighs and his mouths finds her center within moments.

“Fu-fuck,” She hisses, trying to keep her moans down as he wastes no time in pushing in two thick fingers to curve towards her front as his tongue laps quickly and sloppily on her clit until it feels like she’s about to explode.

“S’right, fuckin’ m’cunt. I have it f’the rest of my life, found the best one,” Harry mutters against her wet skin, almost to himself like he can’t even believe the words, before he’s back to speeding up his fingers to match the rhythm of his mouth until she’s quivering for a whole other reason now.

It takes a few minutes for Harry to calm himself down enough to be able to go into the reception, he tells YN that he can’t even look at her right now because if he does he’ll be perpetually hard throughout the whole thing.

The reception is more of a dinner than a party.

Fairy lights strung above the two long tables where decadent, mouth-watering food was served with the orchestra playing light, melodic music in the background. ***

It was perfect.

Their family drank, laughed, ate, and were merry.

Everyone was basking in each other’s company, congratulating the new couple, and enjoying all the beauty that was surrounding them at the castle.

There is not much more to say than that.

The honeymoon suite was located on one of the highest floors of the castle, away from all of the other wedding guests and staff.

YN was sure it was beautiful but from the moment she was carried over the threshold, she didn’t see anything but her new husband - he was blinding in his beauty. His skin was glowing, a slight sheen of sweat from the reception, and the still warm bite in the breeze. ***

“Sweetheart, baby. Please let m’undress you, y’my wife,” Harry pleas softly, his hands are everywhere - her face, her shoulders, hips - continuously wandering as if it’s impossible to find one place to settle.

“Please, c’mon. I need you, H,” She agrees, letting him take down the zipper on the side of her gown.

The expensive garment discarded on the floor in a pool of fabric as he fully takes in her lingerie set. ***

“Fuck me, darlin’,” Harry chuckles in amazement, fingertips tracing over the delicate lace that was stitched by Alessandro Michele himself for the bride, "Y’body is a god damn dream, look at you. - fuck.”

“Please,” His wife whimpers, voice desperate as his light and careful touches are no longer enough.

She needs him close, she needs her husband.

“Okay, okay,” He simpers, moving her back until he can have her right where he wants her, on her back in the middle of the massive, blanket-ridden bed - her white lingerie standing out against the dark duvet.

Harry had always imagined this night.

To have someone laid out underneath him.

No rush, no urgency but to truly, physically show that person through touch that you love them.

He starts near her collarbone, feathery heated kisses that warm her skin as she welcomes him with heavy weight on top of her so eager he wasn’t even undressed yet.

When his mouth finds her nipples through the sheer fabric, she pushes her chest up in encouragement as he bites at the nubs with sharp but careful teeth that wet the fabric.

“It feels so good, baby,” YN mewls, letting him nip and suck for a moment before pushing him up until he’s rid of every inch of fabric that had been covering his body.

“M’always gonna make y’feel good. I’ll fuck you wherever, wehenver cause you’re m’wife,” Harry grunts, impatiently reaching behind to unclasp the corset until her breasts spill free and jiggle in a way that makes his mouth water.

“Wait, wait,” YN puts a hand to his cheek when he already has his mouth darting out to lap at her hardened nipple.

“Don’t make me wait, m’heart,” Harry grumbles with a furrowed brow, his hand still unable to stop from reaching up to palm at her full breasts, thumbs rolling the nipples as he stares fiercely up at her.

“You know how you got me a present?” YN murmurs, biting back a whimper when a zip of electricity shoots from her nipple down to where she’s already dripping for him, “I got you something too.”

Harry’s face relaxes, it’s like he finds his grounding again, “Baby, didn’t need t’get me anythin’. Y’the best fuckin’ gift I could have gotten. Does look beautiful sittin’ between y’tits though.”

His new wife giggles, “Well I really hope you like mine….it’s non-refundable.”

He looks at her with confusion even more so when she wriggles down her panties and flips on her belly with her arms resting under chin.

Of course, Harry finds it immediately and she can tell by the deep, pleased growl he emits from the back of his throat, “You fuckin’ didn’t.”

“I did.”

It was his name, small and cursive right on her bum cheek.

After they got engaged, he went out and got her name tattooed on his pec - much to her dismay.

She had never talked about returning the favor and had kept it the ultimate surprise.

“I think I almost just came from this,” Harry rasps, his fingers tracing the small ink over and over in awe, “Baby, y’put m’name on your bum. It makes y’look like my property, sweetheart.”

“I am yours,” YN giggles, yelping when she feels his teeth graze the sensitive skin before he’s suckling and licking at his name - can’t take his eyes off the beauty of her.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ are,” He agrees whole-heartedly, his hands calming to cup and palm at her cheeks as he fawns over his wedding present, “This is the best present I’d ever fuckin’ received, fuck - never goin’ to get over this.”

He doesn’t want to look away from the tattoo but knows how he wants to fuck his wife for the first time so he flips her onto her back once again, lips finding hers.

She whispers, hand wrapping around his cock, “Still have to pay you back for earlier.”

“No blowies tonight, pet. We’re goin’ to do it the right way, m’gonna make love to you,” Harry murmurs, his lips finding hers as he bats her hand away to grasp at his thick base. He teases the sensitive head over her clit and entrance a few times before slowly sinking in.

“Ohh, been ready for you all day. You looked like a fucking wet dream standing at the alter, waiting for me,” YN sighs happily, wriggling her hips to adjust a bit before she spreads her legs and lets Harry rest in between them, “Ever since I saw you in the suit, I’ve been waiting.”

“Yeah, baby? I can tell, y’so wet, warm f’me,” Harry praises, his movements are slow and unrushed, their hips meeting gently as he pushes in each time with care, “Can’t believe y’gonna let me have this for the rest of m’life.”

“I love you so so much,” She utters breathlessly as he continues to make her feel so fucking full - emotionally and physically, “Best husband ever, can’t believe it.”

Harry chuckles tenderly, “Baby, I need y’to come soon. I’m so close, never come this quick. The thought of y’being my wife is making it impossible to last then with the tatto-”

YN soothes his hair in understanding, pushing up to meet their lips and allow their tongues to dance as he lifts her thigh against his hip to thrust in with a bit more force. His thumb comes to her clit to spur her along which doesn’t take much with how aroused she’s been all day.

Harry follows right after, much to his embarrassment of his lack of stamina but can you blame him? He has the hottest fucking wife on the planet.

“Round two?” YN smirks as he leans down to pepper kisses all over her cheeks. She knows the night has just begun.

“Mmm,” He agrees instantly, “Now that we made love, m’gonna fuck y’from behind so I can watch my name jiggle on your arse.”

And that’s what he does. It takes nearly no rebound time, flips her on her belly again to gaze and worship his name as he fills out in no time again. His fingers occasionally dip back between her thighs to tease at her entrance before he swipes her own wetness on the tattoo to lick it off.

She’s tired, exhausted from the events of the day but wants to reach that last orgasm before sleep overtakes them.

On her hands and knees, Harry doesn’t pound into her like he normally would.

Instead, he eases back in with eyes darting between his wedding present and where they’re connecting, his thumb diligently rubbing hard and steady circle on her nerves.

“C’mon wifey, need y’to not be stubborn,” Harry goads, feeling his release coming again - he pinches her clit with just enough pressure that has her whining before Harry has to hold her up by the waist as she quivers.

It has him finishing right after with a gentle smack to her bumcheek, the skin already tender and sore from all of his attention on the spot as it was.

“I loved your vows,” YN murmurs against his chest. He had wrapped her up in one of the plush blankets and he had pulled on a tight pair of briefs and they were laying on a lounge chair on the blacony under the italian stars.

“I loved yours just as much, y’did crack the code m’love ‘cause now I’m yours forever,” Harry rumbles, his voice raspy with drowsiness.

Little did they know that in a few short years, they would be back under these italian stars with knowledge that they were growing a little product of their love in her belly.

A litte baby named Ivy, just like the beautiful, lucious nature that had decorated the place in magneificent as they spoke vows - dedicating their lives to each other.

if you’ve ask to be on my taglist and you’re not here - please check your settings because i’ve tried to add you and it didn’t work.

taglist babies (thank you): @dioc4ne @hazgoldenstyles @harrysdimple05 @wonwooen @ficnarry @leeroysdancer @harrysloveheart @harryscherrysugar @pradastardust @rish-haz @wildcstdrexms @evanstylestan @wisetoadbonkbiscuit @meredithhuntt @tpwkvictoria @lovely-him @haymix @eiffelmezarry @pilgrim-harry @soullessbabee @afterglowstyles @tulsasjesus @elenagilbert01 @meh–mood @pretty-pop-princess-hs @msolbesg @localfalsegodstan @evanjh @i-just-like-fanfics @harrys-hs-gf @lightsupdoyouknowwhoyouare @afterglcwswift @harrystyles-tpwk @amyvandijk @godilovetheenglishx @harrys-cherrry @theprofessionalfanby @your–sweetest–downfall @la-cey @bdbtchdir @killerqueencapstan @elizabeth23567 @camflowervol6 @its-a-finee-line @rish-haz @solonelytobe @nav1234 @harrynamjoon @hopefullimaginer123 @westallenhes @awesomebooklover17 @will-be-a-fineline @vasilikir5 @your–sweetest–downfall @pretty-pop-princess-hs @harrynamjoon @harrypinks @ivyirenehoax @harryspink @sunsetcurve-h @goldenstylesh @mouthfulloftoothpastehs @hello-34583 @prettylovley @nicolecarsley @lamariettes @imavirginhoe @unknown7549 @mellamolayla @kiwitsayedsugar @hopefullimaginer123 @harrysmatcha @weaslettesstuff @saintsmotels @hi-yekaterina @aubreyfineline @harrysgoldenbum @ebstylesx @goldeng1rl8 @tnqueen @percysaidnever @bebecalpal

2K notes · View notes

somnambulants · 3 years

Note

omg i think it’s considered a little bit of a pride mont hate crime that you don’t have MORE nat fics 🥺 so hehehe how about i request some pouty jealous!nat?

Notes: omg thank u! happy pride 💛 this went super off topic BUT i hope you still like it! jealous!nat is my new favorite thing.

Summary: Natasha may have a little bit of jealous streak. You discover you don’t mind. Word count: 3.8K

You are not a jealous person.

That’s not to say that you aren’t prone to bouts of insecurity, you definitely are, and especially at the beginning of your relationship with Natasha. For the first few months after you’d begun dating, you’d been on edge the entire time; in a constant state of wondering, agonising, for the day she’d finally realise you weren’t good enough for her and up and leave.

Through all of that, you’d never given a lot of thought to whether your girlfriend is the jealous type. Mostly because Natasha is the most beautiful person you’d ever seen but also because it’s not like she would ever have a reason to be jealous; the minute you’d met, you had never so much as wanted to look at another person.

The thought never crossed your mind. It was laughable to you.

As unbelievable of an idea as it is, you’ve been together for just a few months when it slowly begins to dawn on you that you may not be the jealous type, but Natasha most definitely is.

In all – although admittedly, there weren’t a lot – of her relationships, Natasha has never cared enough to worry about being jealous over a significant other.

This is why the visceral reaction she has to watching people flirt with you comes as such a surprise to her.

The first time it happens, you’d only just begun dating and were at one of the many events the avengers were required to attend. Still wanting to stay as low-key as possible, you’d both privately agreed to not spend the night attached to one another.

Something Natasha is now beginning to regret. Immensely.

Currently, you’re across the room, talking to a woman Natasha vaguely recognises as a reporter and all she can focus on is the way the woman is looking at you.

It makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up because Natasha knows that look; has given you that look many times over the course of your relationship – a hungry, I want you right now, kind of look.

“Nat!”

Steve suddenly materialises beside her and the fact that she didn’t see him coming is evidence of how distracted she is. It makes her scowl even harder. Taking in her expression, he all of a sudden looks like he’s trying not to laugh as he follows her gaze to where you were standing. “You feeling okay? You’re looking a little…green.”

She resists the urge to kick him in the stomach. “Bite me, Rogers.”

He snickers and starts to say something else, but whatever it is, it’s lost on her as the sound of your voice across the room acts as a honing beacon and regains her attention immediately.

She watches, grip tightening around her drink, as you throw your head back, laughing at some joke the woman must’ve made. Seeing this as a green light, the woman leans in, brushing a lone piece of hair over your shoulder.

It doesn’t matter that Natasha can see how your spine immediately straightens up, or how you step back to widen the gap between you and your admirer.It doesn’t matter that you very clearly don’t return the attention being given to you.

It doesn’t matter. None of it matters because all Natasha can see and feel is red. If she had the ability to burn people with her eyes, that woman would have been incinerated on the spot. There wouldn’t even be tiny little dust particles left behind.

In the midst of her rage, she doesn’t even register the glass in her hand shattering until she’s covered in glass and red wine and there’s blood running down her wrist.

The sound of the glass breaking makes a good portion of the room’s occupants turn around to stare, you included. Instantly, you’re at her side, cradling her hand between your own.

“What happened?”

In its current state, Natasha’s brain seems to be lacking its usual quick thinking, and she just stares at you dumbly for a second until she spots the reporter you’d been talking to skulking in the background, watching with a petulant look on her face, evidently irritated by the interruption and the white-hot rage comes flooding back even more ferocious than before.

God, that insipid woman is lucky this event was specified no weapons allowed because if Natasha had a gun right now, she --

“--Natasha?”

You’re looking at her with worry in your eyes and as much as she’d love to go ‘accidentally’ push that woman off the edge of this very tall building’s balcony to a very certain death, she feels her insides soften into mush as they often do when you’re around.

“I’m fine,” she says. “Accident.”

It’s a flimsy excuse and one that wouldn’t fly on a normal day, especially not with you. She watches you purse your lips, giving her a doubtful look but you seem to make the decision to let it go as you lead her out of the room with the intent to find something to clean her up with.

You may not be a trained spy or even the most perceptive person on your best day, but you can still sense it when something is up – especially with Natasha. After the party, you’d had an inkling that maybe your girlfriend wasn’t telling you the whole truth and that something else was actually going on but after seeing the look in her eye, you hadn’t pushed her.

In spite of her unwillingness to share, a few weeks later your inkling is confirmed.

“I’ll order this time,” you yell over the loud music at the bar you were currently at. It was not your scene at all – or Natasha’s but Carol had recommended it on her last trip back to this earth and after a long, long week, you’d both agreed you deserved a night out, away from avengers’ duties and this is where you’d ended up.

Natasha gives you a nod and you stand, only having to wait at the bar for a few seconds before the bartender makes a b-line for you, ignoring the grumbles from the patrons that had been clearly waiting a lot longer than you.

“What can I get you?”

You recite Natasha’s drink, then your own and the bartender makes them with record speed. When you try to hand her the bill to pay, she waves her hand dismissively and gives you a grin. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t –“

The bartender, who you now realise is quite pretty, runs a finger along the back of your hand and gives you a wink that is definitely more flirty than friendly. “Believe me, it’s my pleasure.”

You sigh in defeat, giving her a smile in thanks and turn back around, making your way back to your table in the corner of the room where your girlfriend is still sitting but now with a face like thunder.

To anyone else, Natasha would probably look neutral but to you – well, you can see the irritated look in her eye and the slight crease between her brows and you know she’s pissed.

In the future, you’d look back and want to slap yourself for not seeing it straight away but in the present it just makes you a little worried.

“Everything okay?” you ask, setting the drinks down on the table. You think about all the possibilities of what could’ve happened in the short time you’d been gone and try not to panic. “Did something –"

“No,” Natasha says and then seems to realise the sharpness in her voice because her face softens in apology. She leans over to give you a quick kiss and it makes you relax slightly. “Everything’s fine.”

Comprehension starts to trickle in when she scoots over so she can wrap an arm around your shoulder to pull you closer, and when you follow her line of sight, you realise she’s glaring over your head at the bartender, who pales immediately and doesn’t so much as look in your direction again.

Oh, you feel your eyes widen as it finally hits you: oH.

You look down into your drink and try to hide your disbelieving smile as you finally understand: she’s jealous.

If it were anyone else, you think you probably wouldn’t feel like this – would likely be outright irritated and a little offended at the behaviour -- but with Natasha you can’t help but find it kind of … cute.

A little giddily, you lean over to press a kiss to her jaw and feel her relax a little against you. “Wanna go after this one?”

Natasha’s face doesn’t change but you see a little shift in her eyes as she nods and pulls you in for another kiss, this one a little more heated – for your benefit or the bartenders, you don’t know, and don’t particularly mind either way as you let yourself get lost in it.

After that night, it becomes so apparent to you and you don’t know how you’d missed it all this time. It happens all the time. All. The. Time.

On the street, if someone so much as glances your way, she’s already staring back at them with an expression that would be terrifying even to you if she directed it your way.

At work one day one of the new recruits, a kid, really, comes up to you and asks you, voice trembling if you’d let him take you out someday and the next day Natasha knocks him on his ass so hard and so many times that you’re kind of surprised – and a little impressed—that the poor kid doesn’t quit right on the spot.

Even in your apartment building, one of your maybe-slightly too friendly neighbours gets similar treatment in the elevator one night when you and Natasha are returning to the building at the same time as her.

Just as you enter the elevator, you hear the voice of your neighbour calling out.

“Hold the door!”

Panting, your neighbour enters the small space. “Thank you so much, I have had the worst, oh –” her eyes land on Natasha beside you and she looks at her with something you can’t quite place in her eyes. “Who’s your …friend?”

“Oh!” you exclaim and you know you must sound surprised. Was it not obvious from how Natasha was always here that you were dating? “This is Natasha. My girlfriend. Nat, this is Charlotte, my neighbour.”

You can see Natasha in the reflection of the elevator walls, so you see the smug self-satisfied look she gives your neighbour as she wraps an arm around you possessively.

So, yes while you notice it all now, you still don’t say anything because a small – and by small, you mean large, massive actually – part of you kind of likes it; likes the fact that the Natasha Romanoff, the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen in your life is somehow yours and even more unbelievably, somehow she thinks you’re worth getting worked up like that over.

At this point, you’ve been dating for over a year and somehow it must’ve slipped the memo to let all of the avengers know because somehow every time you’re at the office, it seems like a new person is finding out about your relationship.

It’s really hard to keep up with everyone and their individual missions, which is how you find yourself in your current predicament.

“--ah, well-well,” a familiar voice calls out and you look up from the report you’d been studying. “If it isn’t the most attractive and coincidentally my favourite honorary avenger.”

In the doorway of your office, Sam is grinning at you in that playful, flirty but also joking kind of way that’s distinctly Sam Wilson. You grin back and stand to let him pull you into a hug.

“Did you just get back?” you ask, vaguely remembering him telling you he was going on a mission at least six months ago. You think it was in Istanbul, but you can’t quite remember the specifics.

Sam pulls back and goes to open his mouth but doesn’t get the chance to speak as Natasha appears in the doorway.

“Samuel,” she drawls his name, eyeing his arm around you. She visibly brightens up when she looks at you, though. “Y/N”

You can’t see yourself, but you know your face must light up as your eyes land on her by the sudden realisation that crosses Sam’s face. The casual kiss she drops on your cheek comes as confirmation.

His mouth drops open as he looks between you both. “Oh damn, you two?” he asks, smiling genuinely. “Damn!”

To the naked eye, Natasha doesn’t seem amused by his revelation, but you know her well enough by now to be able to spot the glimmer of humour in her eyes.

Sam, however, doesn’t seem to be adept at reading her as you are and so when she advances a little closer, his eyes widen and he immediately backs away.

“I didn’t know! I didn’t know!” he exclaims, hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry!”

The expression on Natasha’s face turns sinister in nature. You watch and try not to laugh at her theatrics, attempting to adopt a sympathetic expression when he desperately looks to you for help.

“Well,” Natasha says, faux-friendly. As she passes by him, she gives him what looks like a bone-shatteringly hard arm squeeze – if the pained expression on Sam’s face is any indication -- and comes to stand beside your desk. “Now you know, buddy.”

“That I do,” he says, backing up until he reaches the door. “Anyways, I gotta, uh –"

Not even finishing his sentence, he high-tails it out of the room so fast you barely see him leave. You turn to Natasha with a frown. She looks back at you innocently, but you catch the way her lip twitches a little bit before she breaks into a full blown smirk.

“You’re going to give someone have a heart attack one day, you know,” you say, half-serious. “I’m kind of surprised you haven’t already.”

Unbothered, Natasha shrugs and reaches out to tug you closer to her in order to kiss you, a little more intensely than you would normally allow at work. You melt into it with a sigh, smiling a little.

Eventually, you have to pull away when you start to struggle to breathe and your head starts spinning. Natasha makes an unhappy sound, trying to follow, but you stand firm.

“Nope, you’ve got to go before I’m the one that has the heart attack.”

With a pout, she gives you one more kiss before she gives into your request.

You’ve never seen Natasha drunk before – hadn’t even thought she could get drunk but tonight she’s definitely wasted -- all thanks to Thor and whatever is in the mead he’d bought with him.

One thing you quickly realise about drunk Natasha is drunk Natasha also means confrontational Natasha.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about –”

Her and Tony are almost nose to nose at this point, about ten minutes into what was now a heated conversation, and you’re kind of wondering if either of them even knows what they’re arguing about. You don’t think so and by the looks on the other avengers faces, they seem to have as much of an idea as you do.

As Natasha and Tony continue to argue, you look to your left and the young waiter who’d been hovering by your table a little too attentively all night is immediately by your side.

So Natasha can’t see you, you quickly mouth the word water to him and thankfully he seems to understand because he gives you a quick nod and then disappears, reappearing just as swiftly with a glass in his hand.

“Here, Miss –"

“No!” Ending her argument with Tony as abruptly as it began, Natasha jabs a finger at the waiter, who looks to you for help while she glares up at him balefully.

The poor guy looks terrified, so you quickly intervene, touching Natasha’s knee to bring her attention back to you. It does the trick, but she seems to underestimate how close in proximity you already are and she ends up half in your lap to the delight of the other avengers in attendance, who all let out various different whistles.

“Mine,” she says childishly into the crook of your arm. You only just manage to pick it up so you know you must be the only person who heard her. With your help, she sits up a little and makes eye contact with you as she repeats herself, more seriously, as if you hadn’t understood the first time: “mine.”

“I – oh --okay,” you say, grabbing her hand as it starts to creep a little too low to be polite in your current company. “How about we get you home?”

After hurriedly saying your goodbyes, twenty minutes later you park in your driveway and begin the not-so-small feat of getting her inside.

“Damn,” you grunt a little under her weight as you help her up the stairs to your apartment. “What do they put into that Asgardian mead?”

You make a mental note to ask Thor about it and then promptly forget as you reach your front door and fumble around, looking for your keys.

Even in her inebriated state, Natasha somehow pulls herself together enough to reach into your bag and pull them put for you so you can unlock the door.

Which she promptly falls through. You just manage to catch her before she hits the floor, and she leans against you, burying her face into your neck.

“Come on,” you order gently, softening as she groans into your skin. “Bed.”

“No.”

As if to emphasise the word, Natasha shakes her head, but to your surprise, she starts to make her way to your bedroom anyway. She’s still a little unsteady on her feet but nothing like you’d be if you’d drank as much as she had. If it were you, you would definitely have been comatose about seven shots and multiple hours ago.

“Alright, you get into bed,” you say. “And I’ll get you some water, okay?”

Natasha scowls. “No,” she says. You bite your lip to hold in your laugh at the petulance you hear in her voice, shadowing her to the bed, where she immediately sits down and attempts multiple times to take off her heels with little success.

“No?”

Finally having enough of watching her struggle, you lean down and undo the straps of her heels, gently pulling them off her feet. You watch as she flops back on the bed and then covers her face dramatically with a groan. “You don’t get it,” she says unsteadily.

“I don’t get what?”

“You’re mine,” she repeats her earlier words, uncovering her eyes to look at you.

You raise an eyebrow. “Am I now?”

You thought you’d managed to cover your amusement pretty well until you see the glare she shoots you that says she can see it loud and clear. After a beat of silence it becomes clear she’s not going to say anything else.

With difficulty, you slowly manage to get her into a sitting position and help her out of her dress, pulling the covers up around her and retrieving a glass of water that you place on her nightstand so she can drink it in the morning.

You then change yourself and go the bathroom to remove what makeup you’d had on. To your surprise, she’s still awake when you emerge, half-propped up against the headboard and looking at you with bleary, unfocused eyes. It makes your heart turn to mush immediately and you get into bed beside her as quickly as your feet allow.

She immediately curls up into you and you wrap an arm around her, pulling her as close to you as humanly possible.

“I am yours, just so you know.”

There’s a second of silence where you start to think that maybe she’s fallen asleep, until she shifts against you to meet your gaze, looking a little more alert and coherent but still out of it.

“Good,” she says softly.

The next morning, you wake before Natasha and slip out of bed to make her coffee and to find some pain killers, having a gut feeling she’ll probably need them. Your feeling turns out to be right. When you re-enter the bedroom, she’s laying face-down but clearly awake by the muffled groaning you can hear coming from her.

“Whys’it so bright,” she mumbles into the mattress as you approach the bed, turning her head ever so slightly so she can meet your eyes. You grin down at her.

“Ah, it awakens.”

She scowls up at you and you laugh, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek as you slide back into bed, careful not to jostle her too much. She leans her head against your leg, slowly sipping the glass of water you’d left for her last night before reaching for the coffee on the nightstand.

You fall into a comfortable silence; you running your hand through her hair as she drinks her coffee, humming contentedly.

“How are you feeling –"

“I don’t like it when people look at you,” she interrupts suddenly, staring down into her coffee mug and sounding uncharacteristically nervous. You freeze but since she’s not looking at you, she doesn’t seem to notice. “But it’s not because of anything you do. I just don’t … like it.”

“Okay?” you hedge cautiously, not really understanding.

“I’m sorry if it bothers you,” she says. “Me. Being like that. I didn’t know I was even the type to –"

“It doesn’t bother me.”

At your quick interjection, she looks at you for the first time and whatever she sees on your face makes her smile faintly. “It doesn’t?”

You bite your lip. “Not at all.”

She mirrors you, now smirking. “Oh.”

After this, it starts to become a game: one you feel like you win every time.

#natasha romanoff x reader

829 notes · View notes

omg-im-such-a-masochist · 3 years

Text

THE PEACE MAKER

Prompt: Requested, by the lovely @banks4life

Thank you so much for your request babes, I hope you’ll like it 😉

Word Count: Bitch, grab a snack, ‘cuz this is LONG

Pairings: Roman Reigns x Reader x Seth Rollins

Warnings: +18, smut, threesome, anal sex, rough sex, car sex, dom x sub dynamic, name calling, DP (double penetration), fingering, oral sex (female receiving), angst.

Tag: @ziasaph , @marlananicole , @akiko-tanaka , @wickedsunfire , @sassymox , @nicolewoo , @saccreigns , @drewmcintyrekoccsrocbwdgfan , @mindofasagittaruis , @reigns-5sos , @auawdo , @lustyromantic , @babydee17 , @yungbludjazz360 , @theworldofotps , @new-zealand-chic

Notes: This was something people 🥵💦. I have some exciting news! 🤗 From now on I’ll have an official editor. How cool is that? This means no more misspellings for me and you get to enjoy a fic with a nice flow and correctly grammar 🤣 My editor is the incredible and amazing @rheacanbreakme , Annie is the one responsible for helping me with my writing and she is an INCREDIBLE writer as well! So please, if you can, make sure to check her out, you won’t regret it 😉 You can check out my previous fics on my Masterlist, if you’d like. Now, let’s get the fun started, shall we?

Sighing in relief, I placed my bags underneath the stairs and ran quickly towards the kitchen when I heard the commotion coming from there.

The loud screaming and cursing almost made me deaf.

“What is going on in here?” I asked

“Shut the fuck up, fool! You can’t make her cum like that, not even if you tried hard to!” Roman yelled at Seth, completely ignoring me.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Seth ran quickly towards Roman, desperately trying to throw a punch at him

“HEY, HEY, HEY” I yelled as loud as I could, stepping in between their bodies and placing one hand on the chest of both of the men

“C’mon, bitch! I ain’t afraid of you!” Roman teased Seth

“ENOUGH!” I pushed Seth away, making him finally look at me

“You’re choosing his side, Y/N?” Seth asked in disbelief

“I’m not choosing anything! I don’t even know what the hell is going on!”

“It’s pretty simple: Lover boy here was sniffing around my stuff, opened a computer folder called ‘Private’ and found some of our sex videos, did not like what he saw, even though he was the one snooping through other’s business, and now he wants to pick a fight with me because of it” Roman explained

“Seth, why did you open the folder?” I asked

“Because I wanted to see what’s up with it, since he keeps it to himself like it contains the keys to heaven or something”

“It is heaven! As you saw” Roman smirked

“I’m gonna rip your fucking head off!!” Seth ran, and I stopped him

“Seth, don’t!” I pushed him away “And you” I looked at Roman “Stop teasing him”

“He did that shit on purpose, Y/N!” Seth said

“No, I didn’t” Roman defends himself “I was showering, I left it open because I was gonna watch it after! Then you sneaked into my room and decided it was a good idea to open MY personal folder that was in MY MacBook in MY bedroom!”

“Seth, is this true?” I looked into his eyes

“I thought it was pictures or videos of him with another woman! A side chick or something”

“Bitch” Roman scoff “I don’t need a side chick! I CAN keep it in my pants, unlike some other people” Roman measured him with his eyes from head to toe

“ARGH” Seth roared, trying to attack him again

“Goddamn it, STOP!” I grabbed Seth’s face and forced him to look at me “Please, stop” I begged, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath

“That was low” I narrowed my eyes at Roman

“What? I didn’t lie” He said, shrugging

“Stop talking, please! You’re not helping at all!”

“Are you gonna defend him, even though he’s wrong?” Roman asked, slightly shocked

“You two, stop with this defending bullshit! I’m not picking anyone’s side! THERE ARE NO SIDES FOR ME TO PICK!” I yelled exasperated, took a deep breath and looked at them “I’m just trying to make sure that neither of you do anything dumb”

When I have both of their attention I continued

“I just got home and instead of having a welcome home kiss I almost got a welcome home punch in the face! Seth, you shouldn’t have invaded Roman’s privacy. We’re supposed to respect each other’s personal space in this house and we all know that personal belongings are off limits and the bedrooms too, unless the owner of the room allows us in. Isn’t that right?” I asked and he nodded

“Good. And Roman, I thought we were all adults who know better than to tease the other person like if we were in 8th grade when that other person is extremely nervous” I looked at him and he mouthed a ‘he started’ and I just stared at him harshly

Roman sighed “Yeah, you’re right”

After a few minutes of silence Seth says

“I have a night class at Black and Brave, so I’m just gonna head off” He whispered to me

“Ok, babe” I caressed his bearded cheek, knowing that this was his way to calm down, even though his class doesn’t start until 3 hours from now.

Seth hugged me tightly, pecking my lips

“I missed you. I’m glad you’re back home” He smiled softly

“Yeah, me too, bubba” I kissed his cheek

“See you later, baby”

“See ya, and be careful!” I followed him to the front door

Seth winked at me as he grabbed his duffle bag, and waved at me once he reached his car, which is when I closed the door

I returned to the kitchen and looked at Roman, who was sipping on a beer bottle

“Did Mrs. Soft Feelings leave already?” He asked

“Ro, that’s not nice! Don’t talk about him like that, you know I don’t like it! But yeah, he left”

“Good” He placed me on top of the kitchen island, completely ignoring what I just said “‘Cuz I’ve wanted to do this ever since I saw you”

Roman’s lips teased my own. Kissing me sensually, taking every chance to nibble at my lips.

“I missed you so fucking much” Roman sighed, hugging me tightly

“I missed you too, big dog” I squeezed his ass cheeks, making him chuckle

“So, our old videos, huh?” I asked

“I missed you. I needed something to ease the pain, you know? I couldn’t get you out of my head”

“Which head?” I giggled

“Both heads” Roman winked

“I think I can help you with that” I replied, dipping my hand inside his sweatpants

“Oh, please do” Roman moaned once my hand closed around his erection “Fuck, it feels so good” Roman rested his forehead on mine “Hmmm baby, just like that...Fuck I missed this”

Roman opened my button up shirt, sinking his head down to the top of my breasts, sucking, licking and biting.

“Your skin is so soft” He whispered against my breasts “Specially your tits. Always drive me insane”

“Roman” I moaned and he grabbed me in his arms, taking us to the living room, where he placed me on the couch before leaning back

“I wanna fuck you so bad” Roman panted, quickly removing his clothes as I did the same.

I moaned loudly when he entered me.

“Isn’t it so good to be home baby girl?” Roman chuckled, mocking me

My walls squeezed around him, making him groan loudly

“That’s so mean of you” He half moaned uncontrollably

“That’s what you get for mocking me”

“I could never!” Roman pretended to be offended, and began to pound mercilessly into me

“You’re so fucking wet...I can tell this pussy missed my cock, didn’t it baby?”

“Oh yes, daddy. So fucking much!”

“That’s it, baby. Scream for daddy”

Roman and I both screamed in pleasure as we came.

“Wanna take a bath?” Roman asked playfully

“Sure, I fucking need one” I giggled

.......................................................................................

“You’re going to sleep with him tonight?”

“Ro, please don’t start with me...You know he has the odd days this month”

“Can I persuade you into forgetting that and staying with me instead?”

“You know that’s not fair”

“Well, I think I should have some type of reward don’t you?”

“For what?”

“Not knocking his teeth down his throat for touching my stuff without permission”

I laughed “Roman, you’re a grown ass man! Please, behave yourself”

“He still deserves a punch!”

“Babe” I said as I sat up on his lap “Please, help me out?! Look” I sighed “You know I’m not one for comparison, but we both also know that it’s no secret you’re way more mature than Seth in some aspects, so I’m begging you: Please don’t do this to me! Don’t stick your head up your ass and become as childish as he is, please? I need someone to deal with the situation as an adult and I know that’s not gonna come from Seth but I do hope it comes from you” I give him some puppy eyes for an extra effects

Roman sighed “Fine. You won! I’ll be the mature one”

“Thank you” I squealed, hugging him tightly

“Yeah, yeah” He chuckled “But I’m already letting you know that the next time he touches my stuff I will break his teeth AND his fingers!”

“Noted!”

…………………………………………………............................

I was waiting for Seth, laying down on his bed, when his bedroom door opened.

“Hey bubba” I smiled, opening my arms for him

Seth smiled widely, jumped on the bed and hugged me tightly

“Ah, I missed this” He said, inhaling the perfume on my neck

I giggled, asking “So, how was the night class?”

“Good, but I know what can be better” He smirked, pinning me down on the mattress...

The next morning I had an early class at college so I was the first one to wake up, followed by Seth

“What are you doing up so soon?” He asked, hugging me from behind as I waited for my toast to be ready

“I have an early class”

“Come back to bed” He mumbled against my shoulder

“Bubba, I can’t!” I chuckled softly “You know that”

“But we miss you” Seth pressed his hard on against my butt cheeks

“I know but I really can’t” I turned around and softly kissed his neck “But we can fix that later if you‘d like” I winked at him

Seth sighed heavily “Fine” He murmured, slightly upset

“C’mon bubs, don’t be like that” I hugged him tightly “I need papa waiting for me when I come back home” I smiled when his eyes shifted to his Dom mode, which often happened whenever I called him papa

“Are you gonna let me make a video with you too, so I can have my own?” Seth asked, with a raspy voice

“I’ll let you do whatever you want with me” I leaned forward, reached his ear and whispered “Papa” Giggling, when I felt the pressure of his grip around my neck

“We’re going to have so much fun when you come back” Seth laughed coldly

“Hmmm, I can’t wait for it!”

.......................................................................................

As soon as I got home, I opened the front door and felt a forceful tug on my right arm

“Ouch, Seth what the fuck?” I asked

The only reply I received was being tossed on his shoulder as he ran to his bedroom.

From the couch, Roman just stared at us until our figures disappeared up the stairs.

Seth loudly shut his bedroom door, soon after saying “Take your clothes off, now!” He quickly set up his phone upon the night stand and he took the lube bottle out of his bedside table

I gave him a questioning look and he said

“I’m about to fucking explode! I really cannot endure foreplay. Not right now!”

Seth squirted some lube on his length and rubbed his cock all over my folds, making me moan loudly.

Soon after, we heard the front door open and close forcefully.

“Uh, somebody must be having a bad day” Seth laughed, amused

I slapped his shoulder lightly “Don’t talk about him like that”

Seth’s eyes grew dark and suddenly I had one hand around my neck, choking me hard and another hand rubbing my clit in fast circles.

“Since when do you hit me like that? Have you forgot who’s in charge, princess? Does papa have to remind you about that?”

I can feel my eyes closing from both pleasure and pain, and my mind going numb from the choking.

Seth quickly loosened the pressure around my neck and lightly slapped my face

“No no no, you’re not gonna pass out on me now, are you?” He laughed deviously “I love when you get like that, speechless...whenever that happens, you become my favorite play toy! Just laying there, all pretty and quiet, just waiting for me to fuck you...use you as I like” Seth bit my cheek “Don’t you like being used, baby?” He asked, staring at me

“Yes, I love it” I panted

“Of course you love it!” Seth licked from my chin to my lips “You love it because, you’re my filthy little whore” He chuckled and quickly began to fuck me until I was screaming uncontrollably

……………………………………………………..

It is the next day and I’m leaving the main building on campus when I heard someone honk, and then call for me. I turned around to find Roman

“Hi, baby girl” He smiled widely

I leaned on the driver’s window to give him a kiss

“What are you doing here?” I asked, surprised

“Well, I just left the gym and I remembered that you leave college earlier on friday’s so I came to pick you up” Roman winked

“Are you leaving already?” He asked

“Yep!” I answered, giving him my books and backpack so he could toss it on the back seat, while I made my way to the passenger’s seat

“Why didn’t you let me know you were coming? I could have waited for you in the front building”

“Nah, it’s ok. I didn’t take that long to find you” He cackled “And also because I wanted to surprise you” Roman took my hand in his, intertwining our fingers and placing a soft kiss on the back of my hand

“Well, I’m happy you came to pick me up” I leaned forward and placed a kiss on the side of his full lips

“C’mon, really? We haven’t been together in two days and that’s all I get? An ‘I’m a virgin, please be gentle’ kiss?” He laughed

“What?” I played dumb

“Baby...c’mon, show your man some love, will you?” Roman placed one big hand on my thigh and squeezed

“Ro, you’re driving. We can’t do that!” I pretended to be in shock with his request

“You really gonna make me stop the car and fuck you in the middle of the street? Because you know I will!”

“Of course you wouldn’t!” I teased, knowing that would make him park the car and fuck me senseless.

Roman quickly pulled over, next to an alley and turned the car off. Unbuckling his seatbelt, Roman said

“Take off your panties and straddle my lap” He pulled his half hard cock out of his pants, licked his palm and began to stroke it to complete hardness.

Just the sight of his rock hard member was enough to make me damp. I straddled his lap and Roman teased me with the tip of his cock, rubbing up and down my folds, from my clit to my entrance.

“Daddy, please” I begged

“What do you want, baby girl? Tell daddy”

“I want you to fuck me, please...Please fuck me good like only you can do” I pleaded

Roman finally stopped teasing me after my last plea, and entered my core.

“Fuck daddy...so deep” I gasped

He grabbed me by my hair, pulling me forcefully to him. Kissing my lips like his life depended on it

“You like me buried deep inside of you, don’t you baby?” Roman panted

“I love it! I love it so fucking much” I moaned

Romans thrusts were vigorous and merciless. Even though we didn’t had that much space in the car, he still managed to find the perfect angle to make me feel dizzy.

“Fuck, look at that” He pulled the front of my dress up, so he could see his dick going in and out of me “Look how well you take me, baby. How you take every fucking inch...You’re so fucking perfect” Roman said, pulling my face to his and kissing my lips, while he grabbed two fistfuls of my hair, to keep me in place….

…………………………………………………………………………

Saturday’s night are always low for the three of us, not much to do unless we decided to chill on the couch and watch some tv. But since finals are coming, I was finishing one of my reports in my room when I heard the beginning of an argument coming faintly from the living room.

I rolled my eyes before making my way downstairs, to see what the problem was this time, which happened to be the fourth time today I had to settle an argument between the boys.

“What the hell? Can’t you two stop fighting for one goddamn second?” I screamed

“He started it” They said at the same time

*I swear, it’s like living with children* I thought to myself

“What is it?” I asked, briefly

“He ate my greek yogurt” Roman said

“I was hungry! And I didn’t see your name on it, pal” Seth answered

“I’m the only one in this house who eats the fucking yogurt!” Roman yelled

“Well, I was in the mood to eat it and so I did! As far as I remember, the food is for everybody who lives here, isn’t it?” Seth asked, placing his hands on his hips

“But the yogurt was mine!” Roman roared

“Enough!” I screamed “Shut the fuck up the both of you, now!” I tugged at my hair in exasperation

They stared at me speechless and I used that moment to let my anger flow

“I can’t believe that two grown ass men in their thirties are fighting over yogurt! You have got to be kidding me! I can’t understand how me, in my 21 years old, have to intervene in your stupid and pointless baby level of immaturity fights! I’m tired of being the only adult in this fucking house and as far as I’m concerned, you two can literally kill each other from now on, because I DON’T GIVE A DAMN ANYMORE!” I yelled and returned to my bedroom.

One hour later, I heard a knock on my bedroom door, but decided to ignore it.

The knocking persisted, until I yelled

“What?”

“Can we come in?” Seth asked

“No!” I answered

“C’mon baby girl, please? We just want to apologize to you, that’s all” Roman said

“Yeah? What for? Just so you can begin fighting again 30 minutes from now?” I spat

“Babe, please hear us out? We’re begging you” Seth said

I opened my bedroom door and found them standing there, with matching guilty looks on their faces

“Fine, but if you start arguing again-“

“We won’t” Both responded in unison

I made my way to my bed and they both entered the room.

“Talk” I said, when I sat at the edge of my the bed

“We would like to apologize to you, for all the bickering and fighting” Seth said

“Yeah, we realized that it senseless and uncalled for” Roman began

“And stupid, childish, annoying, ridiculous” I interrupted him

“True, it’s just that, we ended up getting caught up in the stress of everything, letting the pent up anger out on each other, and didn’t even realized how much stress we caused you by acting like we did” Seth said, coming closer to the bed and sitting by my side “Do you forgive me?” He whispered

I sighed heavily “Yes, I do, bubba” I pecked his lips

“And what about me?” Roman asked, now also sitting by my side

“Of course I forgive you too, handsome” I also pecked his lips

“Would you let us make it up to you?” Seth whispered in my ear

“Yes”

I gasped when Seth’s lips began to kiss my neck, while Roman quickly grabbed the hem of my oversized t-shirt and pulled up, revealing my naked body underneath it. Wasting no time, Roman sucked one nipple into his mouth as Seth turned my head towards him, so he could kiss my lips.

I moaned softly when Seth’s fingers began to rub my clit and Roman’s lips took over kissing me passionately.

“You like this, don’t you babe? You’re so fucking wet” Seth moaned, dipping two fingers in me

“What do you need, baby?” Roman asked as Seth’s fingers moved at a frantic pace

“I need your mouth on me, daddy. As papa’s fingers fuck me” I said, making Roman smirk

He leaned down and began to suck my clit as Seth finger fucked me.

It didn’t take me long to reach my orgasm, cumming hard.

“Who do you want where, baby girl?” Roman briefly asked

“I want you on my pussy first” I answered

Roman positioned himself on my entrance as Seth stood behind me, with the lube on his hand

Roman buried himself deeply and waited for Seth to enter my puckered hole before they began to thrust, finding a rhythm that could be pleasurable for the three of us.

“Oh, just like that” I moaned when they found the perfect pace

“Hmmm, baby you’re even tighter” Roman moaned “Do you like when Seth fucks your ass while I fuck your pussy, baby?” He asked

“Oh yes, I fucking love it! I feel so fucking full!” I panted

“You love being full with dick, right baby?” Seth whispered softly

“So fucking much!” I giggled

“You ready to switch?” Roman asked Seth

“Fuck yeah!” Was his answer

They switched and I felt even fuller. With Roman now in my ass and being thicker than Seth, he pushed my walls tighter, making it difficult for Seth to enter me

“Fuck, fuck, fuck I’m gonna cum” Seth moaned loudly once he finally entered me

“Don’t you fucking dare” I screamed, moaning

Roman began to move and so did Seth. The feeling was so good, I was literally drooling all over myself

“Fuck babe, you’re drooling. You look so fucking hot!” Seth said in awe

“Are you drooling because it feels so good, baby girl?” Roman asked

“Yes, daddy” I squealed

“Roman, she’s gonna cum...fuck, she’s so tight” Seth said as he began to cum, triggering my own release

Roman quickly pulled out and came on my ass, moaning and panting

The three of us crashed into the mattress, giggling and sighing.

“This was fun” Roman said

“Yeah, it was really hot” Seth laughed

“Would you like to do that again?” I smirked

“Fuck yeah!” They answered

As one bearded face moved to my breasts and the other one roamed down to my...

Please if you’re comfortable with it, let me know your thoughts on this? Feedbacks are always appreciated 🥰😘

#roman reigns one shot #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns #seth rollins smut #seth rollins fanfiction #seth rollins x reader #seth rollins #seth rollins one shot #seth rollins imagines #wwe x reader #wwe smut #wwe imagine #wwe fanfiction #wwe one shot #masochist writes

470 notes · View notes

tennessoui · 3 years

Note

I’m obsessed with all your fics and you but the a/b/o fic with a pregnant obiwan is killing me I love the floof so much

so happy you like the roadtrip au as it's one of my favorites too!!!

have about 2k more because youre awesome <3

(squick: a/b/o)

They’re somewhere in eastern Ohio when Anakin clears his throat and turns down the music. Obi-Wan’s back in the front seat with him, munching on a stick of beef jerky he’d never in a million years eat if it hadn’t been the most appetizing thing in that last gas station. Obi-Wan hates these cravings, can’t make sense of them at all, seeing as he hasn’t even eaten beef in fifteen years.

Anakin had just laughed and bought five different flavors, just to make sure Obi-Wan had something he liked.

All the rest of the food is in the back on his nest, which makes Obi-Wan a little grumpy because the only thing that should be on his nest is him and Anakin, but it’s not like there’s anywhere else for the food to go. Obi-Wan needs all the room in his seat to stretch out his legs, and if they put the food in the trunk then they’d have to stop every hour or so for Obi-Wan to get out and get it, which wouldn’t work at all, because Anakin doesn’t like it when Obi-Wan leaves the car, even if it’s just to walk around the side of the car to the trunk.

So the food is in his nest and Obi-Wan is coping with that intrusion fairly well. There’d only been some light pouting about it before Anakin had offered to keep it beneath his feet, but that would be too dangerous to even really consider, and Obi-Wan had shut up. His alpha would just be stupid enough to try it, too, if he thought that’s what he really wanted.

But. Obi-Wan’s munching on a long piece of beef jerky like it’s a carrot, and he’s thinking about what sort of things he should be eating for the sake of the baby, when Anakin turns down the music and clears his throat.

At first, Obi-Wan thinks this is because this is his music hour, and Anakin is just tired of listening to it.

But the alpha is tapping nervous beats on the steering wheel, not in time with the song at all, and it makes Obi-Wan pay attention.

“So you never told me what this alpha was like,” Anakin says, staring straight ahead. “This...uh.”

“Set,” Obi-Wan supplies.

Anakin’s proud jaw flexes and he purses his lips as he changes lanes. No one��s coming from behind them and they’re not about to pass anyone, but Obi-Wan’s a terrible driver, so he’ll give Anakin the benefit of the doubt.

“Right,” the alpha says. “Set. You never told me what Set was like.”

Obi-Wan takes a bite of his jerky so he doesn’t have to respond right away.

The truth is, he doesn’t particularly remember what Set had been like, other than surprisingly eager to get into his pants. He’d smelt vaguely like leather and rain, but what in Seattle didn’t smell vaguely like rain?

He’d looked like Anakin in the low light of the bar. He’d had the same jaunt to his nose, the same thick eyebrows. Almost--but not quite--the same color of hair. He’d been an alpha who looked like Anakin but looked at Obi-Wan the way Anakin never would.

And that had made Obi-Wan indefensibly weak.

“Ah,” he says instead of saying any of this. “I…”

“Never mind,” Anakin decides just as suddenly as he’d spoken. “You don’t have to tell me. If you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to…” Obi-Wan trails off, unsure of how to continue. Anakin’s tense on the other side of the car, and his scent is heavy and everywhere. “It’s just that we didn’t....ah.” He clears his throat and looks out the passenger window. “We didn’t talk much.”

The car swerves just slightly. Anakin must be tired. They’ve been on the road for nine hours, with the frequent stops calculated in.

“I think we should stop soon for the night,” Obi-Wan proposes when Anakin makes no move to say anything else.

“You didn’t talk much?” is the alpha’s reply. The tone is unreadable.

Obi-Wan blinks, his hands finding their way to his belly as he looks over at his alpha. Unreadable usually means angry when it comes to Anakin, but Obi-Wan doesn’t understand why.

“You just...what, you just saw him across the room making drinks and that was enough? Skilled with his hands, was he?”

Obi-Wan inhales sharply. They’ve been friends for so many years that they’re comfortable enough around each other to make jokes about their sexual preferences and partners. But this isn’t a joke. This has teeth and Obi-Wan’s already feeling sensitive. “I just...I was lonely,” he mutters, turning his body away from the alpha. “He reminded me of something, I don’t know. He was sweet. And clever and he made it clear what he wanted.”

Anakin draws in a breath, but Obi-Wan doesn’t particularly want to hear anything else. “I want to be done for the day now,” he tells the alpha as a blue sign with the next exit’s hotel options flash by them. “Please stop at the next exit.”

For a second, Obi-Wan isn’t sure if Anakin will, but the alpha surprises him by slowing down and taking the exit.

It’s nothing special, the motel they find. Feeling a little bit angry and childish about it, Obi-Wan demands that Anakin stay in the car while he goes and gets them a room. His alpha’s nostrils flare as the tendons in his neck stand out, but he agrees.

Good. He can stink up the car with his pheromones while Obi-Wan gets things done. Typical alphas.

Despite what Anakin seems to think will happen if he lets Obi-Wan out of his sight for longer than five minutes, the attendant at the hotel gives him no trouble at all.

“And would you like a single or a double?” the woman asks, staring at her computer. Obi-Wan falters.

He wants to say double, because he thinks it’s necessary to reestablish lines and boundaries between himself and his al--the alpha. He doesn’t want to take advantage of Anakin, feels awful just thinking about it. He wants to say double, because they’re just two friends taking a road trip together. They can afford two separate beds.

He wants to say double.

“A single should be fine,” is what his mouth says instead.

The woman hums agreeably and keys two cards with the information. He finishes the transaction feeling as if he’s underwater. What has he done? The woman hands him the cards and he walks out of the lobby in a daze.

His alpha is already mad at him for reasons he doesn’t really understand. How mad will he be when he finds out that Obi-Wan couldn’t control his omega side again, and now he has to spend the night pressed up against him? Sure, they’ve done that before, for weeks now. But this is different. Anakin can’t just leave if he decides Obi-Wan’s become too clingy. He’d have to sleep in the car if he needed to go.

The thought pulls a distressed keen out of Obi-Wan’s throat, and he doesn’t have time to banish his anxiety from his scent before Anakin’s there. The man hadn’t even been waiting in the car where he’d left him. He’d been leaning against one of the pillars of the hotel’s entrance. Obi-Wan has the ridiculous mental image of Anakin slowly slinking closer while Obi-Wan was inside, getting out of the car to lean against the door, then moving to lean against the trunk, then to one of the columns that holds up the ceiling of the drive-in entrance. Then to the entrance itself when Obi-Wan was taking too long.

The thought makes him more distressed. Anakin is such a good, protective friend, and Obi-Wan is still taking advantage of it.

Anakin is quick to wrap his arms around Obi-Wan and pull him into his chest in the shade behind one of the potted plants just outside the sliding double doors. He sniffs at his neck and then runs his hands up and down his sides as if he’s afraid someone had pulled a knife on the pregnant omega in the ten minutes he’d been inside.

“What’s wrong, what happened,” Anakin murmurs, resting his hands on Obi-Wan’s tummy. “Did someone say something? Are you alright? Omega, Obi, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Obi-Wan sniffles, holding out the keys to their room. “They were…”

And then he lies. It’s about protecting himself, his child, he thinks. If Anakin leaves now, who will protect them both? He needs the alpha. More than that, he needs Anakin.

“They were out of double rooms,” he hears himself say. He grips at Anakin’s shirt with both of his hands and turns his wet eyes upward. He needs to keep Anakin looking at him and not at the mostly deserted parking lot. And Anakin’s the type of alpha who would drop anything to help a distressed omega. That’s always been Obi-Wan’s experience, at least.

“Are you…” Anakin furrows his brow and strokes over Obi-Wan’s tummy again. He’s had a fascination with it since the beginning of the pregnancy. “Are you upset you have to share a bed with me?”

“No!” Obi-Wan gasps, offended that that’s even the conclusion Anakin has drawn. “Of course not! I just...I’m sorry you don’t get the choice….” He falls silent when Anakin pushes his thumb against his lips.

“Obi, it’s alright, baby,” he murmurs. “I don’t mind, I really don’t. We’ve shared beds for years now. Why would this be any different?”

Obi-Wan pouts against Anakin’s finger, and the alpha graciously removes it. “Because...you wouldn’t be able to leave and sleep somewhere else if I’m…” he wants to say too much, but he doesn’t know how to phrase it in a way that won’t make Anakin say something he doesn’t mean out of sympathy for him,

“Didn’t we go over this already?” Anakin murmurs, petting his hair and making Obi-Wan look him in the eyes. “I’m not leaving you, Omega.”

It feels as if Anakin’s slipped in a bit of Alpha command, what with the way Obi-Wan’s body reacts to this. But what would the command even be?

“Let’s go get our stuff for the night, yeah?” his alpha says. “We can get the bed all set up in a nice nest, take a nap, and then find somewhere to eat. Are you craving anything in particular?”

Obi-Wan thinks about it as Anakin grabs his hand and leads him back to the car. Anakin takes out both their suitcases, but won’t even let Obi-Wan wheel one in.

He’s given the bag of snacks to carry instead, along with Anakin’s college sweatshirt.

“Pancakes,” he decides. “I really want pancakes.”

“Then that’s that,” Anakin smiles down at him. “Nest, then nap, then pancakes for the omega.”

“And the baby,” Obi-Wan says, framing his stomach with both hands.

Something dark flashes across Anakin’s eyes, but it’s gone before he can get a read on it. It hadn’t been anger though, he knows that for sure.

“And the baby,” Anakin agrees.

#asks #roadtrip au #squick tag: a/b/o #squick tag: mpreg #obikin #meanwhile of course anakin is just struggling with the fact that this guy got to sleep with obi-wan #after just standing and making drinks and they apparently hardly even talked???#absolutely unfair #awful #anakins trying his best to be understanding and not act like a friendzoned alpha #but its very painful

71 notes · View notes

millenialfanfictionaddiction · 3 years

Text

Please Me: Futakuchi's Fun

Kenji Futakuchi x dom fem reader

⚠️THIS FIC IS 18+ MINORS DNI ⚠️

Welcome to week 2 of the Please Me Series! A collaboration with @axoxtxhxh! First up, we have femdom wins featuring Futakuchi and Asahi! Please check out Joey’s fic, Asahi's Awakening! I will link it in the please me master list!

Please Me Masterlist

Warnings: swearing, unwanted touching, dirty talk, public sex, fingering, male and female oral, hand jobs, pet names, switch Kenji, switch leaning dom reader, cum play

Word count: 5,200

"Jas really? Another date?” you sigh as your life long friend tries desperately to convince you this is a good idea.

“Y/N, I promise. This one is right up your-” your loud friend starts to say as you cut her off almost immediately.

“You said that about guys 4 and 5. So what makes you think 6 is going to be so special?” You smirk at her questioningly.

You knew your friend meant well, unfortunately after the 3rd date she had set you up on, you realized her taste in men weren’t anywhere close to yours.

“Y/N I promise, if this one doesn’t work out, I'll stop setting you up on dates. Ok?” Jas speaks as she cautiously awaits your response.

“I remember a similar conversation after the magician, Jas” you say as your eyes narrowed.

“But this one I know personally! My boyfriend works with him and actually went to school with him. He’s been single for a while but I finally convinced him to meet with you!” she said enthusiastically.

“I tried to stop her” Her boyfriend interjected “but you know how she gets about this Y/N.”

“Oh hush now! Kenji is a great guy. A little rough around the edges but super nice” Jas says as she slow turns away from you.

“Oh god” you say as you bury your face in your palms.

“To be fair YN, he has changed since high school. He was captain of the Volleyball team so he kind of transitioned from being the huge dick he use to be” Jas’s boyfriend says as he walks from their apartment kitchen.

“oh nice, a former jock whose still living in high school. Sign me up” you say as you sarcastically throw your hands up in the air.

“YN he still plays volleyball so he’s not a former jock, he still is one. Besides he really doesn’t seem at all like his teammates described him” Jas shurgs “plus I have to you two meeting at a bar and grill so if anything there’s booze.”

“Oh a perk to this date?” you say sarcastically as Jas smacks your arm.

“See? This is exactly why she will get along with Kenji great” Jas yells to her boyfriend who only laughs.

You roll your eyes and think to yourself.

I guess one date wont be so bad.

The night of your date approaches quickly, much to your dismay. You opt to wear a simple, mid thigh length black dress and your black leather jacket. You stare at your heels and opt for flats instead.

“Honestly I don’t know anything about this guy so flats is probably a good option” you say as you slip on your shoes and descend to the street below.

You arrive at the bar/grill and check you’re phone. Jas texted you telling you Kenji was there and waiting for you at the bar. You sighed as you walked in, heading towards the bar.

Suddenly you felt a hand grab up your dress as you turn around to see a man standing uncomfortably close to you.

“excuse me? What do you think your doing?” you shout as the man puts up both hands

A tall figure at the bar witnessed the whole ordeal and begins walking up to you.

Suddenly the tall man stops as he hears a loud SLAP echo through the place.

There you stand toe to toe with the man who groped you as you grab him by the neck, pulling him towards the door.

The tall figure watched in wonder as you disposed of the man outside the restaurant.

“Oh my god ma’am! Are you ok? We saw that man assault you!” the hostess said as she ran up to you concerned.

“Oh gosh I’m fine. Just another low life. But I’m afraid I may have broken the pervs nose when I tossed him out. My apologies” you say as you fix your dress, picking up your bag and proceeding to the bar.

The tall figure followed your form as you sat down, almost forgetting the reason you were there.

“Any beer please” you say as the bartender serves you quickly. While you handled the situation well, your adrenalin was kicking in and you needed to calm down.

“You wouldn’t happen to be Y/N would you?” a tall, good looking man said as he approached you.

“I mean if you are the police, then no” you say as you turn to take another drink

“Do I look like a cop?” He says as he smirks

“Nah you’re too good looking. Yeah I’m Y/N” you say as you smirk

“Kenji, I’d say it’s a pleasure but I’m kind of nervous after what you just did to that guy. You handled yourself well” he said as he sat down next to you.

“Well as long as you don’t grope me, we wont have an issue” you nod sideways to him

“Not unless you want me too” he says cockily

“oh right out the gate. You're a brave one aren’t ya?” you say giggling at his forwardness.

“Well at least I can say I tried” he says “how about we grab a table?”

You get up from you spot on the bar to move to a more intimate table in the back of the restaurant. The night continues and honestly, you are enjoying yourself. Sure Kenji was cocky and full of himself but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle. Plus the man could take a joke which provided you both with good banter all night. You both finish off your final beer as you stand up.

“well shit I knew coming to a bar/grill wouldn’t be the best idea” you giggle as you stumble a bit. Kenji chuckled as he held on to your arm.

“For as hard as you fight, you sure are a lightweight” he laughs as he grabs your waist “lets get you home.”

He walks you to your apartment as you lean on him for support. It's not like you drank a lot but you imagine that the drama from earlier caused you to consume your drinks a little faster than you were use to.

“welcome to my humble abode” you scream as you throw your hands up as Kenji sets you keys on the counter and removes his shoes.

You sit on the couch as you motion for him to join you. He sits besides you.

“20 questions, lightening round and GO!” you screech.

“ok but you start champ” He says.

“Why are you single?” you starting off strong.

“damn right out of the gate. ok well my ex and I had a mutual break up 6 months ago. I don’t see her or speak to her anymore” he says.

“far enough” you say smiling “hit me.”

“why did you agree to let Jas set you up with me?” He says

“oh GOD! she’s been trying to set me up with someone for months now. you are number 6 but I will say you’ve made it further than any other guys” you say

“far enough" he says

“top or bottom?” you say nonchalantly

“Jesus YN!” Kenji laughs as he fakes an offended look

“What? It can tell you a lot about a person” You say

“Fine. I’m actually more of a dom top” he says shrugging

“Well shit” you laugh

“What? Are you a bottom?” he says questioningly

“ah ah you have to ask me a different question” you smirk

“Fine. What’s your favorite postion”

“Easy, cowgirl” you spit “what kind of dom are you?”

“I feel like we are grazing over the ‘cowgirl’ comment Y/N” Kenji laughs as you lay back putting you feet on his lap as if he was an old friend or a lover.

“what I like to top! gives me more control.” you shrug

“Ah so you like control?” he asks

“Yes and you ignored my question” you say

“mostly a service and pleasure dom. But I also like control” he says

“haha most men say that and let me tell you, it’s a major let down” you laugh

“oh really now?” he questions

“I’ve slept with more ‘doms’ than I care of even mention” you say as you quote the air “most men don’t even know how to please a women let alone know to service one.”

“well you sound pretty knowledgeable on that Y/N” Kenji smirks as he leans back softly stroking your legs

“Kenji, I’ve slept with dozens of men and when I say I can rip orgasms from them with ease, I’m not exaggerating” you say smugly

“oh is that so” Kenji says as he leans closer to you “ok then how about a little bet?”

“bet? The fuck for?” you say confusingly

“ok well you are basically saying you can out Dom me correct?” he says smugly

“you got it chief" you smirk, putting up cutesy annoying finger guns. Kenji laughed at your gesture.

“ok then lets do this. We each plan a date and end the night fucking. Whomever gets the highest rating wins” he says as he tilts his head slightly to the side

“interesting” you say as you sit up “ok so lets say I agree. How do we judge? I mean what if you give me a bad rating just to win.”

“Listen Y/N I’m sure you can tell this but I’m a pretty honest person. If I’m not getting pleasure, you’ll know it” he says

“Ok so we just rate each other on what? The date and the sex?” you say.

“well how about the sex is the most points and the date is just extra” he says as he winks “because outside of sex, I’d really like to see you again”

You smile, kneeling on the couch close to him.

“Fine but we are not starting tonight. No sex until our next date” you say as you narrow your eyes.

“You’re drunk Y/N. I would never” he says putting his hands up.

“Well alright then how about next Friday night you start since this was your suggestion” you say extending your hand.

Kenji grabs your hand pulling you towards him as your lip meet his in a sweet, heated but short kiss. You pull away with a smile.

“Its a bet” Kenji says with a smile.

The following week came fast. You and Kenji texted often during the week. It wasn’t like you were nervous for your date or what was to follow. You were confident in yourself and your skills as a more dominant person. However this was something new for you and sometimes new is scary.

“You ready Doll” Kenji says as you greet him at the front entrance of your apartment complex.

“Ready as Ill ever be” You smile softly as he grabs your hand and interlaces your fingers with him.

“Starting off strong I see” you say as you lift your hands to show him what he already knew.

“Nah, it just felt right” He smiled as you blushed lightly

“Alright so where to?” you question

“It’s a surprise doll. Trying to get the extra points where I can” he says as he smirks as you and you blush at the pet name

You walk down the street and arrive at a small pizzeria. It looked very intimate and hidden in plan sight. Honestly you were surprised you had never noticed it before.

“I’ve never seen this place before” you smile as he holds the door for you to enter.

“That’s why I like it. Its small and out of the way” He smiles as he places his hand on your lower back guiding you to a intimate table in the back corner.

Dinner goes as planned as you enjoy some of the best pizza you have ever had in your entire life. You smile as Kenji pays and you head to your next location.

“An arcade?” you laugh as Kenji just shrugs.

“You seems like a competitive person but a fun competitive not a serious one” He smiles as he pulls you into the arcade.

You play games and laugh for what seems like hours before you decide its time to move on to more “serious” matters.

“That was so much fun Kenji” you say as he pulls you down a secluded alley and begins kissing you feverously.

“Is this where you kill me” You giggle when he moves down your neck trying to find your sweet spot.

“Nah doll this is where I fuck you” he says as he discovers you sweet spot pulling a moan from you. He feels incredible pressed up against your heated core. You can feel his cock harden on your thigh.

“Kenji ah” You moan as his hands travel up your dress, groping your ass “here? Wont people see?”

He breaks away from you neck kissing your collarbone “its worth the risk doll. Plus I cant wait any longer to be inside you.” He kisses you grind your core into his thigh.

You moan as he assaults you collarbone, your hands traveling up his shirt as he pushes you against the brick wall, caging you in making you feel oddly secure and comforted.

“Fuck doll- your skin is so soft, I bet your cunt is soft too. Shall we take a look?” He says as he inserts his knee between your thighs opening them up and snaking his hand down your panties. His hands are rough, surely from his job and all those years of Volleyball. You can feel the excitement radiate off of him as he closes in on your core.

You can feel how wet you are as you both groan as he reaches you clit. His rough fingers providing the perfect stimulation for your needy cunt.

“Shit baby, I’d say you are pretty turned on from public sex huh?” he says as he whispers into your neck as he begins to rub circles into your hardened clit.

“Ahh Kenji- please I need you” you moan as he starts to pry to fingers into you sopping wet cunt. His hands feel incredible. Even with your body count as high as it is, you’ve never had anyone make you feel so amazing.

“Oh fuck doll, damn you are tight. We need to lose this pussy up, I don’t want to hurt you” He says as he inserts to of his long fingers into your cunt as you brace yourself on the brick wall. You can feel every inch of his long, sturdy fingers probe your wet insides. The feels is unreal. You can feel the knot in your stomach tightening.

Your head falls back as he reaches your sensitive spot. He pumps his fingers into your cunt as he curls them to reach the spot that made your vision darken. You can’t contain yourself any longer, his fingers feel utterly incredible.

“Come on baby, cum for me please. Then I’ll fuck you good ok” He begs as he kisses your neck. God this man knows just what to say.

“Kenji please I’m so close- ah right there Kenji!” you moan as your head falls back and he pumps his fingers faster. You feel the cord in your stomach soap instantly.. You cum with a gush as Kenji smiles, pulling his fingers you and offering them to you. You accept taking them into your mouth as you suck pulling a deep groan from your partner. You could feel the wetness from your release seeping down your plush thighs as you slowly descended from your high.

“You’re turn” you smile as you reach for his belt. You couldn’t wait to get your hands on Kenji's hardened cock.

He grabs your hands, stopping you as he pins them above your head with one hand and pulls you in by your waist with another. Your eyes widen with lust as he speaks.

“ah ah doll, I believe its my week to pleasure you” He smiles as he kisses you roughly, tasting the your essence on your lips. His lips feel incredible.

“fuck I’m going to have to eat this pussy properly later” he groans as he quickly undoes his belt and pants, moving his boxers down. You knew he was a bit larger than average sized and definitely thicker. The thought of his cock filling you up made you whimper.

“But for right now, I’m going to pump this pussy full of my cum. you want that doll?” he groans into your neck as he pumps his cocks, picks you up and lines you up for him. You felt the pressure of his tip push hardly against your tight opening.

You had already discussed contraceptives prior to your activities. You were on birth control and both of you had been tested. You wanted to keep the play field level so you decided to forgo the condoms.

“holy-” Kenji groans as he pushes into your wet cunt “God baby this is the tightest pussy I’ve ever been in.” You moan as you wince from both pleasure and pain.

You’re jaw slacks you feel him enter you. You have never felt so full. His cock hit every single area of your cunt so perfectly .

“Fuck baby can you relax a little” he says as he tries to adjust you.

God you are tight he thought to himself. If he had any less control he would have busted inside immediately.

You cant relax. He feels so good and the semi public sex is turning you on something fierce. You can fell your cunt spasm around him as he starts to gently push in and out of you. You feel like your already close to your release and you barely started!

He groans as his pace increases and he lifts up your dress further exposing your pussy to him. He growls as he watches his cock plunge in and out of your tight, wet cunt. The feeling is unimaginable.

He leans you further back on the wall so he can snake his hand to your clit. He watches in wonder as he rubs your clit and your mouth slacks open.

You cant even moan. There is no sound coming from your mouth. You are utterly mute. You feel so unbelievably incredible.

“Ken- fuck I’m going to cum please go faster!” you manage to choke out barely. You aren’t sure you can handle faster but you really want this orgasm.

“As you wish baby” He says pulling his hand from you clit and jackhammering into you at an unbelievable speed. His hands on your ass as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“Oh fuck Kenji! I- I" you cant even form words. This angle, this speed is causing your body to act on its own. You feel a weird gush of liquid stem from your core as you try to regain control of your thoughts.

“oh shit baby did you just squirt?” he says as he looks at you and his jaw falls open at the feeling.

He’s never had sex that felt this amazing before. This angle, this view was everything. And by your reaction, you seemed to be enjoying it as well.

“Fuck that the was the hottest thing ever baby! Shit- I’m going to cum” he chokes as you finally manage a soft moan and nod as you feel the pressure from your orgasm still present. God you don’t even want this to end. This feeling was absolute bliss.

“shit shit baby-FUCK" He says as he stalls into your cunt pushing hard into you as your cunt gladly accepts him.

You can feel his cum shoot deep inside as you feel your pussy spasm against his cock.

He lays his head in your neck as he catches his breath and you pet his hair smiling, coming down from both of your highs. It was incredible.

He pulls back gently as he rubs your thighs and hips. He places his forehead against yours as he looks deep into your blown out pupils.

“Ok well that was the best sex I’ve ever had” he smiles as he kisses you deeply

“Best sex... for now” you giggle as he smiles kissing you again.

He takes out a handkerchief, cleaning you up as you fix your dress and he puts himself back in his jeans.

“Oh baby the night isn’t over yet” He smiles as he grabs your hand leading you out of the alley and down the street to his apartment.

A whole week had passed since your last “date” date with Kenji. Honestly it was more of a fuck fest, if you had to label it. You aren’t sure how you even managed to walk up to your apartment without falling. It took you 3 whole days to recover.

The sex had been mind-blowing. Honestly you were scared you wouldn’t be able to top it but you refused to go down without a fight.

This week was your date and you had the perfect plan.

“Alright doll, I’m ready” Kenji says as he leans in to kiss you at your door.

“Ok come in” you say moving to the side allowing him to enter.

“Wait here?” he smiles as he comes in removing his jacket and shoes.

“Yes sir” as you turn around. You opted to wear an oversized shirt and some thigh highs. You had a plan and it involves comfort.

“A little underdressed aren’t you doll” Kenji smiles as he sees your shirt lift up revealing your lush ass below.

Kenji bite his lip as he makes his way closer to you attempting to feel up your shirt as he kisses your neck. You drove him utterly insane wearing that outfit.

“ah ah ah Kenji” you say as you back into the cabinet “I’m in charge tonight sweetheart” you say as you shake your finger in front of his face.

“ok fine” he says throwing his hands up in defeat as he makes his way to the living room. Hoping some distance will cool him off a little.

You had ordered in sushi and had a bottle of wine waiting. You made your way over to the coach, expertly bending over revealing more skin with each reach.

“I’m beginning to think your goal is torture” he says as he watches you bend over. He desires to feel your soft skin so badly.

“me?” you say sarcastically “I wouldn’t dare.”

You eat, talk and drink as you laugh about your week and discuss your impending night. Kenji reaches over testing the waters as he begins laying light kisses on your cheeks, necks and collar bone.

“You know doll, it was torture for me to wait an entire week to fuck you again” he smiles as you kiss him deeply pushing him back on the couch.

“I actually debated just forfeiting” He laughs as you straddle him.

“Awe Kenji hooked on my sweet pussy already?” you say as you start to slowly grind on him. Maybe torture was part of your plan?!

“fuck- yes baby. Shit you feel so good” He groans as you apply more pressure to your grinding

“Well I mean, you wont have to worry about forfeiting after I win” you say as he pulls you harder into to his hardening member as you throw your head back in ecstasy.

It honestly was torture for you to wait as well. You were in agony by Wednesday. As hard as you tried, you couldn’t get yourself off. You had been completely ruined by the mind-numbing sex.

“Fuck baby you going to show me how to Dom or what” he smiles at you as he watches you lift your shirt, seeing the growing wet patch in your panties forming. He groans wanting go feel and taste your wet pussy.

“Patience sweetheart” you say as you grind faster into his cock pulling grunts and groans from him left and right.

“Shit baby you’re going to make me cum if you don’t hurry up and fuck me” he says as he can feel his release building

“Who said anything about you being inside of me Kenji? I’m running this show” you say as you stop grinding and move yourself down between his legs undoing his jeans as he watches you.

The way you shimmy down his legs towards his crotch has him losing his mind. He had felt your mouth the weekend prior and knew just how skilled you were with it. He could barely last the way you had taken his thick cock down your throat.

He watches you place licks on his hardened cock as his mouth falls slack and his eyes rolls back. You adjust your positioning as you continue to suck on his cock, slowly removing your panties and you start to rub your engorged clit.

You were getting so turned on from pulling all the pleasure you could from Kenji. The way his face contorted in pleasure could make you orgasm on the spot.

“sit on my face baby please” Kenji says as you continue to suck and lick on his cock. You stop your motions and look up at him.

Oh shit don’t stop please he thinks to himself.

“Kenji no” you say sternly as you begin to suck harder and move your fingers around your clit faster. Tonight was about Kenji and after last weekend, you had a lot of making up to do.

You feel your approach as you switch to stroking Kenji’s cock as you continue to pleasure yourself.

Watching you masturbate while you stroked his cock was too much. God you looked like an absolute goddess.

“Baby fuck- I’m going to cum. Please cum with me. I- I want to see you cum as you jerk me off” Kenji groans as he starts thrusting up into your hands as your fingers increase in speed. You are so close.

“Oh fuck Kenji, I’m going to cum, cum with me please” You say as your throw your head back in a scream as Kenji releases all over your hand and his stomach and you feel your cunt spasm around nothing.

“fuck baby you are really something else” Kenji says as he pants heavily coming down from his releases.

You really were. Never in his life had he been so turned on by a partner. You made sex fun and interesting and it drove him nuts.

You stick your fingers in his mouth as you slowly lean down to lick up the cum on his stomach and off his member. He groans as he feels your wet tongue hit his hardened abs and sensitive cock.

Locking eyes with him as you clean up his mess, he pulls his lip between his teeth. The feeling is too good.

You stand up as you remove your shirt from your body, revealing you naked form.

“oh fuck angel” Kenji says as he starts to harden immediately at the sight. God your body was perfect. Plush in all the right ways and absolutely stunning.

You remove his pants and boxers as you straddle his waist. He’s built, no doubt from his job and volleyball. He’s so pretty.

You lean down to kiss him deeply, as you force your tongue into his mouth, all while grinding on his hardened cock with your wet pussy. He groans as you move down his jaw as he pulls your hips faster against his cock.

You separate as you look down at him, completely blissed out from you grinding against his member. His length feels so good tickling your clit with pleasure.

You tug as his shirt as you help him pull it over his head, revealing his hardened form.

You move your mouth his chest as you suck on his nipples, licking lightly in between them as you move from one to another.

“Fuck baby are you trying to make me cum again” He grunts as you increase your pace. You want to make him feel as good as he made you feel.

Suddenly, without warning you sink your soaking cunt onto his hardened member pulling a choking grunt from the man below you as his hands dig harshly into your hips.

Fuck your cunt felt fantastic. Kenji would definitely chose to live in it if he could. So soft and warm and oh so tight.

“Are you trying to kill me?” He says as you begin bouncing on him as he tries to control his grunts.

Fuck- this girl really is trying to kill me. I’m not going to last. Focus Kenji he thinks to himself as he tries to regain composure over his body.

“Death by pussy sounds like a nice way to go” You say as your throw your head back in pleasure. Unbeknownst to him, you feel just as incredible as he does. His cock fit your pussy so perfectly.

He groans as you moan from the friction of his hardened cock. You speed up as you approach your high. You can tell Kenji's close because he starts meeting your bouncing with harsh thrust.

Fuck, he’s going to lose it. You feel fucking incredible. The way your pussy sinks down on his cock, taking him in so deeply has him going wild. He wants to, no needs to fuck you!

“Fuck doll- you win, you win please just let me fuck you” he groans as you can sense the pain in his voice. You got what you wanted.

“Fuck me Kenji. Pound into your cunt” you moan as he begins to thrust up into your cunt at an unimaginable pace.

His pace was much faster now than in the alleyway. You were sure your cervix was going to be bruised tomorrow.

“Holy fuck baby! Mine, mine, mine, all mine!” He groans as you scream from the pressure. This was it.

“Kenji fuck” you says as you feel your cunt spasm from you harsh orgasm that slammed straight into you head on.

“FUCK FUCK BABY” he groans as he stalls inside you as his mouth falls open and he presses into your pelvis harder. You grind on him as he pulls you in deeper as his groans slowly start to fade and you both ride out your intense orgasms.

He’s panting as you breath heavily on top of him, stroking his chest and adjusting his hair from his face.

He moves your hair to the side as he pulls you in for a kiss.

“You win doll you win” he pants heavily with a huge smile on his face.

“Good and I want my prize right now” you say as you situated yourself still on his cock.

“Which would be?” he says as he rubs small circles into your thighs. He isn’t sure what you want but after that last fuck session he’s willing to give you anything.

“Can we keep doing this?” you say shyly as a smile grows on his face.

“Well, I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend if I won so I would say fuck yes we can keep doing this” He says as he grabs you, standing up quickly running to your room and throwing you on the bed.

“Next, let’s see how long we can fuck before one of us orgasms?” He smiles as he kisses down your neck.

“It's a bet” you say moaning into a smile.

taglist: @yep-seeyalaterbranflakes @chaotic-nick @serostapesweat

#Futakuchi kenji #futakuchi x you #futakuchi smut #dateko #date tech #kenji #futakuchi x reader #futakuchi kenji #please me #please me series #dom fem wins #haikyuu smut #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyu!! smut #haikyu!!#dom female #sub character #Futakuchi smut

142 notes · View notes

candy-and-writing · 4 years

Text

Mr. Brightside

Request by @mmmmm-11: Can I request a Cap fic in which he's pretty cold to the reader because he really doesn't know how to process his feelings and there is some jealously their in feeling both sides and then the smut 😅🤩

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, oral sex, fingering, jealous! Steve, Steve is low-key a dick

A/n: so this took way longer than I meant it to and it's also a lot longer than anticipated. Thank you so much for requesting this!! I had so much fun writing this piece

I am NOT responsible for your media content consumption. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and/or dark themes. By reading this work you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work posted on any third party app or website; if you are seeing this work anywhere other than tumblr and archiveofourown, it has been reposted without my permission.

Steve was silent as you sat in the back of the quinjet, your forehead bloody and uniform pulled down to your torso as Bruce tended to the bullet hole gaping in your shoulder. His shoulders were tense, his features drawn into a scowl as he glared at you, stewing in his own anger.

You knew you fucked up, if the blood seeping out of your shoulder and the burning building you barely escaped was any confirmation. Steve huffed, his hands slamming down on the table placed in the middle of the jet.

You had grown used to this—the sudden flip of his mood with you. Ever since you first joined, he was cold and angry with you. It didn't matter if all you did was try to make him happy, there was always something you did that made him annoyed with you. You had learned long ago how to hold yourself up against the angry super-soldier.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Steve suddenly shouted at you, his loud tone sending a dull throb through your temples. "I gave you an order, you could've blown the mission!"

"I was going after Strucker," you groaned, wincing as Bruce pressed a rag against your wound. "I didn't see the detonator. I'm sorry."

"'Sorry' isn't gonna cut it, Y/n. You compromised the mission. You're lucky I cut him off or else you'd in a lot more trouble."

"I get it, Cap, I do, but can we talk about this later. . . when I'm not bleeding out?" Your vision was blurring and your body was feeling alarmingly numb.

"No, we're gonna talk about this now."

"Steve," Bruce cut in, "I think Y/n is right. Maybe we can talk about this when she feels better?"

Steve's jaw clenched. He was quiet for a moment, and you were worried he was going to explode on you again. He looked over his shoulder, where the rest of the team was watching, and sighed. "Fine."

You let out a breath as he walked to the front of the jet. You leaned back, resting your head on the wall as you closed your eyes.

You left Bruce's lab an hour after you landed, your bullet wound all but healed and given painkillers for your concussion. You were still a little dizzy as you wobbled back to your room when you ran into Steve. He was wearing a slim workout shirt that looked two sizes too small and dark sweatpants, probably heading to the gym. You straightened your shoulders, bracing yourself. He looked you over, scowling before he pushed past you.

You stood there for a moment, shocked he hadn't started screaming at you the second he saw you. You blinked, jogging after him. "Steve, wait!"

He stopped, looking down at you as you stood in front of him. You let out a breath, your world spinning.

"I'm sorry," you said. "I should've listened to you. I should've waited for backup and I didn't and it almost cost us Strucker. I'm sorry."

Steve didn't say anything. He looked at you, irritation gnawing at his features. He mumbled out a small, "It's fine," before turning away.

You bit the inside of your cheek to distract you from the pang in your chest. You should be used to it by now—his aloofness. That didn't mean it still didn't sting, though.

You had no idea what you did to make Captain America hate you. Hell, you didn't think he had the capability to hate anyone. When you first joined the team, scared and defensive, you were just there to follow orders—because Fury had not-so-subtly given you an ultimatum that threatened your life. You were good at what you did, you were good at following orders. You stood in the background and did what people told you to do. Being a HYDRA pawn will do that to you.

But then people opened up to you. Bucky was the first one—being the former Winter Soldier, he knew what it was like to have your life taken away by HYDRA. And for some reason, he trusted you, even if you hadn't spoken a word to him. Natasha and Clint were next, then Tony, and soon the whole team treated you like you were apart of their family. But Steve didn't. You'd been with the team for months, and you were no closer to him than you were to that automatic corkscrew in the kitchen that you could never get to work.

You showered, changed, and sat on your bed for exactly twenty seconds before you realized you were done. If Steve wasn't going to tell you what his problem was, maybe someone else could.

You walked into the lounge area, finding Bucky and Sam squabbling over the remote.

"C'mon, man," Sam argued. "I got a recorded episode of the Voice that is callin' my name!"

"Watch it in your room, Wilson. The Great British Baking Show is on and I'm already watching it."

You smirked to yourself, moving to stand in front of them until one of them finally noticed you. It was your best tactic with the two of them, waiting patiently until they were done with. . . whatever they were doing. You rested your hands at your sides, eyebrow quirking when Sam called Bucky's hair 'greasy', which highly offended Bucky.

Bucky had just pulled the remote out of Sam's hands when he finally saw you. "Oh, hey, doll. How long ya' been standing there?"

You shrugged. "Not important. . . can I talk to you?"

Bucky kicked Sam out of the lounge area, who dragged himself out of the room mumbling to himself about his show. You sat down beside Bucky, crossing your legs and folding your hands in your lap.

"So," Bucky ran a hand through his hair, " what did you want to talk about?"

You chewed on the inside of your cheek for a moment, looking down at your hands as you asked the question that had been haunting you since you arrived at the Compound. "Why does Steve hate me?"

Bucky blinked, then started chuckling. You frowned.

"What?"

"You think—" he paused, sucking in a breath. "Well, I don't blame you. He hasn't exactly been kind to you, has he?"

You scoffed. "No, he hasn't. Did I do something? Is. . . is it because of what I used to do—you know—before this?"

"No, doll, it's not that. Trust me."

You weren't convinced. "Are you sure? Because—"

"Trust me, Y/n, I'm sure." Bucky smiled at you. A teasing smile, like he knew something you didn't.

"Well, can you tell me what's going on, then?" you sighed. "Because I'm getting a little tired of the cold shoulder."

Bucky pursed his lips, his eyes squinting slightly like he was thinking. You stared at him, waiting for his answer.

"You know the party Tony's throwing tomorrow?" Bucky said suddenly.

You frowned, not seeing what that had to do with the conversation. "Yeah. . . ?"

"All you have to do is show up. And wear something cute."

You raised an eyebrow, a smile breaking your lips amidst your confusion. "Don't I always, Soldat?"

You had managed to avoid Steve's austere glare until the party. You knew he would be there for professional appearances, being Captain America and all.

You had shuffled the dress up your body—the silky black fabric tickling your thigh. You stood in front of your mirror, back facing the glass as you struggled to turn your head at the right angle and tie the criss-cross strings racing down your back. This dress had been Natasha's, but had grown too small for her, so she gave it to you. She and Wanda did that with many of their clothes, seeing as how when you showed up at the Compound you had half a duffel bag of clothes to your name—all of which you'd stolen from different shops.

You had opted to leave your hair down, letting your locks fall past your shoulders in loose curls. You did your makeup in record time, finishing the look off with a red velvet lipstick.

Dragging your hair over one shoulder, you clipped the pearl choker necklace Tony had given you for Christmas around your neck, letting it rest on your collar. You weren't expecting anything from anyone for Christmas—you'd never even celebrated Christmas before coming onto the team. Tony's gifts were personal, whether they be deep and meaningful or jokingly hilarious. As he handed you a long, thin box, he had apologized—you were so quiet and reclusive he wasn't sure what you wanted, so he bought you this necklace. That was the first time you hugged Tony.

Slipping on a pair of sleek black heels, you looked yourself over in the mirror once more before leaving your room. You could hear the commotion of the party from your area of the living quarters, music echoing off the walls and people dressed in button-down shirts and fancy dresses.

As you stepped down the stairs, your eyes fell on Bucky, who was playing pool with Steve and Sam. Steve was smiling, laughing at something Sam had said as he sunk the ball into the corner pocket. You smiled to yourself, ignoring the pang of jealousy you felt in your chest. Why couldn't he smile like that at you?

Bucky had noticed you descending the stairs, perking up. He said something to Steve, walking off towards you. Steve frowned, his gaze following Bucky's path when his eyes landed on you. His shoulders stiffened and he shifted on his feet as looked back at Sam. You met Bucky in the middle of the room, giving him a small smile.

"Damn, doll," Bucky smirked. "You look good." You chuckled, cheeks heating up.

"Well," you looked down at your dress, "you said to wear something cute. What exactly do you have planned?"

"You'll see." He laughed at the scowl you gave him. He grabbed two cocktails from a wandering server, handing one to you. "Here—have a drink and come join us."

"Oh, no, I shouldn't. Steve looks like he's enjoying himself and. . . I'd hate to ruin his good mood." Your gaze turned sad without you even realized. Bucky wanted to smack Steve upside the head all over again—he was hurting you, alienating you and all you were trying to do was be a part of the team.

"You won't, trust me. Please? Sam keeps bragging about being the best pool player of his squadron and I'm having a hard time not punching him in his big mouth. It'd be nice to have someone around who isn't on their high-horse."

You giggled, struggling to take a sip of your drink. "Fine, but he starts chastising me, I'm out."

You followed Bucky back to the pool table, Steve glaring daggers at you and Bucky as the soldier picked up his cue stick.

You weren't sure how long you watched the boys play pool, but four drinks later you were tipsy and almost oblivious to Steve's lingering stare. Bucky knocked the eight ball into a corner pocket, yelling out a shout of victory as he won the game. Sam rolled his eyes.

Someone stood beside you and cleared their throat, prompting you to turn your head. Thor stood next to you, his hair pulled away from his face and donning a long red coat and dark wash jeans.

"Lady Y/n." He smiled at you, holding his hand out as you blushed. You always blushed when he called you that. "Would you care for a dance?"

"Uh—" You looked over at Bucky, who was smirking. He tilted his head, motioning for you to go. Your eyes wandered up at Steve, who looked like he was about ready to throttle Thor. He really did hate the idea of his team socializing with you. Smiling to yourself, you looked back at Thor. "Actually, I'd love to."

You walked off with Thor, stopping just before you left their line of sight. It was petty, what you were doing—using Thor to deliberately piss off your Captain. But he didn't leave you much of a choice. Thor rested his hand on your waist, his large fingers brushing against your bare back. You shivered, putting your hand on his shoulder. He held your other hand as you two swayed to the music.

"You look lovely tonight, Y/n," Thor said, looking down at you through his eyelashes. You thought your cheeks were warm from the alcohol, but after that comment, your face was burning. You were sure your cheeks were a bright red.

"Th-thank you," you stuttered. You cleared your throat. "You. . . uh—you look nice, too. I like your jacket."

Thor chuckled. "You do not have to be so nervous, Y/n. It is only a dance."

"Yeah, well, I've never really danced before. . . like actually danced. I've danced for missions before, but things never really ended well for my partner."

"Well, I do hope things end better for me."

You giggled. "Well, I haven't been hired to kill you, so I think you're good." You nervously laughed at your joke, hoping it wasn't as awkward as you thought it was.

You danced with Thor until he invited to get a drink with him. You sat at the bar, nursing a cocktail Natasha made for you while Thor was telling you about the time he battled a pack of trolls in the mountains of Svartalfheim.

When the party was over, you were still talking to Thor. You thanked him for dancing with you, making sure to tell Bucky goodnight. You walked up the staircase, heading toward your room when you stopped. Steve stood in front of your door, arms crossed and frowning.

"Steve?" He turned his head, meeting your confused gaze. "Can I. . . can I help you with something?"

"We need to talk," he said curtly.

"O-Okay." You were overtly aware of the click of your heels as you opened your door for him, letting him enter your room. You carefully let the door slide closed behind you, staring at Steve. "Do you want anything to drink? I can get you a glass of water? Or I think I still have some beer Bucky left in the fridge?"

That had been the wrong thing to say. You watched his eyes darken, lips curling into a snarl as he shoved you up against your wall. His grip on your biceps was borderline painful, his nose inches from yours and you could feel his hot breath fanning your face.

"Don't talk about Bucky. Not now."

You swallowed thickly, Steve watching the line of your throat. "Okay, I won't. I'm sorry."

You fell silent, stuck staring at Steve's features. The barely-there green in his eyes, the crease of his eyebrows, the lines of his frown, his lips. You didn't realize he was doing the same to you until his breathing calmed. You licked your lips nervously, Steve staring at the dart of your tongue. And then his lips were on yours.

You stood frozen—shocked—for only a moment before closing your eyes and moving your lips against his. He let go of your arms, letting you wrap them around his neck and pulling him closer, moaning into his mouth. His tongue darted into your mouth, kissing you like you've never been kissed until you were breathless and had to pull away.

Your lips were red and swollen, eyes closed as you rested your hands on Steve's chest, playing with a button on his shirt.

"Steve—"

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, voice husky. "I'm sorry I've been so mean to you. I just—I didn't know how to deal with my feelings about you."

"Shut up," you breathed. "And kiss me."

His lips crashed onto yours again, his hands on your hips as he pulled you closer into his body. The kiss was needy and possessive, the intensity of it almost frightening, the raw need and hunger behind his actions overwhelming you.

His mouth moved down your jaw, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses down your neck. You fumbled behind you, undoing your dress and letting it pool at your feet. He picked you up effortlessly and you wrapped your legs around his narrow waist, hands cupping his face. He tossed you down on your bed, ripping open his blue button-down and throwing it on the floor. He pulled the white undershirt over his head, dropping it with his shirt while you kicked off your heels.

He crawled up the bed, hovering over you as he leaned down to kiss you. Just a quick peck before he moved to kiss your collar bone, his hands roaming up your thighs. One hand reached under you and you arched your back, letting him unclip your bra and slide the straps off your shoulders. He kissed along the skin he exposed, pulling the fabric down past your breasts.

He mouthed at the soft swell of your chest, sucking a red mark into your skin. He pinched your nipple lightly, rolling it between his forefinger and thumb and you jumped, arching your back. You inhaled a sharp, shaky breath when Steve popped a nipple into his mouth, his tongue lapping over the bud and swirling it around.

He continued to work down your body, kissing lower and lower and sucking marks into your skin at random intervals. He sucked a bruise in the divot between your ribs, one above your belly button, and one just above your underwear. As he peeled your lace panties off your legs and dropped them on the floor, he kissed back up your leg, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your thigh.

You were panting, squirming as his lips met just shy of where you needed them most. You almost screamed when his tongue finally connected with your little bud. He used the tip of his tongue first, just circling your clit as you whined, his thick finger slipping into your center. He pumped his finger in and out of you leisurely, suckling at your bundle of nerves before he quickly added a second finger.

You continued this until you were right on the precipice of orgasm, and when his fingers curled and brushed against that spot inside of you, your moan broke in your throat. The taut rubber band in your stomach snapped, muscles spasming as your head fell back against your pillows, Steve licking up your mess.

Steve moved up your body and kissed you, your release coating his face and you could taste yourself on his tongue. His hands went to your hips and he suddenly flipped you so you were straddling his thighs. You deepened the kiss, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks as Steve adjusted his length to meet your center, letting you slide onto him at your own pace.

He was large. Thick and long and your tight heat clutched around him in a marvelous way and he wasn't even halfway in. Steve had broken the kiss, leaning back and his eyes fluttering shut as he marveled in the feel of you clutching him like a vice.

"Shit, sweetheart," he panted. "You feel so good."

You bottomed out, letting yourself adjust to his size before you rocked forward. You both moaned. Your clit rubbed against his pelvis as you rolled your hips harder, your hands falling to his chest for stability. His hands rested on your waist, letting you move as you desired.

"St—Steve," you whimpered, picking up your pace. The tip of his length hit a certain spot inside you and you gasped, your nails digging into his skin, his body moving in tandem with yours.

You were unbelievably close. Steve hugged you close to his chest, his lips meeting your breast as he mouthed at your nipple, groaning as he ran his hands up and down your sides. He worked his way up your neck, sucking your sensitive skin as he thrust his hips up into you and that was all it took before you were coming. You cried out his name, gasping and whimpering as your head fell into the crook of his neck.

"Fuck!" Steve groaned, thrusting several more times as your walls hugged him and he stiffened inside you, throwing his head back as he growled, his cock pulsating as he came.

Panting, he carefully laid you next to him, admiring your blissed-out gaze as he pulled your blankets over the two of you, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. You smiled at him, your lipstick smeared as you opened your eyes.

"So I guess this is what Bucky was talking about?" you asked, mostly to yourself.

"What do you mean?"

"I talk to Bucky yesterday after I ran into you, I thought he might know what was going on with you. He just kinda laughed at me and told me you didn't hate me. . . . Did he know? About how you felt?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah, he did."

You chewed on your lip in thought. "He said he had a plan. That during the party—oh m.y God."

"What?"

"Thor. Thor was the plan." You looked up at Steve. "Bucky knew you would get jealous so he asked Thor to dance with me."

Steve laughed. "In my defense, Thor was getting way too handsy."

You giggled. "Remind me to make Bucky some cookies tomorrow."

Steve rolled over you, caging you in his arms as he grinned down at you. Your eyebrow arched playfully. He bent down and kissed you, your hands coming up to run along his pecs. He pulled away, his smile sparkling even in the darkness of your room. You swooned, knowing that his smile was something you would never tire of seeing.

"Sleep," Steve told you. "I'll be here when you wake up."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

2K notes · View notes

hotchley · 3 years

Text

balls fair in love and war

So... this is the fic inspired by the AU in this post. Umm... it's a shambles, I low-key hate parts of it, the ending is rushed, but we're going with it before my laptop dies </3

Ignore any and all medical inaccuracies. I did a bit of research, but a lot of it confused me, so... this is not an accurate representation of a concussion. Like seriously. Also ignore any ethical issues, they're just... it's fine. As usual no proofreading. Umm.... don't ask where Rossi is. I don't know.

Taglist (I guess? I don't actually have one, it's just for this lol): @eldrai @willlemonheadsupremacy @shmaptainhotchnersmain @sarcvstiel @unionjackpillow @katytheinspiredworkaholic (you said you would read it so... is that okay?)

A very big and grateful thank you to @aaron-hotchner187 for giving me a title!! And to everyone else that gave suggestions, you are also much loved <3

Also, the way Hotch acts as a teacher is inspired by the way I think @ellyhotchner will be when they become a teacher <3 and everyone go and tell @whump-town thank you because she: told me about penlights, gave me the easy tiger line and is just overall a good person.

Trigger Warnings: concussions, fear of brain hemorrhages, hospitals, self-blame

read on ao3!

Like most things that went wrong in Aaron Hotchner’s life, his current predicament could be blamed on Emily Prentiss. He would not hear otherwise. And he didn’t think he should be forced to hear otherwise, given he was the one sitting on a hospital bed in a thin gown that did nothing to keep him warm, whilst she got to sit outside with a cup of coffee.

She had, admittedly, looked absolutely horrified when the accident occured, and had spent the whole journey to the hospital apologising again and again. He’s pretty sure she offered up her first-born child to him at some point as a form of penance. As well as her apartment. And he definitely remembers hearing something about grading his papers for him.

So whilst he may not want to be anywhere near her offspring- especially if they’re like her- and whilst he may definitely not want her apartment- he doesn’t care what she says, it is haunted- he will be taking her up on that last offer. Did he feel suitably appeased by her squirming the whole time, and by the fact that she was the one that had to explain to the principal why there were two classes screaming, crying and a teacher on the floor?

Yes, but there was no harm in milking it.

If he’s being completely honest, he felt like he was taking advantage of a hospital bed. He was sure he was fine. Yes, it hurts to move his head and he feels dizzy, and he probably has all the symptoms of a minor concussion, but he just really doesn’t want to be in the hospital.

Besides, he needs to make sure the kids aren't traumatised. It can’t have been easy for them, watching him just fall to the ground and hit his head hard enough for there to be blood. Emily could be traumatised, he didn’t care. But their students? Absolutely not.

He sighs. He wants to hand in his resignation now. Going back is going to be so embarrassing.

“I don’t think you understand. He is my best friend, and if he doesn’t get this blanket, he will- Spencer, what will he do if he doesn’t get this blanket?” A voice says from outside.

Aaron closes his eyes. He wants the ground to swallow him up. Forget returning to school, the next few minutes of his life are going to be even more embarrassing than the time Emily tricked him into being part of the Christmas pantomime. Haley hadn’t been offended, thank goodness, but still. It took him three months to be able to meet her eyes.

“He’ll- he’ll- I can’t even say it, it’s just so upsetting,” Spencer lies.

“Ma’am, sir, if you would let me speak for two seconds. Miss Prentiss said that some of her colleagues would be coming with Mr Hotchner’s things. All I am asking for is proof of identity,” the floor receptionist says.

The apologies immediately start to pour from the mouth of Penelope Garcia, whilst Spencer Reid just takes out both their driver's licences. The receptionist clearly approves, because before Aaron knows what’s happening, he’s being embraced by someone who smells like roses, and his favourite blanket is being draped over him.

“Oh my goodness, you don’t know how grateful I am that you’re alive,” Penelope says.

Aaron gives her a slight smile. Penelope is one of his favourite people, despite all their differences. And he likes to think he’s one of her favourites. He wouldn’t be thinking wrong.

“Penelope, I’m fine. Seriously. This is just a precaution. I promise it isn’t that bad,” he says, even though the light is starting to hurt his eyes.

“Isn’t that bad? I saw you and Emily taking your classes outside, which was weird to begin with because you both have classes that don’t require being outside, what were you doing? And then, I’m watching because the class can be trusted to sketch without my guidance and I’m curious. But then I turn my back for three seconds to help someone, and everyone is screaming, and you’re on the floor, and there’s blood everywhere and- it was scary!” she says.

“I’m so sorry,” Aaron says, for lack of anything else to say.

“I don’t want you to be sorry! I want you to stop getting hurt!” Penelope exclaims, whacking him in the shoulder.

“I don’t want you to be sorry either. It was hilarious to watch, my students were in hysterics,” Spencer adds. Penelope glares.

Aaron isn’t surprised. Him and Spencer get on- they even have shared interests- but they also have some of the same classes. And as a result of the different subjects and ways they teach, it seems to them that it is impossible for their students to like them both.

“So, not that I don’t appreciate it, but why are you here?” He asks.

Spencer and Penelope glance at each other, and Hotch feels like he’s dealing with two students that have tried to set up two of his friends.

“Garcia. Reid,” he says. In the same tone he uses when dealing with two students that have tried to set up two of his friends.

“We thought that if we came, JJ wouldn’t, but uhh-” Spencer starts.

JJ bursts into the room before he can finish. “”Hotch! What happened? I mean, I’ve heard what happened because Strauss came and told me the basics, but still. Why were the two of you in the playground? Are you okay? Let me see that bump on your head. I also brought your lunch in case you were peckish.”

“Well basically-”

“Why does Emily look like she’s about to start crying?” Haley asks, entering.

Everyone but JJ turns and stares at her with a slight look of horror. Aaron slides down the bed slightly, hoping the blanket can cover the furious blush that he just knows stains his cheeks. Him and Haley went on a date once, after he asked her in a moment of impulsivity. It was the worst thing he’d ever done, for both of them.

“Oh come on guys, we’re professionals. JJ asked me to come because apparently, Aaron listens to me? I said he’s just too afraid of me to disobey. Which, I meant as a joke, but you do know that I don’t hate you right? Sure, the date was a disaster, but you do know we can still be friends?”

“I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me,” he confesses.

“That’s why I brought her with me. To prove you wrong,” JJ says. “But yes, why is Emily so upset?”

“Because I almost killed my best friend and traumatised our students and I’ve ruined his life and our careers and he can get me fired and press charges, but all I wanted to do was make him laugh, and this is the first place where I’ve felt appreciated, and I’m going to lose it all,” Emily sobs from outside.

“Can you bring her in?” He asks Penelope.

She obliges, and Hotch pats the area next to him. Emily sits beside him, wiping her eyes on the corner of the extra blanket they brought.

“You didn’t almost kill me, it’s a mild concussion at most. Our students have seen worse, and they will be fine. My life is not ruined because you will be doing my grading. I’m not going to get you fired or press charges, and you’re not about to lose any of this. Okay?”

“You always know what to say,” she says.

He ruffles her hair.

“Love you. Platonically,” he tells her.

She gives him a bright smile, and he can feel himself smiling back, less embarrassed about everything.

And then she starts laughing hysterically, and deliberately shoves him, causing him to almost fall out of the bed, only stopped by Haley and Dave each grabbing one of his arms and pushing him back up. Of course, Emily just looks at him like she hasn’t done anything wrong.

“I cannot believe you fell for that. As if I would ever be that upset. Honestly. Haley, maybe I should replace you as drama teacher!”

Haley raises an eyebrow. “Ah yes, because the last time you got others involved in theatre, it ended so well.”

Emily has nothing to say.

Aaron does. He turns and swears in French.

“Naughty boy. Don’t let anyone else hear you. Especially not my class, I told them what that meant after you said it when I stole your stapler and then told you I’d given it to Miss Brooks.”

He pales.

“Speaking of your classes, how did this happen?” Haley asks, clearly sensing the need for a change in topic.

Emily looks at Aaron.

“It was your fault!” he says.

“Well it was your idea!” she counters.

He sighs. “So what happened was…”

Hotch and Emily’s classrooms are next to each other. To Hotch, this is both a blessing and a curse. It means he could keep an eye on her. It also means he had to keep an eye on her. See, Emily isn't irresponsible, and she would never actually endanger her students, but sometimes, she leans towards danger.

How, when she teaches modern languages, is beyond Hotch, but regardless. Strauss had actually hired Emily, not just for her abilities, but because she believed someone needed to keep an eye on Hotch. How the times have changed.

Hotch is on break duty, and he can't see anyone from his class. Which is weird. He tries to keep their lives as stress-free as possible, and he was always willing to help anyone that needs it, but certain assessments could not be avoided. But still, he expects to see at least one of them outside, if only to get a few minutes of fresh air.

Emily smiles at him sympathetically before she walks into her classroom. It is like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over him. Sympathy from Emily isn't comforting. Not when it was aimed at him. If anything, it just makes him more scared. The last time she had looked at him like that, he had explained how his date with Haley had gone from one disaster to another.

And then she laughed.

So he pushes the door open, stepping back in case something fell on him. It wouldn't have been the first time. But nothing does. So he steps into his classroom, expecting to see his eleventh grade literature class doing something suspicious.

They aren't, and suddenly he understands exactly why Emily had looked at him like that.

Because his class has never looked so upset or defeated. And his heart breaks for all of them. It has been a while since he was fifteen, but he wouldn't ever forget the feeling of helplessness that seemed to define his existence. Nor would he forget how everything felt like too much and not enough.

"What happened?" He asks them gently.

Violet, a quiet girl that always tells him what Miss Prentiss had said about him, burst into tears. One of her friends patted her back, but it's clear they didn't quite know what they were doing. Neither does Hotch, but goddammit, these are his kids. Nobody is going to hurt them.

"Hey, it's okay. Do you want to go somewhere else?" He asks her.

She shakes her head. "I just- I want all of this to be over, but then I don't because it means going to college and leaving here and having to grow up, but I just- I have no fucking idea what I'm doing and it's all too much."

He winces at the use of swear words, because he is still a teacher, but that also means he feels a sense of pride that she's able to voice what it is. Because now, he may not be able to fix the situation, but he can help.

"I know. That's okay. That's normal. And you'll work it out. You know, I almost became a lawyer."

She looks up, her eyes red, but starting to sparkle again. "A lawyer."

"Yep, I almost also applied to the FBI Academy. It was actually Miss Prentiss that talked me out of that one. Well, it wasn't really talking but the true story is a little too… inappropriate for school."

"I can't imagine you doing either of those. You'd get bored as a lawyer, and you would never smile as an FBI agent," Clarissa says.

Hotch blinks.

She shrugs like it's the most obvious thing in the world. And then she offers him a piece of candyfloss, which he rejects.

He checks his lesson plan. And then his planner. And then the calendar he keeps on his table. Emily always makes fun of him for being so organised, but Spencer admires it, and that makes him feel cool, so he focuses on that instead.

"I have a compromise. We don't need to do a lesson today, we have more than enough time to cover everything because we're already ahead. I let you do whatever you want for the remainder of the lesson- whether that's colouring or crying or dancing. But you have to do it outside. I didn't see any of you at break."

"Really?" Violet asks.

He nods. "Of course."

Everyone cheers, and grabs their bags, clearly ready to not use their brains for a bit. Aaron gives them the most warm smile he can manage, but he can't help the small surge of guilt that accompanies his lack of realisation.

As his class exits, happily chattering away to each other, Emily pokes her head out the door.

"Mr Hotch, what are you doing, and can I join?"

Immediately, all eyes are on him.

"Please?" Violet asks.

Clarissa pulls out the puppy eyes.

Thomas falls to his knees.

"Oh my god, yes fine, okay, just- everyone be quiet before Strauss finds out and shouts at me," he says.

Emily runs back inside, and soon, they're all just milling about and having fun on the playground. It's nice, both for the students, and the teachers, to have a bit of a break from the world, and to spend a few moments away from it all. Some of them are running around, playing a game of tag, some of them are simply sitting around, and a few are colouring.

"Do you still like playing catch?" Emily asks him.

"What?"

"Catch. Remember, you used to play it with Sean all the time when we were in college."

"I mean yeah, I would probably get involved, but I'm not quite sure-"

"Think fast!" She shouts, and she lobs a netball at him.

The last thing he thinks, moments before his head meets the ground with a large amount of force- enough for there to be a small amount of blood- is: how is it always her? Every single time he gets into a situation, it's her that causes it. That has to be statistically impossible. Maybe he should ask Spencer…

"So yeah! And now I'm here!" He shoves Emily, who has the audacity to look offended.

Penelope kisses his forehead. Haley laughs a little, but Reid just blinks like he can't quite believe how stupid his co-workers are.

"Well. From what I've heard, it was a pretty good shot," JJ comments.

Haley turns to her. "From everything we've just been told, that's what you choose to pick out?"

"I'm a gym teacher, can you really blame me?"

Emily mutters something.

"You were what?" Garcia asks.

"I was aiming for his leg," she repeats.

"Emily. I know you teach languages, not biology, but look at me. Head," Hotch says, pointing at the bump he's not going to cover up, "Leg." He points at his ankle.

"It's always lovely when people know their anatomy. Saves me a lot of time," a new voice says.

Hotch turns in the direction of it, ready to make a snarky comment, but whatever words he had thought of die on his lips as he suddenly feels like he's been transported into a medical drama full of unrealistically attractive protagonists.

Because the doctor who has just walked in is the most handsome man he has ever seen. His smile is easy and genuine, and his eyes seem to twinkle with mischief. And his arms, oh god his arms seem like the safest place to exist. Aaron can't help but wonder what it would be like to have those arms wrapped around him-

His cheeks warm. No.

"Hi, I'm Dr Morgan. But you can all call me Derek. I'm here for Aaron Hotchner. Who I am going to assume, is you," he says, looking straight at Hotch.

"I- yes. How did you know?"

Dr Morgan- Derek- somehow smiles even more. "Well, even though there are far too many people in here- did all of you somehow miss the two people at one time sign- you are the only one in a hospital bed wearing a hospital gown, so. I'm no profiler, but it was pretty easy."

If it's even possible, his cheeks flush more. But one word sticks out to him. "Wait, profiler?"

"You got me. Crime procedurals are my guilty pleasure. I always said that if I joined the FBI, I would become a profiler. Obviously, I went down a very different route."

"Obviously. Wait, too many people? Oh god, I'm so, so sorry, if you need them to leave, they can. In fact, I also feel a lot better, so if you would like me to also go, I really, it's no trouble."

Because he is an idiot- there really is no other justification for this- he tries to stand up. And he does. He also gets a few steps in before the world starts spinning and he almost loses his balance. Derek somehow moves fast enough to guide him back to the bed. Aaron tries and fails to ignore how warm he is.

"Thanks," he whispers, slightly breathless. And not just from almost hurting himself again.

"It's not a problem Aaron. Both things. Your friends can stay, we're just doing some simple checks," Derek says.

"Oh everyone calls him Hotch," Penelope says.

"Aaron is fine. Really." Because he likes Derek calling him Aaron. He wants Derek to call him Aaron.

And then he meets Emily's eyes and he realises his mistake. There's a common denominator that exists with everyone that he tells to call him Aaron, and he knows that she knows what it is. He's fucked.

"Okay then. Well, can you explain to me what happened?"

Aaron is mesmerised by Derek's eyes. So mesmerised that he forgets to answer. "Sorry, what?"

There's a flash of concern, replaced by a smile. "Can you tell me how you ended up here?"

"Oh yes. So, I'm a teacher- so is everyone here. And I- I was outside, with my- my students when Emily- that one there- she, look, it's a really mild concussion, can I just be discharged? I'm sure my students are very, uhh, very scared," he stutters. Why can he never function when he likes someone? It's mortifying.

"I'm sure it is, but you can't blame me for doing my job. I'm going to take your heart rate now, okay? The stethoscope will be cold, but it'll warm up eventually," Derek says.

Aaron nods, and barely flinches when it touches him. If anything, he's more concerned by how close Derek seems to be. Not in a malicious way, but he's always had this deeply irrational fear that if someone got too close to him, they'd be able to read his thoughts. Which would mean Derek can hear both the fact that he has a crush and that he has this fear.

Derek pulls away, and Aaron exhales.

"Your heart rate is unusually fast. Normally that wouldn't be too concerning, because we expect that when patients seem anxious, but you've seemed pretty calm, up till this moment," Derek says, noting how Aaron tenses.

"Is he going to be okay?" Penelope asks.

Derek turns to her. "Of course he is. He's in good hands."

Aaron needs to get his mind out the gutter before his cheeks explode. Or before Emily opens her mouth.

"Aaron, I know you think the concussion is mild, but this is still a requirement. I'm going to turn on this penlight, and I'm going to ask you to follow it with your eyes okay? Follow the light," Derek explains.

He nods, and Derek turns the penlight on. Aaron flinches at the brightness of it, then tenses in slight fear that his lovely doctor is going to be annoyed at him or call him difficult, or sigh and say he needs to stop acting like a child. It wouldn't be the first time,

But Derek doesn't do any of those things. He does something very different.

He places his hand on Aaron's thigh. "Easy tiger. I won't hurt you," he says.

Aaron melts. His eyes drop down to where Derek's hand is warming his skin. He thinks Derek says his name, but he's too busy having a crush to hear him. And then suddenly, his thigh is cold, but Derek is touching his shoulder and he should be shying away from the light being shone in his eyes. But he isn't because he's too busy looking at Derek and his beautiful eyes to even pay attention.

Rather late, he remembers that there is a reason for Derek to be looking at him the way he is, and he tries to follow the light. But the headache he's had since he came around is only getting worse, and the light isn't helping.

Derek isn't smiling anymore.

"Aaron. Be very honest with me. You've displayed difficulty with coordination, memory and speech. If I asked you whether or not you felt sick or nauseous, what would your answer be?"

Normally, he would just under exaggerate, but Derek seems to genuinely care. So he chooses to be honest.

"Yes?"

Derek's eyes widen. "Aaron, I don't want to alarm you, but I like to keep my patients informed. You're going to have a CT scan done immediately, and there's a chance you may be rushed into emergency surgery."

Everyone, including Emily, starts to panic, but Derek leaves the room to grab a nurse to help, and to tell someone else to make sure there's a clear room. Aaron isn't completely sure what's happening, but his head is killing him, so he lays down again. It only helps a small amount.

For Aaron, the CT scan isn't too bad. If he knew the reason it was being done, and that it wasn't a routine procedure, he would probably have spent the whole time panicking. But he doesn't, and so he sits there- well lies there- with a slight smile on his face. The migraine he's had has been getting worse, so keeping his eyes closed for such an extended period of time is actually quite enjoyable.

It is far less enjoyable for everyone that is upstairs, waiting to find out whether or not their friend has a brain hemorrhage. That's what Derek told them after Aaron was carted away, still seeming very out of it. They needed to test him for a brain bleed. And if he had one, then it would just be a case of waiting to see whether they could treat him. And even if they could treat him, it wasn't guaranteed that he would get back to normal.

Emily, in spite of all of her teasing comments, isn't coping. Because it's still early, the floor is relatively quiet, and Derek is technically on his lunch break, so he's sitting with them in an attempt to provide them with some sort of comfort. He's not sure where this emotional attachment to these random people has come from, but it's formed itself and now he's determined to provide some comfort.

"I really was aiming for his leg," Emily whispers.

"Hmm?" Derek asks, not quite following.

"When I threw the ball, I really was aiming for his leg. He had lost consciousness by this point, but I started crying when he hit the ground. He forgave me. He told me he loved me, platonically that is, and I laughed at him. He's going to die, and he isn't going to know how much he meant to me."

"He's not going to die. He may not even have a brain bleed. But if he does, we're going to save him, and you're going to be able to spend the rest of your life telling him how much he means to you. I promise," Derek says.

Even though there are tears in her eyes, Emily turns to him and smiles. "You're a good man, Dr Morgan."

"That's all I've ever wanted, Miss Prentiss. So thank you. It means a lot to me." And it does. He replays the moment as he goes over to Spencer and Penelope, who he feels a strange sense of protection over. Like he needs to protect them from everything, which is weird, because once Aaron is discharged, he'll probably never see them again.

That shouldn't make him sad, but it does.

"Mr Hotchner's CT scan came back normal. There's no sign of a brain bleed," the nurse tells them, what feels like a lifetime later.

There's a collective sigh of relief, and when he's wheeled back in, looking tired but alive, Emily throws her arms around her best friend, who lets out a soft sound of surprise. Like he's not quite used to the fact that people love him. Derek smiles. His patient will be in good hands when he gets discharged.

"Wait, so what caused all of those problems?" Spencer asks.

The nurse shrugs. "It's probably as simple as: his concussion was more severe than we initially thought, but not as bad as we feared."

"Oh."

"And on that note, Aaron, we're keeping you overnight for observation. It's just to be safe. We can't be too careful. You gave everyone a very big scare when you got sent out," Derek says.

Aaron cannot, and will not, confess. Does he feel guilty? Yes. But he can live with the guilt. He cannot live with the all-encompassing shame that will come with explaining that actually, the reason he was stuttering and failing the penlight test was because of a silly little crush.

"Okay," he says, determined to be as compliant as possible.

"One- and only one- of you is welcome to stay with him, if you'd like," Derek adds.

Haley's eyes light up. "I'll do it! Jessica can bring me my things, and maybe you'll be able to look at me after we've spent another night together. Only this time, nobody's getting pneumonia. I hope so, at least. You're not cold are you?"

Aaron shakes his head. "But you really don't need to stay. I'll be fine on my own. Seriously."

"I know, but I want to. Believe it or not, I do actually enjoy your company."

He smiles.

"We should all be getting a move on. Jason and Erin will want updates, and I have lots of marking," JJ says. She kisses Hotch on the forehead before walking to the door, smiling at Derek for looking after her friend so well.

Spencer waves from where he's standing and Penelope showers him with affection. Emily is the only one that seems hesitant to leave.

"Can I stay till visiting hours end?" She asks.

"Do you feel like you can keep up with these two lovely ladies Aaron?" Derek asks.

Aaron has never enjoyed the sound of his name as much as he does when it comes from the doctor. "I- sure," he stutters, and he just knows his cheeks are a stupid colour. Emily frowns, as though she finds something suspicious.

Derek smiles. "Good man. I'll be back in a few hours to run the same tests as before. For now, take it easy."

Derek doesn't come back a few hours later, because he has other patients. It's a different doctor, and Aaron is both relieved and disappointed. Because on the one hand, he's not going to create another medical crisis, on the other, he wants to see Derek again.

Maybe he can get Emily to knock him out again…

"Your heart rate seems completely normal. And you followed the penlight exceptionally well, so I believe we have nothing to fear. Of course, you'll stay overnight, and we'll run these tests once more before you're discharged tomorrow, but I think we're out of the woods now," they say.

Emily gasps, and Aaron knows he's screwed. Luckily, both the doctor and Haley seem to not have heard, and she leaves with the doctor, so Aaron doesn't have to know right at that moment whether his suspicions are correct.

"Night Hotchner," Haley says a few minutes later.

Hotch is already asleep.

The entire team comes and collects him from the hospital.

Aaron is just grateful they're sending him home with a pack of all the things he now needs to do, because he spent the whole lecture admiring how handsome Derek looks with sun shining down on him that he didn't take any of it in. It's also Derek's signature on the discharge papers. He's reminded of high school, when he and his friends would make fake marriage certificates. Not that he's going to do that.

"Bye Aaron. I don't want to see you here any time soon, okay?" Derek teases.

"I won't make any promises," he replies, just relieved he does it without stuttering or blushing.

Derek smiles, and the twinkle in his eyes seems even more mischievous. "Miss Prentiss," he says, spotting Emily.

"Dr Morgan," she responds. She's smirking.

When Aaron asks her what was going on, she doesn't answer. Haley says it's probably linked to the emotions of the previous day, and she's usually good at reading these situations, so he doesn't push any further. Besides, he's too busy catching up with the meetings he missed, and the antics of his students, because a lot happened in the three days he was off, to give it much thought.

Two weeks pass, and the incident is almost completely forgotten.

But then he walks back into his classroom, having just finished a meeting, and he finds flowers on his desk. Tulips. His favourite. He immediately pulls the note out, and when he opens it, he almost wonders if he's concussed it.

Because he knows that signature. He's been staring at it for fourteen days. It's Derek's.

"Surprise. Aaron," a voice says for the doorway.

"How- what- I- what?"

Derek Morgan, still in scrubs and a white coat, smiles at him. "Want to pick a question I can actually answer?"

"How did you- what are you doing here? And why?"

"Well, you should thank Emily. After the other doctor took your heart rate, she came and told me her suspicion. Apparently, you always say you're Hotch. Even the students call you Mr Hotch. Which is strange, because I call you Aaron. And, you shouldn't have done the penlight flawlessly if you had a more severe concussion. So she thinks you have a crush. I didn't want to be unethical, so those flowers can simply mean: I hope you're coping. If you don't have a crush that is."

"What if I do?" Aaron asks, surprised at his own boldness.

"Then I would ask if I could kiss you before I take you out to dinner," Derek says, not missing a beat.

"And if I said yes?"

Derek takes three long strides, and he kisses Aaron like it's something he was made to do. Aaron melts against him, trying to memorise him as quickly as he can, before he realises he has all the time in the world to do that. Because Derek is going to take him out to dinner. Derek, who brought him flowers.

"That was- wow. Wait. You have a crush on me too!" Aaron exclaims with a grin.

"Of course I do," Derek says.

That stuns Aaron back into silence. "Wow," he whispers to himself.

Derek hugs him, and being in his arms is everything- no more- than Aaron imagined it to be. "I'm glad you're okay," he says.

"I'm glad you don't hate me," Aaron says, because he really doesn't know what else to say.

Derek laughs, and Aaron can't wait to find all the ways he can make that happen.

"We should say thank you to Emily at some point. If she didn't know you as well as she does, she wouldn't have realised you had a crush. And if she wasn't so terrifying when she wants something good for her friends, I wouldn't have sent the flowers."

"Can we say thank you later? I want to stay like this for a few moments," Aaron whispers, snuggling closer to his new boyfriend.

"Of course we can," Derek says, kissing his forehead.

When they eventually make it to Derek's car- Aaron can come back tomorrow and get his, it'll be fine, Aaron realises he has one more thing to say.

"Derek?"

"Yes, sweetness?"

Well. That makes him feel things he won't confess too, because he needs something to make him seem the slightest bit cool.

"I'm really sorry I made you think I had a brain hemorrhage."

Derek's laughter is so real that Aaron can't help but join in, and they end up not starting the car for five minutes because it would be irresponsible to drive in that state. And it's only when they're pulling out that they both realise something: Derek gets to see Aaron's family again, and Emily didn't need to hit him in the head again for him to get to see Derek again.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #hotchgan #mortch #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #tw concussion #tw brain hemorrhages #tw hospitals #tw self blame

34 notes · View notes

validity-is-powerful · 3 years

Text

if you don't tell me I'll find out anyway

[Masterlist]

Warnings: none

Characters: Emily Prentiss, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau, Aaron Hotchner, Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan, David Rossi

Relationships: Prentiss/Hotch, Prentiss & JJ

Genre: fluff

Summary: Prentiss and Hotch have been dating for eight months now, and the team is none the wiser. That changes when Prentiss and JJ share a room after a case, and Prentiss wears one of Hotch's shirts to bed.

Word Count: 2k

Prompt was #20 on this list by @whump-town.

Fic below the cut, or read on ao3.

"Okay, so," JJ begins, coming back from the receptionist counter to address the team. In her hands are three room cards. "They're booked and we're here on short notice. They've only got three rooms they can spare us. It was originally two, but one of the customers with a reservation cancelled last minute." She fans the cards out in front of her. "Who's sleeping where?"

"I'm not sleeping with Reid," Morgan chimes in almost immediately with a smile. Reid looks mock-offended, but doesn't protest.

"I'll share with the kid," Rossi says with a heavy sigh.

"I'm not that bad," Reid protests.

"Last time I shared a room with you, you kept me up until four am with rants about sci-fi movies. And don't think I've forgotten the Red Bull incident, either," Morgan says. He pats Rossi's shoulder in condolence. JJ hands the older agent the key card.

"Morgan, room with me," Hotch offers. Morgan nods, and JJ hands their boss one of the remaining key cards.

"That leaves you and me," Prentiss says, but while her voice is heavy, her eyes are anything but. They sparkle with quiet mirth.

"Thank god," JJ jokes. She loops her arm through her friend's.

They make their way to the elevator, all of them, then as they reach the third floor, the pairs go their separate ways. Reid and Rossi are already engaged in a deep conversation, neither of them noticing as Prentiss studies them. Hotch and Morgan look ready to pass out as they make their way over to their room. The two of them are roomed closest to the elevator, she notices.

"God I'm tired," Prentiss says as she and JJ enter their hotel room. She's tempted to faceplant straight onto the bed, but she's still dressed. The case is over and the plane is leaving at nine-thirty tomorrow, meaning she has a chance to get some proper sleep tonight. It'll be more comfortable to get out of the suit she's wearing.

"Only one bed," JJ remarks. Prentiss lifts an eyebrow.

"You handed out the key cards. Did you do that intentionally?" Her friend laughs.

"No. Truth be told, all three rooms are singles." Prentiss makes an amused face.

"Scandalous. And just imagine the boys' reactions." She lounges on one side of the bed, watching absent-mindedly as JJ methodically strips off her outer layers.

As if on cue, their phones ding with a text notification. Prentiss reaches for hers as JJ pulls out a clean shirt.

"Get changed," the blonde suggests, snagging the phone playfully from Prentiss. Prentiss rolls her eyes, also playfully, and gets up. She begins digging through her go-bag for any sleepwear she might have brought, and failing that, something clean and appealing to wear.

"Hotch is checking that everyone's alright and knows what time we're leaving," JJ reports, reading the text.

"That sounds like Hotch," Prentiss says, tossing an old shirt onto the bed. It's a little worn, but it brings her no small amount of comfort. She throws a pair of shorts after it. JJ frowns at the shirt, but doesn't comment.

Prentiss pulls them both on and climbs into bed beside her friend. "JJ. Get under the blankets."

"Sorry," JJ says automatically, still staring at Prentiss' phone. She turns off the lights and gets under the blankets automatically as well, then hands Prentiss her phone back.

"Who's your boyfriend?" Prentiss freezes, then realises that JJ had looked at who she had sent texts to recently. One of the conversations was simply titled '<3'. "Or girlfriend," JJ continues. "You know I don't care that you're bi, beyond supporting you unconditionally." She props herself up on one elbow, smirking as she looks down at Prentiss. "So. Who is it?"

Prentiss clicks off her phone. "None of your business," she says, the words coming out like she's trying too hard for casual. JJ pokes her shoulder.

"If you don't tell me, I'll find out anyway," she teases warningly. Prentiss smirks at her.

"Good luck." And with that, Prentiss rolls herself in her share of the blankets, facing towards JJ as she turns her phone on again. This way, the screen is angled away from her friend. JJ rolls her eyes, but she still looks amused.

"I see how it is," she says, and rearranges her pillow until she's content. She lies on her back and closes her eyes. Prentiss sends off a text to the partner JJ had just asked about.

Emily: JJ's getting suspicious. She saw I had our private messages labeled with a heart.

Aaron: Morgan has some questions as well.

Emily: Chocolate thunder wants to know who you're texting when you should be sleeping?

Aaron: You don't have a healthy sleep schedule either. I told him it was a friend.

Emily: Did he believe you?

Aaron: Yes, but he suspects it's something more. I've appeased him for now.

Emily: I know we've discussed this before, but we should tell the team soon. It's been over eight months.

Aaron: I agree. If we keep this from them much longer, they'll lose trust in us.

Emily: That, and I hate keeping this kind of secret from my best friend.

"Go to sleep, Emily," JJ mumbles, one arm tossed over her eyes. "It's bedtime."

"In a minute."

"Your mystery person can wait." Prentiss glances at her.

"He's my boyfriend." JJ moves her arm and cracks an eye open to look at her.

Aaron: What, that you're dating your boss?

Emily: That I'm dating at all. Speaking of which, I just told her I have a boyfriend.

Aaron: How'd she react?

"Since when?" JJ asks, sounding a bit more awake. "And why didn't you tell me an' Penelope on girls' night or somethin'? We're the people who hype you up for dates."

"We uh, we decided it was best not to say anything," Prentiss says, trying to keep her composure.

Emily: Fine. She wishes I'd told her and Garcia I was seeing someone.

JJ gives her a long, drawn-out, suspicious hum, then turns onto her other side and goes back to sleep. Prentiss is left staring at her friend's back.

Emily: How's Derek doing?

Aaron: He's asleep. Like we should be.

Emily: Sleep is too mainstream for me.

Aaron: ?

Emily: Don't worry about it babe.

Aaron: Riiiight. Goodnight.

Emily: Goodnight, love you.

Aaron: Love you too, Emily.

Prentiss clicks off her phone and sets it aside, then moulds herself around JJ's sleeping form. Her friend presses back against her a little, and Prentiss wraps an arm around the blonde.

She lies awake for a long time, head still buzzing from the case. She compartmentalizes well, but it still sometimes takes her time to wind down. This case wasn't particularly bloody or long, but it did involve an abnormal amount of guesswork and haste, because the unsub was moving from city to city, state to state, then killing and moving on again within a matter of hours. The team's home base had become their SUVs as they chased.

Luckily, the victim count was low, all things considered. But it had been one hell of a few days.

Around one in the morning, the rain starts. It taps familiar patterns against the glass, and she's finally able to doze off as the noise drowns out her thoughts.

JJ's alarm goes off, and Prentiss wants to strangle her. The blonde shuts off the noise before it gets to be too unbearable, but by then, Prentiss is already awake. JJ, as usual, is awake before her and is already stirring a cup of hotel coffee, giving it a disappointed look.

"Is it that bad?" Prentiss asks from where she's lying in the bed, blankets ending at her ribcage. JJ just shakes her head slowly.

"It's awful, and not in the good way. Shitty police coffee is one thing, shitty hotel coffee is another." She takes a sip regardless. "Also, we're leaving in half an hour, so you might want to get up." Prentiss groans, but drags herself out of bed. JJ gladly hands her a cup of the hotel coffee when she approaches, then smooths Prentiss' hair out of her face where it had tangled in the night.

Prentiss takes a sip, and makes a face. "Uch. You weren't kidding." JJ laughs a little. They drink in silence, JJ studying her more intensely than usual. Prentiss is about to ask her what's going on when JJ's eyes widen in realisation.

"That's Hotch's shirt," she says, pointing at what Prentiss is wearing with her free hand. Prentiss looks down at her shirt in a mild panic.

It is, in fact, one of Hotch's old shirts that she's wearing. She had swiped it from him, along with a sweatshirt, when they started dating. It's old and faded, but very clearly Hotch, and it brings her comfort to wear it.

Unfortunately, Hotch used to wear the shirt before she asked him out. Around the team, sometimes. Which means JJ knows it.

"No way," the blonde says. She sets her coffee aside, and Prentiss is quick to do the same. "Don't tell me you're dating Hotch."

"Um-"

"Oh my god, you are." An incredulous laugh escapes JJ's throat. She pressed her hands to her mouth in disbelief. Prentiss examines her reaction, but nothing screams hostile. Surprised, a little offended that she wasn't told, sure, but nothing hostile. Mostly surprised. "Wow."

JJ grabs Prentiss' wrist and pulls her to sit on the bed, grinning. "So, what's he like outside of work?" Prentiss raises her eyebrows.

"You mean, in- in private?" JJ makes a 'keep talking' gesture. Prentiss laughs a little. "I'm not telling you what he's like in bed."

"So you've slept together?"

"We have," she confirms. "We've been together eight months now."

"When were you going to tell the rest of us?" Prentiss shrugs.

"I don't know," she answers honestly. "We were planning on doing it soon, but an opportune moment just never came up." JJ grips her hand.

"Em," she says softly. Prentiss looks at her. "Please know I'm happy for you."

"We need to tell them," Prentiss says to Hotch as soon as they have a moment alone. The rest of the team has disappeared down to the lobby, and the two of them have a few minutes before their teammates grow suspicious. She and Hotch are standing outside the door to her room. "JJ already pieced it together."

"Will she tell the others?"

"I don't think so. I think she knows it's our secret to tell, and I told her that we'd been planning to reveal it soon." Hotch nods. They're both dressed formally again, in what attire they had worn yesterday for the flight home.

One of Hotch's hands comes up to rest on her jaw. Leaning into his kiss is easier than breathing. Both of them are loathe to separate.

"They'll be waiting for us," Hotch murmurs as she trails kisses along his jaw, pausing to nip the very edge of it before continuing. "Prentiss."

"I know," she says against his skin. She slows, ending with another kiss to his lips.

Hotch's hand grips hers as they walk to the elevators, throwing caution into the wind as they talk, planning together what to say and when to say it.

On the flight back to DC, everyone is awake. It's unusual for them to have an opportunity for a full night's rest the night before. Usually, they fly home in the evening. It means that when Hotch stands up, everyone looks over.

"Prentiss and I have an announcement," he begins. JJ breaks into a grin, knowing what's coming. Rossi looks like he's hiding a smile as well. Reid and Morgan just look confused.

"We uh, we meant to tell you guys before," Prentiss says, continuing where Hotch left off. "We're dating." A second of silence. Then:

"Congratulations!"

"I'm so happy for you guys!"

"Reid owes me five bucks," Morgan says with a grin. Reid groans good-naturedly, then looks at Prentiss and Hotch.

"If you guys had waited another four months, Morgan would've owed me ten," he says, and the team can't help but laugh with him.

#criminal minds #emily prentiss #jj #jennifer jareau #aaron hotchner #BAU team #fluff #criminal minds fic #elliott writes #prompt #hotchniss #one-shot #standalone

47 notes · View notes

spookyceph · 3 years

Text

Pull Test

Summary: Shigaraki and Kurogiri meet with the League of Villain's newest candidate.

Rating: Gen Fic, SFW

Relationships: Shigaraki & Magne

Characters: Shigaraki Tomura, Magne, Kurogiri, Giran, mentioned Dabi, mentioned Toga Himiko

Words: 2,732

Warnings: Implied/Referenced transphobia and deadnaming when Magne's background is mentioned, swearing

The manila folder dropped from the air like a dead bird, hitting the bar top with a slap. Tomura jerked back, stool wobbling beneath him, and grit his teeth as he heard the staccato sounds of his fighter taking damage in his game. Recovering balance, he hit the pause button before glaring at the warp gate that swirled into being across the way.

“Another one already?” he snapped the moment the tall figure of his caretaker stepped out of the darkness.

Kurogiri straightened both his tie and metal gorget. “I was quite impressed myself. Giran is proving to be as professional and efficient as advertised.” He motioned to the folder he’d air dropped in. “Shall we consider this new candidate together, Shigaraki Tomura?”

Tomura wasn’t in the mood to consider shit. He hadn’t been hanging around the bar for going on two hours hoping for work to come along. One of his hands strayed to his pocket. He touched the lump that was the jar of salve he’d taken to carrying at all times. The serpentine ridge of a friendship bracelet (I used red, white, and black string so it would match you, Tomura-kun!) had joined it a week ago. Of course, he’d die before admitting to lurking just to catch a glimpse of Dabi. Or that he’d agreed to let Toga show him her favorite otome games as soon as she came back from her shopping trip. He definitelycouldn’t tell the smug old ink splatter to fuck off and let him get back to his goal of a high score—not without having how wrong he’d been about those same two people rubbed in his face.

That left being a responsible leader as the only option.

Tomura growled and set his game aside. He flicked the folder open. “Fine. What’s this new asshole’s name?” Giving in didn’t require him to be gracious about it.

“Ah. About that. I believe there’s a conflicting issue in her files about that point. Her family name is Hikiishi, however, her given one, or both, may require an update.”

A look at the top of the file filled in the blanks. The picture Giran had included showed the candidate flashing a bold smile at the camera. Shoulder-length auburn hair framed prominent cheekbones. Slightly darker fuzz lined her jaw and chin. Tomura couldn’t tell what color her eyes were behind her sunglasses, but they locked with his through lenses and stock paper alike. Hikiishi Kenji, read the first line of information on the page beneath the photo. A police report, by the looks of it.

“I see. Well, for now let’s just call Hikiishi by her alias until she confirms with us.” Tomura skimmed through the info again. “Magne, right? Related to her quirk, I assume.”

The currents of Kurogiri’s mist slowed and relaxed into looser coils. “Correct.”

Tomura frowned. “What? Did you think I’d have some sort of problem with the name thing?”

“After the misunderstanding with Dabi—”

“Dabi and I talked.”

The yellow eyes glowing within the darkness widened. “Did you now?”

Fuck, he wasn’t turning red, was he? Was he? “We’re adults. We worked shit out, okay? Not everybody has a stick up their ass about being polite all the time.” He scooped up his game, more than ready to retreat into something he could control. “When are we expecting Magne?”

“Giran can bring her by tomorrow evening.”

“Fine. Let’s get the stupid meet and greet crap over with.” When only silence followed, Tomura raised his gaze from the screen to glare at Kurogiri. “What?”

The wisps curling from the smoggy bastard’s head looked suspiciously like smiles. “Nothing, Shigaraki Tomura. Nothing at all.”

Taptaptap.

Tomura’s finger rose and fell on the bartop fast enough to give a sewing machine needle a run for its money. The ball of his right foot bounced on the stool’s crossbar in time with it.

Taptaptap.

Giran had promised he’d be there between 9:00 and 10:00. The clock by the door pointed to 9:51.

Taptaptap.

Lots of people would be riding the trains on a Friday night. Or roaming the streets, looking for food and alcohol, karaoke, strangers to stave off loneliness. Heroes would be out in force as a result, watching for any predators stalking the herds of humanity. Tomura didn’t know how to calculate exact probability rates for shit hitting the fan, but he got the sense they were on the higher end under such conditions.

Taptaptap.

Why couldn’t he just run into party members along the way as needed, like in games? Each one would specialize in a skill, forming a well-rounded team. Everyone would follow him to the bitter end because they believed in him and not some ass goblin named Stain. Why they believed in Tomura wouldn’t matter, though money would be a reasonable guess. Idealism didn’t pay much from what he could tell.

Taptap—

“Be calm, Shigaraki Tomura. This meeting will go well.”

He bared teeth at Kurogiri. “There has to be a meeting for it to go a certain way. And I am calm, damn it.”

“So I see.” He finished wiping down the glass he held before setting it on the bar and grabbing another. “My apologies.”

Tomura twisted on the stool to give the smart ass shadow a piece of his overthinking mind.

Knock, knock, knock.

Without missing a beat, Kurogiri stuck his free hand through a small warp gate and turned the handle of the door across the room. He went back to polishing as two figures entered the bar.

For someone who charged such high fees, Giran went out of his way to look cheap and kitschy. Little round tinted lenses pinched to the bridge of his nose. A scrunched scarf like someone’s guts slung around his neck. One front tooth missing in his low-key sleazy smile. The woman following right behind him and surveying her new surroundings made for a more welcome sight. Sunglasses (her and Giran both, for fucks’ sake) hid her eyes just like in her picture, but her lips held a hint of a smile.

The essence of good manners, Kurogiri bowed to their guests. “Good evening. Welcome to our humble home.”

Tomura, to balance the scales, snorted and folded his arms across his chest. “Took you long enough.”

Giran shrugged and twirled his hand, leaving behind a smoke spiral from the tip of the cigarette between his fingers. “Our train was delayed by some prankster threatening to blow up the tracks.”

“Doesn’t sound like a prank.”

“It wouldn’t have been if the lazy bastard hadn’t been trying to pass off children’s clay as plastic explosive. One of the cops noticed the stuff was bright yellow and they rushed him. They didn’t even call in a hero.” The broker shook his head. “What’s this world coming to? People can’t be bothered to find and pay for real weapons anymore. It offends my pride as a businessman.”

Behind Father, Tomura grimaced. His short-lived venture with Stain had indeed moved people to lash out at society. The problem was most of them were fucking morons. He doubted any decent candidates the League managed to net would make up for all the secondhand embarrassment he’d suffered in the past couple of weeks from watching the news.

“Oh, I don’t know,” the woman said, tapping her chin. “I felt kinda bad for the poor guy. He looked like your average office wage-slave. I thought he was going to break down in tears when they hauled him off.”

“Serves him right for cutting corners. No conviction, no integrity these days I tell you.”

She hid a grin behind her hand. “You’re heartless, Giran.”

The broker snorted smoke from his nostrils like an exasperated dragon. “I’m practical.”

“And yet you still haven’t introduced me.”

Posture straightening, Giran tugged at his weirdly anatomical scarf. “Sorry, got sidetracked. Magne, Shigaraki Tomura and Kurogiri of the League of Villains.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Slipping off his stool, Tomura gave her a short bow. The way Kurogiri swayed slightly, as if he’d swoon from shock, made the display worth it.

“I take it I’ve earned my fee?” chimed in Giran.

Kurogiri’s misty form shuddered as he roused himself. “Of course. We’ll hear from you again soon?”

“I’ve got a few candidates lined up.” The broker sketched them a mock salute before turning and closing the door behind him.

“Please, have a seat.” Tomura motioned to the row of barstools beside him.

“Thank you. Don’t mind if I do.”

While Magne approached, he studied her movements. She strode across the hardwood floor, work boots making minimal noise with each step. Grace as well as power. She knew how to use the muscle under her shirt’s rolled up sleeves rather than relying on pure size. Although, that didn’t hurt either—Tomura put her at over ten centimeters his own height at least, and she definitely outclassed him by weight. He wondered whether she had speed to go along with strength. She slid into the next seat over and rested her chin in her hands.

“Would you care for something to drink, Miss Magne?” Kurogiri asked, jumping at the chance to play host.

“Oh, my. So formal. Sure, I’ll have whatever you recommend.”

Tomura waited until a small glass of something amber-colored had been set in front of them both (ginger ale for him) and she’d taken an approving sip before getting things rolling.

“You have quite a record, Magne.” Though he’d already memorized the relevant bits, he flipped open the folder container her information.

She glanced over, shades slipping down her nose as she scanned the first page of the police report. “Twenty-nine attempted murders, huh? Is that what they’re calling those? I’m surprised you guys bothered having me come in after reading that garbage.”

“Why?”

Like a small bird, Tomura’s stomach dipped and fluttered when Magne looked at him over the edge of her glasses. Not quite in the same way it did when he caught Dabi watching him from across the room, but close enough to classify the sensation as pleasant. Her irises shone like polished agates, made up of rich layers of browns from a starburst of mahogany around her pupils to flecks of burnished copper. Tomura suddenly understood her hiding them behind lenses. Such a beautiful detail would stick in anyone’s memory.

“Somebody who tried and failed to kill that many people would look pretty incompetent, right?” she replied. “Or like they chickened out at the last second. I don’t enjoy killing. I’ll tell you that up front. But…I didn’t hesitate with the three I did put down, let’s just say that.”

Tomura, a multiple murderer himself, examined the square set of her shoulders, the twist of scorn to her mouth towards her accusers, and found no reason to doubt her. He nodded.

“The so-called attempts were from the robberies you pulled off then?”

“Mostly, though I’m sure a few of the bullies I smacked around exaggerated just to prove what big, strong men they are.” She harumphed and took another sip from her drink.

“And the actual murders?”

Her lips puckered, as if she tasted something more bitter than whatever alcohol Kurogiri had given her. “Personal matters.”

“I see.” Tomura turned the page and ran his finger further down the information. “Your quirk has some unique parameters.”

The lines of Magne’s face eased into a smile. “Oh, the gender thing? A theory really. I haven’t had much opportunity to test it seriously. It might be nothing but my own perception…but I guess that doesn’t make it any less real, does it?” She lifted a hand from her glass and reached halfway toward him. “Care for a demonstration?”

Tomura caught himself drawing away from her, his nails latching onto the sides of his neck. Cowering—great way to display his leadership skills. “What’re you going to do?”

“Oh, just tug on your arm a little. Go ahead and put it down by your side for me.”

Resisting the urge to look to Kurogiri for reassurance, he did as asked. For safety’s sake he curled his fingers into a fist.

Magne smiled. “Ready?”

According to the knot in his stomach, no, but he nodded anyway. His arm jerked and leapt up as if it were tied by a string. Tomura gasped, almost slipping off his seat. Magne caught and steadied him.

“Sorry, honey! Got so excited to show off I put a bit too much oomph into it.” She patted his shoulder as if there weren’t dead, gray hands clutching it.

“’S’alright,” he mumbled. And it was—his skin showed no marks, his muscles and joints registered no pain. He readjusted the delicate hand decorating his wrist. Cold, waxy, and pliant. Nothing like Magne.

“So, can you manipulate people’s movements? Turn them into your puppets?”

She hummed and pushed her sunglasses back into their proper place. “Not really. I can move someone with the proper amount of push versus pull, but it’s such delicate work that they could break free pretty easily. Hold out your arm and I’ll show you what I mean.”

Still making a fist, Tomura followed her suggestion. Magne positioned her hands on either side of his forearm, spread about half a meter apart. Concentration dug a V between her brows. A thrum jolted through Tomura’s bones. He startled at the rush of tingles in his elbow and shoulder but kept his balance. Something like a low electrical current pulsed along his arm, raising its pale little hairs. Eyes wide, he watched as the limb drifted from one side to the other, then up, down—anywhere the poles of Magne’s palms guided it. He could even see, feel his skin being tugged and pressed by her quirk. Taking a deep breath, Tomura drew his fist back. He met some resistance, but didn’t have to put up any real struggle.

“Weird.” He shook his buzzing fingers out. “But kinda nice. Tingly. Like an electrical field.”

Magne tilted her head and smirked. “Oh? That’s a new one. Then again, maybe I’d have heard it before if I used my quirk for something besides bashing jerks.”

What would he have done without Father hiding the fact he blushed at the slightest fucking thing? He’d never get used to talking to people at this rate.

“Your skills would be a great asset to the League, Miss Magne,” Kurogiri said, saving Tomura from having to pretend he could be witty. “I presume Giran discussed the expenses we cover? Upon joining, you would also be welcome to claim a room upstairs, should you wish.”

Magne went still. Even her breathing stopped for a moment. “You’d let me stay here?”

Tomura knew right then he’d never live down being wrong about not letting League members move into the hideout. Kurogiri would never be crass enough to say it out loud, of course. He didn’t have to. Tomura sighed, accepting his fate.

“Two members live here already, including another woman. We can introduce you to them both before you decide.”

Gaze aimed at the ceiling, Magne touched fingers to her pursed lips. “I’ve already made up my mind.” She met Tomura’s eyes, a smile lighting up her face. “Sign me up.”

Well. He had no clue whatso-fucking-ever how they’d convinced her, but results were results. Besides, she hadn’t mentioned Stain once. She deserved free room and board for that alone.

“Ah, wonderful. We’re so delighted to have you, Miss Magne.” Kurogiri steepled his fingers. “Please let me know if you require any assistance in moving your belongings. I can warp them to whichever room you choose.”

A soft laugh huffed out of her. “No need, honey. I travel light these days. Would tomorrow evening be too soon?”

Tomura shrugged. “That’s fine. I’ll make sure Toga and Dabi are around so you can meet them.” Even if he had to staple the latter to a chair to make him comply.

“Sounds like a plan.” Magne raised her glass. “To new friends then?”

There was that word again. Offered with the same ease Toga had shown. And Dabi…he’d never said it maybe but his gift had implied…well, something. Tomura touched his pocket. The weight and shapes of the items inside it. With the same hand, he picked up his own glass and clinked it against Magne’s.

“Sure. I’ll drink to that.”

#big sis magne #bnha magne #mha magne #magne #shigaraki fic #league of villains fanfiction #league of villains fanfic #lov fanfiction #lov #league of villains #fic series #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki #kurogiri #giran #bnha giran

39 notes · View notes

tiny-slasher · 3 years

Text

Bo Sinclair x Reader | Swamped

Alternate Universe where Bo and Vince aren’t murderers.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

I had a dream the other night about Bo, and decided to turn it into a fic. My dream was actually a bit darker toned...but it didn’t turn out that way in the fic. So if this seems a little chaotic, that’s why. Blame dream me. Dream Sweepy is a different entity altogether. She should not be trifled with.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

Your soaked shoes squelched against the burning pavement, steps heavy as your waterlogged clothes weighed you down. You angrily wiped the sweat from your brows as you squinted, trying to see even a foot in front of you in the bright, afternoon sun.

"I'm sorry, okay?"

Your sister's voice grated on your ears, making you clench your teeth in frustration. You heard her quicker steps try and keep up with yours; her own shoes splashing water against your legs as she got closer.

"Please say something? I said I was sorry!"

You sharply turned to her and snapped, "Tell that to the car sinking in the swamp."

Your sister pushed her sweat-soaked hair from her face, expression the most apologetic you'd ever seen. The anger in your heart fizzled a bit when she whispered another apology, but that didn't ease your frustration. Your nerves were still a bit rattled after the ordeal, and there was a bruise forming on your shoulder from where you'd hit the window of your car. Irritated didn't begin to cover how you felt.

Still, you were thankful neither of you had gotten hurt.

"How far do you think we gotta walk?" she asked hesitantly.

"I don't know."

"My feet are starting to hurt..."

"Be thankful you still have feet."

She huffed and crossed her arms, muttering under her breath as she trailed after you. You couldn't really blame her...it was very hot, and the two of you had been walking for over an hour. You continued for a while longer, each step more difficult than the last. You'd developed a pretty nasty headache, either from thirst or from the heat, and your sister wasn't doing much better.

"Hey, you think there's anyone up over there?"

You looked up to where your sister was pointing, eyes widening. There, slightly obscured by trees was some sort of old building, made almost entirely out of wooden planks. The windows were dingy, and a screen door covering the entryway. It almost seemed abandoned, if it hadn't been for the old pickup truck parked on the dirt in front of it.

"Come on," you said, making your way off the paved road and onto the dirt.

As the two of you made your way over, you saw a sloppy, hand-painted sign at the top of the building that read "Mechanic", and you raised an eyebrow at it. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you walked up the front creaking front steps. Your sister stood close behind you, her posture just as nervous as your own. You rolled your shoulders back and straightened up, and headed into the building.

The screen door rattled and creaked loudly as you pushed it open, the springs holding it shut straining against your hold. You heard the low, static hum of a radio playing some sort of old country song. There were boxes of tools and grease-covered appliances without any real organization, and the floor looked like it had never been swept.

"Vince, shut the damn door 'fore you let the gnats in!"

You stepped into the room, your sister less than a foot behind you, and turned to your right to see two young men. One was standing, resting his arms on a wooden rail that acted as a room divider. A dirty hat rested on his head, and his grimy hands picked at the splintering wood they rested on. The other man was sitting in a chair, with his boot-covered feet up on a scratched up desk that took up nearly all the space in the cramped area. He was messing around with a pocket knife, running his thumb over the blade innocuously. There were papers scattered over the entirety of the desk, rustling in the breeze of the desk fan that sat in the corner. You noted the few other pocket knives laying around, holding the papers down.

The one standing noticed you first, and his relaxed expression grew a bit nervous. He cleared his throat, offering you a grimy, but polite smile. The one sitting lifted his gaze towards you, and paused in his fiddling. You swallowed as his gaze pierced you, pinning you in place without having to move a single muscle.

"You definitely ain't Vince."

You shifted on your feet uncomfortably, eyeing the man down almost glaringly.

"Well come on in then," he sighed, setting his feet on the ground and running a hand through his tousled and slightly sweaty hair.

You stiffly walked and sat in a chair on the other side of the desk, thankful to finally give your feet a break.

The standing one walked over with another chair, gesturing for your sister to sit in it. She thanked him, and practically fell into it with a loud sigh. You caught an amused glint in the sitting man's eyes, before he turned back to look at you, squinting at your damp clothes.

"What can I do for ya?"

"We need a ride."

"Car troubles, right?" His brows furrowed, "You too cheap to have me fix it or somethin'?"

"I don't think you can fix it," you dryly replied, earning an offended scoff from him.

"If anyone can, it's Bo," the standing man said behind you, a proud smile on his face as he gestured to the man in front of him.

You rubbed the bridge of your nose, "No it's not...trust me it's not worth the trouble at this point."

The man standing behind you shifted as he continued to lean on the railing, as the sitting man...Bo, squinted at you.

"The hell'd you do to it?" he asked judgmentally.

You crossed your arms with a pout, and out of your peripheral you saw your sister begin to sink lower and lower in her seat, hoping to not be brought into the conversation. Bo, however, noticed, and leaned back in his chair with a raised eyebrow.

He smirked at you, "Ah, someone decided to sabotage the ride, huh? What'd she do? Put her hand over your eyes?"

Your sister sunk even lower, and you didn't feel the need to reply.

Bo leaned back in his seat, "Well where's the car at? Lester can tow it over here for ya."

You glanced back at the man behind you, who gave you a confirming nod, and you sighed, "He might not be able to find it."

"Why not?" Bo asked, twirling his pocket knife in his hand.

You reached over to trace the scratches in the wood of the desk, your fingers coming dangerously close to one of the pocket knifes lying there. You slowly lifted your gaze up to Bo, eyes dark.

"It's sinking in the damn swamp somewhere."

There was a long drawn out silence, before Bo laughed so hard his head lolled back. The man behind you...Lester, began to laugh as well, but tried to be a bit more polite about it. If you hadn't been extremely annoyed, you might've noticed that Bo's laugh was very endearing.

"Ah shit," Bo coughed and snickered at you. "Is that why you're drippin' all over my floor?"

You narrowed your eyes, and grumpily leaned onto the desk.

"Look, can you just give us a ride into town please?"

Bo continued to calculatingly stare at you, as if weighing his options.

"I mean, my services ain't free, darlin'."

Normally, you might've been lured in by that southern drawl, as Bo had intended, but you glanced over at your sister. She was tired, hungry, and most likely had blisters on her feet just as bad as your own. The anger on your face melted into concern, and Bo noticed. The two of you shared a look, and you could see the moment that Bo had made up his mind.

With a deep sigh he stood up, and grabbed the car keys on the desk. "Come on then, I ain't got all day."

As he walked out of the building, you grabbed one of the pocket knives on the desk and stuffed it into your pocket...just in case, and then followed him out.

He surprised you by opening the passenger door, waiting for you to get in.

"Didn't realize you were such a gentlemen."

He smirked at you, about to reply when your sister cut in, "I want to sit in the back!"

She was already in the truck bed next to Lester before you could so much as roll your eyes. After you and Bo got into the truck yourselves, he started it up and began driving into town.

"So, what brings ya all the way down here to Ambrose?"

You shrugged, "Just a road trip, we were passing through."

"Yeah, most people do. There ain't much to see down here, 'sides a buncha mosquitos," Bo hummed. "And a wax museum...but it's kinda an eyesore. Definitely overrated."

You hummed in reply

"Do you even get business out here?" you asked curiously.

"You'd be surprised how many people run outta gas, or blow out a tire," Bo glanced at you with a smirk. "Although, I ain't had many people drive straight into the water before. Most people tend to stay on the road, yknow?"

"Fuck you."

Bo's laugh was hearty, and a bit wheezy. You tried to ignore the flip flops your stomach did at hearing it, but a smile still managed to reach your lips.

You stared at the scenery for a while, thinking about all the things you'd have to sort out once you got into town. You'd definitely need some new clothes, and a shower...you were sure you'd begun to smell pretty awful.

"Sorry for getting your truck all gross," you gestured to your damp and sweaty clothes.

"Nah, don't worry 'bout it. Lester stunk it up long 'fore you got here."

You huffed out a small laugh, catching the way his lip curled when he grinned. You relished in the warm feeling in your stomach upon seeing it, until you glanced out the window and saw that he was pulling into the parking lot of a small restaurant.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm hungry, and I'll bet you and your sister back there are too after all that walkin'," Bo replied, getting out of the truck, walking around to your side to open the door.

"I-"

"You can consider it as your payment for havin' me chauffeur you all over town."

"You drove me ten miles down the road...that's not exactly going all over town," you retorted, folding your arms. "And I don't want to buy you dinner."

Bo just smiled at you, and began to walk into the restaurant, expecting you to follow him. Your sister ran up beside you, droning on about whatever she and Lester had been talking about. Bo stood at the door, holding it open expectantly at you. What were you gonna do? Walk to the nearest hotel? With an angry huff, you shoved past him, sending a scathing look his way. His smirk was smug towards you.

The restaurant was pretty old, but full of people. The food smelled good, at least...and you were hungry.

"Alright, so you grab a tray, and then walk over to that lovely lady behind the counter to tell you what you want-"

"I know how to order," you bit out to Bo, as he leaned away from your ear. He simply smirked at you and then looked back up the menu hanging above the food line.

"Damn, that steak sounds pretty good..."

"Don't you fucking dare," you hissed, earning a glance from your sister. Her eyes flitted between you and Bo, and then she grinned at you. The look you gave her was enough to keep her mouth shut, but her grin spoke paragraphs.

Eventually, the four of you made it through the line. You'd been nervous when Bo ordered, but was relieved when he picked something cheap; reciting it as though he'd done it a thousand times before. You grabbed a cup and swiftly walked over to the drink fountain, filling it with water...since you hadn't had anything to drink in hours. You turned to head to the table you saw Lester and your sister sitting at, only to run straight into Bo and spill water down your already damp front.

"Need me to carry that for ya, sweetheart?" he drawled, eyes lidded.

"No, I've got it," you bit out, rushing away from him as fast as you could.

Sitting down, you picked at your food with your fork. Your stomach felt a bit queasy, just from the entire ordeal you'd been through that day, so you didn't eat much. You focused on sipping your water, instead.

Bo sat down across from you, his legs hitting yours as he stretched them out obnoxiously far. You glared up at him, but he pretended to not notice. When you shoved at his leg, he just smiled at you, and ate a bite of his meal, stretching his legs even farther into your space.

"So, Lester said you had a twin, Bo," your sister said. "Is he as handsome as you?"

Bo snorted, "He wishes."

"Uh...Vince has a...his face 's got a lotta scars," Lester said awkwardly. "He and Bo were conjugated."

"Conjoined, dipshit," Bo barked. "The fucker stole half of the back of my head, and never gave it back."

"He might still be holdin' a grudge, since you got half his face."

Bo turned to Lester, who was failing to hold back a grin, and smacked him upside the head. Lester let out a loud laugh, and you couldn't help but feel a bit amused.

"So, are you the baby brother?" your sister grinned at Lester, who turned red.

"Yeah ma'am, s'pose I am..."

You sipped at your water, making an effort not to guzzle it down.

"Not hungry?" Bo asked, nudging your ankle with his foot.

You looked back down at your food, "Not really...it's been a long day."

Your sister took that as confirmation that she could help herself to it, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. You felt Bo's eyes on you the entire time, but you tried to ignore him.

Lester spoke to your sister, both of them enjoying each other's company and friendly banter. You could hear them, but your mind didn't process anything they said. You simply continued to sip your water, mentally going over what you would need to do once you were a hotel somewhere.

You were abruptly torn from your thoughts when Bo's boot nudged your foot, aggravating the blisters that had already formed there. You winced and irritatingly looked up at Bo, only to find him leaning back and looking over at Lester. Rolling your eyes you looked away, glancing over at the desserts in the corner. Your eye twitched when you felt his boot touch your foot again, a bit more strongly than before. It wasn't until the fourth time he did it that you finally snapped your head over to glare at him, only to have him get up from the table and walk off. You slumped in your seat grumpily, running your finger along the rim of your cup of water.

You blinked when a piece of pie was set down in front of you.

"Ooh thanks!" your sister exclaimed, when Bo set another piece down in front of her.

You stared at Bo as he sat back down across from you, with his own piece.

"Come on now, don't tell me you ain't got room for dessert, at least?" Bo incredulously remarked, biting into his own.

You huffed, "Not when I'm the one paying for it..."

Bo snorted, "Come on, just eat it 'fore it gets dust on it. If you don't like it, you can have mine."

Sighing, you took a bite of your piece, and found it much more enjoyable than you'd expected.

"Good, ain't it?" Bo smirked, and you resisted the urge to flip him off.

You watched tiredly as your sister devoured her own piece, telling Lester about the gator they'd seen out their window earlier that day. It hadn't been that impressive...a tiny little thing, really, but Lester seemed entranced by the conversation nonetheless. You smiled at a joke he made, when you heard a clinking noise from in front of you. Glancing down, your eyes widened at the sight of Bo quickly snatching his fork, which had snagged a large chunk of your pie, back and shoving it into his mouth.

"Hey!"

"You were lettin' get all nasty!" he defended himself, laughing and wincing as you kicked at his legs.

Your sister was snickering at the two of you, when Bo's phone starting buzzing. He pulled it out, and answered it with a sigh.

"Yeah? No we're fine, we'll be home in a little while," he said. "Yeah sorry...forgot to tell you. Okay, bye."

Bo hung up, and then stood, "Guess we'll have to get a move on. I forgot it's movie night."

"Oh yeah!" Lester exclaimed. "Vince is probably so mad..."

"He'll live," Bo rolled his eyes, heading towards the door.

"Wait...aren't I supposed to pay?" you frowned, confused.

Bo smirked, "Nah, I already paid. Come on."

Your mouth hung open as he walked off, and you couldn't tell if you were relieved or infuriated. Deciding it was the latter, you stormed up to him as he pulled open the door of his truck to let you in. Getting up in his face, you hissed, "You did that all on purpose, you jackass!"

"Sure did," he winked. "What're you gonna do?"

You just huffed at him and crawled into your seat, glaring at him as he shut the door and began to walk to his side. Suddenly struck with an evil idea, you leaned over and locked his door. The smirk on his face fell, and he stared at you through the window.

"The hell are you doin'?"

You flipped him off, earning a fiery glare in response.

"Open the damn door!" he demanded, before sending you a confused smile. "This is my truck!"

You just casually sat on your side, seeing your sister and Lester watch everything unfold from the back window, and smirked at him.

He tugged harshly on the door handle, jiggling it as if that would magically unlock it, "If you don't open this door, I'm gonna call the cops!"

You rolled your eyes, "You've got keys dumbass."

Bo froze, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys. You could hear Lester howl in laughter, and Bo yelling at him to shut up. He practically slammed the door shut behind him as he got in, turning to give you a scathing glare.

"...Where to, sweetheart?" he bit out lowly, his eyes burning.

"Hotel please," you replied with a smile.

He started the engine and then began the short drive into town, sending you angry glances every so often.

"Don't be like that," you grinned. "I was just getting even."

He just fumed in embarrassed silence, his grip on the steering wheel white-knuckled. You frowned, realizing he'd gotten much angrier than you'd expected.

"I'm sorry, I was just messing with you," you sighed. "Thanks for giving my sister and I a ride...you didn't have to."

He grunted in affirmation, his grip loosening a bit.

"And for putting up with how bad I must smell."

At that, Bo let out a soft laugh, "Nah, I've smelled worse, trust me."

The rest of the car ride was comfortably silent, with the two of you occasionally making eye contact with each other. Soon, a hotel came into view, and you tried to ignore the feeling of disappointment in your chest. It only grew heavier as he pulled into the parking lot there.

"Well, here ya are," he said, not looking at you.

"Thank you," you assured him, opening the door to get out.

You paused, reaching into your pocket to pull out the knife, and held it out to him.

"Is that...did you snag one of my knives?" he asked with a laugh, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Yeah..." you mumbled. "Sorry I just..."

"You're smarter than I thought. You keep it," he chuckled, a glimmer of admiration in his eyes, and shoved it back towards you. "Somethin' to remember me by. Besides, you know where I'm at if you ever wanna look at this handsome face again."

The heaviness in your stomach lifted at that realization, and you smiled at him. Leaning over, you gave him a kiss on the cheek, to which he stiffened and stared at you in surprise.

"I'll see you around, Bo," you said, getting out of the truck.

He nodded, beet red and adjusting the collar of his shirt, while Lester climbed into the passenger seat.

"Y'all be safe," Lester said with a smile.

You and your sister waved at them as they drove off, a bit sad when they finally disappeared down the road.

Your sister nudged you in the side, "You're welcome."

"For what?"

"Wrecking the car," she grinned. "If it weren't for me, you would never have met Mr. Handsome."

You kicked at her shins, "Shut up."

"We're goin' to see them again tomorrow, right?"

"Of course."

#bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #slashers #slasher #weird plot #idfk #my dream plot was even weirder so just go with it #this is an alternate universe where Bo isn't a murderer ok #bo x reader

93 notes · View notes

oboevallis · 3 years

Note

Sooo I was re reading hungry part 2 and I saw the part where you wrote about link making Amelia walk around Home Good and Lowe’s while she was heavily pregnant and I was wondering if you could write a fic about that? Hope your staying safe!

rocking chair

thanks so much for the prompt, i had a lot of fun writing this i hope everyone’s doing well and staying safe!

“Hey babe.” Link whispered as he shook his girlfriends shoulder, trying to lull her out of sleep.

“Leave me alone.” She grumbled into the pillow, turning away from him. He chuckled at her grumpiness, shaking her again. “Geez, what do you want?” She snapped.

“We’ve gotta go shopping for the apartment.” They had recently moved into an apartment together, before their son arrived. He was expected to come in 3 weeks and Link wanted to get everything in order while all Amelia wanted to do at this point was curl up into a ball until the baby came.

“Nooooooooo.” She whined turning around to face him.

“We have to. The baby can’t come home to an empty apartment.” Link chuckled at his girlfriends sleepiness.

“We have furniture, and we have baby things, why can’t we just order the other stuff online?”

“First off we’ve waited too long to do this, so stuff won’t get her in time, and secondly you can’t rely on the internet you have to go and see the stuff, and there are DIY projects I want to do. We’ve gotta make this place homey.”

“Hell no Link. I’m not going to walk around the store with you so you can get stuff for projects you’ll never do.”

“Come on babe, it’ll be so much fun. And we can get you a soft pretzel on the way to the store.” Amelia perked up at the mention of a pretzel. After some time Amelia reluctantly agreed to the excursion.

_______________________________________

“Ready babe?” Link asked as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Can’t I wait in the car?”

“Come on it’ll be fun.” Amelia rolled her eyes and begrudgingly got out of the car. She held onto her boyfriends arm and leaned against his shoulder, they had just begun and she was already tired.

“What do we need?” She wanted to try and make this excursion as quick as they could, so she wanted to assure she kept him on task.

“I’ve gotta make two key copies, paint for the baby’s room, some tile backsplash for the kitchen, some lightbulbs and a new light fixture for the living room.” The neurosurgeon sighed, she could tell the was going to be a long trip.

“After this can we get a pretzel.”

“I promised didn’t I?” Link chuckled absentmindedly, as he compared paint swatches. “So we decided on light green for the nursery right? Which on do you like better?”

“I don’t care whatever you want.”

“Alright.” Link sighed, staring to realize his girlfriend was going to be of no help. “This one then.”

“No that’s the wrong one.” The neurosurgeon dramatically sighed, picking up the paint swatch she thought would be best in the room.

“I thought you didn’t care?”

“That was when I thought you were gonna make the right choice.” Her boyfriend chuckled wrapping his arm around her.

“Come on this is so much fun isn’t it?” Link asked as they walked through the tile isle, he took out his phone to look at the pictures he took of the kitchen to try and see what would look best in their kitchen.

“No, my feet are swollen, I’m hungry, and I want to take a nap.”

“I promise we’ll get pretzels after this.” He smiled charmingly.

_______________________________________

“Link why do we have to do this?” Amelia complained as she trailed behind her boyfriend in Home Goods. “We have a couch, bed, crib, and changing table at home already this is unnecessary.”

“We’ve got to make it homey, babe.” Link wrapped his arm around her, trying to help her keep up the pace.

“I like our cold cave.”

“See wouldn’t this mirror look cute in the entryway?” Link asked pointing to one on a shelf.

“I don’t care, whatever you want.”

“Come on, lighten up. We’ve gotta make the apartment our home, it’s gotta have a little something.”

“I’ll lighten up once this bowling ball is out of me.” Amelia bit back, starting to lose her patience. Link kept grazing down the aisles, his girlfriend trudging along. “Can’t we sit down?”

“We’re almost done.” He got distracted with another item. The tired neurosurgeon sighed and walked away from him, and towards the front of the store where a bench was. She carefully lowered herself down onto the bench and sighed, she was tempted to fake contractions but she knew Link would take her to the hospital, as she was plotting in excuse an older woman then sat down next to her.

“Your husband drag you here?” The woman asked whilst smiling.

“Yeah.” Amelia chuckled, not bothering to correct the woman that it was her boyfriend.

“My husband drags me here all the time. Any home improvement store for that matter, it’s keen like this our whole marriage. Never made me when I was pregnant though, I would’ve killed him if he did that.” Amelia chuckled, as much as she loved her boyfriend she was at her wits ends with his restlessness. “With the first baby they have all this nervous energy, that they don’t know what to do with, so they do home improvement projects.” Amelia winced at the assumption that this was her first baby. “Our first, she’s 25 now, God that’s crazy to say, but he made this rocking chair himself. I remember we had this big fight, I can’t even remember what about, but I told him to get out. So he went out the front door and I cried and cried thinking he’d actually left, but in actuality he was out back in his shed building that chair. Throughout the years he’s made amazing things for our home but that’s by far my favorite.”

“That’s sweet.” Amelia smiled melting a little bit at the sweet story.

“I lied to you.” The woman said, Amelia crooked her eyebrow; confused. “My husbands dead, I just come here to feel him.”

“I’m so sorry.” Amelia sobered up a bit.

“It’s okay, he died of what the doctors said was something called a brain aneurysm. When the doctors tried to explain it they used all these fancy terms. I think that’s what upset me the most, they could see I was distraught but didn’t even dumb it for me. He was completely healthy, the day before he was at the doctors clean bill of health, how could they of not caught it? For how smart they acted, I couldn’t believe they missed it.”

“Their hard to detect, a lot of the time there are no symptoms, until it’s too late.”

“Oh, are you a doctor? I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“No offense taken, I get it. As interns we’re taught a list of bullet points, and they give you all that crap about being sensitive but that doesn’t resonate with a lot of people, until they’ve lost someone they love.”

“Would you mind explaining to me what a brain aneurysm is?”

“Of course.” Amelia nodded turning to face her a bit better. “There are blood vessels in your brain, and if one of them gets weak, it then kinda acts like a balloon and fills up until it bursts.” The woman simply nodded, indicating she understood, starting to understand better.

“What kind of doctor are you?”

“I’m a neurosurgeon.”

“So you see those all the time?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Are they ever detected early?”

“It depends. Sadly in most cases it’s too late and the aneurysm bursts, sometimes if it starts leaking you can clip it and fix the issue.”

“Thank you.” The woman nodded, shooting her a sad smile. “May I ask why you became a doctor?”

“Well all my siblings are doctors, so I guess it never really occurred to me to do something else, but I think we’re all doctors because our dad died when we were younger, in some way thinking we could change what happened I guess.”

“It helps when you start to accept the things you can’t change.” Amelia immediately noticed the phrase, it was from the serenity prayer.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking but are you in A.A?”

“I am, I haven’t been in awhile. I know it’s not the best to be in a relationship with another alcoholic but I think we kept each other in check, and were sober for each other.”

“Im in AA too.” Amelia smiled, watching the woman relax a bit. “If you want to we can go together.”

“You know, I’d very much enjoy that. I really should be going, the want to drink has been lurching over me since his death. Thank you.”

“Of course.” Amelia smiled as she took out a pen and piece of paper from her bag to write her number on and handed it to the woman.

“Thank you dear.”

“Sorry about that babe, you ready?” Link asked his girlfriend as he spotted her on the bench.

“Yeah.” Amelia nodded slowly standing up. “I’m sorry I don’t think I caught your name.”

“Louise. And yours?”

“Amelia. It was really nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, I’ll send you a text message later dear.” Amelia nodded and walked out of the store with her boyfriend.

“Who was that?”

“My friend.” Amelia smiled to herself. “I’m sorry for being cranky earlier.”

“No I’m the one that’s sorry. I dragged you to a bunch of different stores and we still haven’t got you that pretzel.” Link chuckled as he placed the bags into the trunk and closed it. “And your 8 months pregnant and exhausted.”

“No it’s okay.” Amelia smiled once he got into the drivers side and buckled his seatbelt. “What were you planning on building for the baby?”

“Well I know your tired so I’m gonna get you that pretzel and drop you off at home, but I’m probably go to ikea and get a rocking chair.” Amelia perked up to this and smiled.

“No don’t go to ikea, you should build it.”

“Well yeah, they give you all the parts there.”

“No you should build it from scratch.”

“What happened to the online shopping Amelia?”

“Come on wouldn’t it be really sweet?”

“I haven’t really built anything like that since high school wood shop, but I guess I can figure it out.” Link smiled, happy Amelia was starting to appreciate the DIY side of him. “You know what I think I will.”

“Thank you.” Amelia smiled, relaxing into the seat. “I have the best boyfriend ever.”

“And I have the best girlfriend ever.”

“That’s correct.” Amelia smirked.

#amelia shepherd #amelink #atticus lincoln #baby amelink #greys anatomy #greysanatomy #greys fanfic #greys anatomy fanfic #scout lincoln

21 notes · View notes

daringyounggrayson · 4 years

Link

Here’s part 1 for the fic I wrote for @batfam-big-bang!! Thank you so much to my amazing betas @huilian, @tintinnabulation-of-the-bells and @yellow-warbler and my incredibly talented artists @annasartverse, @noroomforcream, and @zeribip <3

Summary: The double homicide at Haly’s Circus is not Bruce’s first case involving a child, and while there’s no overt indication that Bruce should react differently to this case, he supposes that his previous cases did not involve the witness known as Dick Grayson. On the surface, the Grayson case seems like any other gang case, but the more time Bruce spends with the boy, the more he begins to doubt his own instincts.

Part 1

It starts the way most of these things do: with screaming. Or, Bruce supposes, it doesn’t really start there so much as that’s when people start to pay attention.

The crowd watches in awe as two trapeze performers swing downward, but something must be wrong, because the third performer remains on the platform and starts screaming. When the performers’ bodies reach the ground, when it’s clear that the lines have snapped, the rest of the crowd joins his shock—some screaming, some gasping, others unable to make any noise at all. The youngest performer doesn’t react to the crowd at all, too engulfed in his own nightmare. When Bruce sees him scrambling down the ladder, Bruce runs toward the center ring, planning to cut him off before he can get too close to the bodies.

The ringmaster, Haly, gets to the boy before Bruce can. He holds him tightly in his arms, and while the boy doesn’t fight the hold, he doesn’t stop screaming either. It’s a scream that Bruce will never be able to forget, one that tells the world that there’s nothing anyone can do or say to bring this child comfort.

Bruce calls 911, asking for an ambulance and the police. He’s sure he’s not the only one who calls, but he needs to do something. He needs to intervene.

Unable to take any further action, Bruce resigns himself to glancing between the fallen Flying Graysons and their son, who has fallen in a different way. To an outsider, Bruce looks like any other shocked bystander, but in reality, he’s in full detective mode, filing away every mundane detail. He pays special attention to the survivor, the child, and while he can’t hear much of what the boy is saying between gasping sobs, two things rise above the noise: “It wasn’t an accident!” and “Are my parents okay?”

oOo

A family of three walks into the big top, but none of them walk out. Two are carried out on stretchers, in body bags, and the third, a young boy, is carried out of the big top by a stranger and placed in the back of a squad car.

(Bruce has heard a similar version before: A family of three walks into an alley, but none of them walk out. Two are carried out on stretchers, in body bags, and the third, a young boy, is carried out of the alley by a stranger and placed in the back of a squad car.)

oOo

Bruce has only been Batman for a year, but he’s gained enough experience to be able to look at the Grayson case and suspect gang activity on instinct. Not know that there’s gang activity, he reminds himself, but strongly suspect.

A few hours after the suspected homicide, the crowd has dispersed and the police are gone. It’s at this point that Bruce returns to the fairgrounds as Batman, ready to talk to Haly. He only had an hour to do preliminary research in the cave before leaving again, but in that time, he learned that Haly’s Circus has never had a (reported) run-in with a gang—something almost unheard of in Gotham, especially for a business that has been coming to Gotham for as long as Haly’s has. Bruce reasons that there are two probable explanations: Haly has been incredibly lucky or, perhaps more likely, he has an agreement with a local gang. Either way, something went wrong this year.

The circus is eerily quiet. Everyone is in their trailers with the lights out, leaving the place seemingly deserted and devoid of life. As Bruce walks through the rows of trailers, he can almost sense the grief pouring out of each one. There is no doubt that the Grayson family was widely and greatly loved.

Bruce picks the surprisingly difficult lock on Haly’s trailer and slips inside. He’s barely taken two steps before the lights come to life, revealing Haly, who, despite his pajamas, is aiming a bat at Bruce as if he had been waiting for an intruder.

Bruce instinctively falls into a defensive stance, but before he can voice his assurances that he’s only here to help, to ask a few questions, Haly is relaxing.

Haly lowers the bat and leans against the wall. “Oh, it’s just you,” he breathes, relief evident in his voice.

This is a reaction Bruce has never gotten before as Batman, and this relief at his presence is especially odd considering half of Gotham is still debating if The Batman even exists.

“Who were you expecting?” Bruce asks.

“No one,” Haly says all too quickly. “But as I’m sure you’ve heard, there was an, uh,” he rubs his hand across his chin, “an accident here earlier today. Everyone’s a bit on edge.”

Bruce nods. “That’s why I’m here. I wanted to ask you a few questions.”

“I don’t know whether to be honored or offended on behalf of Gotham that the legendary Batman wants to investigate a freak circus accident,” Haly says, but there’s a subtle shake to his voice that tells Bruce Haly knows this wasn’t an accident.

“Is that what the GCPD told you? That this was an accident?” Bruce presses. Haly’s still holding onto the bat, and even though Bruce knows he can take Haly out in a matter of seconds, he’d really rather not deal with a swinging bat in such a confined space. He’s already had an exhausting day.

Haly shrugs. “What else could it have been? Everyone saw what happened, even—” he takes a breath, and Bruce takes in the accompanying red nose and damp eyes. The man doesn’t cry, though, not in front of Bruce. And it’s not an act; no matter his potential involvement, what happened tonight wasn’t something Haly wanted to happen. “Even Dick, their boy.” There’s a pause as Haly collects himself. “Unless you think an eight-year-old broke the wires?”

“I don’t think anything,” Bruce lies easily, coolly. “But if you’re trying to say that you gave your star act faulty equipment, or that all three professional performers failed to check the lines, then that would be an interesting explanation.”

Haly points his finger at him, sharp and fast. “No one here was responsible for this, got that? I think it’s best to just lay low for a while and let the police handle this. We’ll be moved on soon enough and we can put this behind us.”

“And the child?” Bruce asks, stepping closer to Haly with each word. “There’s a strong chance that someone tried to take out all of the Graysons tonight. I know you’re not a local, but do you really think the police will be able to protect him?”

Haly pales and curls in on himself, but he doesn’t speak.

Bruce meets Haly’s eyes and stares him down, trying to emulate one of Alfred’s powerful stares. “If the police want to say this is an accident, there’s a good chance one of them is involved or willing to cover for the people responsible. If that’s the case, you need to tell me everything you know, or Richard Grayson might not be here next week.”

Haly swallows, cracking. “You wouldn’t let them—” he stops, swallowing once. “You’ll make sure he’s safe, won’t you?”

“It’s what I do. But you have to tell me what to look for,” Bruce insists.

Haly glances at the door, then back at Bruce. “When we were setting up—this was a few days ago—these three guys came in. They were going on about protection money.”

oOo

“Commissioner.”

Gordon spins around, hand on his chest, “Christ.”

Bruce resists the urge to smile and instead nods at the file Gordon’s holding. “Is that the Grayson case?”

Gordon runs a hand through his hair, nodding. “I take it you already know the basics?”

Bruce nods and takes the proffered file, flipping through it. It’s thin, only containing a few statements. One, arguably the most important one, is from the surviving Grayson, their key witness.

“My guys want to close and write it off as an accident,” Gordon explains. “The kid here, though, he has another theory.”

Bruce notes the names of the two lead detectives and grimaces—they’re not exactly known for working with gangs, but when a case reeks of gang activity, these two aren’t above accepting bribes. A quick read through Richard’s statement combined with Haly’s earlier testimony confirms his suspicions: this is a gang case, and hush money is definitely on the table.

He flips through a few other papers until he finds Haly’s statement. Unsurprisingly, he told the police that there was nothing suspicious before tonight.

“You should know that the kid’s statement was most likely edited,” Gordon says, and Bruce grunts in agreement; he’s already assumed the same. “He probably knows more—probably said more—than what’s in there.”

“Do you know if he gave names?” Bruce asks, closing the file and placing it back in Gordon’s waiting hand.

Gordon sighs and scratches his head, tucking the file back in his overcoat. “I just got in an hour ago, so I wasn’t able to speak to him. I’ll try to find the tape, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s already been tampered with.”

“Hnn.” Of course it has. With their luck, it’s long gone. “I met with Haly earlier. Four days ago, the Zucco brothers paid him a visit. They wanted protection money.”

“Zucco?” Gordon repeats. “Huh. I guess Haly didn’t take him seriously, didn’t even bother to report it. Did Haly tell you anything else?”

“Nothing useful,” Bruce tells him. “He seemed on edge, though, almost like he was expecting someone to come after him. He could’ve been expecting Zucco, but if your detectives convinced him not to say anything, he might have been worried about them too.”

“What do you think?”

Bruce isn’t overly committed to either theory. If anything, his instincts tell him that he’s missing something, that Haly wasn’t telling him the whole story. “I need more time to investigate, but in the meantime, someone should watch Haly.”

“Any chance Haly was involved?” Gordon asks, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

“Unlikely,” Bruce says. He’d considered it, but after speaking with Haly, it seems like a dead end. “Since he’s keeping quiet, I’m not overly concerned about his safety, but there’s a chance he’ll contact Zucco.”

Gordon tightens his eyebrows. “What did he tell you?”

“Nothing. But he was nervous. If he thinks Zucco will target him again, I could see him agreeing to pay the protection fees.”

“Sure.” Gordon exhales a puff of smoke, thinking. “I didn’t think they’d stay open after tonight.”

“They won’t be putting on any more performances, but they’re staying in town for the funeral. And I doubt Zucco will have a problem collecting from financially insecure people.”

“No, no he will not.” Gordon sighs again, takes another drag off his cigarette.

“The boy will need protection. There’s a good chance Zucco was hoping to take out all three of the Graysons, and if they think Richard’s talking …” Bruce trails off.

Gordon nods and rubs his hand over his mouth. “I’m going to see what I can do about getting different detectives on the case, and I’ll be observing it closely either way. I don’t want to draw any attention to Grayson yet, though, so I’ll hold off on getting uniforms to watch him. Unless there’s something else you’re not telling me?”

Bruce shakes his head. “Do you know what they’re doing with him?”

“A social worker picked him up and took him to an emergency placement. They’re trying to get their hands on the parents’ wills, but I’m not sure if they even exist.”

“Is he safe?” Bruce asks, making a note to run a background check on the social worker and the foster family.

“As far as I know,” Gordon tells him, but it’s not a yes. “Are you going to talk to him?”

“I’ll wait until tomorrow. He’s been through enough tonight.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Gordon says, rubbing his hand over his mouth again.

Bruce doesn’t hear what Gordon says next, if anything. They’ve shared all the information they have and Bruce has had more than enough talking for one evening.

oOo

Bruce doesn’t go to work the following morning. Well, he supposes that much isn’t new; lately, he’s been “working from home” in the mornings, only coming in for afternoon meetings. But today, he didn’t even do that much. Instead, he slept fitfully until two in the afternoon, thinking about the case—the boy—during each waking moment. Cases involving children are always difficult, that much will never change.

“Ah, I see you’ve finally decided to grace the world with your presence,” Alfred greets him when Bruce enters the kitchen.

“Sorry,” Bruce murmurs. “Busy night.”

“Yes.” Alfred still doesn’t like Batman, though he’s more accepting of it as of late. “Did you sleep well?”

Alfred knows he didn’t, Bruce can tell by his tone. “Is there any coffee left?”

Alfred moves out of the way and gestures toward the coffee maker, untouched. “How is the child?”

“I haven’t spoken with him yet,” Bruce says, pouring the coffee into a mug. “I’ll do that tonight.”

“I see,” Alfred says, hands braced against the counter. “Is he nocturnal as well then?”

Bruce takes a gulp of coffee. “I’ll be downstairs.”

Alfred gives him a sad look. “This case. From what you said yesterday, it won’t be easy to close, will it?”

Bruce shakes his head. He has a suspect, but the odds are high that the police will choose to protect him instead of the child—at least without forceful intervention. That’s the way things are; it’s a truth that doesn’t get easier to acknowledge.

“You’ll be careful, won’t you?”

Bruce nods, then takes his coffee and disappears into the cave. He intends to keep his promise and be careful, but he doesn’t know how much that means to Alfred. After all, Bruce has come to realize that the two of them have vastly different definitions of the word careful.

oOo

Bruce arrives at Richard Grayson’s foster home a little after one in the morning. The rest of the household appears to be asleep, or at least tucked away in their respective rooms with their lights off. Richard, however, is wide awake and doing handstands of all things. He makes a note to inform Alfred that the boy may be nocturnal after all.

Not wanting to scare the child, Bruce taps gently on the window. The boy lowers himself from the handstand in a fluid, graceful movement. He faces the window, and, when he sees Bruce in his Batman gear, his eyes go a little wide. The brief flash of surprise doesn’t last, and the smile that follows forces Bruce to question if the expression had been surprise at all.

Richard walks to the window, unlocking it and sliding it open.

“I knew you were real,” Richard whispers, moving to the side to let Bruce through. “Liam said you were just an urban legend, but that’s what he said about Superman too. He’s always wrong—the look he’ll have on his face when I tell him!” The smile falls from his face abruptly and his shoulders slump.

Bruce opens his mouth, unsure what he plans to say but hoping something soothing will come out nonetheless. His jaw snaps shut when a shadow appears in the corner of his vision, forcing him to turn back to the window and find its source. It’s useless; he finds nothing but darkness.

He’d felt eyes watching him when he’d surveyed the house earlier, but Bruce hadn’t been able to find anything—anyone—then either.

He closes the window and turns back to Richard, who is swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Are you going to find the guy who killed my parents?”

“I’m trying to, Richard,” Bruce tells him, promises him. “I was hoping you could help me. Do you think you could do that?” Bruce has been Batman long enough to be able to pick out the kids who will be able to tell him something useful, and Richard is definitely one of them.

Richard nods, saying, “I know who did it.”

Bruce crouches down to Richard’s eye level. “Who?”

“Tony Zucco,” Richard says, scowling.

“Can you tell me how you know?”

Richard nods again, hands curling into fists. “He showed up the other day with a few other guys and they were talking to Haly, the circus owner. They said they could protect him and the circus if he gave them money, but I knew they didn’t actually care about keeping any of us safe, they were just threatening us.”

“Did you hear this yourself?” Bruce asks. This was the same story Haly told him, and while he believes the man, it never hurts to have multiple, independent sources.

“Uh-huh. I was on a break and saw them come in. Haly told me to leave when they asked to talk to him, but they looked creepy so I hid and spied on them,” Richard tells him. “And it’s a good thing I did, because when Haly said he wasn’t going to pay them, they started breaking stuff so I ran and got help.”

“That was very brave of you,” Bruce says. “And smart, too.” He hates to think about what might have happened if Richard had jumped in and tried to stop them on his own. “Do you remember who came to help?”

“Two of the roustabouts, Mr. Le and Mr. Hoffman,” Richard says.

Bruce makes a note to check up on them; if Zucco’s still unsatisfied, he might go after them for further revenge.

“I saw other stuff, too,” Richard says in a small voice. He’s biting his lip now, nervous.

“What did you see?”

“Last night, before the show,” Richard starts, talking faster than before and twisting his shirt, “I saw someone I didn’t recognize messing with the trapeze rig. I tried to tell someone, honest, but no one would listen! My parents kept saying it was just one of the other workers and that I was just nervous because it was opening night. But I wasn’t! I never get nervous,” Richard explains quickly. “We checked the ropes like we do before every show, and they seemed fine. I thought everything would be okay, but I guess whatever they did needed a certain amount of time to work, or a certain amount of weight.

“I really didn’t know,” Richard insists again, desperately, tears welling up in his eyes. “I wouldn’t have let them go if I thought they’d get hurt. I didn’t know.”

Before he can think, Bruce is pulling the child into a tight hug. Richard cries into his shoulder for a long time while Bruce whispers “it’s alright” and “this wasn’t your fault” over and over and over again until the boy calms down.

“I’m going to do everything I can to bring Zucco to justice. You have my word.”

Richard sniffs, finally pulling away only to shake his head in disagreement. He wipes his eyes, saying, “The police wouldn’t listen to me. They called me a liar.”

This has happened before, but Bruce still doesn’t know how to explain to children that the police are corrupt and don’t always care about helping people, especially when they think there might be a financial incentive waiting for them. “Did you tell them what you just told me?”

“Pretty much. But they kept saying I was exaggerating and wanted to know why I performed if I knew the ropes were going to snap, but I didn’t know!”

“I know, I know.” Bruce runs his hand through Richard’s hair, shushing him before he can work himself up again. “They shouldn’t have said that to you; it wasn’t true. Sometimes the police can’t see things, and sometimes they don’t want to.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Richard looks at him with these big, desperate eyes, and they force the truth right out of Bruce’s mouth. “Zucco is a gang leader, and some of the police officers cover for them.”

“Are they gang members too?” Richard asks.

Bruce shakes his head. “But some of them get paid by the gangs to cover things up.”

“Is that why you became Batman?” Richard asks. “Because all of these cops are corrupt?”

“Yes.” That’s part of it.

“But you can help me?” Richard asks.

“I’ve been able to help a lot of people who were in situations similar to yours,” Bruce tells him instead, because he’s been Batman long enough to know he can’t make promises. He’s spoken to Richard long enough to know that he doesn’t want to—can’t bear to—make a promise he might not be able to keep.

oOo

Bruce had ended their conversation by asking Richard about the Stuarts, his foster family, and whether or not he felt safe with them. Richard had assured him that he was okay, but he just shrugged when Bruce tried to press for details; the boy was clearly homesick, not that he was willing to admit that.

Before leaving through the window, Bruce had scribbled Gordon’s number on a slip of paper, telling Richard that Commissioner Gordon was one of the few members of the GCPD that could be trusted. He told Richard to call that number if he felt unsafe or if he wanted to talk to Batman again, and Richard promised he would. When prompted, he also promised to be careful.

Bruce hadn’t considered that he and Richard might have different definitions of careful until five nights later when he sees the boy running around Gotham in the middle of the night.

Bruce swoops down in front of the eight-year-old, trying to hide the rage and fear pulsing through him. Richard should be a few streets over, asleep in his bed, not roaming around the streets where someone could hurt him.

Richard doesn’t scream like any other child would, doesn’t even jump. Instead, he’s quiet and calm as he takes in The Batman. And then, of all things, he smiles.

Bruce doesn’t smile back. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“Probably,” Richard agrees lightly, rocking back and forth on his heels. Something about him feels different from the last time they spoke, but Bruce can’t put his finger on it. “Uh, I promise not to tell if you don’t?”

Bruce refuses to give in to the smile that tugs at his lips. “I’ll make you a deal: let me take you home without arguing and we won’t tell the Stuarts.” Richard is a first-time offender after all.

Richard takes a step back, expression twitching into a scowl. His whole body tenses up and he curls his hands into fists. “The Stuarts’ house isn’t my home,” he says coldly. “And I don’t have to go anywhere with you.”

“No, you don’t,” Bruce agrees, blinking at the sharp change in tone and how this eight-year-old child looks like he’s willing to fight The Batman. “And I understand that that place doesn’t feel like home, but you’re safe there, and I’m sure the Stuarts will be worried when they find you missing.”

Richard scoffs. “They don’t care about me.”

“Did they hurt you?” Bruce asks, growls, on impulse. He’d done a background check; they seemed like good people. But maybe he’d missed something, maybe he’d—

“No. They’ve been nice, I guess,” Richard says, and it sounds honest. “It’s just, I don’t know—” Richard sighs, shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t want to go back, and I don’t need them, any of them. I can take care of myself.”

Bruce notices the drawstring bag on Richard’s back for the first time. An image of Richard at the funeral two days ago flashes through his mind. He was arguing with several people—Haly, the Stuarts, and someone else he didn’t know—and they kept telling him no. He’d been upset, near tears and desperate, but he’d clammed up when Bruce walked over to ask what was wrong. Bruce didn’t need to be a detective to piece together that Richard wanted to go back to the circus with Haly, not back to his foster home with the Stuarts.

Bruce looks at the current Richard in front of him, taking in the dark circles under his eyes. Those had been there two days ago too, but they’ve only grown darker. Homesickness and grief are probably making it difficult to sleep, and each time Bruce has seen the boy, he’s looked more exhausted than the last. Someone should be taking care of him, making sure he’s sleeping and helping him—sitting with him—if he can’t. Someone should be making sure he doesn’t run off in the middle of the night.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” Richard tells him, pulling on the bag’s straps.

Bruce glares at Richard, and Richard glares back. Eventually, though, he wilts and pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket, handing it to Bruce.

“I was going home,” Richard says quietly, sounding more like the boy he met five nights ago. “The social worker and the foster people told me I couldn’t go back; they wouldn’t even let me call anyone from the circus. But they’re my family, and I need to get to them before they leave town in the morning.”

Bruce looks at the piece of paper: a printout of a map with directions to the fairgrounds. “I’m sorry that you’re being separated from them; it’s not fair. But we need to keep you safe, and sending you back wouldn’t be safe right now.” Not to mention that Haly would be charged with kidnapping.

“You said you would help me!” Richard screams, snatching his map back. “You promised! But instead of looking for Zucco, you’re keeping me from my family.”

Bruce kneels, grabbing Richard’s shoulders gently. “Richard, I promise I’m going to help you. This case is my top priority, and I am looking for Zucco, but your safety is more important.”

“No, it’s not,” Richard protests, fighting Bruce’s hold.

“Yes, it is,” Bruce insists.

“I just want to go home.”

Everything about this situation is heartbreaking, and Bruce wants nothing more than to give in, but he can’t, there’s too much—

A dog barks close by, causing Bruce and Richard to turn their heads. Bruce’s instincts tell him to look up, but he sees nothing. Still, something deep inside him screams that they’re being watched.

He needs to get Richard out of here.

He looks back at Richard, squeezing his arms gently to provide some semblance of comfort. “You can’t stay at the circus. I’m sorry. But if I take you there to say goodbye, will you let me take you back to the Stuarts?”

Richard nods, sniffing once. He hands the map back to Bruce.

Bruce stands and puts his hand on Richard’s back, using his free hand to press a button on his belt to call the car. It arrives and the two climb into the car in silence.

The whole drive, Bruce can’t shake the feeling that they’re being followed.

oOo

Richard keeps his end of the deal, and after a tearful goodbye with several of the circus performers, the two leave. Haly seemed nervous when the two of them showed up, and he asked why they were there several times. Richard’s reaction confirmed that this was out of character for Haly; Bruce files that observation away for later investigation.

“Thank you,” Richard says softly when they stop in front of the Stuarts’ house. “I’m still mad at you for making me come back, but I’m glad I got to see everyone one last time.”

Bruce wants to tell him that it won’t be the last time, but he doesn’t know that for sure. He doesn’t want to make promises he can’t keep.

“I’m sorry I can’t do more.”

“S’okay.” Richard rubs at his eyes. “Are you … are you going to tell Mr. and Mrs. Stuart I ran off?”

Bruce shakes his head.

“Good. I don’t think they’d be happy,” Richard says. “I should probably go in now, huh?”

“I’ll see to it that you are given updates on the case as things progress,” Bruce says.

“Oh. Thanks.”

Richard slides out of the car, waving at Bruce before he climbs up a tree and back into the house through the window. Bruce would wave back, but the kid wouldn’t be able to see him through the tinted windows. Instead, he drives off, pulling up the tracker he placed on Richard’s shoe to make sure he stays in the house.

He stops a few blocks over, parking the car in an alley. He walks back to the Stuarts’ house, and when he gets close, he feels those eyes on him again.

Something rustles in the distance and Bruce turns abruptly, unsurprisingly finding no one. Then he sees it: a shadow, ducking down in the distance. Bruce gets out his grapple gun and uses it to get to the nearest roof. The whisper of motion appears again, and again he runs toward it. He follows the barely-there clues that tell him the person he’s following is real, but said person stays just far enough away to remain unidentifiable.

Five minutes later, the trail is cold. He feels alone for the first time since finding Richard that night, and when he goes back to the house, the presence is still gone. In its place on the Stuarts’ roof, he finds a single, dark feather.

oOo

Bruce’s mind isn’t quiet by default. He meditates regularly to help with the constant noise, but there are still days when his thoughts hold him captive inside his own head and he’s unable to focus on anything else. Today, like most days as of late, those thoughts are about Richard Grayson. What he’s been through, if he’s safe, and, most importantly, who the hell is stalking him.

His initial theory was Zucco—or rather, someone working for Zucco. That would make the most sense in the context of this case, but Bruce wasn’t able to find them. Not a trace. He’s seen Zucco’s work before; it’s not this clean.

Unable to stop the stalking, his next best option is damage control. That would mean ensuring that Richard is in a safe, secure environment—the opposite of his current situation. Richard’s been able to sneak out of the house on multiple occasions without his foster family noticing, and Bruce doesn’t trust the system to keep his location secure. If Zucco wanted to find him, all he would have to do is bribe the right social worker.

The thought pattern goes like this: Richard is in foster care, and while most foster families won’t be able to offer the protection that he needs, Bruce is in a position to offer that protection. The only way to do that, however, is to be involved in foster care.

This led to the following conclusion: Bruce needs to become a foster parent. (At least temporarily.)

It’s a good idea to have a foster license in this line of work, all things considered. Even if he doesn’t end up needing it on this case—because maybe something will be easy for once and he’ll catch Zucco quickly and Richard will be adopted by a nice family far away from Gotham—he might need it in the future. Having one is just a smart move, something he should have taken care of when he started this crusade.

However, there is one potential flaw in his plan: he doesn’t run it by Alfred first. He’s not exactly sure why he chooses to keep his plan to himself. Is he afraid that he might be talked out of it? That Alfred will disapprove? The former is a rarity, and so is the latter in the sense that Alfred’s disapproval has not kept him from making major life decisions in the past (e.g., Batman).

(Of course, he hadn’t told Alfred about Batman in the early stages either. He’d simply informed the man after the fact, when he was already too committed to be dissuaded by one of Alfred’s arguments or disapproving looks. And despite how angry and argumentative and disapproving Alfred had been, it had been too late. Alfred was forced into a position where his permission and approval were not required, one where he could offer nothing but forgiveness. Perhaps by keeping this a secret, Bruce is hoping to obtain a similar result.)

Bruce considers hacking into the Child Protection and Permanency system to grant himself a license, but then he remembers that he has a well-known name and that if Bruce Wayne suddenly has a foster license, one too many people would ask questions. So, he does the legal thing and signs up for online classes.

(He doesn’t think about how it could take months to finish this process or how so much damage could be done—done to Richard—in that time.)

oOo

Bruce checks his phone, internally groaning when the time tells him he’ll have to stay at this party for at least another hour.

He moves through the crowd with practiced ease, smiling to familiar faces as he passes. He walks fast, his speed telling the people around him that he has somewhere to be. And while that’s not actually true, it does decrease the odds of someone pulling him into another painfully dull conversation. His respite won’t last forever, Bruce knows, but this will increase its length a bit.

“Bruce! Oh, I’m so glad you could make it.”

But never by enough.

Bruce turns, forcing a warm smile. “Mrs. Powers, it’s good to see you again.”

She smiles back. “Oh, we’ve known each long enough—Maria, please.”

“Maria,” Bruce corrects himself.

She gives a small nod, then turns to her friend, placing her hand over his chest briefly. “This is Martin, he works in Child Protection and Permanency. I know that area is important to you, so I’ve been hoping to introduce you two all night.”

Bruce reaches out his hand to shake Martin’s. He’s wearing a silver ring with an owl carved into it—Bruce wonders if it’s a family crest, although he doesn’t immediately recognize it. “Hi, Martin, it’s nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” Martin says with a laugh. “And I should thank you for all the financial support you’ve offered this past year. It’s made a real difference.”

“Glad to hear that,” Bruce says.

“Oh, there’s Joseph,” Maria says. She finishes the last of her champagne in one sip and waves at Bruce and Martin. “If you’ll excuse me.”

She’s gone before Bruce can even say goodbye, but that’s something he’s grown used to at these parties.

“So,” Martin says, “Word around the office is that you’re interested in becoming a foster parent.”

Bruce knew it would only be a matter of time before his right to privacy was forgotten and ignored. Still, two weeks is impressive. He hasn’t told Alfred yet, although he knows he’ll need to do so soon. Preferably before his case worker shows up for a home study.

“Yes, I’m still in the early stages, though,” Bruce explains. “Much too early for a public announcement.”

“Of course, of course.” Martin laughs again. “I know it can normally be a long, frustrating process, but I’ll put in a good word for you and see what I can do to speed things up.”

Bruce pauses, trying to find the motive behind Martin’s offer. Martin is far from needing financial assistance from what Bruce has heard, and Bruce is already supporting programs that are run through the department. “That’s very kind of you, but I’d really rather do this without special treatment.” Bruce flashes another smile.

Martin waves him off. “Nonsense. It’s no trouble at all, especially for a friend of Maria.” Bruce wouldn’t call Maria a friend, and he knows she feels the same way about him. Until tonight, he hadn’t even known that she’d been aware of Bruce’s donations to Child Protection and Permanency. “It’s really admirable of you to help these kids. Tell me, are you planning to eventually adopt?”

“Just fostering,” Bruce says, using all of his energy to keep his tone light and free of his internal defensiveness.

Martin forces a smile, and the smile isn’t the only thing; something’s off and forced about this entire conversation, his whole demeanor, even. As much as Bruce’s instincts scream at him to interrogate Martin and figure out why that is, he knows this isn’t the time or place.

“That’s fantastic, really. Although, you never know.” He claps Bruce on the shoulder. “You’d be surprised by how many people start out fostering a child and then decide to adopt them. Of course, it all depends on the child’s family situation.”

“I suppose,” Bruce agrees plainly. The odds of that happening in his case are slim to none, but it probably wouldn’t be in his best interest to announce that he’s not cut out to be anything close to a father. If it becomes necessary, though, he’s hoping he can make a sufficient temporary guardian.

“Oh no,” a sarcastic cry interrupts them, and Bruce turns to see Oliver Grant. They went to school together, and now he works for his mother’s company as a CEO. Bruce isn��t exactly impressed with what he’s done for the company, not that he’s done much of anything other than take credit. “We’re not talking business over here, are we boys? You’re going to bring the whole party down!”

Martin laughs in a way that Bruce guesses is supposed to be casual, but it comes off as somewhat strained. “Just talking. How have you been Oliver?”

Bruce isn’t proud of this, but Oliver proves to be the last straw on his already stretched out patience—he pretends to take a phone call.

oOo

Bruce leaves the party earlier than he’d planned, but he’ll deal with the repercussions of leaving too soon later. For now, he has a city to patrol.

Since the homicide, checking on Richard has been a regular part of his patrol. He moved from his emergency placement with the Stuart family to his permanent foster placement with the Miller family nearly three weeks ago now, and things seem to be going well. The only incident since moving had been about two weeks ago when a member of Zucco’s gang was spotted near Richard’s foster home. Luckily, Bruce had been in the area at the time and stopped them before anything could happen. He hasn’t seen anyone there since, and even the feeling that he’s being watched while visiting the home has ebbed recently.

But then, of course, there is the ongoing problem Richard has taken to waiting up for Batman.

He’s not the first child Bruce has spotted doing this—several times, Bruce has seen groups of children on rooftops or crowded around windows who will excitedly point and scream when they catch a glimpse of The Batman. He’s learned that it’s becoming a common sleepover activity. It’s not something he wants to necessarily encourage, but at least those children only want to see him from a distance and are more than satisfied with shadows.

Richard, however, is not.

Tonight, he’s not on his own rooftop and instead waiting for Bruce on the roof of a nearby gas station, eating a package of potato chips while seated in a full lotus position. When he spots Bruce, he stands and starts waving.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” Bruce tells him, resisting the urge to sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

Richard shrugs and holds his bag of chips toward Bruce. “Want a potato chip?”

“Why aren’t you at the Millers’?” Bruce asks, knowing now to avoid the word “home.”

“I was hungry,” Richard says, pulling his outstretched hand back and taking another chip for himself. “And I didn’t want to wake anyone up or miss you. Good thing, too; you’re early.”

Questions relating to why Richard is hungry and if the Millers have been feeding him bubble up on his tongue, but he forces them down. “Hnn.”

“Have you found Zucco yet?”

This has been the question Bruce has come to dread each night. He’s been working on the case for almost a month now, but things have been slow. He’s been able to find enough evidence to arrest one of Zucco’s colleagues, but the colleague in question has refused to name Zucco specifically. Additionally, Zucco is in hiding and someone has been sending him information, making it difficult to track him down. Zucco taking up a low-profile also means that other gangs are trying to take his territory, which means that Bruce has had a lot of long nights.

“Not yet.” This is the phrase Bruce dreads saying every night.

Richard’s face falls, but he quickly replaces it with a mask of indifference. “Maybe I could help.”

“You are.” Bruce crouches down to look Richard in the eyes, places his hands firmly on his shoulders. “By offering your testimony and keeping yourself safe so that you can give it during the hearing.”

“There won’t be a hearing if you don’t find him.” Richard doesn’t sound accusatory, but the certainty and not-quite-anger in his voice are painful enough that he might as well have been. Despite the statement, though, the boy isn’t hopeless, he just has a more practical approach to hope compared to most of his peers. Richard is realistic and ready to prepare for the worst-case scenario, but he’s also doing everything he can to increase the odds of reaching the best-case scenario.

“I will find him.” And what happened to not making promises unless Bruce is sure he can keep them?

“Let me come?” Despite his inflection, Bruce knows Richard isn’t asking a question.

“It’s not safe.” This will be the fourth time they’ve had this discussion, and each time, Richard has been more insistent than the last.

“I know,” Richard says, a mischievous glint in his eye. “That’s why I’m asking to go with you. ‘Cause it would be so dangerous out on my own.”

oOo

Bruce is twenty-four years old, he’s the goddamn Batman, he should be able to say no to an eight-year-old. And yet, that night, he can’t. For one hour, Richard rides in the car next to him and acts as a pseudo-partner. Bruce tells himself it will be a one-time event, that this whole situation will be temporary.

Part 2: AO3 | tumblr

#batfam big bang 2020 #dick grayson #bruce wayne #nightwing #batman #batfamily #batfam #court of owls #elizabeth writes

67 notes · View notes