#I’m talking about those massive ones you see in luxury bedrooms

[hauntingyourself]

Are people with large beds not afraid of a ghost crawling in with them? I would be

#I’m talking about those massive ones you see in luxury bedrooms #‘you can’t make every textpost about ghosts’ yeah I can #mine

[donutloverxo]

A Royal Scandal 3

Modern Royal King!Steve au

(Image from Pinterest)

cowritten with @lizzygal​

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Summary - Modern ruler, His Majesty King Steven G Rogers, is on a quest to make his long term secret relationship the real thing. He is a man in love and wants his lover and partner to be his queen.

Warnings - Smut (m/f), dub con/non con, sex tape, scandals, mentions of past domestic abuse, soft dark Steve, possessive Steve, spanking, power imbalance, mentions of previous domestic abuse, somnophilia.

Pairing - King!Steve x reader

Word count - 7k

Story masterlist

Sometimes Steven forgot that you weren’t that much younger than him. He forgot about a lot of things when it was only the two of you. You did that to him. You made him forget things that everyone else reminded him of constantly, intentional and not.

Early that morning was no different.

Long before his alarm went off, Steve found himself on his side watching you sleep. Feeling in every way equal to you, like there was not this huge ocean of things that he did not have in common with you, opposed to what the two of you shared.

Obviously, he was the son of kings and tyrants while you were the daughter of immigrants and a blue-collar family. You’d grown up in a house full of love and kindness and acceptance, he had not. You’d ended your teenage years going to college and then travelling and ending up here, where you chose to stay and work and travel and live a life that Steve could only dream of, his own had never been his own and never would be.

You had dreams and hopes, little things like aspirations. He didn’t.

Steve’s life was dictated by things like duty and obligations, expectations. Yours was not.

Maybe that was why he’d been so drawn to you?

Compared to all the royals around Europe and titled individuals, politicians, even old families, none of them interested him even a fraction of the amount that you interested him. To Steve you were exotic. You were a fascinating creature who might as well have come from Mars.

He couldn’t even say what it was or why.

For so long it had felt right to be alone. Considering the blood of monsters ran through his veins, Steve had been uninterested in any sort of companionship more than a brief encounter at a private location.

For Christ’s sake, he refused to sleep in the bedroom that his father had slept in.

Upon assuming the throne, he’d selected to take up older quarters in an unused part of the palace living complex. As if to ensure he was as far away from the rooms that his father and grandfather and great-grandfather had slept. Choosing to sleep in a bed untainted by any of those men, stored from when his land was ruled by an emperor. Hoping with the hopes of a young king that it would save him from their madness.

Beside him, you slept so peacefully, trustingly.

Steve had never brought anyone into his private apartment. Nor had his bed seen any carnal action since it’d gone into storage. Until you. He’d simply never been so inclined.

A rough sound from the growth on his cheek rubbing against his pillow. A pleasant reminder of that night that felt so long ago, yet also like only yesterday.

He’d had a beard back then he remembered.

A full bushy one.

One that had made you laugh softly at, roll your eyes and still manage to pull off an acceptable bow when you greeted him that late night.

“They beat Canada then Your Majesty?” You had inquired with good nature, setting down a whole stack of papers and folders onto the very modern conference table in a big room that could fit two dozen, more if the people were standing.

He’d beamed.

Steve remembered he’d been in a particularly good mood that night. Even if he was working late on the education push into the outer regions of his kingdom. A good amount was still very rural, many simple villages that lived as they had fifty or more years ago. Many parts of his kingdom were still deeply rooted in the past.

“Indeed. Eleven to four.”

He was beaming. Beaming! You were pretty sure you could see molars. It made you shake your head and begin to sort out all your work into piles to go over. Not that you’d ever admit to secretly being caught up in the hype of the team being so close to gold at the Winter Olympics. “So then the beard stays?”

“You of all people,” he admonished, coming over to help you. Picking up the well-marked up maps you’d spent hours annotating.

Making you roll your eyes.

On he went though, obviously needing to drive home the seriousness of this matter. “The beard stays until we win gold. Next we play Norway. I don’t think it needs to be said that we cannot risk it.”

He was serious. Really serious. If that full glorious beard was any indication.

More focused on the organizing task yourself.

Sorting your work by region, pile by pile, each had taken much work and effort and negotiation, endless phone calls and trips and emails to each area to get them to work not only with you, but one another. It was like herding cats. It had taken you months to get this all sorted out for Steve to see. His ideas weren’t even ready to be implemented. This was just the pre-gaming, the leadup, the work in preparation. You weren’t even on Step One. You were on Step Zero.

“Now that I know, I’ll be sure to grow a beard next Winter Olympics.”

And then you were rewarded with a rich hearty laugh from your king.

Well not your king, as you weren’t a citizen of this country. But you still liked to think of him as your king.

Watching you sleep was something he’d never tire of. Never get enough of. It was a luxury that he didn’t realize he wanted day in out.

The ability to wake up with you tangled up in blankets. Curled back against his front. Hogging pillows as you did. Allowing Steve to run his fingers up and down your bare thigh, along the curves of your body. Letting him lean forward to press his lips to your shoulder and see the peaceful rest of your face in his slowly lightening bedroom. Every last inch of you here for him.

Hungry.

That was what it was, he was hungry for you. Like a big bear that woke from hibernation after a long winter. At times he felt such a way. Never having felt this way about anyone prior.

In his own time, he slipped his fingers down along the round of your ass underneath the flesh of your hip. Warm. Soft. Smooth. Neither of you had left the bed since the late night bath in his tub.

Further down Steve allowed his fingers to trail.

Memorizing every last second to get him through his day. From how you felt pressed against the front of him, how your back moved against his chest with every steady breath you took. The way your legs tangled in his buttery sheets with his own, how the soft cheeks of your bottom pressed against his alert groin.

Most definitely though, how your skin tasted and felt beneath his mouth. Smelling like yourself from all your favorite bath products kept in his bathroom.

You’d smelled so good that night too.

You always smelled good.

It was something that he had noticed but hadn’t given any real thought to.

It seemed to be a mix of perfume and body lotion or cream. Cause Steve found the flowery smell would linger after you walked by in the way that perfume did, infusing the air and making his brain scream out that you were near. But also, when you shook his hand, it always had that sweet fresh clean smell afterwards.

Now, whenever Steve smelled it, all he could think about was you.

Those smells danced around him. Making the late hour bearable. Making the fact that the offices were empty but for the two of you, when you both should have been home in bed, not matter.

“Ok…” you were talking to him, pointing out places on the massive map that was his nation. Arms crossed. Legs spread. Standing beside you as you informed him with tones that indicated your happiness, your displeasure as well as your utter irritation. “…so I managed to get in touch with every Education Department in all nine of your territories.”

Though you were not looking at him, Steve nodded, laser focused on this project he’d tasked you with months ago.

“All of the department heads are on board with your desired overhaul to completely modernize the entire system. Unfortunately, they told me that I had to call all the district heads for all forty-six provinces to get their agreed participation too.”

Your tone went from pleased with yourself then skeptical and then annoyed.

You turned your head to look at him. “Which is what I spent the last three months doing. It was something of a thing.”

Steve could only imagine.

He was quiet though so you could go on. More than pleased with how well you worked in this position. He’d originally been skeptical with your being a foreigner. How dedicated would you be to a job in a country that was not your own? One hundred percent as it turned out.

Your hands flattened out dramatically on the table. Outrage surged from you. “I’m still waiting on two appointees because their predecessors apparently died during harvest season and no one could be bothered to replace the position. I literally had to fly out to the outer reaches of civilization to find this out. Cause all the government offices are closed during harvest season, fyi. But they’re literally filling the positions now.”

Such was the challenge of having a large kingdom with one foot in the future and one in the past. Such things led to the difficultly of keeping a Chief of Staff.

Steve’s previous Chief of Staff had come highly recommended and lasted a little over a month.

Whether it was from a lack of dedication, the obvious frustrations of the job or maybe he simply had not wanted to jump on a plane and fly six hours then ride by car five hours to remote areas in order to complete his work. Steve could not be sure. All he knew for sure was he’d keep you as long as humanly possible.

In his eyes, you were a saint.

“What’s with the question mark?”

Making you look to see which question mark you’d marked on the map full of stickers and marks and tabs. Hours had been spent working on the damn thing.

Seeing which question mark in question made your nose scrunch. “Oh…them, they refuse to even answer my calls until they are allowed to take their traditional name for their province. Which is way above my pay grade. Someone else is going to have to deal with them. I tried.”

Ah, Steve nodded, that was far from surprising. The far outer regions were notoriously independent or rebellious, depending on your stance.

He would deal with them accordingly. Not how his father did, but in his own way.

Steve’s attention was drawn to two nearby provinces. Each had a frowny face sticker. Without asking, he merely pointed.

A noise of pure disgusted frustration came from deep in your throat. Making you stand and look to him, brandishing your hands in all directions. “I tried my best with them. I really did. Both of those provinces absolutely refuse to take part in anything if the other is involved. Apparently, they’re still salty at one another over something that happened in fourteen-seventy-three and refer to me as the foreign she-devil. So…good luck with them Your Majesty.”

Soundly you slept.

Comfortable. Safe. At peace.

Making him feel like a true man. A provider able to care for you, protect you, satisfy you. As if he were stripped down to what nature intended. Instead of what society had dictated for you both.

Reaching down to that heavenly place between the V in your thighs, Steve pushed his fingers further to find your softness slippery, your skin slick with viscous arousal. In pushing his finger up further, running it around the edge of your slit to where the gateway to your body was hidden, he found you heavily aroused. Coating his fingers with a thick fluid that promised you would be able to take him now. Oozing into the cervices between his fingers and smearing thickly down his palm and over the back of his hand.

Unable to help himself, he brought his hand out from between your legs in order to look at your arousal. Merely the sight made his balls clench in eager anticipation. Tasting the bodily excretions had his hips moving against yours on their own.

A noise came from you. Though you were far from waking. Always one to enjoy your sleep.

On his tongue you were heady, ripe. Tasting like sin. Steve licked his fingers. Eyes closed so he could savor the taste, how you clung to his tongue and were thick, like a burst of brandy swirling with his saliva.

Awakened now from his deep sleep. Ravenous like a beast of the forest. He pressed a lingering kiss to your shoulder. Making you mumble. Making you wiggle in your sleep, causing you to reach your arm out for a pillow to pull close. Hooking your leg up higher too. Becoming more comfortable in the bed in addition to opening yourself up more to your king. As if your body had connected to his on a level your mind was unaware and encouraged him to take you.

Down he peered. Strands of hair fell across his forehead at the harsh angle. A soft lightening of the sun through drapes he never closed last night allowed the sight of moisture. Folds of bare skin sheened up at him. Tempting him with that webbing of goo that promised him you were ready.

Taking himself in hand, he caught sight of your name curled over his side. Reminding him of your absolute possession over him. Sending his hand low to pull his foreskin back in order to feed this hunger of you that consumed him.

Your signature was all swoops and swirls.

Recognizable above anyone else’s writing he came across on a daily basis.

All over paper and on the maps. In little corners. Highlighted. In different color pens. On stickie notes. Written on napkins or on the back of random pieces of paper.

At the time, he’d had no idea how far gone he really was.

Not even when he watched you take note after note with a purple inked pen, your hand flowing across paper like a swimmer cutting through the water. Taking down his every word, every command.

A incredibly distinctive feeling of being full woke you up from your glorious sleep, in a very singular sort of way that could be from only one thing. Only one thing on earth felt like that when waking you up.

Pulling you out of a warm blissful sleep only to wake you with the exquisite feeling of being stretched open, pushed into, filled up. Making your fingers clench bedding or pillows or whatever they could grab.

A low breathy moan came from you in the time between you were woken and awake, your face burrowing in a pillow was followed by a soft profanity. Weight slowly covered you. Weight pinned you down to the bed a little at a time. Skin and sheets and soft dustings of hair rubbed against you.

Only when you had fully woken did you feel pubes brush against your cheeks. A light tap of scrotum bumped you too.

Long arms wrapped around you. Wet lips mouthed along the curve of your neck.

This was a far superior way to wake up. Compared to your apartment, in bed alone, to your neighbors loud shrilling alarm clock through your paper-thin wall.

Groaning out at the feel of His Majesty’s cock stuffed safely up in your secret garden. You found yourself whining at Steve at whatever time it was in the early morning. “…fuuuuck…what’d I say about doing that…” A swivel, nay, a swivel with a pop of his pelvis followed, making you see stars, gasp deeply as if you’d been stabbed in the lungs and then add on for God and Country. “…My King…shit, My King…oh shit, My King.”

Though it may have been said in jest, his tone was hot enough to scald. “If memory serves me correctly…” another deep push of thick hips shoved you forward into the pillows. “…you say, not in my ass unless I’m awake.”

Stars.

So many bright and colorful stars.

Mmm.

Yes, that was something you had told him on many occasions and it still held very true. If Steve was going to put anything in your ass, forget that thing he claimed was a dick, you needed to be fully awake so you could both physically and emotionally prepare yourself.

Nothing at all could have prepared you for the drastic turn your life was about to take that night.

Nothing.

Everything had been so normal. It was so regular. Like many a long night working late hours at the palace before. Hours had been spent going over all your hard work contacting each and every head in each education department per province, as well as per territory. In addition to the national department of education, preparing to prep them for what the king wanted.

Like any other late night, Steve helped you put all of your paperwork back in the correct order you had it in. Like every other time, he requested a palace car take you to your apartment. Granted the apartment you shared with your best friend was walking distance away. It was late and simply not safe and you found were touched that Steve would think about your well-being.

For a king, he wasn’t that bad. When it was the two of you anyway.

Looks aside, which he had in spades, he could be very funny in a sarcastic sort of way. He was very well read and intelligent, quick on his feet. Although people seemed to think of him a certain type of way based on his father and his own kingship at a young age, when he really was his own person.

You’d noticed he had a definite interest in the classical masters and had on rare occasion seen him sketch out something on a flight or during a less than stimulating event. He had an artistic ability that would never come to anything due to his role.

His strong sense of duty paired with a disgusting moral obligation pretty much guaranteed his life would be spent in service to his country. Period.

You could see why people thought he was hot. The man had been blessed by the genetic gods. Plus he was a king. Who didn’t grow up dreaming about being a princess? Or think about a literal Prince Charming from fairy tales?

Having now had the benefit of working in a real life palace. You knew the realities of that fantasy.

You had two pages of notes that could attest to the reality of your childhood Disney Princess movies.

Reality was always so different.

Not for the first time, you found yourself repeating yourself. “…and let me say one more time. Thank you so much for talking with my parents. I know it was only ten minutes, but, I know how busy you are and it just completely topped off their visit. My mother has been telling everyone about how she met the king. You even have my father cheering for the hockey team.”

A smile came over Steve’s face that was real.

It wasn’t one of his practiced smiles. It was an actual smile. You could tell because it reached his eyes.

“Well,” Steve answered you with a shrug, sounding genuinely pleased even if he also sounded tired and like he wanted nothing more than to go off to his living quarters in the palace and crash into bed, before he had to get up to start a new day. Helping you stack the last of your papers up. “Anything to convert a soul to hockey. Technically, it is his team too.” And because he could not help himself, Steve added on, “Even if his grandparents fled from here for a cushy life in the west.”

Up your hand flew to your chest.

Your jaw dropped in mock pain. “Ouch, Sir! That one was painful.”

His smile grew at your over-the-top reaction.

Still though, he dipped his head and you noticed there was a little blush on his cheeks above where that magnificent beard grew. Chagrined, he quickly followed up with, “I apologize. That was a cheap shot.”

In a physical sort of way that his people were known to interact, personal space be damned, Steve reached over to touch your arm apologetically. Not something he did frequently. Although he had done it a handful of times. The press of his mouth to your cheek was new. The little kiss was brand new. Steve’s lips were gentle on your skin. His beard tickled your face.

Never in your life had your heart pounded as violently in your chest as it did at that gesture. Quickly, your head turned. Though you did not move back or say anything. Instead, you found yourself staring at Steve. Looking into those pools of blue that were looking at you with the same amount of surprise that you felt. His lips were right there, right there.

Blood roared in your ears, your heart pounded faster and faster and faster.

He kissed you.

Did he really though?

Was it a kiss or was it a kiss?

For a moment in time, you leaned in. Leaned closer. Leaned till you almost touched him because that was what your body wanted to do. Until you remembered that Steve was a king. A KING. Remembering that made your head command your body to lean backwards a bit. Allowing you to see that he had leant in to meet you.

He’d leaned closer to kiss you.

What were you doing? What in the hell were you doing? You had no business doing this, no business at all messing around with Steve.

Fingers moved along your arm, tracing up the back of it softly. That simple touch made goosebumps break out over your skin. It made your breath hitch. Your hands began to shake so you grabbed the fabric of your skirt.

However, you made no move to step away from Steve. Nor did he make any sort of move to step away from you.

Another attempt at a kiss was not made.

Fingers touched your face instead. Steve was close enough to you that you felt his legs brush yours. You felt his breath against your face. Fingertips ran across the swell of your cheekbone, down over your lips, tracing the bridge of your nose in what felt like a desire to memorize your face.

Steve was gentle. His fingertips felt like feathers on your skin. He made you shake like a leaf in terror because you wanted him to touch you more. You wanted to be touched. You wanted to feel his hands on you and the soft glide of his thumb along the line of your jaw was painfully insufficient.

Without thinking, you reached up with your hands until you remembered that he was the king.

Were you allowed to touch the king? You weren’t sure. He was touching you and it was fabulous but were you allowed to do the same? You wanted to. You so deeply wanted to. You just were not sure what was allowed in this situation. It had not exactly been covered in the Royal Protocol Guidebook you had.

Then came Steve’s voice. Harsh. Gravelly. Desperate.

“Touch me. It’s ok. I want you to.”

For only a heartbeat or two you remained still, observing him, making sure. Only after that did you reach up with your hands to cover his wrists. Rub along the fabric of his button-up shirt. In doing so, you not only felt the strength in his well-muscled wrists, or how warm the silky fabric was, but, you could feel him tremble. He was shaking about as much as you were.

A rush of air surged from his lungs as if you had burnt him.

Curious, you turned your head so you could place a single kiss on the inside of his hand touching your face, right at the base of his thumb. In doing so, you ripped a noise from deep within him. A noise that was both pained while also infused with wanting.

“This is ok?”

“Yes,” he croaked out, as if he were terrified you would stop.

Never would you have ever imagined he would be so responsive. Almost touch starved it felt.

Sometimes, Steve still felt as if he were a little touch starved to you. Sometimes it felt like he’d gone his entire life without having that physical connection between two people. As complicated of a man as he was with as complicated of a life as he had, you at times forgot that he was still a human being with human being needs that were essential to thriving.

And it wasn’t like you were complaining.

Far from it.

Not after the orgasm you just had, not from on top of him either. Lounged across the front of him. Loose limbed. Languid down to your marrow. Peppering the damp skin of his neck with slow wet kisses and scrapes of teeth. Long drags of your tongue collected drops of salt that tasted of him. Lazily. Heart to heart. Stomach to stomach.

There really were worse ways to wake up.

Like, for instance, in your apartment taking cold showers cause the building’s water heater was ancient. That wasn’t fun at all and usually had you shivering and hurrying through an icy shower. Straight up not a good time.

This? This was soooo much better.

Feeling Steve’s long legs wrapped up in your own, paired with his softening member filling you by virtue of sheer size not letting himself just pop out…this was a much better way to wake up. Far superior in every way.

Not that you were willing to waste precious time like this luxuriating in post-coital bliss. No, no. A burning question was hot on your mind that kept popping up after last night. After all, you were a modern woman and this was a serious relationship. You had every right to ask this question at any time you wanted. Even now. As your boyfriend, the king, fondled your breasts in his hands with such intensity that you would have thought he’d just broken out of Alcatraz after a decade of no nookie. Not that you were in the least bit complaining. Not one bit.

“Am I going to have to quit my job?”

It was something of a concern.

You loved your job. You loved working with Steve. You loved your life as it was and a big part of you suspected becoming queen would mean big changes.

Not that you lifted your head from his neck, or ceased your trek down towards his collarbone. Trail of your kisses never slowing or stopping. No hint of any sort of disruption came. Not for a moment or two. Not till your ravenous boyfriend squeezed your breasts possessively. Thumbed your nipples and finally opened his eyes, as if it were the biggest chore on earth.

His voice was rough. His tone felt like hot gooey honey that just got everywhere. “No…not yet…”

Leading you to make a noise. A pop followed when your mouth left the dark spot you’d been sucking on nearly at his collarbone. What with your name already etched on him. What else could you leave in a display of ownership over him? “Nothing else to add My King?” For added emphasis, perhaps you gave you vaginal muscles a clench knowing what that did to him.

A grunt came from beneath you.

Wrapped up in yours, Steve’s legs clenched in response to what you did. White teeth sank into his upper lip and you absolutely thrived at the sight and feel of him arching up against you, shifting around beneath you at the way your body squeezed him.

Those hands left your breasts only to reach down, run over your waist as they had so many times before, leading you to grab them. Snatch then right up. Press them down into the mattress over Steve’s head. Since the man was far larger than you, this sent you leaning downwards and ever closer to his face. “Steve? I asked you a question.”

How easy it would have been for him to get free. Yet, he seemed content where he found himself. Still wedged within you. Warm in bed. Body a sea of a complex cocktail of chemicals after physically releasing into you. A far better way to wake up than alone in a massive bed. Or worse, to his mother jabbing at him to urgently tell him something that was not urgent at all.

Feeling your breasts press against his chest. Lightly brushing over his skin, your nipples little points that sparked a definite interest in his dick.

God did he want you to be his queen.

“Not yet,” Steve ground out, nearly close to being overwhelmed by you. Each and every word was enunciated to utter perfection, as if it took all of his concentration and effort to get them out. “I’ll have the palace leave your name out of the official statement today. We can go slow. Ease you into things…ease you out of your job…” and to reward him for such a thoughtful statement, you clenched around him once more.

However, it seemed, there was more and even though his eyes rolled up into his head at the feel of your core squeezing his not entirely soft organ, he pushed on with the determination of his ancestors. Grunting. Arching back into the bed as the pillows had all wound up on the floor. Perfect teeth clenched together. “M-my people…will…love you…too.”

So, it was entirely possible, that you were feeling all kinds of powerful watching him writhe beneath you. Knowing exactly what sort of repercussions this could have to your morning. Which was still progressing on time. It was entirely possible that you may have intentionally pushed your own pelvis against his to reseat yourself.

“Oh yeah? How can you be so sure? You saw what happened with those two over in England. And that prince isn’t even next in line to the throne.”

Perhaps it was the seriousness of the direction in which your conversation had taken, Steve remained beneath you. Taking no action, even though you could quite literally feel his dick grow more interested in what your hips were doing.

A panted out, “…fuck…” escaped from him, before he opened his eyes to look at you seriously, if not also a little heatedly. “Quit obsessing over them. The King of Jordan married for love. Queen Rania was a commoner. If you must, focus on them.”

Sudden movement found you falling off Steve and onto the bed, shoved onto your back and in a flash, he was on top of you again. Over you. Hovering. Though he’d escaped out of your body, you could feel the king’s most delicious semi, slick from your previous copulation, squish between you both.

Admitting on an exhale, “Forgot about them.”

“Everyone does.” He agreed, surveying down, taking in the sight of you. “My country appreciates you. They’re fond of you. You’re in all the papers and they’ve given you a nickname.”

And that. That. Nearly killed the mood.

It sent your eyebrows together dubiously so.

Everytime you were in the press it was when your skirt had been blown up on a windy day, or if you’d accidentally gotten food on your shirt. Or that time a baby goat pooped on your shoes. Or when you’d tripped and fallen off a dock into a lake. Who could forget that time you’d accidentally called the Prime Minister of Canada a ‘moose fucking cannibal’ when you’d still been getting the hang of the language, your first year on the job?

You’d been affectionately dubbed, ‘the King’s Foreign Devil’ and it had stuck.

Hell, you still got asked about your thoughts on the Canadian Prime Minister whenever a member of the press was around.

“Most the time, you have a higher approval rating than I do,” he added. Much to the consternation of Maria Hill in PR. “Trust me. There is nothing my country loves more than a hard-working loyal servant of the people who talks shit about western leaders.”

Mood totally killed, you seethed and not for the first time, “That was an accident! I was trying to call him Canada’s Disney Prince.”

***

The note had been hand delivered to the palace and was now crumbled into a ball in the Queen Mother’s bedroom as she stormed off, once more, that early morning in a fury of rose satin and silk. Her perfume clouded around her, drifting behind her, much like the wake of a boat cutting through the water.

Thick carpets silenced her heels. Doors opened for her as she neared them, allowing her to not need to slow her step even for a second. Not a single moment wasted as she made her way through the private living quarters of the palace.

Down hallways and around corners, over to the rooms that her grown son had selected as his own.

It would have been so much easier if he would have just taken the rooms that his father had lived in.

Although, with the horrific memories attached to those rooms, how could she blame him when he elected not to? She had her own private rooms. The dead kings rooms were locked up tight and still not used. Abandoned like so much he’d done, started and accomplished in his life.

Upon coming to her only child’s rooms, those doors were held open for her and on she pressed on. Sailing through his rooms, one after another, until she got closer to his bedroom and could hear his shower which was the direction she headed.

A brief glance was made at the mess that was his bed.

A roll of her eyes was followed by a shake of her head.

Some things males never grew out of it seemed.

“Steven!” She called out in warning, should he be in the bathroom about to come out in the nude. Which was the last thing she wanted to see.

Not only was his bed a mess but his clothes from yesterday were all over the floor.

She had every intention of telling him that he needed to straighten up this mess before the cleaning staff came in his room. The last thing she wanted was for them to think he was messy and then tell their families and friends when they went home that the king had a messy bedroom and word would get out that her son was a slob. Ugh. No. She’d make sure that he straightened up.

Speaking of the devil.

As his shower ran, Steve peered out of the bathroom with a wet head. A midnight blue towel was wrapped around his waist. A toothbrush was in his hand. To Sarah, it was very clear that her grown son had not shaved yet either.

Seeing him in such a state that morning along with his messy room and the fact the shower was going wasting water. It did not make her mood any more agreeable.

Though her son was taller than her and considerably more muscular, she never feared him.

She knew he would never hurt her like his father had so many times. Towards the end, Steve had even defended her from his father’s physical attacks. Those days. They had been dark. Horrible. Terrible. When she noticed that her husband had begun to carry a knife to protect himself from his son. Well. What was she supposed to do?

Attacking her was one thing. Being violent towards her was one thing. There were some things that she learned to tolerate. It was unescapable. Their son though. To take a knife to their son? Her son? Sarah would never allow such a thing.

She was queen at the time.

It was not so difficult to get the drug that she put in her husband’s evening nightcap. She’d used all of it. Thrown the vial away the next day when she went to rouse the king as she did every morning, only to find him dead in his chair. Fireplace having long gone out. Slumped down. Cold. The coroner had said it was a heart attack. Exactly as she’d been told the drug would work. He’d been buried with no one the wiser. Not even Steve.

“Yes mother?”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “You are not growing another beard. Last time you looked like some man that lives up in the mountains in a tiny shack.”

Just as her own father once did, Steve’s eyebrows rose in surprise and question.

No. That was not why she was here.

Sarah had a higher calling that morning and straightening her slim shoulders, she so informed him. “Hope and Janet are here in the city. They’ve come for a surprise visit and will arrive at the palace within the hour.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed at her in response to her information.

It was horrifying. It was outrageous. It was not what he wanted to hear that morning one bit. Not at all. Not one single bit.

Hope and Janet?

Those were two names he never wanted to hear with the additional words being, ‘on their way’. No. Just no.

All he could say that was remotely civil, after what the then Princess Hope van Dyne had done, came out in something of a tone. “I don’t want to see either of them. If you want to see them, that’s your choice. Keep them away from me.”

Considering what the now Duchess Hope had spewed to every reporter, journalist and whomever with a platform…Sarah was a little surprised that Steve was being so kind.

She’d expected a bit more of a reaction from her son.

Could she be holding a bigger grudge against her one-time closest friend’s daughter? After what had happened, Queen Janet van Dyne had become somewhat distant. Which was not surprising. Hope had not broken the engagement gracefully. Nor had she been anything less than opinionated afterwards.

“I suspect she is in trouble,” Sarah confessed. “Why else would they come here? Considering everything that Hope has said over the years.”

Steam continued to seep through the cracked door.

Sarah was about to say something about the shower. Steve was wasting a considerable amount of hot water. She herself was leading the Go Green Initiative in the country and as she stated constantly, it all began at home.

“Mother, don’t take this the wrong way, but, I wouldn’t shit in Hope’s mouth if she was starving.”

Ah.

Perhaps she’d been too quick to judge Steve’s current opinion on the wayward duchess?

Pondering his statement, Sarah found herself looking for any way to come back with a counter when she noticed that the shower turned off. Which was odd. Shower’s didn’t turn themselves off.

What was even more peculiar, Steve reached back behind himself to shut his bathroom door.

It clicked.

Like a light going off.

How could she not have noticed? How could it not have been obvious?

Blue eyes that were a little softer than her son’s narrowed. “You aren’t alone.”

Silence.

Quiet.

Her pink lips opened in surprised. A question hovered on her tongue.

“No mother.”

“But…”

“Mother,” he implored as only a son could. “Not now. She would not want the first time she officially meets you to be when you’re dressed for the day and she is not.”

And though her son’s words were true. They were right. They were exactly what she would have wanted him to say and because she had raised him well, she was even proud that he had made such a quick decision. It wasn’t fair.

Sarah wanted to find out who you were. She wanted to meet the woman that her son was involved with. Was that so wrong? Sarah wanted to meet the woman that her son was considering marrying. There was so much she wanted to say to you, so much to teach you, so much she wanted to learn about you. Perhaps her desperation showed because her son reached out to place a hand on her elbow.

“If you can chase Hope and Janet away, we could have lunch together. The three of us. If not, dinner? Or even tomorrow. I’m not doing anything with Hope under this roof. Not after she referred to our country as a third world plus hellhole full of war criminals and superstitious backwoods heathens.”

Ah, so he did remember.

Those words had been seared into her memory as well. Sometimes Sarah wondered, as Steve had never really given much indication that he cared one way or the other what Hope had said. It was only after she began to speak unflatteringly about their people that he grew irritated, much like herself.

Although, what irritated Sarah more, was the quiet that came from the royal house of van Dyne and Pym a few countries over. Never once had Janet spoke up. Never had Janet said anything about her daughters outrageous remarks or behavior. Nor had she apologized.

Knowing her son, Sarah knew that he would never court anyone who was not kind or compassionate. Steve would never pick a Hope as his queen.

Up came a hand that bore a lovely ring decorated with fresh water pearls from their own waters. “I’ll have them gone before lunch and then we will all sit down together so I can finally meet her.”

#steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n

[caramelcal]

His Favorite Secret.

“I’m tired of being your secret.”

You can find the rest of the prompts here.

i really took this and ran with it huh...IT’S 4.3K WORDS

warnings: mentions of sex, gangs, alcohol, bondage

kinda obsessed with this gang!luke idea. also, i’m not sure if i wanna make “bambi” the reader or an oc, it works as either i believe? bambi is a nickname btw and i honestly feel like making more parts based on this concept tbh 

kinda wanna make another part LMAO idk what i’d do it on though </3

Luke was better to her than anything you could possibly expect. He was surprisingly gentle when it came to her, hugging and caressing her that seemed impossible for the way he was and the life he lived. People saw Luke as the 6-foot-odd man that could rip you apart without an issue, without even breaking a sweat but he was so much more than that.

He was so much more than the leather jacket-wearing gangster that everyone depicted him as; heartless and stoic. He was a great lover if he let people in, and she had never been loved that way with anyone before. Surely though, with his life, there were complications to their relationship.

He was different from other people, more violent, more dangerous. The gang, which was run by Luke and three of his closest friends, Calum, Ashton and Michael, was well-known and feared among many, but they were left alone by the police. The police were aware that they existed, but they didn’t do anything about it. There were more cons to arresting them than there were pros.

Luke’s life made everything very interesting. He was rich, of course, and after a while of them dating she had moved into his condo. It was massive, bigger than any house she had ever lived in before and it was just for the two of them. It was a luxurious life that she had not experienced before, and she was still getting used to it.

If there was one thing about Luke that she had learned, it was that buying her things was his love language. He never had been great at the romantic side of their relationship considering he hadn’t had a girlfriend in a long time and normally just had one-night stands, but he tried his best. That didn’t meant that he ever softened up during sex, though. 

Another thing about his life that made stuff interesting was that Luke had to drop things for work. Sometimes stuff would go wrong on a run, or other gangs would try stuff with them and he would have to leave. It was understandable, but still frustrating for her, especially the one time where an emergency had occurred right in the middle of them having sex.

Luke had been very busy the past few weeks, having to deal with numerous issues with the gang and barely having enough time to spend with the needy girl who craved his attention. There had been issues in the club, that was what he had said, but he didn’t go into much detail on the matter, he never did. He liked to keep his relationship and gang life very separate from one another. 

A lot of the mornings this week she had woke up alone, void of the warmth she liked to cuddle into in the morning. At least she was getting him all to herself this weekend, she thought. After barely spending anytime with her that weekend, Luke had promised they would spend the weekend together, even if the club was set on fire. Calum, Ash and Mike will deal with it. 

“Bambi?” The nickname fell from his lips when he stepped in the front door. She brought her eyes up to look at him, happiness filling her features. She hadn’t been expecting him home for another few hours, but she definitely wasn’t complaining.

Running over to him, she jumped, knowing full well that he would catch her as her arms wrapped around his neck. Her head snaked into the nape of his neck, comfortingly taking in the scent of her favorite person, his arms holding her protectively close to his body. They were alone, thankfully enough. After all, she really hadn’t thought out her jumping hug because her short skirt had ridden up, showing off her underwear which Luke most definitely would be furious if anyone but him saw.

“Welcome home,” She whispered into his neck, hand coming up to play with the hair on the back of his neck. Her eyes fluttered, eyelashes tickling the skin on Luke’s neck as he rubbed her back, taking in the comfort of having the smaller girl in his arms.

He walked forward so that he was fully in the house, using his leg to kick the door shut behind him before walking towards the middle of the room near the couch. He slowly lowered himself until he was sitting down on the plush cushions, the girl now in his lap, still being held closely.

“Bambi?” Luke started, making sure that the girl was listening, to which she hummed into the side of his neck, not willing to move just yet, “I know you wanna hug and kiss and stuff right now but we don’t have much time to pack your bags, you have to stay at the safe house for a few days.”

Almost immediately, the warmth of her face was gone from his neck, and her hands were no longer playing with his hair. She was still held tightly on his lap, mostly because he held her there with a semi-firm grip, her looking up at him with furrowed eyebrows and sad eyes.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened. In fact, it had happened quite a few times and each time it made her rather frustrated. She had to remove every single piece of evidence that she even existed in the apartment, and get hidden away in a safe house for the entire weekend, on the edge of town, where she wasn’t allowed to leave until Luke got her himself.

She hated the safe house.

“But you said-”

“Bambi,” Luke cut her off rather firmly, sending her a look which she knew meant that there were no arguments in this. She almost wanted to whine, to argue with Luke and tell him that he said this was going to be their weekend together, just them, no gang stuff, but now she wasn’t even going to get to see him at all this weekend, “I need to have a few low levels over to go over plans, and they’ll be over tomorrow which means we can’t let them know you’re here or that you exist. They still can’t fully be trusted yet, which means that they could be moles and I’m not putting you at risk for that.”

His speech was ended in a soft tone, looking down at her with a small amount of sadness for the girl. His hand comfortingly raked through her hair, piercing blue eyes looking at her but her eyes stay looking down. Slowly, without saying anything, she climbed off of his lap and started to retreat to their bedroom.

“Bambi? Where you goin, baby?” He called out, looking at the girl who stopped in her tracks, looking over her shoulder.

“I’m packing. That’s what you wanted me to do, was it not?”      

Not many words were exchanged afterward with the girl silently packing away every aspect of her life into two duffle bags. She wasn’t even allowed to properly live in her own house, no decorations, photos in frames, nothing. Everything she owned had to be easily removable so it looked like she didn’t even exist in her own home.

Luke watched her from the bedroom door, leaning against the frame coolly as he analyzed her movements. He knew she was frustrated, but she had to know he was doing this to protect her, she should have anyway. Rather harshly, she finally zipped up the duffle bags, throwing them over her shoulder and walking straight past Luke without acknowledging him.

He understood that she was frustrated, but was she really angry at him?

She was quickly at the door, grasping at the handle when Luke had snapped out of his thoughts, walking over to her quickly with ease, taking a grip on her arm.

“You okay?”

“Dandy,” She replied bluntly, looking away from the slightly concerned man, almost as if she was itching to get away from him. Normally, even if she wasn’t happy about being sent away to the safe house, she still gave him a goodbye kiss, but it appeared that he wasn’t going to get one of those tonight, “Gotta go. Wouldn’t want to keep Jacob waiting, would we?”

She walked out of the apartment without another word, but Luke’s eyes were on her retreating figure, “We’ll speak about this on Sunday, okay baby?”

He barely even seen the nod that she sent him before she disappeared down the hallway.

. . . “Please, Jacob,” She pleaded with the driver, with puppy eyes and everything but he tried his best to remain stony-faced. Jacob was the only driver that Luke trusted Bambi with, he had grown up with the boys too, childhood friends with Michael apparently, who Bambi had never even met before.

Jacob was the leading driver for the gang, one of the getaway drivers for bigger and more important heists or events, but normally he just got called in for private transport of any important members of the gang. He, as well as practically anyone who had ever met the girl, had a soft spot for her, and she knew that.

“You do realize if I take you there that I am directly disobeying orders of the leader of one of the biggest gangs in California?” He asked ridiculously, shaking his head with his hands placed firmly on the wheel.

“Jacob-”

“No,” He replied firmly, looking at the girl through the rearview mirror, seeing her begging eyes and sad face.

The man knew that everything was frustrating for the girl, especially when she had to get up and move out of her own house just so that Luke could host meetings and debriefings for the gang.

“Please, Jacob. I’m going to be cooped up in a safe house for three days without talking to anyone, at least let me go to Anna’s for a few hours. She’s been my best friend since I was three, she’s trustworthy.”

The black-haired man didn’t reply for several moments, and a frown fell onto the girl’s face before he started to signal off the highway. It was a familiar road, the one that she had taken many times before to her best friend’s house, and honestly, she had never been happier to see it. At least she would get some enjoyment this weekend.

“Thank you so much, Jacob, just tell me how I can repay you,” The girl said once she was out of the car, bouncing lightly in excitement while she stared at the man who was still inside the car.

He gave her a small smile, one that showed he knew how much appreciation she felt towards him before his eyes turned to the door behind her, “Just enjoy yourself and make sure he doesn’t fire me for this.”

“Consider it done.”

It was nice to see Anna again, it had been two weeks since their last meet up and they had both missed each other greatly. Anna was drinking alcohol, but the smaller girl wasn’t. It wasn’t like she was afraid of what Luke would say if she did, because she certainly wasn’t afraid of Luke, but even though she was angry she didn’t want to disappoint him.

Not that she had exactly abided by his rules anyway, considering she was with Anna right now instead of locked inside the safe house. The safe house had slowly become the girl’s own personal prison, it was bare, bland, and had nothing for her to entertain herself, and there was no company. That’s what she hated most about it, the lack of social interactions she could have while she was in there.

“-we were talking about the weather and shit right? Then he asked to see my tits! I was like are you being serious right now?” Anna rambled on, talking about another failed love interest that had been using her for her body. Anna never seemed to be lucky in the dating apartment of life, but she was a successful girl, and a beautiful one at that, she would get there. 

“Was he?”

Anna scoffed, taking another drink of her alcohol, “Yeah! He blocked me after I sent him pictures of minecraft chests and asked him what ones were his favourite.”

The smaller girl let out a laugh, looking at her best friend who had a sly grin on her face, trying to hide it with the glass in her hands. 

“Speaking of guys though, how’s Mr. Hemmings then?” Anna jokingly asked the girl, cocking an eyebrow with a smirk on her face, swaying to the music that was loudly playing in the background.

“He’s good, I mean he’s doing good,” The smaller girl quickly corrected herself before her dirty-minded friend could make a joke about their sex life or ask about it. Anna hummed lightly, still smug and still swaying to the music, “I was supposed to be going to the safe house, but I’m here instead, I don’t think he’s very happy.”

“Girl, you’ve been here for nearly two hours!” Anna cried out in shock, eyes wide at the clear defiance that the small girl had for her 6-foot-odd gang leader boyfriend.

“And?”

“He’s bound to know by now! He’s not going to bust through my doors with his gang and shoot the place down is he?”

The girl shrugged lazily in reply, letting some of her hair fall in front of her face as she smiled at her friend, “Yeah he does know, he’s been blowing up my phone for an hour and a half.”

Anna fell dramatically against the back of the couch, hand still tight around her glass of lemonade and pink gin. Her free hand was laying across her forehead with her eyes shut, “Oh please tell me you’ve replied.”

“Nope.”

“Oh come on, I really like my door, believe it or not, I don’t want him or any of his gang members kicking it down!” Anna cried out, giving her best friend a pout to which she just laughed lightly in response.

“He won’t knock your door down, he probably won’t even come. He’s too busy debriefing his gang to even spend time with me and instead shipped me out of the house. Why does he care whether it’s yours or the safe house?”

However, she couldn’t have been more wrong because less than ten minutes later they heard a roaring engine speeding down the road. Anna, who shared a quick look with the smaller girl, got up and looked out the window, seeing no other than Luke gets out of his very expensive sports car and towards the house, “Guess you were wrong.”

He threw the door open, thankfully not breaking it down, his eyes quickly landing on the small girl, grabbing her and pulling her off of the couch, planting her by his side. His grip was tight on either side of her hips, almost as if it was a warning to stay by his side and cooperate for once in her life.

“Anna,” His accented voice wrung through the room as he gave the blonde a curt nod. She waved back awkwardly, maybe too hazed by the alcohol in her system to stay anything intelligible back, and Luke seemed to realize this, “don’t stay up too late, get a good sleep, okay?”

“Aye captain, yes sir,” She saluted him back with a smile on her lips, almost diffusing the tension in the room but it was barely a second later where Luke’s grip retightened on his girlfriend’s hips.

“Okay, good night.” He bid her farewell, walking out of the house with his slightly anxious girlfriend behind him. It seemed as if suddenly she was filled with regret and guilt, especially after seeing how angry Luke was with her.

“It isn’t Jacob’s fault I-” She started when the door shut behind them, the cold wind of the night surrounding her.

“Don’t,” He spoke gruffly, turning around to look down at her with angry blue eyes before grabbing onto her wrist and dragging her over to his car.

Luke hadn’t even locked his car when he had rushed inside to Anna’s house, not that he would be too bothered anyway, it wasn’t like anyone was going to steal the gang leader’s car, especially not in this neighborhood. He didn’t speak another word to the girl as he took her around to her side of the car, letting her get in before he leaned over and strapped her in, closing the door without a single word and getting in his own side.

He started the car up and the only noise heard in the car was the engine as it roared to life and they began to speed down the street. His blond hair was messy, jaw ticking with his eyes glued to the road, never once straying to the girl in the passenger’s seat. Her eyes, however, never strayed from him, picking up every sign that he was furious with her. His posture was rigid, he was impatient, breathing loudly and not even acknowledging her existence beside her; he was seething.

She wasn’t sure if they arrived too fast or too slow to the safe house honestly. Luke still didn’t utter a word, getting out of the car and slamming the door behind him. She knew not to move already, she knew that Luke didn’t want her to move and honestly she didn’t want to aggravate him further.

True to her belief, Luke opened her car door, undoing her seatbelt before pulling her out of the car. His eyes didn’t stay on her as he stormed into the house, a tight grip on the smaller girl’s wrist. She tried to get his attention, for him to say anything to her as he entered the house but it appeared he wasn’t in the mood to talk.

The main room was still dark, but just the feeling of being in here makes her feel sick. She wasn’t overexaggerating when she said how much she hated the safe house. It felt as if she was defeated, back where she didn’t want to be, somewhere she hated, and with her boyfriend furious at her.

In the time that she had been thinking of how much she loathed the building she stood in, Luke had let go of her wrist and wordlessly made his way towards the front door again. The thought of him leaving her here, frustrated and alone all weekend made annoyance bubble in her stomach and before she can help herself she’s shouting over at him, “So that’s it? Are you just going to lock me in here and leave again?”

Luke stilled, but he doesn’t bother to reply or even look at his girlfriend, just standing there like a statue. She can’t find it in herself to regret the words that come out of her mouth, especially after she awaits the nonexistent reply, causing annoyance to bluster in her stomach. Her eyes roll and her arms flail slightly before they slap against her thighs with a low scoff falling out of her lips, “Typical.”

“Excuse me?” Luke turned around, his voice hard and powerful, one that would normally make her shake, make her look up at him with wide eyes unsure of what to say. Their eyes meet, his blue piercing into hers. He took a step forward, tilting his head slightly with an eyebrow raised, almost as if he’s encouraging her to repeat what she had said moments before, “What did you say, Bambi?”

Her mouth was agape as she stuttered lightly, any feeling of bravery that she had mere seconds ago fizzling away into nothingness. Her eyes darted from one of his eyes to the other, looking at the expectant and slightly smug face as he looked at the stuttering girl in front of him. She tried her best to find the right words to say but she had, ultimately, been rendered speechless.

“Come on, if you’re so big and brave, baby, why don’t you speak up a little? Tell me what you said.” He walked towards her until he’s right in front of her, chests barely ten centimeters apart. Two of his fingers make their way under her chin, pushing her face up until she had no other choice but to look him in the eye, holding her face in such a way that she can’t move easily.

Silence filled the room once more, simply with the two of them staring at one another. Luke stared down at her with a slight smugness and with her looking up at him still frozen almost. When he does talk next, he muttered quietly, almost condescendingly with anger trailing in his voice, “You ruined an important meeting tonight all because you couldn’t follow a simple instruction-”

“Well, believe it or not, I don’t like to be locked up in a house for days on end like a caged animal,” She doesn’t even register that she’s speaking until she’s finished, the words flowing out of her mouth cutting off Luke’s lecture.

“This house is to keep you safe,” His grip on her jaw doesn’t loosen at this point in time, blue eyes swimming with rage. In all of their time together, he doesn’t remember his Bambi giving him this much attitude or a time where she’s tried to argue with him like this. Sure, there were times where they had disagreements or times where there had been a little bit of attitude but he had quickly sorted that out.

“I was safe at Anna’s and I was happy. Isn’t that what you want? For me to be happy?” Her voice is quiet, bottom lip threatening to quiver. She hated how she cried whenever she got frustrated, and right now she’s barely holding back from her eyes becoming glassy. She’s frustrated and annoyed, but she doesn’t want to look like a baby right now, especially when this was her first fight with Luke.

“Don’t try and guilt trip me now, Bambi. It isn’t going to work tonight.”

“I hate it here! I hate constantly having to move into this stupid fucking house where I have nothing to do and no one to talk to! It doesn’t even fucking have wifi or anything! It’s dumb and all because you’re paranoid!” After she finished shouting, she ripped her head out of his hold, standing back and away from him, back coming in contact with the marble counter of the kitchen island.

Her arms are crossed over her chest, and as Luke processed her words, he shook his head. His next words are low, like it’s a warning, “Don’t shout at me like that.”

“I’m not-”

“Listen here, doll, because I’m only going to tell you this once,” Luke doesn’t even let her finish before he’s talking. His voice is forceful and strong, something he normally reserved for when his men do something stupid like ruin a drug run, “You don’t call the shots here, I do. I’m in a gang and there are a lot of people that would put a bullet in your pretty little skull just to get to me,” He pressed a finger against her temple, hard enough for her to feel the pressure but not enough for it to hurt her, “People die in this lifestyle and I send you here so it doesn’t happen to you. Don’t tell me that I’m paranoid because I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“I get it, I do-”

“Then why won’t you just do what I say?”

“Because I’m tired of being your secret.” She whispered, looking up at Luke’s blue eyes sadly, tears gathering in her own eyes. His head dipped a little, shifting his weight onto his hands which are on either side of her, trapping her against the kitchen’s island counter.

It took Luke a few seconds to finally muster up words, and just from his tone she can tell that he’s disappointed, maybe in himself, maybe because of how she thought of their relationship, “You aren’t my-”

“Then why have I never met Cal? O-Or Mikey? Why is the only time I’ve ever met Ashton an accident? And why do you constantly send me away even if it’s only people you trust going to be there? And-”

“Bambi,” Luke groaned lightly but got cut off straight away when the girl continued to rant, barely even realizing that he had tried to cut her off.

“This was supposed to be our weekend and you just sent me away. I was so excited to finally get a whole weekend of you to myself but no, I was shipped off to this shithole again-”

“This was all because you just wanted me to yourself?” Luke asked incredulously, an eyebrow raised at the girl whose eyes snapped up to meet his.

“That’s what you want, Bambi? You got it.” Luke said, his eyes staying on hers, never wavering as he commanded. He pushed back, hands off the counter and now standing at his full height, towering over her with his eyes never leaving hers, “Hands out. Now.”

“Luke what-”

Her eyes frantically search his face, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. She can feel her heart rate pick up, beating loudly in her chest.

“No, Bambi. You’ve done plenty talking tonight. No talking unless I ask you a question, got it?”

She nodded her head, gulping down the thickness in her throat as a thick leather wrapped around her wrists, constricting them. Her mouth parted slightly, she hadn’t even seen or heard Luke take off his belt, but now she can’t even part her hands anymore.

His head dropped to her neck and she can feel her stomach flutter simply by his breath fanning over the skin on her neck. His hand made its way up to the nape of her neck, grabbing a handful of hair and yanking on it so her neck is fully exposed to him, “You’ve me all to yourself tonight, Bambi. And you’re all mine.”

#luke hemmings 5sos #luke hemmings #luke hemmings x you #luke hemmings x y/n #luke hemmings x reader #luke hemmings x oc #5sos #5sauce #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer x reader #5 seconds of summer x oc #gang!luke hemmings x oc #gang!luke hemmings #gang!luke hemmings x reader #mafia!luke hemmings #mafia!luke hemmings x oc #mafia!luke hemmings x reader

[kiribaku-queen]

The Blood King and his Queen [2]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Romance, Angst, Drama

Word count: 2.3K

Summary:  From being a mere servant girl to marrying the scariest prince in existence, your world changed right before your eyes. Exchanging places with the princess, you knew, wasn’t going to be easy. But could you have found love on the way? Or was it never meant to be?

A/N: Welcome back! I’m trying to post every Monday again, but let’s see if I can keep that up! Honestly, I can’t wait for the next few chapters because I’m going to fangirl so harddd! Look at me... over my own story.

[previous]                                                                                               [next]

You came face to face with the prince’s cold, killer gaze. His blood, red eyes pierced your soul, making you unable to move a muscle. The rumors were true. Bakugou Katsuki was a very scary person. You’ve never felt more intimidated in your life like how you were right in this instant.

The prince only wore a red, fur cape with a lousy pair of pants and boots to match. His chest and stomach could be clearly shown off, battle scars raked his body. Although impressive, it proved to be even more intimidating for you.

You gulped in fear.

You had to say something. You were in the presence of your ‘fiancé’ and one of the most powerful people you’ve ever met. But you couldn’t act like yourself. Remember, you were a princess now. You’re still a servant at heart, but a princess now no less. What would the princess normally do?

Thinking back to when you would accompany her to her many visits with special guests, she was always so delicate with her movements and her words. The way she presented herself was so elegant, as a princess should be. A very different image than everyone else at the palace see her as. But you had the rare opportunity to see her in such light due to being one of the only people who attended to her everywhere. So when you were given those opportunities so see her different side, you watched her closely, mesmerized by the way she carried herself. All you had to do was imitate what you saw.

“Your highne-” you bow your head to greet him, but was rudely cut off by his deep, husky voice.

“Kirishima,” Bakugou’s voice boomed. His echoes bounced off the walls of the large throne room you were in. You jumped at just how loud his voice got. Not only were you not expecting him to be loud, but you weren’t expecting that deep of a voice.

A red-headed knight, big and scruffy with metal armor still on, stepped forward. His stance was very broad and strong, hands were crossed behind his back as his gaze was straight in front of him. He didn’t say anything but his presence was enough for Bakugou to continue.

“Show the princess to her room,” he demanded.

“Yes, Your Highness,” The one named Kirishima answered. The knight walked up to you and motioned for you to follow him. Although he was intimidating from far away, the moment you saw his face up close, you could tell from his aura that he wasn’t like his future king at all. You allowed him to take you away. But not before the prince himself had something else to say.

“Kirishima. He will be your personal guard starting today. If you need anything, go to him,” he said. You turned to face the cold prince, but his back was already turned to you. He was talking directly to you but not to you at the same time. The view of his back side was somewhat… sad. And lonely. Well talk about first impressions.

Prince Bakugou had completely disappeared from your sight. Kirishima cleared his throat and you turned your attention back on him.

“Please excuse his highness. He’s not exactly… in the mood,” the red-head enlightened you. The look he gave you was astonishingly unlike the character he first presented to you. When he stepped up, he looked just as intimidating as the Blood Prince. But now, he was all smiles. That intimidating personality vanished into thin air, like it was never present in the first place. His smile was bright and welcoming and his eyes were kind. A character that you weren’t expecting to serve under the cold killer prince.

“Shall we go?” Kirishima brought you back to reality. You hadn’t realized you were so deep in your thoughts. You must look like such a fool in that moment. You nodded your head and followed closely behind him.

On the way to your room, Kirishima showed you around the palace. Where the dining area was, the library, the study, the kitchen, the servants quarters, where Bakugou was staying and finally, where you would be residing for the time being. You knew you weren’t married yet, but you didn’t think Bakugou and the princess would be sleeping in two different places. Probably better for you, though. At least you won’t have to feel nervous at night now.

“So,” Kirishima, once again, interrupted your thoughts. You were standing outside your bedroom door when Kirishima decides for small talk. “What do you think about Bakugou so far?” His question came to as a surprise to you. Not because it was odd to be asking a princess such a personal question, but because that he was addressing his prince for informally. Kirishima noticed the hesitancy in your answer and gave off an awkward laugh.

“The prince and I are like brothers. We grew up and trained together, so I get a little too comfortable at times when addressing his highness. I apologize if it caught you off guard,” he apologized. You waved your hands in front of you, shaking your head.

“Oh, do not apologize. I didn’t realize how close you were to the prince,” you said nervously. You tried to make it subtle that you were a bit uncomfortable with this role that you were suddenly meant to take up. But Kirishima saw right through you, noticing every small change you made. The way you moved, the way you talked, the way your hands fidgeted, the way your eyes were always on something other than the person in front of you. He took in all these behaviors with his sharp eyes.

“I assume that you aren’t too fond of his highness,” he came to conclusion. His comment made you panic more than before.

“Ah, it’s not that! I guess I was expecting… someone different? He’s definitely scary in person, but he’s not as some people describe. He doesn’t have sharp teeth or killer eyes. I mean, his eyes are intimidating but I don’t think he looked like he wanted to kill me. But I guess the description of his scars were accurate. But always very manly at the same time!” you rambled on. You couldn’t have the Prince’s best friend think that you think badly of the Prince. You tried to be truthful but not fully truthful at the same time. How would the princess react? Would she have lied to save herself? You mentally knocked your forehead. You weren’t ready for such a task yet. Kirishima laughed at your response. But then his eyes turned a little sad, while a small still laid on his lips.

“So, you believe in the rumors? He asked. You paused to look at him. Rumors?

“I’m not sure anymore,” you say truthfully. Did everything you hear about the Blood Prince all rumors? People made up horrible things about him and you believed it? Without a second thought. Kirishima laughed one more time and continued to open your bedroom door for you.

“I guess you’ll find out for yourself soon,” he commented. “I’ll let you freshen up and get rested. Dinner should be served soon.” He said before stepping out. Now you were all alone. Left alone to bathe in your thoughts.

It wasn’t until you turned around did your jaw drop to the floor. Despite what the rest of the Blood Prince’s palace looked like, this room was fit for a princess. A gorgeous bed, beautiful view with an unbelievable tall window and balcony, exquisite fruits and snacks for you to munch on, a mini library and desk, a wardrobe filled with dresses. It was just… wow. You wanted to have the chance to collect your thoughts. But first.

A devilish smile slowly creeped its way to your lips as your eyes diverted to the massive bed in the middle of the room. You couldn’t suppress the urge to jump right onto that bed, so that’s exactly what you did. With full speed, you ran right up to that bed and landed on your back with wide arms. The instant you landed on that bed, you sank right in. The mattress and pillows engulfed your entire body. You’ve never laid in something so fluffy and soft. This was much nicer than your bed back in the servant’s quarters. The room was so extravagant that you didn’t even know where to look. Is this what it feels like to live like a princess? You even had your own servants ready to tend to you, waiting outside.

That used to be you. Right, back to reality. This was only a dream you were meant to wake up to. You shouldn’t be feeling so happy right now. Although you knew you could never experience this again after this is all over, you wanted to enjoy as much of it as you could. But you were on a mission, given to you specifically by the princess herself. You felt luxurious, but weird. Like you were in a body that didn’t belong to you.

Then your mind started wandering back to the Blood Prince, Bakugou Katsuki. You heard so many things about this so-called, ‘Blood Prince’. So much that you thought you were well versed in his behavior. Bakugou had ruled the battlefield despite his young age. He didn’t take shit from anybody. In fact, he beheaded anybody who dare to defy him. Once, you heard that multiple women went in and out of his chambers every single night. He didn’t sound like a likeable person at all. Were the things you heard really rumors? From what you heard, the descriptions of the prince weren’t far off. They couldn’t possibly have twisted the truth to make people fear him. Right? How much of what you heard was real?

Although you were feeling guilty about having thought of him that way, you had to remind yourself of the mission that you were on: get the prince to hate you and call of the engagement so you could return home and everything will go back to normal. You weren’t here to be on good terms with the prince. Whether the rumors were true or not, all you wanted to do was go home. The easiest way to do that? Get the prince to hate you. You should do everything a princess shouldn’t. You shouldn’t be elegant. You shouldn’t have to keep your mouth shut. You shouldn’t be respectful. Well, since you didn’t know anything about being a princess anyway, you decided it couldn’t hurt to act like yourself. If it gets you into too much trouble, then you might have to change your plan. But for now, you were going to see where it takes you.

As soon as you got changed into something more appropriate, Kirishima escorted you to the dining area where dinner was being served. The moment you entered the dining area, a plethora of food was presented on this long dining table, ranging from all sorts of dishes. You’ve seen your fair share of massive presentation due to being by the princess’s side, but this was on a whole ‘nother level. This amount of food could be enough to feed a whole village.

On one side of the table, an empty chair waiting for your arrival. But what you didn’t expect to see on the other side of the table was Bakugou Katsuki, already sitting. You looked down to see that he hadn’t even touched his food yet. Was he waiting for you?

“Your highness,” you greeted him with a slight bow. He did not greet you back. Only gave you a glance, let out a low gruff and adjusted himself in his seat. Hmph, rude. All politeness was thrown out the window now as your lips turned into a frown.

“Princess?” Kirishima interrupted your thoughts. He had moved to the empty chair and pulled it out for you. You gladly excepted his kind gesture and sat yourself at the table. Kirishima moved to the side and stood guard while you and Bakugou had your meal.

“Nice of you to show up,” Bakugou said. His comment caught you off guard.

“Pardon my tardiness. I couldn’t figure out which gown to wear for this evening as you gave me so many options to choose from. But I didn’t expect that to stop the great Blood Prince from starting his meal,” you gave a snarky remark back. You looked Bakugou straight in the eyes and gave him a smile, one that was challenging to Bakugou. Bakugou didn’t hesitate to meet your eyes, his crimson stare boar into yours as he drank from his cup. The look he gave you ran chills down your spine. Although a tint of amusement flickered in his eyes, the intimidation made you oversee that small detail. His eye contact was so strong that you couldn’t look away. But why wasn’t he looking away either? For a few moments, you two held eye contact with each other, both of you seemingly unable to look away. You were putting on a front, but how much longer could you do that. Until it was too much, you cleared your throat and looked down, picking up your utensils to start eating.

Bakugou smirked at your reaction, almost impressed that you could hold his stare for that long, and also began eating. Not until he glanced back up to get another look at you.

Kirishima saw that. He looked back and forth between you and his best friend during your stare down. It took everything in him to not chuckle, so he bit the inside of his cheek to refrain from showing any reaction. But he saw the second take Bakugou shot at you. Oh? Was something going on already?

A/N: Please let me know your thoughts and if it’s getting interesting! Hopefully I tagged everybody and if not, please let me know! Also let me know if you want to be tagged and I’ll gladly add you!

Tagged: @superblyspeedydragon​ @melasnchz-things​ @animexholic​ @bkgwrites​ @sam-i-am-1025​ @apexqueenie​

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #bnha bakugou #bakugou imagine #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha imagines #bakugou angst #bnha art #bakugou romance #bakugou drama

[xjoonchildx]

guarded | jhs x reader | chapter five: italian leather gloves

summary: you’ve tried to separate yourself from your infamous crime family, but a new case has your carefully-constructed world crashing down around you.  now you have to figure out how to heal old wounds and handle the new man who enters your orbit.

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: mafia AU, E2L, slow burn, tsundere, smut

rating: 18+

word count: 6.0K

A/N: so the smut warnings start to go into effect in this chapter, guys! i can’t believe how many kind messages i’ve gotten about this story. please just know that i read every single one and i promise they all make me so happy.  i really hope you guys like this chapter and i hope it answers some questions.  of course i must thank the squad @ladyartemesia @taetaewonderland @ppersonna for being an amazing support system and kick ass beta readers.  love you guys.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | EPILOGUE

****************

Everything hurts.

The moment you open your eyes, you wish you hadn’t.  Late morning sun streams bright and unforgiving into your bedroom, making the ache in your temples even more pronounced.  You spend a good ten minutes lying flat on your back, staring at the ceiling and remembering everything that went wrong last night.

So terribly, terribly wrong.

Your punishment today -- apart from the pounding headache and sour stomach -- is that despite doing your very best to drink yourself to blackout, you remember every minute of last night in painstaking detail.  There’s a cruel clarity to the way your mind replays the awkward dinner with your boss and the confrontation with Donghyuk.

And your fight with Hoseok.

Shame curls in your gut when you recall the nasty things you’d said to try and get a rise out of him. The nasty things he’d said in return when your goading finally worked.

“People like me do the dirty work so people like you can impress rich assholes at stupid parties.”

It’s not like you didn’t already know Hoseok saw you as some kind of entitled rich bitch -- but that didn’t make hearing the words spoken out loud any easier.  It didn’t make the anger you provoked in him any less jarring.

And it didn’t make the moment he saw your scar any less humiliating.

That’s when you feel like you might be sick -- when you remember the way Hoseok went completely still at the sight of your damaged skin.  The way he’d tried so hard to look like he wasn’t staring and failed.

You get out of bed and slip an oversized sweatshirt over your head, take a few deep breaths to try and calm the wobbling sensation in your stomach.  

That’s when it hits you. 

You don’t smell coffee.

****************************

Kim Seokjin looks like he’s made himself quite at home when you finally work up the nerve to leave your bedroom. He’s reclined deep into your couch, long legs propped up on your living room table, tablet in hand.  He looks up from the screen to take in your bedraggled appearance with wide eyes.

“Rough night, huh?”

“Something like that,” you say quietly.  You make your way to the kitchen in search of a glass of water and Seokjin stands up from the couch to follow you.

“Hoseok, uh --”, he pauses for a moment, rubs one hand across the back of his neck,  “ -- said he needed a couple of days to take care of some personal stuff.”

You pour lukewarm water into a glass, take one tentative sip and say nothing.

“So you’re stuck with me,” Seokjin continues slowly, “For a little while, anyway.”

You stare into your glass, unwilling to meet Seokjin’s eyes.  It shouldn’t surprise you one bit that Hoseok took off after what happened between you last night.  It probably shouldn’t hurt either.

But it does.

The little water you’ve managed to get down feels like it might come right back up.

“You okay?” Seokjin asks after a long pause.

“No,” you admit.  “I don’t feel good.  Probably going to stay in bed for the day, so it’ll be a quiet one for you.”

Seokjin nods sympathetically. 

“You know what’s good for when you’re feeling sick?” he asks.  “Samgyetang. I found some in your fridge.  It’s pretty good too, kinda --”

Your stomach lurches at the mention of that goddamned soup.

You leave Seokjin mid-sentence to retch in the privacy of your bathroom.

*****************************

The next time you open your eyes, it’s to complete darkness.

You wake disoriented, not sure if you’ve slept for hours or for days.  The last thing you remember after getting sick was barely getting down some painkillers and a little more water before crawling back into bed.  

Then it was lights out.

Physically, you feel better.  The hammering headache is gone and the motion sickness is gone with it.  But as you lie awake in the darkness, there’s no way to escape your tumultuous thoughts.  The ones that keep going back to Hoseok and that fight.

“People like me follow orders so people like you don’t have to.”

No doubt the story of how you left the Gajog has been distorted over the years, passed between gossips in some twisted game of telephone. No doubt the story that’s told now is not about the scared teenager desperate for any semblance of stability; it’s about some spoiled little girl who decided she was too good for everyone else.  

“People like me stay behind and handle our responsibilities so people like you can walk away from yours.”

That was definitely the worst blow of the night, though.  

There is just enough truth to that accusation to make it stick, to make it sting.  You did walk away. You did leave your brother behind.

You run a hand through your hair and reach for your phone to check the time.  9:30 PM.  

You feel almost human by the time you get out of the shower and walk out into the living room to find Seokjin dozing on the couch.  You feel guilty for rousing him, but it’s his job.  You know this is something you have to do right now.

“Jin,” you call out, nudging him gently.  His eyes blink back, unfocused as he tries to get his bearings.  

“Yeah?” he’s alert at once, looking around.  “You okay?”

No, but I’m going to be.

“I’m alright.  I need you to take me to see my brother.”

****************************

Namjoon has a beautiful penthouse on the water, a luxury apartment high above the Han River.  But there’s no wife, no children waiting for him at home.  Nothing in that place but echoing walls and modern art.

So he spends most of his nights at the office.

Seokjin called ahead, just in case -- but you knew your brother would be there.  He’s still dressed in his suit, a tumbler of scotch in hand when you arrive.  Seokjin doesn’t have to be asked to leave.

“You don’t look well, Amsaja,” he says quietly as you sit in the chair opposite his grand desk.

“You are not the first person to allude to that today,” you say with a humorless laugh.  You look down at your giant sweatshirt and jeans, and shove a hand through your still-wet hair. “Message received.”

His eyes are soft with concern.  “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing,” you say, blowing out a heavy breath.  “Everything.  I just -- I just needed to see you.”

You were still a little girl when you learned the hard way that tears were futile and pointless and only served to make you a target. But you feel them welling in your eyes anyway.  The reflex feels foreign and rusty after so many years of disuse.

“I’m so sorry, Namjoon,” you choke out, voice thick.  “So, so sorry.”

Namjoon sets his tumbler down on the heavy wood of his desk, walks around it and over to you. When he gets down on one knee and reaches out a hand to brush your cheek you don’t see the grown man at the helm of Seoul’s largest criminal empire.  You see the brother who took care of you when no one else would.

Despite your best efforts to stop them, the tears come anyway.

Namjoon holds you close, strokes your hair while you cry into the jacket of his expensive suit.  He doesn’t say anything for a while, just waits for your body to stop shaking with the force of your sobs and for your breathing to even out. 

“Why did you let me leave?” you ask once you’ve managed to regain some control.  “Why didn’t you ask me to stay?”

Namjoon sighs, standing to stretch his legs.  He grabs his drink before walking over to the window to peer down at the lights streaking by below.

“One of us deserved to have a choice,” he says quietly.  “It was never going to be me.  I didn’t want the same for you.”

Your heart breaks all over again, hearing Namjoon say those words out loud.  Your brother, born into a legacy he never asked for and a responsibility he could never run from. Your protector who let you walk away from the life he couldn’t escape.

“You saved me,” you whisper.  “He would have killed me if I hadn’t left Seoul.”

“I know that,” Namjoon admits, “I saw it coming, too.  The worse his drinking got --  I couldn’t let that happen.  I refused to let that happen.”

You stand out of the chair to walk over to the window.  Your brother’s profile is illuminated by the passing lights, mouth set in a grim line.

“You forced him to let me go.”

It’s not a question. Namjoon nods.

“I told him I would disappear if he didn’t let you leave.  And then what? He’d have spent his entire life grooming me for nothing.  He was just weak enough from the drinking to agree. He couldn’t fight me on it anymore.”

You shut your eyes against the fresh tears that come.

“I’ve been so selfish.”

“We’re all selfish, Amsaja,” he sighs.  “We all want things we can’t have. That’s human nature.”

It makes your chest squeeze -- how desolate that admission sounds.  You think about your brother’s massive, empty apartment.  Who takes care of him? Who does he have to talk to?  You swallow past the taste of guilt in your mouth.

“We could leave all of this behind, Jaegyueo. Start over.  Make our own choices this time.”

Namjoon huffs a sad laugh into the rim of his glass.

“How I got here is not the point anymore,” he says.  “You think if I dismantled this organization right now that all of this would just stop?”

He turns away from the window to look you in the eye.

“There would be ten syndicates ready to fill the hole we would leave overnight. And I promise you,” he shakes his head, “None of them would conduct business as neatly as we do. This organization keeps everything from going to shit. This is our way of balancing the scales.”

You wrap your arms around yourself and look back out the window, out to the lights that make the city glow at this time of night.  You know your brother is right.  

This is his destiny.  

“You talk about being selfish,” he continues quietly,  “How’s this for selfish?  No matter how much you’ve suffered in the past, I still want you here by my side.  I still want you to come back.”

Your heart squeezes in your chest.

“Namjoon, I --”  He interrupts you with a raised hand.

“You don’t have to defend your stance.  You have every right to leave this all behind you forever. Just know that you are the only person on this Earth that I trust without question.”

The ice in his scotch tinkles in the quiet of the office as he swirls the contents of the glass.

“Just know that there is a part of me that will always be waiting for you to come back.”

*********************

HOSEOK

Hoseok had to get out of there.

He had to put space between you and him or he was going to lose his mind.  

Thankfully, Seokjin didn’t ask too many questions when he’d phoned in the middle of the night asking to be relieved for a few days.  Seokjin didn’t press too hard when he asked about how you were doing and Hoseok nearly took his head off.  And Seokjin hasn’t asked why Hoseok is texting him every day to make sure you’re alright.

Sometimes -- rarely -- Seokjin knows exactly when to shut the fuck up.  

Hoseok knows he should be using this time to get his shit together. 

He knows he’s this close to doing something stupid.  He knows he’s got to figure out a way to release the pressure building inside of him before he explodes.

He thinks about how satisfying it would be to put his fist through Kang Donghyuk’s face.

He stares down the stone-and-glass entrance to Kang’s apartment from the driver’s seat of his car, one hand tight around the steering wheel.  He tightens his grip on the wheel and loosens it, over and over and over.

A call comes through.

“Hey, it’s Jimin.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok says flatly, eyes never leaving the entrance to that apartment building. “What’s up?”

“I already briefed Namjoon but he wanted me to call you, too.  We finally got a hit on Lee Hyejin.”

Hoseok sits up straighter in his seat.

“What did you find?”

“We got access to her accounts.  Regular payments, every two weeks -- coming through an offshore wire.  Started about three months ago.”

“Shit,” Hoseok says under his breath.  “A Ssijog account?”

“We’re still working on confirming that -- but yeah, like 99% sure.”

Hoseok scrubs a hand down his face.  

Who gets to break the news to you that your only friend has been fucking with your case -- fucking with your entire life? He thinks back to how blank and despondent you’d looked the night of the snake incident, how withdrawn you’d been the night of the charity dinner. 

How much more of this pressure can you withstand before you explode?

“What about the guy?” Jimin asks, after the line is silent for too long. “Any news on him?”

“Not yet,” Hoseok murmurs, tightening his grip around the wheel again.  “But it’s coming.  I know it’s coming.”

“Okay.  Tae is still trying to get a complete list of accounts linked to that offshore one.  If we find out more, I’ll make sure you know right away.”

Hoseok ends the call just as another call comes in.

He takes one look at the screen and rubs his fingers across his tired eyes before sending it to voicemail.

He knows he could have handled the situation with Dae with more care. He knows he could have done more than end their casual arrangement with one call.  Dae had been furious, demanding he give her some kind of explanation so she could understand why it was over.  

Hoseok hadn’t been lying to her when he said he didn’t know why.

But as he sits in the dark -- staring at the entrance of Kang Donghyuk’s apartment building -- he considers for a moment that he might have been lying to himself.

His phone rings again.

“Jung,” Namjoon’s voice comes over the line. “You in the middle of something?”

“Nah,” Hoseok lies easily.  “Just relaxing.  What’s up?”

“Come have a drink with me.”

*********************

It’s nearly midnight by the time Hoseok makes it across town.

Namjoon appears to be in a contemplative mood tonight, glass of scotch in hand, long body leaned back into his plush chair.

“You’re off-duty tonight,” Namjoon says, taking a sip of his drink.  “Scotch?”

Hoseok makes a face.

“Definitely not.  Have any whiskey?”

“Yeah, I think I’ve got a bottle around here somewhere.”

Namjoon picks up his desk phone to reach his assistant, who makes quick work of finding a bottle and a clean glass.  She delivers both with practiced silence before slipping out of the room.  

Hoseok can’t help but notice his boss’s gaze lingering on the pretty young woman as she retreats. He keeps his mouth shut because he’s not an idiot.

Once he has a tumbler of whiskey in hand, Hoseok leans back into his own chair, undoes the top buttons of his dress shirt.

“Something specific you want to talk about?” he asks, sipping his drink.  

“Just checking in,” Namjoon says quietly.  “I’ve barely seen you these past few weeks.  Want to make sure everything’s alright where you’re concerned.”

“I’m fine,” Hoseok says.  “Jimin called me about the shit he found on the Lee girl, though.”

“Yeah. I don’t think my sister’s going to take that news well,” Namjoon murmurs.  “She’s not exactly the trusting type.  A betrayal like this -- ”

He trails off, abandoning one thought for another.  

“Does she talk to you?”

Hoseok clears his throat. 

He tries not to think about the last time he saw you and the terrible things you’d said to one another.  He tries not to remember the look on your face before you turned away from him.  

“Not really.  Keeps to herself a lot.”

“Yeah, well.  She’s had to put up with a lot of shit over the years,” Namjoon admits, rubbing his fingers across his lips. “She keeps things close to the vest.”

Hoseok sags deeper into the plush chair and takes a drink, welcomes the burn that comes with it.  He already knows Namjoon is not looking for some kind of dialogue tonight.  Namjoon is looking to unload.  

Hoseok keeps quiet and lets him do just that.

“My sister has been punished for things beyond her control since the day she was born,” he continues.  “My role was clear from day one and hers much less so.  My father was too ignorant to figure out how to raise a little girl without a mother and too disinterested to even ask for help.”

Hoseok’s fingers tighten around his glass.

“She spent half her time trying to get his attention and the other half regretting when she finally did.”

The image of that scar comes into Hoseok’s mind, unbidden.  The jagged lines of it, the deep indent of it.  All of the tiny details that speak to the brutality behind the wound.  

“He hurt her,” Hoseok says quietly, looking past Namjoon to stare out into lights outside the window.

“A thousand different ways,” Namjoon sighs, shoving a hand through his hair.  “I did what I could, but I couldn’t keep her from all of it.”

The ice in his glass tinkles as he empties his drink.

“I know what people say about my sister, Hoseok,” Namjoon exhales.  “None of them know what they’re talking about.  She was going to be damned either way.  She did what she had to do to survive.”

Hoseok swallows the last of his whiskey around the knot in his throat.

************************

He almost took the night off.

Hoseok’s body could have used the rest, and his mind certainly could have, too.  But every time he closes his eyes he sees you, hears your brother’s words.  

The pressure inside him keeps building.

He woke up this morning thinking about that photograph inside Namjoon’s desk -- the one taken inside your apartment.  The one taken while you were sleeping and at your most vulnerable, inside your own home.  

Every cell in Hoseok’s body is telling him that Kang Donghyuk took that picture.  

That’s why he’s in his car tonight, following Kang home from the office again.  That’s why he’s pulled into a space just outside the man’s high-dollar highrise prepared for another night of waiting and watching.  

Fuck, he’ll do it every night until he gets the answers he’s looking for.

A call comes in from Seokjin.

“Hey,” Hoseok answers on the first ring.  “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin sighs.  “Quiet.  She’s busy working in her room or something.  Why do I have the feeling you’re not at your place taking the personal time you said you needed?”

“Mind your business,” Hoseok mutters. 

Seokjin laughs.

“Honestly, I just called because I’m bored.  Wondering if you ever plan on coming back to your post.  I’m going out of -- “

“-- Shit,” Hoseok interrupts, sitting up straight in his seat.  “I gotta go.”

He ends the call before Seokjin can ask why.

Hoseok squints against the dark when he sees Kang Donghyuk walk out of the entrance to his building.  Kang stands on the curb, hands shoved into the pockets of his dress pants.  Even from a distance, Hoseok can see he’s looking up and down the street.

He’s waiting for someone.

Hoseok’s entire body is tense as he watches a sleek silver car pull up outside the building’s entrance and Kang slip into the passenger seat.  The car takes off and Hoseok’s pulse picks up.

This is it.

He waits until the sedan is a few hundred feet ahead to pull out into the street.  He’s careful to keep pace with the surrounding traffic so he doesn’t give himself away.  And after a short drive, the silver car parks outside a run-down warehouse in one of the shittier parts of the city.  

Hoseok pulls into a dark space, cuts the ignition and hides the bright display of his phone.

He watches Kang Donghyuk get out of the passenger seat, followed by the driver of the car.  A man Hoseok recognizes as Ssijog right away.  The men have a short conversation in the street before disappearing into the warehouse.  

Hoseok’s hand tightens around the steering wheel, then loosens.  Again and again and again.

He knows the protocol.  He knows he should have called this in five minutes ago.

He hasn’t.  

He won’t. 

Instead, he reaches into the console to pull out his favorite pair of Italian leather gloves.

*************************

Dressing the part has always served Hoseok well, even in this line of work.

Tonight -- his meticulously chosen suit and tie are his ticket inside Kang Donghyuk’s secure high-rise apartment building.  Hoseok walks right past the security guard on duty so casually that the man barely looks in his direction.

It takes him only a few minutes to find the door to Kang’s apartment and the entrance to the service elevator nearby.  Hoseok stands back into the recess and balls his hands into fists.  He concentrates on the stretch of his leather gloves.

Then he waits.

Kang Donghyuk doesn’t keep him waiting long.  

Just a short while later, he’s at his apartment door, fumbling with his keys.  Hoseok waits until he nudges the door open before making his approach.

One firm hand to the back of the neck and one firm shove is all it takes.  

Kang Donghyuk falls through the entrance to his apartment just as Hoseok is closing the door behind him.  He rolls onto his back on the floor, eyes wide and sputtering.

“What the fuck man?”  

Hoseok doesn’t bother to answer that.  

He pulls out his pistol and points the barrel at the cowering man.  Kang’s pupils blow wide and Hoseok feels a pulse of satisfaction at his obvious fear.

“Start talking,” Hoseok says, voice low and controlled.

“About what?” Kang squeaks -- voice slipping out an octave too high.  

Hoseok clicks the pistol’s safety into place and off again just to ensure Kang hears the sound.  The coward reacts immediately, covering his face with his hands.

“Alright man, I’ll talk.  Just chill -- “ he wheezes.  “I’ll tell you whatever you need to know.”

“I need to know everything, Kang,” Hoseok says between clenched teeth.  “Start fucking talking.”

Donghyuk sits up slowly, hands raised and eyes fixed on Hoseok.  

“They came to me a few months back.  All they said is they wanted her to fuck up the case.  That’s all, I swear.”

There’s no feeling of satisfaction for Hoseok when he hears the words spoken aloud.  There’s no victory in confirming the guy he thought was a piece of shit all along is actually a piece of shit.  

The pressure inside him continues to build.

“You’re working with the Lee girl?”

“Yeah,” Donghyuk admits miserably, eyes unmoving from the barrel of Hoseok’s gun.  “She would help me make copies of her keys and shit.  She knew where the important files were, too.  I mostly had to keep her out of the apartment when they needed to get in and -- ” he clears his throat, “ -- other stuff.”

Hoseok sees red. 

Fury ignites inside of him at the innuendo packed into those two short words.  His pistol seems to warm in his hand. 

“You took that picture,” he whispers, finger tightening around the trigger. Donghyuk winces, swallows so hard Hoseok can see his Adam's apple jump in his throat.

“Yeah,” Donghyuk admits, curling in on himself.  “They asked me to.”

Hoseok turns the gun in his hand so fast Donghyuk barely has the time to put his hands over his face again.  He cracks the butt of his pistol against the side of Donghyuk’s skull and the man whimpers as he rolls over in pain.

The pistol whip should have been enough to take the edge off of Hoseok’s rage.  

But it’s not enough. 

He holsters his gun and Donghyuk stares up at him from the floor, terrified.

“Get up,” Hoseok hisses.  

Blood has started to seep from a gash on the side of Donghyuk’s head but the man complies.  He stumbles to his feet just in time for Hoseok to take him off balance again.  He wraps one hand around the man’s throat and squeezes tight, pushing him back against a wall.

Donghyuk’s eyes bulge as Hoseok pins him to the wall with that hand.

“Never, ever --” Hoseok spits the words, grip crushing the man’s neck,  “-- go near her again.  Do you understand me? That’s not something I have to repeat even for someone as stupid as you, right?”

Donghyuk’s face is mottled, features frozen in fear as he attempts to nod his agreement. 

 Hoseok tightens his grip and the man starts to turn a satisfying shade of red.  The color deepens as Hoseok squeezes harder and all he can think about is how easy it would be to end him, how just a few more seconds of this pressure could cause his windpipe to collapse. How one more hard press of his fingers could solve the problem of Kang Donghyuk forever. 

But protocol.

Hoseok finally releases his grip on the man’s throat and Kang immediately slumps down the wall, into a pile on the floor.  He gasps, hands clutched to his chest as he fights to regain his breath.

Hosok stands back, straightening his coat and adjusting his jacket underneath.  

He gives Kang Donghyuk one last glance before walking to the door.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he warns quietly.  “I’d hate to have to pay you another visit.”

Hoseok waits for the door to click closed before pulling out his phone to call Namjoon in the quiet of the hallway.  He’s a little breathless when his boss picks up on the first ring.

“Regarding Kang Donghyuk,” he murmurs. “There’s been a development.”

**********************

Namjoon’s call comes late the next afternoon.

“Hey,” Hoseok breathes into the receiver, balancing his phone between his shoulder and ear.  He drops his hand back into the bowl of ice water at his side.  “What’s up?”

“I need you to come in,” his boss says evenly.  “So we can discuss next steps.”

“Be there in ten.”

It’s a little pathetic, the way Hoseok perks up at having somewhere to be.  

Even meeting with his boss to explain how he broke protocol and nearly choked a man to death beats sitting in his apartment, icing his sore hand.  It sure as hell beats sitting on his couch, staring at the TV and trying not to think about you.

Namjoon takes the news of Kang’s involvement and Hoseok’s insubordination surprisingly well.  

He’d listened to Hoseok’s account of how he’d tracked Kang to the warehouse and ambushed him outside his apartment with quiet calm.  Maybe it’s his imagination, but Hoseok could swear he almost saw Namjoon smile when he described pistol-whipping Kang inside his apartment.

Yoongi -- pragmatic as ever -- laid the options out plainly.  

He argued that the Gajog could get rid of either Lee Hyejin or Kang Donghyuk, but not both.  Killing both, Yoongi reasoned, would put an entirely different kind of target on your back.  Both Hoseok and Namjoon agreed with that assessment.  Yoongi has always had a mind for strategy, even if his delivery leaves a bit to be desired.

Namjoon promised to think over the options before dismissing them both.

*************************

Hoseok’s hand still aches.

He’s been driving around the city for more than an hour now, not ready to go home and not certain which move to make next.  Each turn of his steering wheel sends a throb of discomfort through his grip.

Fucking up Kang Donghyuk was satisfying, no doubt.  But it’s not enough.

Hoseok doesn’t feel the sense of relief he’d expected to enjoy after choking that man to within an inch of his life.  There’s still a dull ache inside his chest too insistent to ignore.  

He tries to focus on the street signs that come and go, the traffic lights that glow against the backdrop of the setting sun.  He drives until the night takes over completely and then he drives until he parks outside of your place. 

When Hoseok cuts the ignition, it’s like he’s just come out of a fog.  He looks up at your high-rise and takes a deep breath before climbing out of the car.

******************

Seokjin’s bag must have already been packed.  

After a quick debrief he’s out the door in seconds, leaving Hoseok alone inside the quiet apartment.  He sinks down onto the couch and stares at your closed bedroom door.

He should knock, he thinks to himself.

He should get the apology sitting on the tip of his tongue out of the way so the two of you can move forward from what happened the other night.  He should apologize for the way he’s treated you and he should beg for your forgiveness.

Hoseok scrubs a hand down his face before resolving to do just that -- at the same time your bedroom door opens.  He watches you walk to the kitchen without so much as a glance in his direction and then he hears the sound of running water.   

He follows you.

Hoseok worries for a split-second that you might drop the glass in your hand when you finally spot him.

“Oh,” you breathe, “It’s you.”

Hoseok thought the last time he’d seen you -- when you’d worn that incredible gown and pulled out every stop -- he thought that was the most beautiful you’d ever looked.  But somehow that pales in comparison to how you look right now, figure swimming in an oversized sweatshirt, hair loose and framing your bare face.  He can’t even bring himself to look lower because you’re wearing those godforsaken shorts.  Has Seokjin seen you in those things?

His brain derails and it takes a moment to get back on track.

“Sorry,” he says slowly.  “Yeah, it’s me.  I’m back now.”

“Okay,” you exhale, setting your glass of water down. 

“I’m sorry.”

Hoseok had planned on saying something a bit more heartfelt, something with a bit more depth.  He had not intended on blurting out his apology the moment he saw you.  

“I don’t want you to feel sorry for me,” you say softly.  “I don’t want your pity or anyone else’s.”

Hoseok steps closer and you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, a nervous gesture.

“That’s not what I said,” he insists, shaking his head. “I’m not sorry for you, I’m sorry for me.  I’m sorry because I’m a fucking jerk.”

You blink back at him.  “What?”

“I’m sorry -- ” Hoseok takes another step forward, “ -- that you have to put up with assholes like me who think they know everything about you when they really don’t know anything.”

Hoseok ignores the voice inside his head warning him not to press you too hard, not to take this too far.   

“I’m sorry anyone has ever tried you because I promise you they are going to pay,” he vows, stepping even closer.

You lean back against the heavy stone of your kitchen island, eyes wide. 

“And fuck -- ” Hoseok practically chokes the words out, “-- fuck, I am so sorry for wanting you as badly as I do when I know I have no right.”

There is a moment after those words tumble out when Hoseok thinks he may have just fucked everything up for good.  A moment when your mouth drops open but you say nothing and Hoseok is certain you’re going to make him leave.

But you don’t.

So he kisses you.

Hoseok swallows the sound of surprise you make when he slants his lips over yours.   You reach your hands around his neck to pull him closer and go up on your tiptoes to make up for the difference in height. Hoseok groans into your mouth when your nails scrape against the back of his neck.  

Any moment now -- any moment now he’s certain you’re going to come to your senses.  You’re going to demand he take his filthy fucking hands off of you.  He braces for it.

But you don’t.

Instead, you melt into his touch and whimper into his mouth and what’s left of Hoseok’s sanity evaporates. The sounds of panting and groaning echo off of the stone in the kitchen as you meld your body to his.

“I want you so much,” he whispers, gripping your waist to lift you onto the counter.

It’s easy to ignore the way his hand aches in protest when you’re wrapping your legs around his waist and sinking your fingers into his hair.  His cock is so hard in his pants he feels like he might explode.

You pull away from him, breathless, to lift your sweatshirt over your head and Hoseok’s chest tightens at the flash of doubt that crosses your features.  The heat that creeps into your cheeks when your scar is bared and on display.

He leans close to brush feather-light kisses against it, lips soft against the rough skin. “Every inch of you is perfect,” he whispers, sucking gently at the indent in your collarbone. “Just the way it is.”

You suck in a sharp breath and release it with a strangled sigh as your fingers grip the back of Hoseok’s neck.  He trails kisses from your scar, slowly down your breast, onto one aching nipple.

“Hoseok -- please,” you beg.  “I want -- “

Your plea breaks apart he takes your nipple into his mouth, teeth teasing at the straining bud.

“Tell me what you want,” Hoseok murmurs, burying his face into the soft skin between your breasts, “Tell me and I swear to God, I’ll give it to you.”

Your fingers fumble for his belt and Hoseok groans when you work it apart.  There’s no way he’s ever been this hard -- ever.  He’s certain he could come just from rutting against the counter with your voice in his ear.

“Hoseok,” you whisper again.  “Hoseok -- “

He doesn’t catch on to the panic in your tone until you go rigid in his arms.

“There’s someone at the door,” you whisper, eyes wide. 

“Shit.” 

Hoseok shuts his eyes, leans his forehead against yours.

You slip out of his hold and he leans over the kitchen counter, arms braced against the stone while he tries to collect the last remaining scraps of his self-control.  You pull your sweatshirt back overhead and run quietly to the door.

You’re back only a moment later.  

“It’s my brother,” you whisper.  “And Yoongi and some guy I don’t know.”

Holy shit.

Hoseok grits his teeth, takes a deep breath, and silently wills his rigid cock to stand down. Thinking about Kim Namjoon’s face on the other side of that door helps, actually.  It helps a lot. 

The door knocker thuds again loudly and Hoseok can hear Namjoon’s voice coming from the hallway.  You wait until he’s managed to straighten his shirt and secure his belt before opening the door.

He can see your brother’s frown from ten feet away.

“Hoseok should really be the one to answer the door, Amsaja,” he says, eyes narrowed.  “Is he not here?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” Hoseok calls out, hoping like hell that his voice sounds even.  “Sorry. I was just -- uh, in the middle of something.”

Actually, I was trying to be in the middle of something.  That something being your sister.  That’s not going to be a problem, is it?

Yoongi looks between you and Hoseok and Namjoon but says nothing.

“So what’s going on?” Hoseok asks, desperate to move the conversation along.  “Something wrong?”

“Jeon is going to stay over tonight,” Namjoon says, pointing to the youngest man on his team.  Jungkook walks into the apartment and bows to you before taking a seat on the couch.

Namjoon nods at Yoongi before turning to Hoseok.

“The three of us have somewhere to be.”

**********************

tag list!

@saintjeonofbusan @lemonjoonah @illnevertrustmyselfagain @sunkissed725@shadowhale @sugaminyoonjiji @jinhitwhore @trust-me-im-joly @daydreambrliever @ultraanonymousey @yoon-bug @multistantrash17 @poohsaidhi @alyboo-jpeg @sahmfanficbts @yoongissugarmommy @p-polaroid @vi-hoshi @stressedinmedschool247 @jgissle12 @ctvrty @btsnatalena​ @strawbewymiwk​ @stephleee​ @jalexa83​ @livanthi​ @fantasybangtan​ @trviahope @mono-kookie​ @hauntedlilies​

#hoseok x reader #hoseok smut #bts mafia #bts tsundere #hoseok mafia au #ficswithluv #btswriterscollective #ksmutclub #btscreatorscorner #networkbangtan #bangtanarmynet

[bakugoukatsukiswife]

Buy Your Love

A/N: So this is me ATTEMPTING to write about having sex with Hawks on a fancy ass yacht.. like everyone is thirsting over right now because of that move ‘365 Days’. Personally, I didn’t like the movie at all but the boat scene had me feeling some way cause I was picturing Hawks the whole time. I really wanted to some good smut with Hawks on a boat and HOPEFULLY I did it justice. Idk I kind of feel like I need a cold shower after this so maybe I did good? ALSO I dropped in some Yagami Yato nicknames she does with Hawks, I couldn’t resist. Anyways, enjoy babes!!

Warnings: Hair pulling, spanking, spitting, name calling, dirty talk. Pure smut. 18+. 

Words: 2K

To say that you were dating the number two hero Keigo Tamaki, otherwise known as Hawks, was complicated to determine. He would wine and dine you, take you out for scenic flights at night in Japan, make you feel as if you were the only girl in the world. He was smooth with his words, they flowed off his tongue like honey, sweet and enticing to you while his looks were an added bonus. He knew that he was a charmer, he tried his hardest to make you fall for him in the few months you had known him; but you knew you were nothing special to him, you were just another prize to be won in his eyes. 

Of course you were, or else you wouldn’t have been given a magazine article by a concerned coworker talking about Hawks and his new ‘girlfriend’ who had gone on a getaway trip recently. It shouldn’t matter, right? You and Hawks weren’t a thing, it’s not like anything would ever happen between you two anyway. 

Work had tired you out, you had just gotten out of the shower and you were about to head to bed when you heard a tapping on your balcony window. You sighed as you opened the curtain, meeting eyes with Hawks as he waved at you before you opened the sliding door, allowing him to step in. 

“Hey there, baby bird. How was your day?” Hawks asked as he came toward you, mouth twitching downward slightly when you stepped away a bit. 

“Shouldn’t you be with your other lady friend?” You questioned him, daring to look up at his face despite the loud pounding of your heart flooding your ears. Hawks quirked a brow at you, his head tilting slightly as he caught sight of the magazine on your dresser before he let out a slight chuckle. 

“You’re really going to believe those trashy articles? The hero agency tasked me with keeping an eye on her cause she was a witness in an important case. That’s all that was,” Hawks said, rubbing at his face and you felt guilt encase your heart since you could tell he was being honest. Your heart started to pick up the pace when Hawks’ wings brushed against your back and you realized just how close Hawks really was when he leaned down, his golden-brown eyes serious. 

“Besides, there’s no one else I want. You should know this by now, songbird.” Hawks said, the nickname he gave you sending shivers through you. He gently ran his knuckles across your cheek, chuckling. “It’s cute when you’re jealous though,” Hawks said and you bristled at his accusation. 

“I’m not jealous! Why would I be jealous?” You asked, crossing your arms as you looked away from Keigo. All he responded with was a chuckle before pulling you closer to him with his wings, making color rise to your face. 

“Want to come with me somewhere fun?” Hawks asked, a playful tone to his voice and you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Where?” You asked and Hawks tsked. 

“Yes or no?” He asked, his eyes hopeful and you sighed. 

“Yes,” You answered, and Hawks pulled you close to him before taking off into the night. You clutched tightly to him as he headed towards the ocean and you could see a very big, luxurious yacht on the water. You looked up to look at Hawks and noticed that he had a smirk on his face but before you could say anything to him, he landed perfectly on the deck of the boat. 

“Keigo… what is this? This isn’t your yacht is it?” You asked Hawks as he set you down and he feigned a look of hurt as he touched his chest. 

“Hey I know I joke, but I make bank too, you know. I am the number two hero.” Hawks said as he watched you walk around the deck, taking in the massive boat. You turned to look back at him and he smiled. “Look, I know you’ve been stressed with work and stuff lately so I thought we could have a small vacation getaway on the ocean. I bought you some clothes and swimsuits so you wouldn’t have to worry about a thing,” Hawks admitted as a blush rose to his cheeks at the way you looked at him with the biggest smile on your face. 

“Oh? So this is the fun you were talking about?” You questioned as you came closer to him, eyebrow raised in question. 

“Of course, I wanted you to have a stress free week.” Hawks answered simply and you let out an exhale of breath. 

“Alright, give me the grand tour then.” You said, and Hawks happily accepted. He showed you the massive den, that had fully leather sofas and chairs with a flat screen TV, the jacuzzi on the front deck as well the bar that occupied the deck too. There were too many rooms to count by the end of it, and Hawks led you to the master bedroom that was fit for a king. Which you guess in Hawks’ case, he kind of was one. 

“So this is where you’ll be sleeping,” Hawks said, and you felt your heart clench at the notice he gave you of you both not sleeping in the same room. Yes, you and Hawks had a complex relationship, but you hadn’t slept with him or anything like that yet. It’s not like you were inexperienced or anything, you just didn’t understand why he wanted you of all people. What was so special about you? You felt your legs hit the bed and you fell back, snapping out of your gaze when you realized that Keigo was now hovering above you, his hands on either side of your head as he looked down at you with a small smirk. 

“Now, now baby bird… I thought this was supposed to be a stress free week, what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Hawks asked and you felt your breath catch at how close he was, his breath hitting your face, his fingers threading through your hair that was on the bed. “Do you want to sleep with me that bad?” 

“N-no. It’s nothing,” you managed to stutter out and Hawks rolled his eyes slightly. Being in this position with Hawks was starting to become too much for you, you were excited to be here, to be with him. To forget about everything for a while, to just soak in his presence that made you feel like you were the only person in the world, that you were actually important to him. But were you? Was he just trying to buy you, buy your feelings? The longer you thought about it, you started to feel anger course through your veins and Hawks noticed that you had a different look in your eyes. 

“Keigo…” You started and he stopped his teasing, knowing that you were serious whenever you said his actual name. “Are you… are you trying to buy me? My feelings, I mean.” You managed to say and Hawks leaned back to fully look at you. 

“(Y/N)... of course I’m not.” Hawks said and your heart fluttered at the way your name left his lips. That was the first time he had called you by your name, he normally always called you ‘baby bird’, ‘songbird’, or ‘baby girl’. “You make me the happiest I’ve been in a very long time. I… like you a lot, and when I like something, I can go a little overboard with my affections. Being a pro hero has its perks, and I just like to spoil you. You’re the only one I’ve ever cared for this much, so it’s pretty new to me. I-.” Hawks was cut off when your lips met his, his hand automatically tangling in your hair. Your tongue came out to brush against his bottom lip and you heard him moan, his hand tightening in your hair while his other hand gripped at the sheets before he found the willpower to pull away. 

“Wait, (Y/N). Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked sincerely and your heart warmed at the way he looked down at you, his golden eyes dark with lust but you could tell he was holding back, for your sake. 

“Of course, Keigo,” you said and he smiled before leaning back in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. 

“Buckle up, baby bird. I’m going to have so much fun with you,” Hawks mumbled against your lips and you felt a shiver run through you at his words. Hawks hooked his fingers in your jeans before shimming them down, placing you further on the bed before removing your underwear as well and you watched as his eyes lit up at the sight before him. “You look good enough to eat. In fact, I may just take a bite,” Hawks said before diving straight into your cunt, his tongue licking a stripe up to your clit before he nibbled at it with his teeth. A moan escaped your mouth as your hands found his hair, your legs going to rest on his shoulders as Hawks sucked at your essence. 

“God, you taste so fucking good,” Hawks groaned, golden eyes looking up at you as your back arched at his tongue develing deep into your folds. He chuckled slightly, the vibrations sending chills through you as Hawks pulled you closer to him, his hands gripping at your thighs. You felt him pause and you looked down to see that he was making sure you were watching him before he pursed his lips, his saliva dripping down onto your clit as he inserted a finger inside you, causing you to tug at his hair as a whine left your lips. You moved your hips slightly, hearing Hawks let out a chuckle as you continued to try and fuck yourself on his finger. 

“You want my cock that badly, baby girl? You want me to fuck you with my cock, make you scream my fucking name as you cum for me?” He teased and you could only nod, too embarrassed to say it outloud, but Hawks tsked. 

“Yes or no?” 

“Yes! Please Keigo! I want you to fuck me, I need you to fuck me so badly. I need your cock inside me,” you begged and you felt as Hawks removed his finger, hearing as his belt unbuckled before the soft thud of his jeans hit the floor. Hawks gave himself a few pumps as he licked your juices off his other hand before he slowly inserted himself into you, a slow string of curses leaving his mouth as he let you adjust to his length. Let’s just say that Hawks had big dick energy, and rightly so. 

“Shit, you feel so fucking good. So fucking tight for me,” Hawks said, his voice low as he started to move, his cock brushing against your walls perfectly as you let out a moan. 

“Keigo…” you moan out, pleasure coursing through your veins at the way that Hawks was grunting in your ear, his hand tangled in your hair as his thrusts picked up the pace. 

“Yeah, say my name (Y/N). I love the way you say my name, shit.” Hawks said, his teeth biting at the supple skin of your neck. His tongue came out to soothe the red marks now on you as he continued to thrust into you, heavy breathing filling the room as Hawks’ thumb ran across your bottom lip, his golden eyes staring down at you. “Open your mouth,” he commanded and you did so without hesitation. He pursed his lips again like earlier and spit into your mouth, his thrusts never slowing down as he took hold of your jaw with his thumb, index and pointer finger. 

“You like that? Dirty girl,” Hawks said and you felt heat rush through you at his words, his dirty talking and the way that he was hitting against your g-spot causing you to come dangerously close to releasing. “Are you about to cum? Cum for me, cum all over this cock.” 

Like he willed it, you came all over him with a loud moan, your pussy fluttering against his cock and you could hear Hawk grit his teeth as his hips stuttered against yours. 

“Fuck, I’m cumming.” Hawks said before his seed filled you up, dripping a bit onto the sheets. He slowly settled down on top of you, still inside of you as you ran your fingers through his hair. 

“Keigo?” You started, hearing as he let out a ‘hmmm?’. You slowly flipped over until you were on top of him, taking in the way that his chest moved up and down as he regained his breath, the way that his skin was glistening from the sweat he had worked up, taking in his body that seemed to have been molded by the gods themselves. You took in the way that his golden eyes drank you in, his hands on your hips as he licked at his lips. You leaned in close to him, inhaling sharply when his hips moved upwards slightly. 

“I didn’t want us to be done,” you admitted against his lips before moving your hips against his, his moans sounding like music to your ears. You moved your hips faster, relishing in the way that Hawks slapped your ass as he brought your lips to his. You moaned at the way that he bit down at your lip, sucking at it slightly as he brought another slap to your ass. 

“You look great riding my cock. This may be my new favorite position, kid.” Hawks said teasingly and you felt another shudder run through you at the way his voice dropped as his eyes took you in. His hands gripped at your hips, fingers digging into the skin as you rocked back and forth as a moan left your mouth at the way that his cock dragged against your walls deliciously. You felt as he moved his hips against yours, his pubic bone giving you friction against your clit. The equal friction caused your head to fall to the side as your tongue lolled out, the pleasure overwhelming you as you came for a second time, crying out Hawks’ name as he held you steady while you rode out your orgasm. Hawks thrust into you with a growl, spilling his seed into you for a second time before you laid down on him, head against his chest as you listened to his heartbeat. 

“Get some sleep, baby bird. We have plenty of time on this boat,” Hawks said as he placed a kiss on your temple as his hands ran through your hair. 

Needless to say, you guys broke in the jacuzzi and made sure to ‘sunbathe’ on the deck the next day.

#wing hero hawks #hawks fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader #bnha smut #mha fanfic #mha smut #mha fanfiction #mha x reader #mha keigo takami #keigo #keigo x reader #hawks smut #keigo tamaki #keigo tamaki x reader #bnha thirst #mha thirst #hawks thirst

[when-the-muse-is-over]

Chapter 4

Warnings: drugging, panic attacks.

A few more days passed, with Videl continuing to be silent every time he brought me food. I was tired of the silence, so I planned out what I was gonna say. He opened the door and entered, but for once, he didn’t bring food. “Come with me. Tonight is a very special night,” he said as he removed the straps. “I have a room for you to get dressed in. I chose the dress and other accessories for you.” I followed quietly, not wanting to cause problems just in case he decided to do something drastic.

We reached a door engraved with flowers and with the statement, “Memento mori.” Weird statement considering they’re undead, but I wasn’t about to ask about it. I will carve that phrase in his chest one day, if I can kill him. He opened the door and said, “I shall wait outside for you. Once you are dressed, I will escort you to our destination.” I went in to find the biggest bedroom I’ve ever seen. The room was lit by an astonishing number of candelabras throughout the room. This bedroom was one of the most luxurious places I had ever seen, let alone been in, with a massive canopy bed and walls lined with bookshelves, every one full. There were two other doors, which probably lead to the bathroom and the closet. A beautiful red dress was laid out on the bed, with red and gold earrings and a vial necklace filled with what is probably blood. Disgusting. I put on the outfit and headed outside, to see Videl waiting for me. “Shall we go, lovely?” I nodded my head and followed him until we reached another extravagant set of doors, but this time there weren’t any weird statements. He opened it and gestured for me to go through.

I walked through the doorway to find a balcony above a lake. Moonlight and candles lit up the area. There were candles on the table, along with a plate covered with steak, fries, and onion rings. Not the healthiest meal, but it’s a meal I want. “What did I do to deserve this?” I asked. “I mean, I’ve been very rude and you brought me the best meal I’ve had in a long time.” He smiled at this, and then replied with, “I wish to discuss certain matters with you in private. I also desire to gift you nice things, because I love you. Even if those things are…” he glanced at the plate, “more to your standards than mine.”

“Thank you. I’m tired of that room that you locked me in, so this is a nice change of pace. What do you wanna talk about?” I pretended to look intrigued instead of disgusted that he loved me.

“You are very welcome. I wish to discuss the banquet with you. It is in a few days and you need to get your affairs in order.” His hand was on top of mine.

“What affairs? There’s nothing I can do. My family won’t find me, and y’all will make damn sure of it too, because if someone did find my body, they might realize that vampires exist. What could I possibly say that wouldn’t be lying to them? ‘Don’t look for me, I’ve been kidnapped and I’m about to be killed, but at least they have the decency to let me write to y’all.’ I’m not gonna lie if I write to them, but I don’t want anyone to find out about y’all because they’ll get killed.” I moved my hand away from his so I can start blessing my food.

“You have a point, however you may wish to write a will so that the ones that you love will receive your belongings in around seven years. Otherwise the state will decide who receives your belongings.” He had an ethereal look to him when saying this.

“It’d be odd if I suddenly signed my own will while missing. One of my family members might be wrongfully convicted for making me go missing or something. I should’ve made my will before being kidnapped.”

“Are you absolutely sure that you do not want someone to take your place?” Even when he looked worried, he was the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

I swallowed before replying, “I’m sure. Is there any way to get last rites? Or at the very least, confession?”

“Unfortunately, there is not a way to get a priest to give you either. I can see what I can do for you, but the odds are very low. If there is not a way to get you either of those sacraments, do you have any other requests?”

“Just your heart and a rosary.” I took a quick sip from the glass of water that was in front of me and then set it down.

“I am very flattered, my lovely. I will work on getting you a rosary, but you have stolen my heart from the moment I laid my eyes on you.”

“And you’ve had mine for a while now. I flirt by insulting people.” I wanted to throw up as I said that, but I didn’t. Instead, I grabbed a section of my hair and played with it nervously.

“Does your religion not say that obedience is the best proof of your love?”

“Yeah, but I still flirt by insulting you. I’ve loved you ever since I met you.” Probably not the best reply, but it was the only thing I could thing of.

“Be careful, lovely, you do not wish to wind up in Hell. Lies will not secure your salvation. I assumed you were honest and pious, but I see that you are not. You do not truly love me.”

“I do! I’m just bad at showing it.” I set down my utensils and set them down on the plate, reaching my hand for his.

“I do not believe you. You are a liar. Prove that you are not lying and I will believe you.” He pulled his hand away and set it in his lap.

“Alright then.” Leaning over the table, I kissed him chastely. Not the best way to prove that I somewhat care about him, but it gets the point across. As I kissed him, a horrifying realisation washed over me. I love him. I love him even though he locked me up in that shitty room. I love him even though I shouldn’t. I shuddered at the thought. “See? I love you.” He smiled in a creepy way. It reminded me of when he was torturing that poor vampire. “I love you too, my lovely. I am glad that you were telling the truth, and not lying to me. I am very sorry that I accused you of lying,” He replied. I was speechless. I couldn’t tell him that I was lying until I realised that I loved him because I might be strapped down to that bed, and I wasn’t interested in spending my final days like that.

“Why did the vampires in the meeting suddenly care about consent?” I felt dizzy, like the world was spinning.

“If a vampire brings a human to these meetings, more often than not they are lovers. Bringing a human to a meeting tells the other vampires that that human is taken. Nobody can touch them.”

“I get it. I guess we’ll have to go again.” My body felt like I burning alive. I put my hair behind my ear to cool my face off.

“I will take you tomorrow night if you wish.”

“Why do it now? We have a couple days left until I die.”

“You have a fair point. I suggest we do it now so that I can protect you before the banquet, and you can live a life ripe with luxuries for a few days.”

“Oh ok, that makes sense. I um… I have another question to ask you.”

“I can get you any thing you desire, lovely. What is it that you desire?”

“I’ve always enjoyed the way that you bite me. Will you bite me?”

“I will, lovely.” He then muttered something about a drug.

“What drug? What did you say?”

“I gave you something to lower your inhibitions. The drug allows you to act on your desires without worry.”

“You drugged me?! I would’ve asked regardless, you ass!”

“You have always wanted this, this just helped coax it out of you.” He got up slowly and headed over to me.

“No. I take back what I said. You can’t bite me.” I got up and started backing up towards the door.

“Give in. It is what you desire. You asked me yourself.”

“No. I don’t want it anymore, you tricked me.” Back hit the door. I wasn’t gonna win this, but I would be a huge dick about it.

“Just tilt your-“

The door opened, dropping me to the floor.

“Videl, stop being such a dick. If you have to drug someone to make them like you, they probably hate your guts,” Tarius said in a bored tone. He looked down and offered his hand. I took it and got up. “Go to through the hallway until you see a door that says memento mori. Wait there until I say so.” I nodded and ran. “Tarius, did you have to get in my way?” Videl sapped. Videl kept yelling as I ran further and further away. When I reached the room, I went in and laid on the bed. I tried to catch my breath, but I couldn’t. My heart pounded in my chest. Tears fell onto my dress as I realized that this is what the next few days are gonna be like.

“You don’t have to worry about Videl drugging you anymore,” Tarius said while closing the door. I jumped. “Chill out. I’m not gonna hurt you. Do you wanna do breathing exercises with me?” I nodded quickly. “Breathe in.” He offered his hand and I held it. “Breathe out.” He helped me until I calmed down. “What did you do?” I asked. He replied with, “He tried to get into a bitch competition. I merely reminded him of a deal with made a couple hundred years ago. At any rate, he shouldn’t bother you like that until the banquet.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem. He’s never been like this. I don’t know what changed, but he genuinely loves you. That’s worse than whatever he’s done in the past, because he might put someone in your place last minute.”

“Will you please stop him if he tries?”

“I will, but there’s no guarantee that he won’t try it anyway. Nobody alive has seen what he’s been like when he’s in love with someone. Anyhow, sleep well, you’re gonna need it.”

“Thank you. You too.”

He left the room and I was left with thoughts that overwhelmed me. What did he mean when he said I’m gonna need a lot of sleep? How am I gonna prepare? What about my family? What about my friends? I’m staring death in the eyes, knowing I’ve been beat. I’m gonna die, and there’s nothing I can do.

[speechlessxx]

Call It What You Want (Ransom Drysdale x Reader)

Summary: There’s an unspoken bond between the Reader and Ransom.

Warnings: poorly written SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), unprotected sex, oral sex (fem receiving), soft Ransom (because i love him idc), bad relationship with parents. This fic was honestly so self-indulgent because I love this song. 

Word Count: 3.7k

Loosely inspired by Call It What You Want by (the Queen) Taylor Swift.

Sometimes life felt as if you were playing a Jenga game alone on a table with uneven legs.

For brief moments, everything was normal. Your movements were delicate as you built the tower. Higher and higher it would go, but then you’d stop to admire your work. You would rest your elbows against the surface and accidentally cause the table to shift. The tower would collapse, and you would have to rebuild it again.

However, you never had a stable foundation to begin with. The table was always wobbly. So, time and time again that tower fell. And you’ll have to start over alone.

That was your life.

Your parents were wealthy workaholics. You don’t remember being held or cuddled by your mother or father. You had a revolving door of nannies. None stayed too long so you could form any connection. Your mother would catch them in bed with her husband and terminate their employment. Even through your father’s infidelity, your mother refused to leave him. You remembered her drunkenly admit to you, her 7-year-old, that she stayed because she was afraid of what others would think.

When they weren’t working, they were fighting. You spent nights crying alone in your bedroom as you overheard endless arguments throughout the night. Your parents’ voices would echo through the large house and you’d hear every single insult, threat, and slur.

Your family was sitting upon a tense string that refused to break.  

You had no stability – no constancy. You had no siblings either. Your school friends – whether they were from grade school or high school, it didn’t matter. They were all the same – were too self-involved to pay you any mind. You had no shoulder to cry on. No one to kiss the bruises and the scars away. No one to lean on when your life itself felt like it collapsed.

You only had your parents who both resented you because you were the result of a love that they no longer had.

Perhaps, that’s why you and Ransom Drysdale got along so well. Trust-fund brats who were neglected by their wealthy parents. Maybe it was a good thing that you at least had each other.

The closeness between you was surreal. You read one another like an open book whereas others had difficulty even pronouncing your titles. You were each other’s confidant, best friend, and rock. You found in comfort in each other’s mess.

It would be easy to mistake you two as a couple.

Both of you were once touch starved children, so you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. It was in the grazes of your fingertips and the tight embraces where you would snuggle your face in the crook of his neck, and he’d bury his into your hair. Ransom often kissed your wrists and fingers as he toyed with your hand in his. Every time you sat down next to each other, your knees were touching, or you’d be playing an unconscious game of footsies. It didn’t matter what your bodies were doing or where you were – you were always touching.

Strangers, and even those who knew you, often did think that you two were together. And when confronted, both of you would always scoff and say no. You were just friends. Nothing more, nothing less.

But behind closed doors, there was something. Something more that ignited your skin and set your body on fire. Something more that left Ransom – the talkative asshole – speechless and panting as he tried to catch his breath.

You both agreed only to have sex when it was absolutely necessary.

“It helps us blow off some steam,” Ransom had explained to you while you just nodded in agreement. You couldn’t find your words. Your wits had been fucked to silence and your brain felt like jelly.

You have your shared struggles and frustrations. Sometimes a simple lay was all you needed to let out your bottled-up emotions. It made sense when you established the agreement in your late college years.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you agreed breathlessly.

You didn’t do it often. It would ruin the friendship. You even established a “no kissing on the lips” rule. You said it made everything all too real.

But as the years went by, something else began to blossom. Something else established itself. But neither of you would ever dare speak of it.

It would ruin the friendship after all.

-=+=-

You hated coming back to your childhood home. Haunting memories were the only keepsakes you had there. You had moved out right after college and would only return for holidays – upon your mother’s demand. You always felt as if it were empty. The house was massive and for many years was only home to three people, excluding the help.

You sat at the table alone as you anxiously fumbled with the initial necklace Ransom had given you for your birthday. The dainty gold ‘R’ charm was between your thumb and index finger as your leg bounced while you stared at the untouched feast.

Your father had excused himself, saying he had an emergency video conference for work. You and your mother rolled your eyes as he rushed off. You both knew it wasn’t for work. Enraged, your mother stalked off, glass full of chardonnay in one hand, the bottle in the other.

You didn’t know what you expected. It was like this every holiday – your parents made no exception. You stared at the turkey before you. Your parents didn’t even last to meal itself.

Frustrated, you decided to wrap everything up and packed them into take-home bags. You knew your parents probably wouldn’t eat the leftovers, so you thought about donating the feast to the foodbank. You could drop it off on your way home.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. You dug it out and smiled upon seeing Ransom’s name.

Surviving? Because I’m not.

You chuckled. Suck it up, Drysdale. It’s Thanksgiving.

If I have to spend one more minute with these assholes, I’m going to throw myself down the stairs.

No exaggeration.

Before you could respond, you heard your mother call for you. Her glass was empty, and she was staggering into the kitchen, clearly drunk. You wondered if she drank the whole bottle.

“What the hell are you doing? Where’s the food?” She slurred.

You gestured to the packed meals. “I was wrapping them up because no one was eating.” You decided not to tell her about donating them. Lord forbid that you tried to be a decent human and help those less fortunate than you.

Your phone buzzed again. You gave it a quick glance.

Heading home now. They’re gonna give me an aneurysm.

How’s dinner?

“Why would you do that?” Her brows furrowed, but with her Botox, it made no wrinkles appear on her aging face. She put her hands on her his, the glass nearly slipping from her loose fingers. She was an angry drunk. She always was.

You wanted to say that she and your father ruined Thanksgiving. If they’d only just sit down and eat and pretend they were normal for thirty god damn minutes. But every year, that was never the case. You were always disappointed. “I can unpack it if you want.”

“Your father is an asshole.”

“You could’ve left him years ago,” you muttered.

She didn’t hear you. “How’s the job?”

“Good.” You said as you began to unpack some stuffing. Get some food in her since she was already full of alcohol.

“I don’t know why you decided business was for you,” she let out a long sigh. “Just like your father.”

“I don’t like setting up events. PR’s not my thing,” you tried to joke, topping it off with a forced laugh.

She set down her empty glass and flicked her hair off her shoulder. “Could always work for me, sweetheart. I need a new assistant.”

“I’m fine. Thanks, ma.”

“No, for real, sweetie,” she insisted. “I’d love for you to work for me. That’s every girl’s dream. Work for their mother.” You frowned. I don’t think that’s it, you thought.

“I’d rather not be tied to this family any more than I am,” you muttered. This time she heard you.

An exaggerated offended noise came from her lips as she stared at you with her jaw dropped. “Don’t be an ungrateful little bitch.” She spat. “That’s why you never do anything right and that’s why you’re unmarried, unloved, and unhappy.”

“I’m unhappy?” You laughed mockingly. “I’m not the one trapped in a marriage to man that constantly cheats on me. In fact, I’m ecstatic that I’m nothing like you or dad. I’m buzzing with jubilation.” You couldn’t stop yourself. You knew you were worsening the situation.

“You’re a vile bitch that’s gonna end up alone.” They were drunken words. You knew that. But it didn’t stop it from hurting.

You didn’t bother to respond. You chewed on the flesh inside your cheek before turning away and rushing out to your car. You cursed yourself for leaving the food. It would be trash tomorrow. Wasted. Stray tears rolled down your face and you wiped them away aggressively as you drove.

Being alone was something you should’ve been accustomed to already. In fact, you were. You were an only child, had friends that never bothered to ask if you were okay, nannies that cared more about your dad than taking care of you, parents who didn’t even remember your birthday unless they were reminded by their assistants. You knew how to be alone. You were so good at it.

And that frightened you.

You didn’t want to be alone. You craved affection, companionship, love. You wanted that for yourself. But despite all the luxuries you were granted throughout your life, that was one luxury that you desperately wanted but seemingly would never receive.

You felt your anger bubbling inside of you. A pressure started building in your head – steam that needed to be released.

Luckily, you knew where to go.

-=+=-

The holidays were a particularly hard time for both of you and Ransom. Your families demanded your attendances at events, so you both were always forced to come see the very people you loathe the most. Throughout the years of your friendship, it became a tradition to check up on each other as you spent time with your … “loved” ones.

It was a sanity check – something to keep you both grounded. He had a big family, so he could talk shit about them for hours. You loved to read the messages he’d send you.

But this time, he had sent you several messages that you hadn’t responded to. He began to worry until he heard a car door slam in his driveway. You let yourself in. You had a spare key.

“Ransom!” You called out.

“Bedroom!” He responded. He paused the movie he was watching just as you walked through his already open door.

There was something wrong. It was written all over your face. He didn’t need to ask you if you were alright. He knew you weren’t. So, instead he patted the empty side of his bed, inviting you to come lay down with him. But you had a different type of lay in mind.

“How hard is your dick right now?” You asked, bluntly, as you shrugged off your jacket and tossed it to the floor.

A smirk crept its way to Ransom’s face. “Come here and find out.”

You kicked off your shoes and shimmied out of your skinny jeans, leaving your legs exposed in only your plain, black panties. You climbed onto his bed and straddled his lap. You began to grind yourself to his growing erection. The friction stimulating both of you.

Ransom groaned as he watched you. His hands searched his sheets until he found the remote. With clumsy fingers, he managed to turn the TV off and toss the remote to the edge of the bed. He heard it fall, but he was too preoccupied with the gorgeous woman grinding her pussy on his slacks to even care.

“Let’s take this off, hm?” Ransom asked, fiddling with the hem of your blouse.

“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” you teased, stopping your movements.

“You’re childish,” Ransom chuckled, his tongue grazed the back of his teeth. He gave your ass a sharp slap. “I didn’t tell you to stop.”

“You aren’t the boss of me, Drysdale.”

He quirked up an amused eyebrow as if to say we’ll see before he pulled your top off your body. You were now sitting on top of him almost nude in your matching bra and underwear. You returned the favor, pulling off the hole-ridden baby blue sweater and exposing his body to you.

Your hands explored his chiseled chest and stomach. Hard as marble, but not nearly as hard as his cock beneath you, begging to be released from its confinements. You shifted down a bit so that you could undo his belt, but his hands stopped you. He grabbed your wrists and you frowned at him.

“What?” You snapped with furrowed brows.

“We’re on the same page?” Ransom asked you. He was concerned. Sure, this almost friends-with-benefits arrangement was years old at this point, but he still wanted to make sure you wanted this. He always asked before anything got too far.

“Please, Ranson…” your voice nearly cracked. He stared into your eyes and despite the lust being evident in your blown-out pupils – he was sure his mirrored the look – he saw the light red lines, an indicator that you were crying. “I need it.”

“Okay,” he nodded and let go of your wrists. Without hesitation, you began to expertly undo the belt and unbutton his pants. With his help, you were able to successfully pull down his slacks and left him in his boxer briefs. The tent inviting. Before you could reach into his underwear and pull out his friend, he flipped you over. You squealed in surprise as your back was pressed into his bed. “You need it, baby?” You nodded. “Okay… I’ll think about being nice.”

“Ransom,” you whined.

His fingers lightly traced the sides of your body. You shivered at his touch. You took it upon yourself to arch your back so that you could unclasp your bra. You threw it away, exposing your chest to your best friend who groaned.

“God, I love these.” He muttered.

His hands cupped your breasts, toying with them. His fingertips tweaking at the nipples as he ground his desire to yours. Ransom leaned down and latched his mouth onto one of your nipples. His tongue swirling around the skin as he sucked it until it pebbled. He then switched to the other. He’d also take a break from your nipples just to leave stray hickeys all over your chest, collarbones, and neck. He loved marking you up. Whilst his mouth continued its assault on your chest, one of his hands slipped into your panties and began to explore your wet folds.

And slowly, Ransom started to make his way down your body, leaving wet kisses on your skin. He kissed right on top of your underwear before slowing pulling the black fabric down your legs. You lifted your hips to assist. Once they were off, you instinctively bent your knees as Ransom pulled them apart and leaned down to give your pussy a broad tongued lick.

You used to be insecure of the stretchmarks on your thighs. When you and Ransom first started having sex, you were afraid he would find them unappealing – that it would turn him off. But your best friend assured you that every part of your body – including the flaws – were beautiful. “Nothing about you could ever turn me off, (Y/N),” a younger Ransom scoffed. The present Ransom, the one who was about to eat you out like a Thanksgiving meal, couldn’t agree more. (He’d often joke and say you ruined other women for him).

You were a moaning mess as Ransom’s fingers pulled your lips open to expose your clit to his tongue. He looked up at you from his position and the sight of you with your eyes closed in a blissful trance alone could’ve made him cum on the spot. His tongue swirled around your button in tiny, circular motions before slipping his tongue into your slickening channel.

“Oh my god,” you moaned. “Ransom, Ransom!” It was music to his ears.

He ate you out slowly, relishing in your taste. Ransom took pride in your reactions. You had one hand clasping the ‘R’ charm around your neck and the other lost in his hair. He smirked into you as he watched you wither in pleasure as he used his fingers to tease your opening. When you began to buck into his face, he used his other hand to hold down your waist, keeping your hips still for his assault.

You clenched around his fingers. “Ransom… I’m close… oh, my god,” you warned. Ransom grunted, taking great pleasure from eating you out. “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you begged. He pressed two fingers deep inside of you, curling them and stroking your walls. He buried his face deeper into your dripping cunt and stared up as you came. He wished he could have your reactions of video. The sounds you made were porn worthy and he would’ve loved to have his own private collection.

He stroked you as you rode out your high. You were breathless as your eyes slowly fluttered open, staring up onto the ceiling. “You with me?” Ransom smirked as he stripped his underwear and stroked his hard cock. You nodded. You reached out for him and he gladly leaned down to let you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders.

“I want you to fuck me until I’m stupid,” you whispered. “Only thing I wanna remember is your name.”

Ransom almost frowned. Your parents must’ve really done a number on you this time. In the years that this arrangement had been established, Ransom would – 9 times out of 10 – be the one to initiate the stress relieving sex. But he was more than happy to oblige.

“Your wish is my command, baby,” he muttered, nipping at the skin of your neck before pushing into you.

In one hard thrust, he pushed his entire length into you. You winced when you felt him brush against your cervix. His thrusts were sharp and hard. You’ve had enough sex with each other to know the various spots that made one another tick. Ransom was eager to give you another orgasm – he got off on it.

The shifts of his hips were deliberate, bringing your legs up to drape over his shoulders. He hit spots deep inside of you that you never knew existed before you had sex with him. Your hands were searching for something to hold, something to occupy themselves with. Ransom leaned over, folding you in half, as he took your hands in his, interlacing your fingers while he pounded into you.

You gushed around his thick cock, another orgasm being pulled from you unexpectedly. You moaned his name over and over. “Yeah, baby? Only I make you feel like this, huh?” he grunted. “You take my dick so well. Only you do that, baby.”

You moaned in response, no tangible sentences could even form. His name was the only thing you could say. Your brain effectively melting as you requested.

“I’m gonna make you cum over and over for me.”

He made good on that promise. You lost count of how many times Ransom had made you cum. You had no idea where he got the stamina. But he fucked you through orgasm after orgasm. You fell apart so many times only for him to put you back together.

The obscene sounds that came from your heated core were accompanied by a symphony of moans and the slapping of skin.

“Ugh,” you moaned after what felt like your 6th orgasm of the night. “I love you, Ransom,” you moaned out, and it was the truth. In your fucked-out state, you confessed the three words that you both were too afraid to tell each other. But Ransom smiled, his thrusts becoming less rhythmic. He was about to cum.

He leaned down and captured your lips, groaning into you as he found his release inside of you. The warm feeling spreading throughout your body as you kissed back. Your lips melting into each other, eager and hungry. It was years in the making.

Ransom pulled away first and pulled out of you. You winced and whimpered upon feeling the emptiness. Your mixed fluids slowly trickled out of you and onto the bed, but neither of you minded. You were both too tired.

Ransom slumped beside and you naturally snuggled into his side. By this time Ransom would’ve offered to help clean you, knowing your legs would be like jelly, he’d walk you to the bathroom. But he wanted to enjoy your shared afterglow as he pulled you over his body so that you were resting on his chest. Both of you were panting, lungs trying to pace themselves.

You slowly began to feel the fear settle in.

Ransom was your best friend. The one constant thing in your life. The only stability you had. Your place of comfort. And you’ve ruined it. You said it. The three words. The feeling that’s been building up for years. You scolded yourself for saying it so recklessly.

You’ve done it. You’ve toppled your tower again. Your fingers played with the ‘R’ charm on your necklace again. A nervous habit it seemed.

“I love you, (Y/N),” he whispered in the darkness. He kissed the top of your head as he wrapped his arms tighter around you.

And then a feeling of ease settled upon you. A smile on your face as you realized the tower didn’t fall… not yet. But even if it did, Ransom would be there to help you rebuild. You weren’t alone.

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans #chris evans imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #smut #ransom drysdale smut #chris evans smut

[sluttyten]

All the Stars in the Night Sky

summary: hendery is a rich playboy type in public, lonely in private, and when he lets you into his life, neither of you are sure you’ll ever be able to leave

length: 16,255 words

tags: male reader, smut, daddy kink, angst, idk it felt like it got a little emotionally dark sometimes, some family troubles, happy ending (I promise)

Hendery would never admit to his friends (if he could really call them that at all) how miserably lonely he found this life. 

He was rich, sure, and that meant that many doors were opened to him, that he had dozens and dozens of people vying to be his friends or to warm his bed for a night or two. When he’d once attempted to go near the topic with his close friend (the most genuine one of the bunch), Xuxi had laughed and gestured around them while saying, “How can you ever feel bad about anything in your life when you have all this? Like you’ve got an entire chest of drawers and an additional display case just for jewelry.”

That was true.

Jewelry was nice, it could buy him attention and a few friends, but it was nothing real or meaningful.

So Hendery set out on a great journey to find something that would fill the gaping hole of loneliness. Along the way, he earned the name of richest playboy in East Asia, Huang Guanheng, or Hendery to his friends.

He fucked his way across the world’s map, his body count growing each day. None of the girls or boys in his bed were it, they couldn’t fill up that void of loneliness. Xuxi and Dejun tried their best, but they were both in a similar state to him—earning money faster than they can hemorrhage it in an attempt to feel better about their lives.

On the first night you met Hendery, you were covering a gala where his father was the guest of honor. Most of the reporters were left outside the event, but you had managed to catch the eye of the eligible Guanheng as you’d dressed for the gala in the hopes of getting inside, a nice sleek suit paired with a bowtie.

He looked you up and down then gestured for the security team to allow you inside. You couldn’t miss the hisses and curses behind your back as you left the cluster of other reporters to enter the party. As you came up beside Guanheng in his handsome suit, his hands glimmering with rings, he plucked your phone out of your hand and watched as a guard stepped forward to frisk you.

“Hey!” You smacked at the guard’s hand as he got a bit too handsy at your inseam.

Guanheng called off the guard, but didn’t hand back your phone. Instead he tucked it into a hidden pocket of his suit jacket. “You can have this back later. It’s a media blackout event, so I can’t have you taking photos or recordings, you know, but it would be such a shame for someone like you to miss out an event like this.”

You decide that you don’t really mind. Even without photos or video inside the gala, you would still have the experience of being inside, and your boss would love that more than whatever pictures you got from outside. And besides, you were personally being invited inside by the most notorious young man on this side of the world.

“You can call me Hendery.” He said as you stepped through into the heart of the event. And then as you looked over at him, he smiled and leaned closer, laying the charm on so thick that you could almost taste it, and he said, “Or you can call me Daddy.”

If you weren’t already so attracted to Hendery, you would have left right then. Fuck your phone, a line like that one he’d just given you would usually have you walking the other way. You’d known him for less than five minutes. You were a reporter meant to be covering this event in an official capacity, and he had to go and make an inappropriate comment like that? Cocky assholes were not your type.

But, lucky for him, you actually did have a weakness for guys who liked being called Daddy, and more importantly, you had a weakness for the pretty curl of his smile and his dark eyes and the comforting weight of his hand at the small of your back.

Your knees felt weak.

You’d heard about the games he played before. A friend of yours had once met him at a party and she’d given you the step-by-step of his seduction. The way he’d charmed her thoroughly and then he’d gotten himself drunk before he fucked the breath from her lungs and left her so jelly-legged that she was still a little unstable when you saw her two days afterwards.

So you weren’t terribly surprised by anything that followed. Hendery was charming. He knew all the right things to say, he knew the way to look at you to break through the last of your walls, and he definitely knew just the right things to whisper in your ear any time that you began to mentally talk yourself down from pursuing where the night was inevitably going to end.

And that’s how you found yourself in the bathroom with Hendery, facing yourself in the mirror as he fucked you. The sound of your bodies colliding and your moans, his low instructions for you to call him daddy, all the sounds of the two of you together echoed off the dark tiles and the mirrors of the bathroom, and you gazed into the reflection as you felt yourself growing closer and closer to your orgasm.

Hendery’s ringed fingers came down hard on your ass, and the sting of pleasure sent you crashing through your orgasm.

You only barely managed to hold yourself up to still look into the mirror as you came for Hendery. You looked up at the reflection of his face, and what you saw there scared you a little. You saw the dark look in his eyes, an emptiness as he fucked you like it would make him really feel something, but it was then that you saw that all his charm and seduction was just a mask, and right then you were seeing Hendery without his mask, robotically fucking you to make himself feel something.

When he cums inside the condom a moment later, you look away from his face, and the next time you look up after he’s pulled out and is disposing of the condom, you find his mask back in place. A cocky smile as he tells you that you sounded so sexy moaning daddy for him, begging for his cock.

But now that you’ve seen beneath his mask, you can hear the hollow sounds behind his words.

He rocked your world absolutely, you’ve never had a better orgasm. But even after you leave the event that night, you can’t forget the way he’d looked, and how even with all of that lack of true emotion or passion for what he was doing, he’d still treated you so good all night.

Your body craved another orgasm by his hand, or rather by his cock.

Luckily, you had the perfect excuse. You’d left your phone in that hidden pocket of his jacket. A full day and a half passed before you finally really needed your phone and you finally confirmed to yourself that you could go to a Hendery again if he would have you.

You called your phone from a friend’s, and you were so pleased when three rings in, someone picked up on the other end.

“Hendery?” You asked cautiously as he’d not said a word.

“Yeah, I’m guessing you want your phone back?” He says.

You cradle the phone closer. “I do sort of need it. Have I missed any calls?”

Hendery’s quiet for a second and then. “Two from your boss. Hope that doesn’t mean anything bad for you.” His voice is flat, tired, and you wonder if you just woke him even though it’s edging toward two in the afternoon. He yawns. “You can come pick it up at my place.” He rattles off the address, and you write it down on your hand.

His house is huge, gorgeous, and so out of reach from your position in life that it almost hurts when the gates swing open after you press the buzzer button. The taxi you’d taken here still rumbles and puffs exhaust behind you, and you just know the driver is still craning his neck to take in the place, probably thinking he should’ve charged you more for the ride. But the gates clank shut behind you, and then it’s just you, a massive drive way and a fountain and large green shrubs that are neatly trimmed, and the house looming up before you.

A butler—an honest to god butler with the penguin suit and everything—opens the door for you and tells you he’ll lead you to “Master Hendery.”

It takes the entire walk through the house to Hendery for you to decide that the butler is not joking about calling Hendery ‘Master’ as he even begins addressing you formally. You pass maids as well, handfuls of them dusting and sweeping and carrying laundry. And it’s all just incredible to you because it takes you as long to reach Hendery’s bedroom from the front door as it takes you to walk from your favorite take out place to your sofa in your apartment.

“This is fucking insane,” you say as you step through the doorway the butler holds open.

The door snaps shut behind you, and you take a moment to look around at the entryway you’re in. There’s a sitting area to your left, a spacious bathroom visible through a doorway to your right. And just right there you’re overwhelmed with the luxuriousness of Hendery’s lifestyle.

“Are you coming in?” Hendery asks, his voice from somewhere deeper inside his palatial suite of rooms. You finally do walk further inside, passing through the sitting area to eventually find yourself in his bedroom.

There’s a large unmade bed with a pair of feet hanging out the side and someone still snoring beneath the blankets. A bay of windows looks out over the side lawn of Hendery’s home, a manicured lawn with a pool and more neatly trimmed shrubbery. It’s against those windows that you find Hendery. He’s got his legs stretched out the length of the windows eat while he stares down into the yard and pops mouthfuls of something into his mouth from the plate in his lap.

You clear your throat, and he snaps away from the window, looking at you. Your gaze slides away, back to the figure in his bed.

Hendery stands up, dropping the plate onto the window seat as he gesture for you to follow him. “That’s just Xuxi. You know, Huang Xuxi.”

You do know. Everyone who’s paid any attention to the life of Hendery knows Xuxi as well as Dejun, the two most wealthy and most prolific with their sexual encounters, just one rung below Hendery on the list.

Hendery doesn’t say anything else about his friend, instead he leads you back through the sitting room, in through the spacious bathroom, and out the other side into his closet. You try not to let your eyes grow to wide at the wealth you see amassed in this one room. Hendery ignores your expression, the look of wonder on your face, and he points at the window into the room, another window seat, where your phone is plugged into a charger.

You don’t even consider what a strange place this is for your phone to be. You just walk over and scoop it up, sit down to check your notifications. You have two voicemails from your boss, the first irate, the second still irate but slightly concerned as you normally return his calls within an hour at most, and his two calls were 24 hours apart. You quickly shoot off a message to him apologizing and explaining the situation in as few words as possible, promising him that you have a story for him.

Being at the gala hadn’t been all fun and fucking with Hendery. You had actually been working too, gathering bits of information for you to compose into a story, which you’d begun on during the last day and a half.

“So everything okay with your boss? Not fired?” Hendery asks, and you look up at him, having half-forgotten that he was there and halfway believing that he would’ve left the room and returned to his bed and best friend.

“Not fired, I hope. He was just angry that he hadn’t heard from me.” You stand up and unplug your phone, tucking it into your pocket. And then you hesitate. You came all this way for your phone, it seems such a shame to leave so quickly. Especially after you’ve been thinking almost non-stop about Hendery’s cock.

Something in that must show in your eyes because Hendery smirks. “You’re a thirsty bitch, aren’t you?” You gaze works down from his smirk to his chest and then even lower to the loose linen sleep pants he wears. “Bet you forgot your phone in my pocket on purpose so you could come try to get me to fuck you again.”

You hadn’t planned that, but it truly had worked out that way.

Hendery comes closer, and you sink back down onto the windowseat, and when he stands right before you, you find your mouth level with his swollen bulge in the front of his pants.

“Do you want me to fuck your mouth, slut? Want Daddy to make a mess of you?” Hendery asks, and he pushes his fingers through your hair, tilting your head back so you’re forced to look up at his face again. “You want Daddy’s cock again?”

You swallow and suddenly your tongue feels too big for your mouth. You nod silently.

“Then open up.” Hendery runs a hand down to your jaw, thumbing at your bottom lip. “Show me what you want.”

Your mouth drops open, and you look up at his face, ready for your mouth to be filled with his big cock. Hendery tsks at you, and he reaches down to push his pants down, freeing his cock, and then he pushes immediately into your mouth.

Hendery doesn’t wait for you, he just pushes in, setting off your gag reflex, and he moans as you choke around him. He only pulls back slightly to let you breathe a bit, and then he pushes forward again. This time you take him slightly better, still gagging a bit, but Hendery seems to love that. He swears and moans, puts his hand on the back of your head and sinks forward until you’re straining to take all of him in, but you’re pretty sure that you can’t possibly take even the little bit of him that’s not yet between your lips.

“You’re taking Daddy’s cock so well,” Hendery tells you, stroking the back of your head. He starts thrusting, pulling back to thrust in sharply again. Your jaw aches already and you’ve barely even started, but the hunger for Hendery makes you brush off the ache as if it’s nothing.

You close your eyes, open up your mouth as wide as you can, and you let Hendery fuck your throat. You reach for his hips, trying to hold yourself steady, and Hendery fucks your mouth harder at your touch, he sinks into you like he’s searching for something, hungry for the feel of you around him. You think again of that look in his eyes while he fucked you at the gala.

Looking up at him now, you see him watching his cock pushing between your lips. The light coming in through the window sets his face alight, all sharp angles and perfection. His jaw clenches when you moan and suddenly try to push forward, fucking your throat down on his cock instead of the other way around.

Hendery swears and the hand on the back of your head pushes your forward, his other hand curls against the back of your neck, his thumb brushing the length of your throat in the front. You feel at last the final bit of his cock passing between your lips, your face buried against his abdomen and you’re actually choking around him now, your body rejecting this and you love it, the way that Hendery keeps holding you down on him.

He cums to the feel of your throat convulsing around him, shooting his load deep down your throat. You can feel the drool leaking from the corners of your mouth, even some tears dripping down your cheeks.

Hendery starts to pull out, and you make an awful noise of choking again. He strokes your neck and throat, murmuring some words to you that you can’t make out over the sound of your heartbeat and your own coughing.

Hendery pulls most of the way out, but you’re not ready for him to leave you yet, so you suck around what of his cock is left in your mouth, and he thrusts shallowly a few more times, weak pumps of cum leaving him, and at last you both pull away from each other.

It’s quiet for a moment.

“Who’s that?” Xuxi asks where he leans in the doorway, clearly amused at what he stumbled in upon. You wipe at your mouth, and Hendery just tucks his dick away.

“Don’t worry about it.” Hendery turns away, moving toward a smaller doorway that you missed before, leading into yet another room in this labyrinthine suite of rooms. “You know the way out!”

You’re not sure if he’s addressing Xuxi, but you’re positive that he’s addressing you. You push to your feet and brush by the other wealthy man, who turns to watch you. After a few feet, you hear him walking to catch up with you.

“So, what are you doing hiding in Hendery’s closet?” He sticks close even when you push out the door of Hendery’s room. You can’t remember which way you came from, but Xuxi taps your shoulder and then points to your left. You start that way with him tagging along. “I know you weren’t here when I passed out this morning, and Hendery never mentioned a booty call.”

“He had my phone,” you finally tell him. “We met at the gala the other night. He took my phone and I forgot to get it back before I left.”

Xuxi hums in thought, and before he can think of anything else to say, you’ve reached the front door and shoved your feet back into your shoes, dancing through the door so he can’t try to say anything more. But unfortunately, his legs are longer than yours and he catches up.

“Let me give you a ride home.” He suggests. You don’t know what he’s playing at, so you turn him down.

“I’ve got a friend on their way to come get me.” You lie, but you’re already pulling your phone out to message one of your friends who doesn’t live too far away to come pick you up. “It’s too late now for me to cancel on her. She’d be pissed.”

Xuxi doesn’t seem too impressed by what you’ve just said. He offers it up once more and then heads away to his shiny luxury car parked nearby. You’re still standing there waiting for a response from your friend when Xuxi’s speakers begin booming from the bass, and he shoots off around the driveway, sending up a small shower of the little white pebbles that make up the drive. The gates open and close behind him, the booming of the bass fades away.

Still no answer from your friend. You try another. Call your first option. No answer from either of them.

It’s not necessarily cold outside, but you shiver as a breeze skirts around the side of the house. Your phone sits silent in your hand, and you feel like all the windows of the house are watching you, the maids and the butler and most of all Hendery. You tell yourself that’s foolish.

But even if it’s foolish, you think it must be true that you were being watched in some way, because after ten whole minutes of waiting with no response from your friends, the front door of the house open behind you.

“You can come back inside, if you’d like.” Hendery stands there, looking weary. He looks so different from how he looked when you first laid eyes on him. Gone is that glamor, the rich boy polished to a shine in front of all the cameras. Here you see the tiredness, the soft edges that had been so sharp in public. “You’re clearly waiting on your ride, and it’s rude of me to just leave you waiting outside. Plus, I owe you an orgasm, don’t I? Come inside.”

He sweeps his hand in a gesture for you to step through the doorway, and it doesn’t take much more than that for you to return inside Hendery’s home.

Back within his suite of rooms, Hendery plucks at your clothes while you walk toward his bed. You shed them obediently, leaving a trail from his door until the mess of his sheets, which he tumbles you into.

In the haze of lust that takes you over, you’re not even sure what all positions Hendery bends you into. You’re aware only of the pleasure, of his cock and fingers breaking you apart only to pull you back together and do it all over again. His stamina is incredible, and it’s only when you cannot physically stand another orgasm, that Hendery finally backs off, rolling over into his back, and casting the condom toward the trash half hidden in the corner.

You curl up and look at him. The cool shuttered look on his face. He stares up at the ceiling.

“Hendery.” You reach over and hit him in the chest. He jumps and grabs your hand, pushing it away. You try not to feel hurt, but you do anyway. After all that you just did together and he rejects even just a little touch of your hand? You clear your throat and try again. “Hendery, are you—“

The last word, okay?, hovers unspoken in the air when Hendery sits up and walks away, grabbing his pants from the floor and yanking them up. You wait for a moment to see if he’ll come back, and when he doesn’t, you go looking.

You find him in the bathroom washing his face. Or, more accurately, staring down into the sink with water dripping from his face.

Part of you thinks that now is the time for you to leave. He’s clearly going through some stuff and doesn’t really want you there. He just wants someone he can bury his cock inside of, nothing more. Even if you have to walk home from here, maybe it’s better than staying.

The other part of you feels that you should stay. He’s clearly going through something, and maybe he just needs to someone to stick around and be there for him through whatever this is. But when you take a step closer to him, Hendery looks up, and the second that he spots you he comes over and sweeps you into his arms, trying to kiss you and pick up again where you left off in bed.

You push at his chest. “Stop. Are you okay?”

Hendery makes a sound of frustration, and tries to kiss you again. You push at his chest again.

Hendery spins away, walking into his closet, walking deeper and deeper, and you follow him this time, slipping through that narrow doorway from one room of the closet into the next.

He walks through a section that is nothing but shoes, another that seems to be just suits. You follow him through a private laundry room, and you see a maid slipping back through a narrow door as Hendery passes by. You follow him until there’s nowhere else to go.

In a small square room at this end of his suite, there are windows set into three of the four walls. Half of the ceiling is also glass, and below that is a pile of pillows and beanbag chairs. Hendery collapses down into one of them, and then looks over at you. There’s a flicker of surprise before it’s replaced once more by a somewhat petulant expression.

“Why did you follow me?” He asks.

You fold your arms in front of you. “Because you’re clearly upset about something. I don’t know what. I know I’ve only known you for hardly even two days, but there’s clearly something going on with you and you’re using sex to cope.”

Hendery rolls his eyes, grabs a pillow and squeezes it against his chest. “You can leave now. You got your phone. You’ve had my dick as well as a month’s worth of orgasms. Bye.”

His absolutely dismissive tone stokes a fire to life inside you. You hate the way that you’re just trying to show some genuine concern for him, and he’s just brushing you off and being rude about it. He was mostly fine until you denied him fucking your again. And now he’s throwing a tantrum basically, like a spoiled rich boy, unused to not getting what he wants.

“You’re such a rich brat, you know that?” You stand firmly in the doorway.

Hendery doesn’t look at you, but the way that his head turns ever so slightly lets you know that he’s listening.

“Throwing a tantrum because I won’t let you fuck me for the fifteenth time today? And getting genuinely pissed off when I’m trying to find out if you’re okay.” You want to storm out of the room but you also want to storm over to him and drop down in his lap, make him look at you and tell you why he is the way that he is. “But maybe you’re right, Hendery. Maybe I should leave you here all alone in your ivory tower. You’re right, I got what I came for: my phone. And I got to be fucked by you again. Maybe you’re used to just being used for sex, for what you can give to others without being given much of anything else in return to recognize when someone is trying to actually show some interest in you and your personal wellbeing.”

Hendery turns his head again, almost facing you, but just looking at the floor, refusing to make eye contact. You think you must’ve hit a nerve of some sort.

“If you really want me to leave then tell me to leave. I’ll go. But I hope we’ll see each other again, Huang Guanheng. I hope the next time I see you, you’ll smile and mean it, that you won’t just drop the smile as soon as you think no one’s looking. I’ll see you around.” You turn today leave.

A hand catches your wrist. “Wait,” Hendery says. “Don’t leave me alone.”

You half turn back to him, and he squeezes your wrist.

“Stay.” He says, and with just that one word, a part of you breaks and you feel like you’ll never leave him.

Hendery pulls on your hand, drawing you closer and down to sink into the beanbag chair with him. He doesn’t look at you, but he softly pleas again, “Just stay. I hate sleeping alone.”

You sit for a while together silently, squished together in a beanbag chair as the sun sets, and at some point you rest your head on his arm and you just look at him. Hendery falls asleep, his head tilted back to look up at the glass part of the ceiling, and you watch his eyes close and hear his breathing fall steady and slow.

Maybe it’s weird to just watch him while he sleeps, but where else are you going to look? Any time that you shift, his arms twitches beneath you, as if he’s ready to pull you back to keep you from leaving him.

Hendery looks so soft as he sleeps. So relaxed, freed of whatever it is that plagued him while he’s awake. His pretty hair falls back from his face, leaving his forehead visible, unblemished by a frown or stern set of his eyebrows. His lips are parted and you notice that they’re turned up in a slight smile. You admire his profile—the line of his nose, the length of his eyelashes, all of the little attractive qualities about him. The sound of his breathing is like a lullaby.

You’re nearly about to fall asleep yourself when you realize that Hendery is awake again.

You don’t know when his eyes opened, but between one slow blink of your heavy eyes and the next, you realized that Hendery was gazing up at the sky through the ceiling, the stars growing more visible as night settled.

“I’m lonely, that’s my problem.” Hendery says the words softly as if he’s not sure if he really wants you to listen. “No one ever sticks around, and even if they do, they don’t really care.”

You get more comfortable with your head on his shoulder, and you tell him, “I’m here, Hendery.”

“Because you wanted dick.” Hendery keeps staring up at the ceiling, beyond it to the stars. “That’s why you’re still here.”

“Yes, at first.” You answer honestly. “What are you looking at, anyway?” You shift your head closer to his. His ear touches your cheek. “Do you know astronomy, Hendery?”

He jerks his head. “No. I just like looking. It’s dark enough and clear enough around here that we can actually see the stars somewhat decently.”

His arm beneath your head curls, draping over your shoulder. It’s comfortable, and you sink into Hendery’s touch, keeping your eyes up on the night sky as well. “Do you know anything about any of the stars?”

So Hendery begins telling you a few things, pointing out the constellation you can see, telling you stories behind the constellations, stories that you’re not familiar with, but the longer Hendery talks about them, the more you can see that he’s put some time into learning them. After a while you look away from the stars and back to his face, to the passion in his eyes and the smile on his face, the way that he stares up at the stars in awe.

You wake up in the morning with an achy neck and no memory of actually falling asleep. The last thing you remember is Hendery’s musical voice painting a story of a dragon across the night sky.

But now, Hendery is nowhere in sight.

Sunlight pours through the windows of the room, and you squint, shielding your eyes against the blaze. You rub at your eyes as you sit up, and a blanket falls down into your lap. You drag it up around your shoulders like a cape as you pass back through his extensive closet and the bathroom. The sitting room is empty as well, but he’s sitting on the edge of his bed, raking his fingers through his hair and talking on his phone.

Not wanting to pry, you quietly head back to the bathroom, hoping that by the time you’re finished showering and everything, his phone call will have ended.

His shower is massive, and it takes you somewhere close to three minutes to figure out all the controls, but finally you do stand in the glass shower, steam pressing against the walls, warm water massaging your back, racing through your hair and relaxing the ache in your neck. You start singing, quietly to yourself at first and then louder. The acoustics in the bathroom are wonderful, and you’re admiring that as you wash down your body, when another voice joins in.

You swear and turn around toward where you think the door. Your voices echo around the room, but Hendery speaks again, “You’re awake.”

You feel a spray of cold air cutting through the steam, and then you see Hendery, his bare form stepping up to stand beside you under the showerhead. He smiles, once again that charming playboy rather than the vulnerable side of himself he’d shown you last night.

“Plans today?” You ask him.

“Not really. Do you?” His gaze flicks up and down your frame, dragging slowly up from your feet, lingering when he reaches the apex of your thighs, then suddenly he’s gazing into your eyes with a fiery hunger, a half-hidden plea for you to stay, to clear your schedule for him.

You drape your arms over his shoulders, moving so you’re standing in front of him, your wet bodies fitting together. “No plans. I can send my boss my story from the gala tomorrow. As long as you promise to keep me entertained today?”

Hendery lowers his mouth to yours. He slides a hand around to palm at your ass, the other comes up to press between your shoulders, holding your chest firmly against his. His busy fingers on your ass slip into the cleft between your cheeks, dipping in deeper and deeper until you moan and press back on his fingers, just wanting him inside you.

“You gonna be good for Daddy?” Hendery speaks the question against your lips, backing off just enough that you can moan for him. “Yeah, you want me to fuck you again? Thought you weren’t here just for my dick?”

You shake your head. “I’m not, but fuck, you’ve got me all worked up now.” You reach back to hold onto his wrist, keeping him from pulling his curious fingers away from your entrance. “Just touch me, please. Daddy.”

That’s what does it.

Hendery kisses you again, his mouth hot and sharp on yours as he steps forward, pressing you backwards until you feel the glass wall of the shower cool and damp against your back. He pulls your hips forward so his wrist isn’t trapped so uncomfortably between your ass and the glass. And then he slides his finger over your needy entrance, and when you make just the sound he’s been listening for, he presses it inside you.

You pull your mouth away from his, dropping it back almost painfully against the glass. Your moan echoes between the glass walls. Hendery fingers you and mouths at your throat, soon working another fingers inside you, opening you up for his cock.

When you’re bucking your hips forward, rubbing against his erection, moaning for him, that’s when Hendery pulls his fingers away.

He flips you around, pressing your chest against the glass, drawing your hips back flush against his.

“Look at you, slut, hungry for my cock, just needing to be stuffed full.” His hand comes down on your ass. You whimper. Hendery swears and you know he just saw you clenching around nothing, looking so invitingly snug for his cock. “You want Daddy to fuck you?”

“Yeah, fuck me.” You push back, only to feel his hand burning against your ass again. “Please, Daddy, want you to put your big cock in me, I need it so bad.”

Hendery takes hold of his erection, drags it between your legs, teasing it over your entrance. You feel weak, twitching with the need to get off and touch yourself, but you don’t even have to try that to know that Hendery doesn’t want you to touch yourself. He wants you to cum solely from what he does to you.

He slaps his dick against your ass cheeks, and then pushes into you.

It burns sweetly as he pushes in deep, as you stretch around him. Even though you had him multiple times yesterday, it feels all new today. Hendery pounds into you, nailing right into that spot inside of you that sends stars across your vision, pleasure unfurling through you and turning your vision white.

Hendery presses in as deep as he can go as you cum, your walls squeezing around his cock, feeling so sensitive but still craving to be touched.

He’s so into the feel of you around him, that you don’t think he notices when your hand slips from the glass, reaching around to wrap your hand around yourself, whimpering daddy all the while. Hendery thrusts into you still, continuing on to his orgasm, carrying you too toward a second one which you feel swiftly coming towards you.

“Ah, fuck,” Hendery groans, snapping his hips forward so harshly that you knock against the glass. A whimper spills from your lips. Hendery reaches around you, drawing you back again, and that’s when he notices that you’ve been touching yourself. He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Trying to cum again on my cock? Well, come on, baby.”

He fits his hand against yours, his fingers lining up with yours, touching you while you touch yourself, pumping his hand on your cock all while he still thrusts deeply inside you.

You feel yourself growing close again, pushing back on his cock. Your moans and cries of daddy and Hendery! are swallowed up by the steam billowing around the pair of you, and Hendery cums without warning, pulling out of you so quickly that you don’t even have time to miss him before you feel his hot cum painting stripes over your ass, his soft moans he leaves against your shoulder along with soft kisses.

Your joined hands continue to work on getting you to your second orgasm, and it’s when Hendery bites down on your shoulder that you spill over. Hendery rubs you through it, kissing your shoulder and murmuring to you how sweet you look cumming like this, dripping cum over your fingers and the glass, making such a mess.

“I’m tired again,” you tell him, slumping forward against the glass.

Hendery hums and pulls his hand away, bringing it to his mouth to lick his fingers clean. You rest your cheek on the glass, watching him do this, and it makes you feel warm with desire still, but you can’t take more right now. Not even when he grabs you by the hips and drags you back under the shower’s spray, cleaning the cum off of you carefully. 

You end up down in a large overly fancy kitchen. A chef has several things going at once, and you’re not sure what to look at or do, but Hendery sits down at the table, pours himself a glass of juice, then pushes out the chair beside him, nodding pointedly at it. “Sit down.”

Breakfast, which is really more like brunch given the hour, is extraordinary and rich. You feel absolutely stuffed by the time you’re finished, ready to just laze about with Hendery. Until he gives you the news.

“I’m having a party here tonight.” He rubs a hand on your thigh, smiling a bit conspiratorially. “All sorts of friends are going to be here. Booze, drugs, whatever you like. Just don’t go writing about it.”

Being with Hendery makes you almost forget about your job. And you like him. You wouldn’t gossip about him even to get paid.

“DJ’s coming. Xuxi too.” And then he lists several other names that sound vaguely familiar, like you’ve heard them in connection with his name before—celebrities and other rich kids—and some less familiar names as well. “Will you stay?”

Hendery kisses your cheek and then goes lower to your neck.

You grown and push at him. You’re still sitting at the kitchen table. His chef is just a few feet away. His hands are constantly moving, massaging, stroking, attempting to entice you to stay.

When he kisses a sensitive spot on your neck and strokes at your thighs, you almost moan.

Instead you push him away more firmly this time. “You don’t have to make everything about sex, you know? Why don’t you show me around? Or tell me more about you?”

Hendery grumbles a little bit, but he stands up, takes your hand, and leads you out of the kitchen. He shows you around, showing the pantries, a greenhouse, the gym and sauna, the pool, the private movie theatre. There’s the great room, the sitting room, another sitting room, a study that holds so many books you can’t even take them all in before he’s whisking you away. He shows you the garden and the outdoor pool, the mini golf course his father had put in when he was younger.

“And where is your father?” You ask him as Hendery you pass by a gardener and the groundskeeper who are arguing over a flowerbed. “He lives here too, right?”

Hendery looks sideways at you. “Oh, you have a real Daddy kink don’t you? You trying to bump into my dad, baby?” He laughs and you can tell he’s completely joking with you. “Trust me, you’re not my dad’s type. He likes them pretty and dumb with big tits. You might be very easy on the eyes, but you’re not dumb at all. And your dick might be a bit of a problem for him.”

You can hear the bitterness clear in his tone.

You’re familiar with the story. Mr. Huang had been married to Hendery’s mother, by all accounts was head-over-heels crazy for her, but she passed away when Hendery was still very young. Mr. Huang quickly moved on to a young, hot girl. And after her there was another and another and another. An endless stream of models and actresses and heiresses, all beautiful and sweet, but none of them lasted too long.

“My father is in Moscow on business at the moment,” Hendery says coldly. “He’ll probably come back with my next mom.”

To change the subject (because you really don’t like the dark cloud that suddenly rains on Hendery’s parade), you ask him, “What’s your favorite room?”

Hendery brightens up a bit. “We’re on our way there now.”

You walk through a bit more of the garden, fragrant flowers and neatly trimmed grass, stepping stones cross a small pond swimming with koi fish. There’s a tall tree and a small picnic area, and then Hendery pulls you beneath a pergola woven with wisteria, then right through a pair of glass double doors.

The room inside is shaded on one side but on the other side sunlight spills through windows set high on the wall. It’s quiet inside, just dust motes dancing through soft sunlight. There’s a piano and drums, a violin and cello, guitars and microphones and every instrument you can imagine.

“Father always had me study music. I think he thought it would calm me down as a child. Pretty sure it made me louder and didn’t teach me nearly as much discipline as he’d have liked.” Hendery walks away from you, trailing his fingers almost lovingly over the instruments he passes.

When he reaches the piano, he looks back at you.

“Can you play them all?” You ask.

“Most of them. Not always well.” He sits down at the piano bench. “Do you play?”

You shake your head no.

As a child you’d often dreamt of playing the piano. Not necessarily to become a master of it, but just simply because you enjoyed the sound and that watching a pianists fingers flowing smoothly over the ivory keys was mesmerizing. Your parents hadn’t been able to afford the lessons and when you once attempted to play the piano in the music room at your school, you’d realized it was a little more difficult than you’d imagined. So you’d given up and never looked back.

Until now.

You slide down beside Hendery on the bench. “No I don’t play. But if you do, I’d love to hear.”

Hendery smiles. “Anything in particular you’d like to request?” He flexes his fingers, stretching them in preparation.

Suddenly you can’t think of a single song. Your mind goes blank and you just gaze at Hendery, all lit up in a heavenly golden glow. He’s so handsome, and right then as you sit shoulder-to-shoulder with him in his favorite room of this massive home of his, you really look at him and feel an ache deep in your chest. A stupid, silly ache. Like you’re falling in love with this rich playboy who’s just using you so he doesn’t feel lonely.

When you don’t give him a song to play, just continuing to stare at him distractedly, Hendery laughs his goofy but wonderful laugh, and he starts playing anyway. It’s not a song you recognize, but it’s lovely all the same. After that he plays another and another, and you listen intently, amazed by how well he plays, watching his fingers move over the keys.

“You’re really good,” you tell him.

Hendery runs a hand through his hair, messing with it nervously. “Thanks. Part of me always dreamed of playing, pursuing music as some form of a career, but my father insists that I follow him with the business. A career in music wouldn’t allow that.”

“Do you sing?” You ask, nudging him. “I bet you have a lovely voice.”

Hendery laughs, the sound filling the whole room. “I can. I’m better at rapping. When I was younger, Xuxi, Dejun, and a couple other guys seriously considered forming a group. Father brought his fist down on that. Even though he’s the one that got me started on music in the first place. So now I just satisfy myself with coming in here to mess around sometimes.”

For the better part of the next hour, Hendery picks up different instruments, playing a bit for you on each one. He’s still actually humming along to a melody as you leave the music room, exiting back out under the wisteria. The sunlight of the early afternoon feels great, kissing your cheeks, the breeze pushing pleasantly warm air over your arms. You tilt your face up to feel it all the better.

Hours later you find yourself emulating that pose. Your face is turned up to the sight of Hendery standing on the second floor of the house, speaking to the crowd of partygoers. He’s decked out again, hands gleaming silver with rings and bracelets. A drunken couple of girls giggles beside you, falling over each other, and one of them mentions how sexy Guanheng looks with his hair like that.

You have to agree. Sex hair that he’d never fixed does look quite good on him.

You’d raked your fingers through it as he went down on you, sucking your life through your dick until a knock on the door of his suite of rooms announced the arrival of Xuxi and Dejun, who in turn announced that other party guests were starting to show up.

And now he presented his hair messed by your fingers in front of the whole party while you stood below, drinking something Hendery had shoved into your hands before he dashed up the stairs to make a speech.

He’d already introduced you around to a few people. Xuxi and Dejun, of course, and then also a singer, an actor, a producer, a rich kid whose daddy owned a car company and made the guy a racecar driver the minute he turned 18. All old friends, he told you, and as you looked at them and Hendery, you could see the connections, the constellation that they made. Age-old lights gleamed in their eyes.

You wanted to tell Hendery that he wasn’t nearly as alone as he might think. He was like all the stars in the night sky, part of something greater than they could see from where they stood.

The party raged on. You saw faces you’d only ever seen in entertainment spreads before, heard names that you’d written about. There were things going on there that you knew would fetch a pretty penny if you wrote about them, but though your hands itched to write, they were tied behind your back by your promise to Hendery. Nothing you saw tonight would make it to the gossip columns.

Even when you saw Sicheng, Hendery’s actor friend, flirting with a pretty young actress who was rumored to be dating an actor that she was filming a movie with, you kept your hands still. Even when he pulled her into his lap and she kissed his face and giggled, you just distracted yourself from the urge to write a news story by instead staring at Hendery, reminding yourself of the promise, distracting yourself with fantasies.

Hendery caught you looking a few times. It’s the fifth time as you’re looking at him over the edge of your glass that he grins back at you, draping his arm over your shoulders. “What’re you looking at?” He laughs, pulling you close enough that he can affectionately rub his head against yours.

“Just you,” you tell him.

Hendery keeps smiling a wide, loose smile that spreads wider than normal due to the alcohol. He slides his arm from your shoulders, instead laying a hand on your thigh. You stare at it, remembering the way his fingers had moved on the keys of the piano earlier, wishing that he would touch you as he’d touched that instrument, to master playing your strings and keys as well as he was with the instruments in that room.

“You really like him, don’t you?” The boy sitting across from you both says. You look up and see one of Hendery’s friends looking at the pair of you and how close you sit, the familiar way in which he touches you. “How long have you known each other?”

Xuxi butts in then, “Like two days. I caught him blowing Hendery in his closet when I was leaving yesterday. They didn’t seem too close, something about a phone, right?” He squints at you and you nod. That is what it had been. Then. But things had changed for you since then. “Clearly I was wrong, and you’ve gotten closer since I left. I thought we both were leaving, huh? Not fair that you traded me in your bed for him, Hendery.” He raises his eyebrows at you and Hendery.

Hendery’s hand leaves your thigh, and he grabs for the drink in Xuxi’s hand instead. “Fuck off. As if it means anything when we mess around, Xuxi? And it’s not like it’s a big deal.” He gestures between you and him, and then tilts his head back and downs the glass in one gulp.

You want him to lean back beside you, settling his warmth around you like a comfort in this strange atmosphere of his friends and his guests, but Hendery moves farther away, drowning himself for a few moments in a drink that someone hands to him. And then after that he leaves you there as he goes to talk to someone he spotted across the room.

The night had been going well.

Hendery kept his distance after that, winding deeper and deeper into the maze of the house, always fitting himself into the hearts of groups, dancing away any time that you finally spot him. You comfort yourself in the company of his producer friend, Kun, talking about some of the tracks and artists he’s been working with lately, talking about the time you did a story on him and his partner before he branched off to make a solo production company.

You try not to feel hurt that Hendery’s abandoned you at the party he invited you to stay for. But as the night grows later, edging toward dawn, Kun leaves the party, and you consider leaving as well. You did tell your boss you’d send him your story today, and Hendery’s not paying any attention to you, so maybe you should head home. You go in search of Hendery to tell him you’re leaving.

One of the pretty girls from earlier in the night has edged her way closer to him, and you find Hendery with this girl pressed up on him, perched in his lap. She’s laughing and clinging to him, and Hendery lets her. And then his eyes land on you. His arm on the girl’s waist tightens and she squeals in delight, kissing at his neck, giggling and murmuring sweet words to him, slipping her hand down between them so she can touch him.

His eyes slide from yours as he turns toward the girl, pulling her mouth to his.

You shouldn’t be upset. You knew what this was.

You were a hook up at the gala, a one night stand when you came to get your phone. Hendery is just a rich boy, a playboy who fucks around with anyone pretty who catches his eye. It’s not anything more than just a no-strings hook up when you’re with him. You have no right to feel upset by what you see.

But you do anyway.

You turn on your heel before you see anything else. You move through the party without noticing anyone or anything, brushing by people, knocking over something that luckily doesn’t break onto the ground (no matter how much you want it to, just to see something that looks the way you’re feeling right now—jagged and broken and out of place, all spread over the floor).

Already you’re out the door and halfway down the drive when you realize you don’t have your phone. Or your clothes. You’re still wearing Hendery’s borrowed clothes and you’d left your phone in his room, and you’ll be damned if you have to come back here for either of those reasons again.

You’re already stripping out of the clothes the second you step through the doors into his room, and before the door swings shut behind you, you hear footsteps, and then the door pushes open again, Hendery says your name.

You glance back at him, at the even more unkempt state of his hair and the way that his shirt’s collar is tugged askew. There’s a smear of that girl’s lipstick on his throat.

He says your name again.

“What? Why’d you leave her? It seemed you really liked her, Hendery. I mean, please, don’t let me leaving ruin the fun you were about to have.” You say. “I’m just getting my phone and my clothes and then I’ll be gone, and you can go back to using sex as a coping mechanism and a means of distancing yourself from people who want to be close to you. Have you ever thought maybe you want to be alone? That you cause this for yourself by pushing people away, not letting them get close to you?”

You drop his borrowed shirt over the back of a chair in his sitting room, and you keep walking toward the bedroom. You hear him following you.

“Maybe,” you continue, “you don’t want to be vulnerable and open. You just want to keep to your dark broodiness, you want to keep yourself isolated so you have something you can complain about because you’re so incomprehensibly wealthy that you don’t have any other problems to deal with, so you’ve created one for yourself.”

You drop the pants, and then reach for your own clothes that are piled right where you left them the day before. His bedsheets are still a mess, you can see a gross cumstain on the sheets, and you freeze, remembering for a moment how it had felt as he fucked you on his bed, his body covering yours from behind, your hips grinding against the sheets, his teeth digging into your shoulder and neck, and the way you’d moaned at the feel of his cock pounding inside you, right against your prostate.

A hand touches yours, and Hendery brings you around to face him.

“Are you really going to leave?” His voice sounds small. “Don’t go.”

He dips forward as if to kiss you, to reel you back in to his orbit so easily. But you push at his shoulders, and say, “This is what I’m talking about. You’re using sex to make yourself feel better, to manipulate people into getting close. But you don’t want anyone to stay.”

“Please?” Hendery latches onto your hand again. “Stay. The chef’s already up, he’ll make us whatever we order, anything at all. Name the most delicious thing you can think of, and I’ll send down for him to make it. Stay for breakfast.”

“Hendery.” You groan, and push at his chest again. “I don’t care about that. I’m going to leave because I need to go home and sleep so I can finish my story for my boss. I’ll grab a burger on my way home, a cheap, disgustingly greasy burger. Why don’t you go find that pretty girl who was so eager to get into your pants. Or Xuxi, you’ve already made it obvious that he’s fine with warming your bed. Or I’m sure you’ve still got guests down there who would be so excited to have you fuck them or throw your wealth at them. And even if not, you’ve got all this around you, I’m sure you can preoccupy yourself somehow. Maybe count all that jewelry in your closet, but don’t pretend for a second that you want me to stay because I actually mean something to you.”

“I don’t care about all that! I don’t want it!” Hendery cries in frustration as he pulls the rings from his fingers and throws them across the room. You hear them bouncing and plinking off the tiles and the wall and the windows. “Don’t you get it? Haven’t I already made it clear? All of this money doesn’t do a damn thing for me! I’m still lonely. I still feel like no one appreciates me for anything other than my money or for sex. They all are only interested in what I can give them!”

But then he steps forward, his hand touches your cheek, and then he touches the other, cupping your face between his hands. And in a voice far gentler than the one he’d just been using, Hendery says, “Except for you. You are the first person I’ve met in I don’t even know how long who’s made me feel like I’m more. The way you look at me, I don’t feel like you’re looking at just me on the surface, you’re looking deeper. Maybe that’s a lame thing to say, but I feel like a person when I’m with you. Like I can feel things and want things, like I don’t have to give and give and give. I can see that you want me, that you love the way I make you feel when we have sex, but it’s not like that’s all I see when you look at me. You listen. Even when I’m talking absolute nonsense about stories of dragons in the sky, when I’m banging out a bad tune on the piano, anything I’ve said, you’ve listened.

“And you’re right. I do use sex to cope, to fill in this gaping hole of loneliness, and I fail every time and I’m still hollow and aching. I want to have people close to me, but it scares me. I haven’t— I haven’t been open with someone totally in years and I got hurt, and maybe I shouldn’t be telling you all this because we don’t really know each other well and you’re a reporter so if things go wrong then you’ve got this shit to write a story about. But I opened up and got hurt and I’m so lonely and tired of feeling used, and you’re the one person I’ve met in so long who doesn’t make me feel like a vending machine for what other people want of me.

“So stay. Please stay.” Hendery drops his forehead against yours.

And just like that, you do.

Not because he wants you to. Not because of that whole eloquent speech (well, okay, partially because of both of those things), but you stay because you want to. Because over the last approximately thirty-two hours that you’ve spent with Hendery, you got to see a side of him that you really liked. The boy behind the mask his father made for him. A boy who’s more than just lonely, but a boy who wants to be heard and seen, who wants to be loved for who he is. 

You don’t know what that trauma is from his past that hurt him so he pushes people away while  desperately begging them to come closer. All you know is that with his hands on your cheeks and his forehead against yours, you slide your arms around his waist and never want to let him go again.

Dawn finds you wrapped together in the garden, a thick blanket draped around both of you as you sit together and enjoy cheap, disgustingly greasy burgers from a 24 hours place that’s not too far off, just a short drive there and back. You rest your head on Hendery’s shoulder, listening to the sounds of nature waking, and the snores of a few partiers who passed out on the patio nearby.

Eventually, as Hendery starts nodding off, you convince him up onto his feet as the first rays of sunlight spread across the lawn, and together you return to his room, crawling into bed with dew still wet on your toes. 

Hendery really doesn’t like it when you roll out of bed when the clock shows it’s nearly noon. He groans and reaches for you, trying to grab onto any part of you to pull you back in, but you dance out of his reach. 

“I really do have to go home. If I want to keep my job, I can’t miss a deadline. I’m already cutting it dangerously close.” You lean back in and kiss his forehead, earning yourself a handsome smile from him. “I’ll see you later, right?”

Hendery nods. “Yeah, I’m not pushing you away. Hey.” He grabs onto your hand, squeezing. “I am really, really sorry about things. I like you, I genuinely truly like you, and you’re totally right about my coping mechanism and everything, and I’m stupid for trying to hook up with that girl last night when I’m fully aware of how much I like you. Like, a crazy amount. I promise,” he says so honestly and soberly that your heart beats faster, “That I am going to try my hardest to not do anything that will mess this up. So, please, come back after you’ve written a wonderful story about my father’s gala and the handsome and charming Huang Guanheng that you met there.”

A week later you find yourself back in Hendery’s arms, though this time he’s at your humble abode, squeezed into your bed, both of you pretending that you can’t hear your upstairs neighbor yelling at her husband. 

“It’s not as nice as your house.” You apologized when you let Hendery in, but he didn’t seem to care. His eyes moved over every square inch of your apartment. The small kitchen, the living room which was a futon and a coffee table that was covered with half-drunk coffee mugs, old drafts of stories your editor had sent you all marked up in red with necessary revisions, your laptop, a goldfish bowl that was now home to a lovely little cactus ever since your beta fish died, and a tall stack of books.

At the other end of your single-room apartment was a divider you’d drawn across the space to shield your bed from view if ever you decided to entertain anyone. Not that the divider seemed to block Hendery’s curiosity, and a few seconds after he stepped inside he was guiding you by the hand toward your own bed. It took no time to strip each other and then Hendery had you on your back, your fingers twisted in his hair as he sucked your cock.

Hendery’s mouth was heaven, his talent with his tongue left you speechless, tugging on his hair in a way that had him moaning in delight, and just as you’re riding up to the edge of your orgasm with your hips rocking up off the bed, Hendery pulls off, dropping all contact.

You gasp and sit up, ready to whine and beg, but Hendery’s just stepping back to root through his pocket for a condom.

“What are you doing?” You ask, clenching your bedsheets in your fingers. “I have condoms. Get back over here.” You reach under the edge of your bed, bringing out a condom as well as a bottle of lube. Hendery drops his pants back on the floor, and you tip back onto your back, spreading your knees apart for him to fit between your legs.

You look up at your ceiling as you listen to Hendery popping the cap on the bottle of lube, squirting some out onto his fingers. He kisses your thighs, nipping at them lightly with his teeth as he works the lube over his fingers, warming it up a bit before he carefully eases one finger inside you, opening you up for him, sucking at your cock once again.

In no time, Hendery has you close again.Three fingers in, his mouth working magic on you as well. You tug and pull on his hair, dragging him up off your cock, and Hendery kisses a fiery trail up your body until he reaches your lips. 

“I need you. Now.” You moan.

Hendery swiftly rolls the condom down his length, then pulls you up as he lies down. “I want you to ride, Daddy.” 

Too eager to have him inside of you, you immediately move to straddle him, sitting right down on him. Hendery wraps his hand around your dick, swiping his thumb over your tip, cooing at you and telling you how good you look riding Daddy’s cock. It’s hard to not focus on just getting yourself off.

The way Hendery’s hitting so deep inside you, his cock brushing past your prostate each time you drop your hips back on him. And his hand on your cock, jerking you off at the same pace as you’re riding him. It’s all too much.

“Hendery!” You cry out, so close to your orgasm. He pulls his hand away, instead grabbing at your hips, holding you right where he wants you so he can thrust up into you, fucking you with hard, quick thrusts that soon have you cumming untouched onto his belly. And as soon as you’ve finished, he’s touching you again, a hand wrapped around your spent, sensitive cock, and he continues fucking you at a brutal pace.

You’re certain your neighbors can probably hear you, but you can’t hold in your moans, whimpers of oversensitivity.

Hendery nails your prostate with each thrust, and your cock keeps blurting out drops of cum onto his belly, his hand milking you for all you’ve got. 

When you can take no more, you collapse on top of him, and Hendery just holds your hips tighter and chases his own orgasm, moaning in your ear, saying, “You feel so right around Daddy’s cock. God, so tight. Like you were made for me.” 

You moan and tuck your face into his shoulder, biting his skin lightly between your teeth as Hendery cums. His body shudders under you, his cock jerking and filling the condom inside you, and you cum again too at the feeling, just adding more to the sticky mess on your bellies. 

Hendery wraps his arms around you and you stay like that, dozing off with him still buried inside you. It’s only when your neighbors start arguing that you wake, and Hendery reluctantly leaves the bed at last to dispose of the condom. 

You roll over and bundle up in your sheets, then you notice him reaching for his clothes. “What are you doing? Stay.” 

You throw back the blankets, ready to forcefully pull Hendery back into bed with you, but you find that unnecessary as he drops his clothes and tackles you back into bed as if all he’d been waiting on was an invitation to stay. As if all he wanted was to be wanted in return. 

This time you wrap your arms around him, his head on your shoulder as you play with his hair, and you tell him that later you’ll make dinner for him, there’s a recipe you saw online you wanted to try out. Hendery clings to you, presses a smile against your bare skin, and tells you, “I can’t wait.”

And later, when you do finally drag yourselves out of bed (after another round or two), you cook dinner with Hendery hovering at your side, not quite sure how to help you but eagerly wanting to take part. And so what if it doesn’t turn out quite the way you want it? A little bit burnt around the edges, a dash or eight too much salt. You and Hendery made it together and you eat it together and laugh and then drown out the flavor with the alcohol he digs out for you. 

That night, after drinking yourselves to a point where you both feel light and happy, Hendery lets you do whatever you want with him. He lets you spread him out on your bed so you can kiss over every inch of him. He sighs with pleasure when you drip wine over his chest and lick it off his skin, drinking it from the hollow of his throat. 

Hendery cums embarrassingly quick when you grind against him, licking and sucking at his throat and murmuring dirty things against his skin, whimpering how needy you are for Daddy’s cock to fill you up again. 

He fucks you later against the window, telling you that he wants the whole city to see how you look with him inside you, and you look at your reflection in the glass. 

You see Hendery behind you, like the first time you were together, but this time his face isn’t cold indifference just trying to feel something. No, this time Hendery’s eyes burn with passion, his face shows the strain of trying not to cum again already as your walls flutter and clench around him. 

This time Hendery touches you all over, his fingers leaving burning trails over your skin, like asteroid tails on the night sky. 

This time Hendery kisses your neck and pulls you back against him so he can reach around you and palm at your cock, so he can feel it when you cum, dripping down over his fingers, painting the window. 

This time Hendery buries his face against your shoulder and doesn’t let go. He doesn’t put a mask on to hide his face from you. He just holds you close enough that you can feel his heart beating against your back. 

When you wake in the morning, it’s to the feel of Hendery slipping back into bed. His socks touch your bare leg. Cold fingertips skim your back, and you shiver, flinching away. His breath warms your shoulder and he sneaks his cold hand once more onto your skin, over your belly where he presses his palm flat as he whispers to you, “I got breakfast.”

You open one eye and look at him. There’s a flush in his cheeks like he’d run up the stairs. He’s wearing your jacket. 

“How did you get back inside?” You yawn and roll over, stretching your arms up and then flopping into place on top of Hendery’s chest. 

“An older lady was leaving just as I was coming back. She let me in.” Hendery pokes at you. “But I brought breakfast back. Get up and come eat it.”

Everything feels so domestic as you sit down on your futon with Hendery. He unloads the breakfast. You open your laptop, checking your emails to see if your editor has any news for you. You eat together. Hendery tells you about his dream from last night about being on an airplane, and something about a pregnant woman and a cat. It’s simple and easy and you both bask in the pleasure of each other’s company.

Hendery’s in the middle of pulling you apart on his fingers, swallowing your moans as he stretches your hole wider, when there’s a knock on the door of his rooms. You whine as he rolls you off of him, drags the sheet up to cover you both, and calls for whoever it is to enter. 

The man who comes inside is no one you've ever met, but you recognize him all the same. Hendery’s father. 

His eyes land on you first, half-hidden in his son’s bed, and then he looks at Hendery. “You’ve been keeping busy while I was away. My assistant says you haven’t been into the office.”

It’s been weeks that this has been going on with Hendery. You’ve spent nearly every day together to at least some degree, and you’ve definitely not heard him say anything about going into the office. Instead the two of you have mostly been spending time together, in between making out and having sex, you’ve also been watching movies together, teaching Hendery how to cook, he’s started teaching you a bit on the piano.  You’ve hung out with some of his friends, particularly Kun, the producer, as you convinced both of them to try to make some music together, and Hendery dove headfirst eagerly into it, and Kun was extremely supportive. 

But now, with Hendery’s father standing in front of the pair of you, you can already see that light that’s been growing steadily brighter in Hendery diminishing again. You slide a hand onto his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. His father notices. 

“Maybe if you weren’t so focused on fucking whatever pretty creature slithers into your bed, Guanheng, maybe then you wouldn’t be such a disappointment,” his father says. 

Hendery drops his head forward, not looking at his father anymore. 

But you do. You glare at the older man. “Just because he’s not following the rigid life you chose for him doesn’t make him a disappointment. Hendery is amazing. He’s incredibly talented and smart, and he doesn’t need you to tell him how to succeed.”

Hendery grabs your hand tightly. “Stop.”

You look at him, at the downtrodden look on his face. He jerks his head. You close your mouth, but you have so much more you want to say. Hendery is a fantastic person. His father is an asshole. You want to say as much, but you know that it’s not what Hendery wants or needs right now. 

“I’m sorry, Father.” Hendery ducks his head lower in apology. “I allowed myself to get distracted. I’ll come by this office this afternoon.”

His father nods and then turns and leaves the room. The door of the suite slams shut behind him, and as soon as it does, Hendery slumps back into the pillows. 

“Hendery....”

He shakes his head and closes his eyes. “Don’t.” 

You wish you could leave it. Hendery clearly doesn’t want to talk about what just happened. But you do. 

“Why do you let him walk all over you like that? If you don’t want to follow him in the business then don’t.” You crinkle the bedsheets up between your fingers. “Follow music. Or something else you’re passionate about. Don’t make yourself miserable to make your father or anyone else happy.”

Hendery groans and rolls away, rising out of bed so he can pace. You watch him like this, admiring his body in the clear light streaming through the windows. He rakes his fingers through his hair. “You don’t understand what it’s like. The business is my future. It always has been, and my father makes sure that it always will be.”

You frown and scoot to the edge of the bed to be closer to him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he says as he comes to stand still in front of you, and continues, “that my father has always been the one controlling my life. He chose my friends. He chose my schooling and my teachers. He chose my first girlfriend. It was up to him to approve of anyone that I tried a relationship with, and it was my father who ruined the first real relationship I had, the only time I’ve ever fallen in love.”

You wait, knowing he’ll elaborate if he wants to.

Hendery continues without you having to prompt him for more. “The autumn I turned eighteen, I fell in love with a girl a year older than me. Father had called her in to tutor me in economics, but I was already kinda, I guess, what everyone calls me. A playboy, fuckboy, manwhore. All of the above.” He pushes his fingers nervously through his hair again, squinting as he stares past you out the window into the bright sunlight. “Anyway, I managed to seduce her, so lessons were less likely to be about economics and much more about anatomy. But then it turned slowly from sex and pretending that we were learning economics, to me actually taking her out on dates, and I fell in love with her and she, like you, tried to convince me that I didn’t need my father or the business. She didn’t know about my music, but she tried showing me different career paths. And then one day while she was meant to be tutoring me, Father walked in and found us together and a little bit more digging revealed what she’d been telling me, trying to convince me to do. And then she broke up with me, which was devastating in itself, but then Father told me that he’d paid her to leave me. Just one check from him was enough to eliminate everything between us. And then, to top it all off, a few weeks later she was back, actually tutoring me, and then she became my latest, newest model of a stepmother. She lived it up rich for a few months until Father grew tired of her.”

“I still don’t understand why that means that you have to do something that you’re so dispassionate about?” You ask. 

Hendery sinks down to his knees, and you watch as he lays his head on your lap. “Because. He’ll find a way to ruin anything good I try to make for myself outside of what he wants.” He takes your hand and brings it to the back of his head, so you begin stroking his hair. “It hasn’t really mattered in a long time. Not since her. He didn’t care if I was fucking around, if I was jetting off to parties on the other side of the world as long as he knows there are other wealthy people there to make connections with. He doesn’t care as long as whatever I do will profit him in the end. And it didn't matter because up until a few weeks ago, I didn’t have anything for him to ruin because there was nothing I loved enough for it to matter. But then I met you.”

You pause, your fingers going still in his hair, your breath catching in your throat. 

Hendery, the once cold and indifferent playboy you’d let fuck you in the bathroom for a fun night, now tilts his head in your lap and looks up at you so softly, his gaze tender and warm on your face. 

“I love you,” Hendery tells you in a voice so quiet and small that it could almost get lost in this room. “Please don’t leave me.”

You can’t help the noise you make. One of alarm and sadness and reassurance and love and need. You curl your fingers against whatever part of Hendery you can touch, and you pull him up. He climbs back into the bed, over you, covering your body with his, and then his mouth is smooth and sweet on yours. 

“I love you,” you tell him too, feeling the truth of it swelling, burning and beating in your chest. 

And Hendery repeats, “Don’t leave me.”

You know there’s such a depth behind those words. Now, it’s more than just a lonely boy who doesn’t want to sleep alone. More than a lonely boy who sees someone who finally listens and sees him too for who he really is beneath his facade. Now, you hear the plea of a broken-hearted boy who has had the love bought and sold from right between his fingertips. 

You hold his face in your hands. “Never,” you promise, and seal it with a kiss.

Hendery’s money is the last thing on your mind. You don’t care one bit for it. You like going on cheap dates with him to the movies on a Tuesday afternoon when it’s cheapest, even if the movies showing are only the bad ones. You amuse yourself by taking him with you on public transportation, both of you leaning together and making up stories about the other passengers; some of them are so funny that you both burst into laughter, drawing odd looks from everyone around you. You enjoy lazing about in the garden of his home, sunbathing beside the pond, or sitting beside the pool while you write your latest entertainment story, Hendery swimming laps and singing up at the sky, his voice echoing off the side of the hostage and the trees and hedges on the property. 

His father doesn’t like you, and all three of you know that. 

He doesn’t hide it. 

When you sneak down from Hendery’s bedroom at midnight to steal a snack from the refrigerator, and his father is just concluding a video call, and you bump into him as he comes out of his office, he just scowls at you. When you and Hendery are sitting at the pool with Kun and Xuxi and Dejun, laughing and filming Hendery for a music video for the song he and Kun have put together (with a little vocal assist from Dejun), his father nearly explodes. And while you and the other three boys flee back to the safety of the music room, you can hear Hendery’s father shouting about how music isn’t a viable career choice, that it’s useless. 

Hours later, Hendery fucks you until you’re both numb from the intensity of multiple orgasms, and he wraps himself so tightly around you, that you’re not sure the knots of his fingers with yours will ever untangle. 

And finally, after months, when Kun and Hendery have compiled a few songs, Kun wants to release the music as an EP. 

Naturally, you encourage him to go for it. 

And word of it gets back to his father. 

Hendery’s just left your apartment one morning, the taste of him still lingering on your tongue, and you’ve just sat down to work on your latest story—an exclusive interview you’d snagged with the lead actors of an upcoming film that was slated to be a big hit at international film festivals. There’s a knock on your door, and at the same time as you hear it, you spot Hendery’s wallet left behind in the mess on your coffee table. 

You grab it up and spring toward the door. 

But when you open the door, it’s not Hendery standing on the other side. 

“Mr. Huang?” You stare in confusion at Hendery’s father, looking so out-of-place on your doorstep. “Can I help you?”

“May I come in?” He asks, but he’s already stepping inside. 

He enters your apartment and looks around with such a judgmental eye that you almost just walk out your door to avoid whatever harsh words are surely about to come out of his mouth. But you stick firmly to your spot, letting the door swing shut as you stare at him. 

He turns to face you after he’s had his fill of your apartment. “Mr. Y/L/N, I don’t know what your parents taught you about respecting them, but I have always demanded absolute respect from my son. Guanheng has always been a distracted boy, easily caught up in things, finding himself miles away from where he needs to be. But he’s always respected me and the wishes I have for his path in life. I have done my best to keep him on the straight and narrow, but clearly, there are times when he doesn’t heed my guidance.” He looks pointedly at you. “Right now, he is straying from the path, and it’s my duty to make sure he returns and won’t stray again. You understand?”

Yes, you understand what he’s saying. But no, you don’t agree with it. 

“Mr. Y/L/N, it has come to my attention that you have been encouraging my son to pursue music, which is a fickle industry and not worthy of his time. It’s simply not a good path for him. That friend of his, Mr. Qian, his father has ties in the industry that gave him a great leg up when he began. Mr. Qian has a talented ear, and he lives up to the standards that his father set for him. But those same standards fall far below what I expect of Guanheng, you understand? Guanheng already has his path laid out before him, nice and safe and smooth from his birth until his death. Following me into the business means he’ll never have to worry about a thing.”

On some level you know that, but does a safe, boring life have to take precedence over an uncertain, yet passionate life? 

Hendery’s father looks you straight in the eye and says, “This dangerous path you’re leading him on is unacceptable. I am willing to give you ten million dollars if you will drop this subject and leave my son alone. Ten million, all yours, to just stay out of my son’s life and stop ruining it.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you. “Are you kidding? You think I am the one ruining his life by encouraging him, showing him positivity and love, showing an interest in the things that he enjoys, rather than just squashing them out of him until his life is flat and dull and lonely? Sir, I mean no disrespect when I say this, but you are the one ruining his life.” You take a step back, open the door of your apartment, and gesture out of it. “I love your son. Completely. No amount of money or bribery you can offer will convince me to break his heart. Please leave.”

You don’t wait to watch him go. You walk away from the door and back over to where you left your phone. You immediately pick it up and call Hendery. You tell him about what just happened, not to start any shit between him and his father, but just because you feel that being open and honest about what just happened is crucial. You want him to know that you will never leave him, that you don’t want to leave him.

The warmth of summer is finally sticking, penetrating even the house, and you and Hendery hang outside, floating on your backs in the pool or seeking the coolest patch of shade in the garden. 

He’s stretched out on his back in a shady patch of grass as you look down into the koi fish pond nearby. You hear a splash and when you look over you see a little frog. He squirms when you pick him up, but then he sits in your palm, a soft damp little body, quivering in your palm. You walk towards Hendery to show him, but as soon as you call his name and are within a few feet of him, Hendery swears and scrambles away. 

“What are you doing with that? Oh my god! Put it back!” He runs as far away as he can while he can still see you to make sure that you walk back to the pond and leave the frog there. 

“I’m sorry!” You laugh. “I didn’t know you were scared of frogs.” You wipe your hands off on your shorts and settle down in the shade, beckoning him over to join you. He comes over cautiously, as if he thinks you’re going to pull another frog out of nowhere. “Hendery, I’m sorry.”

He makes a face at you and finally does come closer, sitting with his legs folded in front of him, and you take that opportunity to lay your head in his lap. 

“What else are you afraid of?” You ask. “Or is it just frogs?”

“Toads, too. And heights. Sometimes the dark, but only really pitch black dark, like in a cave or somewhere with zero light penetration.” He shivers. “And you know, also, being lonely. Losing you.”

You make a face up at him. “Cheesy.” You grab his hand, holding it over your heart. “But same. I’m scared of losing you. I’m scared of the dark, needles, and this one ridiculous scary story a friend told me when I was a kid.” You shudder just remembering the story, unable to even bring yourself to put it to words. “But we’ve got each other, right? I’ll keep you safe from frogs, and you can keep me safe from needles. But we’ll both have to do something about the dark.”

You’re still laying like that in the grass when afternoon begins to sink towards evening, the sun turning the sky amber, the grass striped emerald and navy. The first early stars begin to peek through. 

And that’s when Hendery’s father strolls out into the garden. He’s on his phone, so he doesn’t seem to notice either of you at first, but Hendery stiffens. 

“Have you spoken to him yet?” You ask. Hendery was so angry that day when you called to tell him about the bribe his father had offered you to leave him. You were so sure that a nasty argument was going to ensue, but Hendery hadn’t said anything to you about it yet.

“No, I’ve been too angry.” Hendery’s fingers clench, flexing against your chest. “And he’s been away. Plus I’m a little bit scared.”

You lay your hand reassuringly over his. “Don’t be afraid. You can’t let him control your life.”

Hendery nods, and you watch his face as a look of pure determination and strong will takes over. He taps your shoulder, and you sit up so he’s free to get to his feet. 

You watch Hendery strut across the garden and come up to his father who is still on the phone. You hear him say, “Father.” The older man holds up a finger, not even sparing Hendery a glance. Hendery looks back at you, then takes a deep breath, steeling himself, and he faces his father again. “Father, I’m marrying Y/N and we’re moving to America.”

Both are outright lies, but they send a thrill through you all the same. You imagine marrying Hendery in a small, formal ceremony. Owning a home together, moving somewhere new together, or just traveling the world together and experiencing all the great places there are to see.

The fantasy fades as you realize that his words caught his father’s attention too. 

“I’ll call you back,” he says into his phone, and then all of his attention is on his son. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

You watch as Hendery tenses his shoulders, clenches his fists tightly at his sides, and tells his father, “I’m marrying him because I love him, and I’m never going to be alone again because of something you’ve done.” 

His father looks from Hendery to you, and then back at Hendery. “Do you think you’re really going to be happy like that? Married to a mediocre reporter? And what if I cut you off?”

“I’d rather be poor and happy than always second-guessing the motives of people who get close to me.” Hendery spits back. “At least I know he won’t betray me for money, not ten million dollars, not a billion, not for all the stars in the sky. I just want to be happy, Father. He supports me, from the day we met, he’s supported me in pursuing music. I love making music. Kun and I have been working together to produce some stuff, and I want to release it. If it flops, then it flops, and I’ll just continue making music for me and anyone who wants it. If it’s successful, then that’s even better. But I just want to try to be happy, and you’ve made it clear time and again that that is not something you want for me.”

You can hear cars passing by on the road outside the property. Birds singing in the trees. But in the air between father and son, it is entirely silent for a few long seconds. 

It feels like a private moment, something that you shouldn’t really be seeing even though for the past few months, it’s felt like everything has been building toward this moment. You want to look away, yet even when you do turn to look down at your hands, you can still hear them. 

You hear Hendery’s father clear his throat and say a quiet, “Well.” Then it’s silent for another little while before he gathers together the words to say. “I do want you to be happy, Guanheng. I want you to be secure and happy, and that is always why I’ve pushed you toward this future I had planned. A nice stable future where you would never have to worry about anything, where you can be happy. Music is a hobby, not a job. And you fall in love with people who try to tell you that it’s a viable life choice, but it’s not, Guanheng. I’m just trying to protect you. Is following my footsteps into the business such an appalling thing? So horrible to you, so unsettling and disheartening, that you would leave me and disown me as your father?”

It sounds a bit like a guilt trip, in your opinion, but you keep your eyes on your hands, your mouth closed. 

“You’re an adult, and maybe it’s time I let you make your own decisions, your own mistakes to learn from.” He clears his throat again. “I do want you to be happy. Maybe I don’t show it in the proper ways, but I mean it.”

You lift your head then, just checking on them. And as you look, you catch his father’s eye. 

He’s still looking at you as he says, “Release your music, Guanheng. Marry your boyfriend. But I don’t want you to give up on the company. If music falls through, you’re taking a job in the company, and that’s the last I’ll hear of it. Be happy, but be secure in your future too.”

Hendery relaxes. Those tense knots in his body all loosen at once. “Thank you.”

And then you watch as his father claps a hand down on Hendery’s shoulder, then draws him in for a hug. 

“Your mother always loved music too.” The words are spoken quietly, intended only for Hendery, but the garden is so silent you can’t help but overhear. “I guess you got that from her.” 

He pulls out of the hug abruptly and walks back inside, leaving Hendery frozen in his spot. You push up to your feet and go to join him, wrapping your arms around him. 

“He never talks about my mother.” Hendery tells you. “And he said yes? Are we sure that’s my father?” 

You smile and kiss his cheek. “Are you happy?”

“Beyond. I should call Kun, tell him to go ahead.” He reaches for his phone, and as he scrolls through it for Kun’s contact, he looks up to meet your eyes. “And I wasn’t lying, you know. I do believe I want to marry you.”

“I want that too.” 

And after Hendery calls Kun, after they celebrate and excitedly talk over the phone for like an hour and a half while the nighttime settles around you. After it all, it’s just you and Hendery, stretched out together in the now mild summer night, looking up at the stars. 

“Remember that first night?” Hendery asks you. “Do you remember the stories I told you?” 

You look up at the constellations visible overhead, all those tiny stars millions of lightyears away, the patterns that they make from your viewpoint down here. “I remember. I remember the look on your face as you told the stories to me, the way that you looked up at the stars, like all you wanted was to be part of something great like them.”

“Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah. You were just telling me how lonely you were, and you looked at the stars like you were jealous that they were never lonely, that they’re a part of a constellation, of a story.” You roll up onto your elbows so you can look down at Hendery. “You know, you’ve never really been alone? I’ve watched you, Hendery, the way that you are with your friends. The seven of you make a constellation of your own, and they’re all drawn into the gravity of you. Just like me. Caught in your orbit.” 

“Are you saying I’m a star?” Hendery laughs. Then he teases, “You gonna make a wish on me?”

Leaning down to kiss him, you stop just a breath away from his lips. “Oh, Hendery, I’ve already made countless wishes on you, and I’m pretty sure they’re all coming true.”

And when Hendery lifts his head from the grass so his lips meet yours, that kiss feels like a new wish, burning bright in the sky.

a/n: okay this took me a little longer than it was meant to. I originally started out making this a drabble in response to this message: Aksdhgfdj Hendery the “rich playboy who would definitely treat you right for a few nights” I would like to say I’m here for IT! which was in response to what I said about how Hendery looked during this periscope he did with Xiaojun, like black on black is truly a god-tier look for Hendery (this is only made truer after I saw him during the Wayv Beyond Live concert like oh my god I was dying of thirst)

Anyway, as usual, thank you if you read all this mess. I’m pretty sure there are a few spots that are a little messy, but if you read it all, I still really really appreciate it 💗 comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated thank you!! 💗💗💗

#hendery #hendery smut #hendery fics #wayv #wayv smut #wayv fics

[chrissyutimagines]

Damsel in Distress

This is a soulmate au one shot. As per usual, '---------' marks point of view changes, and the setting is on the surface. This one is with a gender neutral reader, starring Butch from @bigoltrashpile. I don't own Butch, and if you want to read more about him please go to their blog. Oh, I've gotten permission to use their characters for a series of soulmate au stories. Stay tuned for more~ It would take a long while tho...

In this dangerous, shady world, you led a quiet, normal life.

Living in a small but cozy apartment, working as a front desk manager at a small hotel, hanging out with a few friends... It all seems normal, except for one thing... You've never been caught in the midst of any sort of chaos, be it a simple bar fight or a massive mafia shootout.

A usually rowdy speakeasy would be oddly quiet with you there, never getting attacked walking down a dark alleyway, a mafia shootout taking place in the area you had just left a few minutes ago... It was like you had some kind of lucky aura that protected you from the dangers of this society. Because of this you have been given the nickname 'Clover'.

You've always gave them a smile and accepted the nickname...

But you knew luck won't always be on your side...

Glancing down at your wrist, you see a short message tattooed on it.

'you okay, doll?'

It was said that those words are the first words your soulmate tells you.

...and by the looks of it, you'd be in quite a bit of trouble when the time comes.

You've received a letter from your friend, whose family is stupid rich, and was invited to a masquerade ball to celebrate the fifth anniversary of their luxurious hotel.

Knowing your friend, they will call you to shop for dresses in 3, 2, 1...

'Ring' Ah. Just as expected.

You pick up the phone.

"Hey Sof."

"OMG! Did you get my invitation?! We're going shopping in a minute! You better be ready by then! Oh! And we need to catch up lately! It's been too long!"

"Heheh! Sof, we were chatting just two days ago!"

"Yeah! Way too long! See you in a few minutes! 'click'"

Typical Sofia. Well, loud or not she's a good friend. And you should better change clothes before she...

'Ding dong!'...arrives.

You sigh and go greet your friend.

"How did you get here so fast?"

"Oh! I was in the car when I called you! Now go change into some decent clothes! We need to get some proper dresses for the ball!"

She herds you into your bedroom and a short while later you're in a high-end dress shop. While you gape at the beautiful yet expensive dresses, your friend starts searching through the various dresses.

"Don't just stand there! Come over here. It's not like you've been to this place before."

"Alright, alright. I'm coming."

The both of you start to pick the best dresses while making small talk.

"...so I just went like- Oh my! This would look amazing on you!"

Sofia holds up a red and black velvet dress, it looks like a dress fit for royalty.

"Oh! Sof, I, I don't know."

"Oh stop worrying about me, your know I don't look good in red. Now go put this on and show me!"

You sigh and let her push you into the dressing room. You try on the dress and twirl in front of the full body mirror in the room. You... Look stunning. You hear intensive knocking on the door.

"Hey, get out here and lemme see how it looks!"

You sigh and chuckle her eagerness, then walked out of the dressing room, giving a small twirl to show off the dress.

"Well?" She was silent for a few seconds.

"...well? It's fantastic! You're getting this one! Now, help me choose a dress!"

"Of course, Sof. Just let me change first."

"I'll wait for you then."

You change and start helping your friend. You soon found the perfect dress for her, which she said was, 'The prettiest dress I've ever seen!' But, you know she's just bluffing, she has always been the dramatic type. You sigh and chuckle, following her too the cashier to check out both of your dresses.

After searching the mask store for a while you managed to find a beautiful, classy, red and black mask to go with your dress. Sofia has also found a sparkly mask to go with hers. You both chatted for a short while before parting ways.

When you got back home, you marked the day of the masquerade and placed the clothing away. This would be a perfect break from your boring routine...

Or would it?

----------------------------------------------------

Butch is sleeping in today... Or he would be if Noir haven't dragged him up. He grumbled.

"come on! ya know 'ow late i worked last night!"

"This Is Important Lazybones! You Have To Get A Decent Suit Tailored Asap!"

"*yawn* why?"

"You Are Going To A Masquerade Ball. We Have Business With The Hotel Owner."

"*sighs* *grumbles* alright, fine."

He begrudgingly went to the tailor and got his measurements. Then Noir dragged him to a mask store to get a 'suitable' mask... Which basically means Noir picked one for him.

When they finally got back, Butch just flopped on his bed and dozed off. This would be another boring, pesky business trip...

Or would it be something more?

----------------------------------------------------

On the day of the ball, you dressed up in the stunning dress and mask you got via Sofia, did your hair to compliment your dress, and put on some red heels to finish the look. You have decided against make up as no one can see it under your mask. Sofia said she wanted to arrive at the ball with you, so she would be here in three, two, o-

*knock knock*

Bingo. You open the door to see Sofia practically bouncing with excitement.

"OMG! (Y/N), you wouldn't Believe how excited I am! Are you done?! Come on!"

"Alright, alright, I'm coming, Sof. Just let me grab my hand bag."

You grab your hand bag and went to the exquisite, grand masquerade ball with Sofia. She excitedly told you all the details of the ball, and from what you gathered, you think this'll be a delightful evening.

But you have no idea what has truly been in stored for you.

----------------------------------------------------

It's the day of the ball, and Butch is, well, being his usual grumpy self. Putting on the freshly tailored suit and the well-picked mask along with a pair of freshly polished leather shoes, he went to attend the ball.

Thinking of the business meeting with the owner made him annoyed about actually attending and participating in it.

But, he didn't know that someone would change his mind.

----------------------------------------------------

The ball is in full swing. Everyone was dancing, laughing, and enjoying the grand ball. You have just finished a few dances, and feeling a bit parched. So you, along with an equally tired Sofia, went over to the food tables for a nice snack break.

"That was *pant* Amazing! Did you have fun? *pant*"

"Ah yes, having fun dancing so much my feet are sore from being stepped on by multiple dance partners." You said sarcastically.

"Oh. I'm so sorry. How many?"

"I lost count after 10." She winced.

"Ooo... That's not good."

"Yup. I'm going to stay here for a while. You can go dance some more."

"Okay. But you rest up okay?"

"I will."

She smiles and waves at you as she went back to dance some more.

It was then that you heard the whispers

"They look like a couple."

"That dress they're wearing matches the suit he wears."

"How do they look so good in red?"

"Are they together?"

Feeling uncomfortable from all the whispers, you ducked in a dark corner hoping to leave the center of attention. It worked, but the action has got you the attention of someone.

"Hey there, beautiful." You instinctively take a step back as the stranger approached you.

"Who are you? And what do you want? I do not want to dance right now."

"Oh we're not going to dance, sweetie. We're going to have some... Fun..."

You tried to make a run for it, but he caught your wrist. You struggle to break free of his hold, but to no avail. You tried to yell for help, only for the guy to clap his hand over your mouth. This is it, you thought. You were going to get taken away by a random guy and be ruined. Tears streamed down your face as your struggles grow weaker and weaker.

Just as you thought all hope was lost, you feel the weight of your attacker leave. Your eyes shot open, and you saw the blurry form of your savior standing in front of you.

"What do ya think yer doin'?!" A baritone voice growled.

----------------------------------------------------

Butch arrived at the ball, and started hanging around to look like an ordinary party-goer. As he was chilling, he heard whispers.

"That suit looks exquisite."

"It matches the dress the dress that person's wearing."

"Do you think they're a thing?"

"It sure looks so."

He feels his anger creep up in him, but was interrupted by a man tapping his shoulder.

"Sir, the owner would like to speak with you."

He groaned internally and followed the man. He will be out of here after business is done anyway. No reason to stay right? He thought.

After a bit, the business is done, and Butch finished what he came for. He grumbled a bit as he emerged from a dark corner in order not to attract unwanted attention. Just as he was going to leave, his eyelights caught a glimpse of red... And that's when he saw them... A beautiful person wearing an elegant black and red dress with a matching mask... Who is also being assaulted by a scumbag...

He's snapped back to reality at that, and immediately used his magic to drag the guy away from them. Anger bubbling up in him, he growled.

"What do ya think yer doin'?!"

"I-I was just taking my p-partner-"

"bullshit! they were struggling!"

"I-I'm s-sorry-"

"shut up. i'll deal with ya later." He uses his magic to bound him and threw him to the side, not wanting to alert anyone else.

Turning back to the person assaulted, he kneels down and touches their cheek.

"you okay, doll?"

----------------------------------------------------

You whimpered, and threw yourself at the stranger that saved you, sobbing.

"whoa, whoa. hey, it's okay. it's over now. yer a'right now, doll. shh..."

The guy held you in his arms, gently rocking you. Slowly, you calmed down, and pulled away to look at him.

"You, you saved me." His eyelights widen, and you tilt your head curiously.

"What? Is there something wrong?" He didn't reply, instead, he pulled up his sleeves and showed you his wrist-bone? Your eyes widened as you read the tattoo.

'You, you saved me.'

You flipped your own wrist to reveal yours.

'you okay, doll?'

You stared at each other with wonder.

"w-we're-"

"-Soulmates..."

You continued to stare into each other's eyes, till a noise coming from your attacker broke the both of you out of your trance.

"Ow! Why is there a glass piece here?!"

"*sigh* sorry, doll. gotta deal with this bastard first." He stands and helps you up.

"ya think ya can stand on yer own?"

"I-I think so..." He smiles.

"good. i'll be back on a sec."

His hand glows red and the guy floats up. Then, they disappeared. You blinked a few times, not knowing what happened. And just as suddenly, your savior appeared. Seeing your shocked expression, he chuckled.

"ya okay there, doll? dun worry yer pretty lil head off. it's jus' a 'shortcut'."

"H-how?"

"mmmagic." You huff, and he chuckles.

"hehe. 'ere, take my hand. let's go to somewhere quieter."

With one hand extended to you, he seems almost nervous. Is this the same guy who pulled the jerk off you? You giggle, delicately placing your hand on his. He closed his large hand around yours, and gently wraps his other arm around you, pulling you close to him. You shivered a bit as he whispered in your ear.

"hold on tight, doll."

You feel yourself being pulled into seemingly nothingness, you clutched on him, needing to feel a sense of reality. Then the both of you appeared on the balcony. You tried to pull away from him, only to feel an overwhelming dizziness and fall back into his arms.

"take it easy, doll. shortcuts can be a bit disorientin' the first few times."

You grip onto his suit, taking deep breaths to regain yourself as he cooed words in your ear, while soothingly rubbing your back.

When you finally recollected yourself, you stood back up on your feet gazing up at his eyelights.

"Thank you. For everything. But..."

"but what?"

"I haven't even gotten your name." He looks stunned for a second, before bursting out laughing.

"hahaha! y-yer right, doll. w-we... pffft... 'aven't even... ahaha!" You giggled with him at how ridiculous that is.

When you both calmed down, he took his mask off and introduced himself.

"the name's butch, doll." You smile, liking his handsome features, then took your own mask off.

"My name's (Y/N). Pleased to be saved by you."

He looks at you with stunned eyelights. His hand slowly reaching up to cradle your face.

"y-ya look... gorgeous... 'ow did i get so damn lucky?" You blush at his words, and the fact that his face is getting closer and closer to yours.

"Y-you're the one looking so dashing in that suit." His face glowed red as your said those words.

"'m only a bag o' bones... yer... yer the true diamond, doll. can i...?"

His breath lands on your lips as his thumb absentmindly smoothed over your cheek. You blush but nod and closed your eyes. You then feel a pair of lips touch yours, you questioned how a skeleton has lips in your mind, but the thought was gone as you feel yourself melting into the sweet and sensual kiss. By the time you both pulled away, the both of you are panting heavily.

"Wow..."

"wow indeed, doll." You open your mouth to ask about a skeleton with lips, but closed it as his answer would most likely be 'magic'.

Then you noticed your clothes...

"...we match."

He looks down at his clothes, then yours. And his face glows red again. You giggle.

"what's so funny?" he said with a scowl.

"Hehe. You're cute." His face glows redder.

"nah. yer the a'dork'able one 'ere, doll." He smoothly take your hand to kiss the back of it, causing you to blush.

"Hey! Pffft. No fair! You can't charm me with puns and smooth words!"

"oh. so i'm smooth an' charmin' huh?"

"H-hey! *giggles*"

After your giggles died down, you sigh and look at Butch.

"So... What now?" He smiles and puts his mask back on, extending a hand.

"we dance. i mean, we look like the ultimate power couple, might as well."

You giggle, and fix your mask back on as well, delicately placing your hand on his.

"Lead the way then."

As he led you back in, the crowd parted as if they expected the both of you. When you got to the dance floor, a slow song starts and the two of you danced. Couples looked at you two with envious eyes, bystanders whispered around you, but the two of you are too focused on each other to care.

You are with your prince charming and he has found his damsel in distress.

Nothing else matters.

There! Sorry that I'm so inactive lately. It's been quite busy... I'll be working on this series and that second story of Dance of our Souls first. But it'll be really slow as well... Sorry... Hope you liked this story!

#Mafiafell #Butch #Sans #Drabble #Oneshot #x reader #Sans x reader #Butch x reader #Character not mine #GN! Reader #Soulmate au

[chocoluckchipz]

The Other You - 1

Read it on A03, FF.net, WattPad

Chapter by @maerynn-blog​

Gabriel Agreste’s death had been sudden, and unexpected.

Only a few months before the premiere of his first-ever women’s apparel collection, the famous fashion mogul had succumbed to a violent stroke at his home office in the early hours of the morning, apparently while busy reviewing the latest designs that had been submitted to him.

Few could state without lying that they would miss their boss. Gabriel had proven on more than one occasion to be solely driven by results and success, with no consideration whatsoever for his employees. Even fewer could say honestly that they would miss the man, for his late years had only cemented the cold and heartless facade he had forged throughout the years, setting the image of an implacable leader in stone despite himself.

Over the years, he had even alienated his very own son, with whom he had fallen out of touch as soon as Adrien had been old enough to stand up for himself and make his own decisions. Persistent rumours throughout the years suggested that Gabriel had disowned his son as a result of his desertion of the company, but seeing as Adrien found himself the sole owner of Gabriel following his father’s sudden passing, either those rumours were wrong or Gabriel had forgiven his only heir somewhere along the way.

Which could have been fine if the company had been left in capable hands, which, unfortunately, wasn’t the case. Gabriel Agreste had never entrusted anyone with his company’s well-being or any important decision regarding his brand. Even his almost lifelong personal assistant, Nathalie Sancoeur, had been merely blindly obeying orders without ever questioning them for most of her employment with Gabriel, and yet, she probably would’ve been the most qualified person to assure a smooth transition.

Coincidentally, Nathalie had gone into a well-deserved retirement only a few weeks before Gabriel’s ultimate demise, around the same time Gorilla hung up his luxury sedan keys and moved away to the seashore, admittedly to catch up with his growing-too-fast grandkids.

That meant that the week following Gabriel Agreste’s passing was pure chaos as far as Gabriel’s remaining staff and stockholders were concerned.

The artistic team was left without a leader to guide them, ideas and designs going nuts and wild without anyone to organize them and separate the wheat from the chaff.

The accounting team was going crazy dealing with the sudden and massive increase in resignations, the suppliers’ incessant calls wondering if they’d ever get paid, and the stockholders demanding answers about the uncertain future of the company.

The company’s lawyers were for the most part completely unreachable, busy as they were trying to figure out what exactly were the ramifications of their CEO’s sudden death. Who would take over the company if Adrien Agreste chose to surrender his notoriously unwanted position? Would he choose to sell the company to a third-party? And if he did, what would that entail? What would happen to the collections already out? The works-in-progress?

Above all, as the head designer of the upcoming brand new women’s line, Marinette Dupain-Cheng was probably the most sleep-deprived, stressed-out, and overall most exhausted employee amongst the entirety of Gabriel’s staff. The young woman had spent the better part of the past week trying to coax any ideas out of the designers working under her with mixed success, only to discover that by Friday night, all but her and her assistant either quit or transferred to the men’s department, leaving Marinette to work on her collection alone.

The rational part of her brain wanted to leave as well, bury herself beneath a pile of luxury fabric and only come back up once everything had been cleared out and dealt with because as things currently were, everything in her life was going to shambles.

At twenty-five, a rising star yet a dropout from ESMOD due to an unexpected exclusive apprenticeship under Gabriel Agreste himself, she was sharing a pitiful two-bedroom apartment with Alya and Nino, desperately trying to gather enough savings to get a place of her own. Her salary as Gabriel’s head designer of the upcoming women’s department was more than decent, but it still wasn’t enough to live on her own in the centre of Paris close to work. Mostly because the line she was heading was experimental and any salary raises were dependent on its success at Fashion Week at the end of summer that year.

Going back to her parents wasn’t an option Marinette entertained, and so she had no choice but to put up with the ups and downs of living with a very in-love young couple, whereas she had yet to go on a second date, let alone have a boyfriend. Alya was relentlessly picking on her about that, pointing out mercilessly how she was married to her job, and wondering how in the world “fashion” would give her children. Usually, Marinette would shrug and effortlessly shift the conversation to another topic, but lately, the dangerous cocktail of exhaustion and anxiety for her future in the industry brewing up within her, coupled with Alya’s growing irritation toward her friend’s numerous disappearances and secrets, had sparked more than one nasty argument between the pair of best friends.

As a result, Marinette was carefully avoiding going home as much as she could.

She had spent the week running up and down every corridor, making sure the collection would come out without a hitch despite being carried over by a boat without a captain. She worked herself to the bone, overcompensating for the huge loss the team had just suffered. Marinette spent her days putting out fires, avoiding catastrophe after catastrophe, and devoted her evenings to working on designs, bringing them to completion, going home way past any decent hour every single day, making sure every design was on point, that every garment was sewn up to par.

It had truly been a week from hell as far as she was concerned.

Even without her less than ideal housing situation, she still would’ve stayed late every day. Her mentor, her boss, was six-feet-under, but Marinette couldn’t envision letting him down. Even if Gabriel definitely lacked warmth in his social interactions, he had taught her so much over the last few years, she felt that the least she could do was to hold down the fort for him. He had given her an unexpected opportunity by putting her in the head designer’s shoes, had believed in her against all odds, and the very idea of betraying his trust, even if he wasn’t there to witness it anymore, was making her sick to her stomach.

Even if staying instead of leaving the boat meant encountering Adrien Agreste in some corridor sooner or later.

Pushing that idea as far away as she could, Marinette knelt in front of her dress form, carefully hemming one of the designs she and Gabriel had been working on last. They had talked about this dress only a few hours before his unexpected death, and she wanted the final result to live up to his expectations; an homage of some sort.

Refusing to look at the clock, knowing it was already way later than what would be deemed reasonable, Marinette took a step back, admiring her work. The dress was gorgeous, flowing nicely around the dress form, but it was lacking that little playful flair Gabriel had been envisioning for it.

Struck with a sudden idea, she promptly rose from her work station and marched to Gabriel’s office, as she had done countless times before. She knew for a fact that he kept a nice assortment of satin ribbons in there, specifically a pretty pink velvet one that would add just the perfect touch to the garment.

What she hadn’t expected, though, was to find another living being in Gabriel’s office.

A familiar mop of blond hair was sprawled out on her late boss’ desk, broad, muscular shoulders slumped, accompanied by a loud and desperate groan.

Marinette paused on the threshold for a second, her heart caught in her throat, wondering if she could get away with picking up the ribbon she needed without being seen. That brief hesitation was her demise. As if feeling her presence in the room, the man looked up, and green eyes bore into hers, widening in surprise.

Marinette couldn’t hold back a gasp at the sight of the man that had haunted her dreams for so many years. Sure enough, he had aged a bit since the last time their paths had crossed, but the years had been kind to him. His face had shed the roundness of his youth, bringing out a sharper, more angular jaw. His hair was a bit darker than it used to be, with a low fade haircut that accentuated his older, more mature appearance.

A single word kept replaying in Marinette’s mind at the handsome sight in front of her: danger.

Realizing she was gaping at him, Marinette mentally slapped herself across the face and promptly slipped back into her professional shoes. “Oh, I’m really sorry, Monsieur Agreste,” she said, hoping her voice wasn’t shaking as much as she heard. “I hadn’t realized I wasn’t alone in the building, otherwise I would’ve never barged in like that. I just need some supplies and then I’ll show myself out.”

With a quirk of an eyebrow, Adrien silently watched Marinette tiptoeing through the room with the ease of someone who was more than accustomed to her surroundings. She opened a nearby cabinet without hesitating and foraged within, her entire torso disappearing into the apparent mess of fabrics and various sewing furniture. Less than thirty seconds later, she emerged victorious, holding a roll of the needed ribbon.

She looked at him again. His face was glazed over with a mix of sleepy confusion and disorientation.

“I—Sorry for disturbing you, Monsieur,” Marinette whispered. “Goodnight.”

Turning her back on him, she walked toward the door, failing to escape before he called.

“Marinette? Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

With a sharp intake of breath, she spun on her heels, facing him again with widening eyes. “I’m sorry?”

Adrien rose from his seat, rounding the heavy desk promptly to close the distance between them. “You’re Marinette, aren’t you? We went to school together, back in Mlle Bustier’s class, with Nino and Al-”

“I remember you perfectly well, Monsieur Agreste.”

He stared at her in silence, matching her guarded expression. “So you ended up here after all?”

She sustained his gaze, her voice cold and professional, “Yes. Despite you, Monsieur Agreste, being a major ass toward me. Can I, please, get back to work now?”

His whole expression tensed as he carefully eyed her. For a moment, he looked like he was trying to figure out what to say, but then he deflated, sighing pitifully. “Very well. I still have these fabrics to pick anyway, and not a single clue about what I’m doing. Have a nice evening, Marinette.”

Marinette froze, her heart stilling in her chest.

Deep down, she knew she shouldn’t care.

Adrien’s problems weren’t in any way her own, and if someone had seen fit to put a physics teacher in charge of an entire fashion house, well, so be it. She had no say in the matter. Someone probably had decided to give him that menial task to keep his sheer incompetence away from what really mattered, an initiative she could only applaud.

But on the other hand, Gabriel had always been a man she admired greatly despite his cold facade, and the years she had spent working by his side hadn’t changed that. He was a brilliant designer and had literally dedicated up to his very last day to his art. She couldn’t stand the thought of letting Adrien ruin his father’s hard work—even if it was only ordering lousy fabric—not if she could help it. She had worked too hard to let him get in the way, and if she had to help him to earn herself the freedom of running her line like she wanted to, then she’d do it.

She glanced at the papers scattered on the desk behind him and frowned. “Don’t buy anything from Cosetti; he holds the weirdest grudge against your father for refusing to incorporate chiffon in the 2015 winter line. There’s a good chance he’ll try to scam you. Berkley’s might be more expensive, but I’ve seen swatches of the silk and it's severely lacking in quality. Zinya’s cheaper, better, and their seller is a real sweetheart.”

Adrien stared at her, dumbfounded, and it took him almost a full minute to find his voice again. “But—but, why would you help me? After—”

Marinette walked past him, shoulders tensed and a determined spark in her eyes. “Believe it or not, some of us actually rely on this company for a living, and I’m not letting it sink without putting up a fight. What else do you need to make a decision on?”

The young man blinked, and his professional persona kicked in. He joined her on the other side of the desk to show her the supplier submissions, tentatively pointing out what little progress he had made. Her tone toward him was cold yet polite as she effortlessly picked up where he had left off, giving him cues on their current relationships with various suppliers and broadly showing him the ropes of managing a fashion empire. Soon enough, Marinette pushed the last submission toward Adrien for a signature, got up, and grabbed her spool of ribbon.

“Marinette?” A little awkward but he looked at her as if she’d just saved him from a sinking boat in the middle of an ocean. “Thanks, I wouldn’t have made it without you, and—”

“Don’t,” Marinette cut him off. “I helped you only because my job is on the line. Good evening, Monsieur.”

She left Gabriel’s office in tense, stubborn silence, neither of them willing to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

***

Later that night, Ladybug landed atop the Eiffel Tower, sitting beside her partner on one of the higher beams with a soft sigh.

He peered at her, surprised. “I thought you said you were going to lay off on the patrols for a bit?”

She stared at the horizon for a minute, a comfortable silence falling between them. His question still hovered, unanswered, but he knew her well enough to figure she was trying to organize her thoughts. Nearly a decade of knowing each other meant that most things could go unsaid between the pair.

Eventually, she scooted closer to him on the beam, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, a comforting gesture that had become customary between them. She lay her head on his shoulder, sighing again.

“What’s wrong, Bug? Won’t your roommate be mad at you for disappearing again?”

She scoffed, reaching for his free hand and lacing her fingers through his. “I’ll get an earful once I get home for sure, but I needed this. I need a breather with my best friend, my safe haven.”

He tensed a bit, hearing those words, “That bad?”

“This last week has truly been hell, and I missed you like crazy.” Ladybug sighed softly.

Chat Noir groaned inwardly, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “This boss of yours is some special kind of a jerk if he left you guys with so much trouble upon quitting.”

Ladybug wasn’t sure if she was insulting Gabriel Agreste’s memory by letting her partner tarnish his reputation freely like this, but with news of his sudden passing all over Paris, and the fact that Chat Noir knew fairly well that his partner was working in fashion, there was no way she could set the record straight without giving away some compromising clues.

Instead, she settled on answering quietly, pressing a reassuring kiss on his cheek, “It’s not like he had a choice. He had urgent personal matters to attend to, and we’ll be alright… eventually.” She trailed off, her eyes following his to their very own private view of Paris. “How’s your relative?”

Chat Noir squirmed uncomfortably beside her, and she instantly regretted asking the question that had been burning on her lips for the past week. But ever since he had shown up unfashionably late to a patrol because of a mandatory trip to a hospital, she had been worried about that relative of his who was close enough to the superhero to warrant an immediate visit at the hospital, but in the meantime far enough that he was barely fazed by the whole ordeal.

“He…” Chat Noir began slowly, carefully avoiding her gaze, and in a sudden flash of clarity, she understood. The sick/injured relative wasn’t part of their world anymore, and her dear kitty was grieving in his own very personal way.

“I’m so sorry, Chaton. Can I do anything for you?” she cried, twisting in his embrace, so she sat in his lap instead of beside him.

He gave her a forlorn smile that looked every bit a fake on his handsome face. “Don’t worry about me, my Lady. I’ll manage. Get back to your roommate, things are bad enough between you two as it is. I’d like for you to survive the week, you know.”

She hated to admit it, but Ladybug knew he was right. If last week was any indication, they would probably get in an awful fight as soon as she set foot in their apartment.

But this?

Chat Noir’s unwavering support, his kind words, and reassuring presence over the last decade? The familiar warmth of his arms wrapped around her?

It was worth it, and a thousand times more.

Smiling softly, she eyed him playfully, “And when did you become the voice of reason between us two?”

“Ever since you started to believe working eighty hours a week was healthy. Go home, and get some sleep. You’re barely able to keep your eyes open.”

She leaned on him for a second, taking in his warmth. “Alright, silly cat. See you around?”

“Of course, my Lady. Now, go before she snaps at you again.”

Ladybug quickly pressed her lips against Chat’s cheek, and with one last small smile and an all-too-brief hug, she took off into the night, leaving her counterpart to his silent musings on the tower.

Next >

#miraculous ladybug #marichat #adrienette #aged up #enemies to friends to lovers #the other you #a collab with a friend #myart #my art

[kittybellestark]

This is kinda an endgame fix-it of sorts. Tony is alive.

After the snap Peter and May were poor.

They were lucky to get an apartment with two bedrooms. They really were. And it was still in queens which was nice. But they were starting from scratch.

The government was useless. Well, maybe not useless, they were doing they’re best with the missing people from five years ago suddenly return. They had to deal with all of the deaths caused by the return, as well as all the now displaced people. Undoing the death certificates, finding any missing people. The government was doing a lot.

But it didn’t feel like it. Those who were snapped out of existence didn’t have their savings anymore. Or their jobs. They were entitled to ‘financial compensation,’ but that could take years to get, and would probably end up costing more then they’d get.

So, May and Peter were currently poor. And while their apartment seemed nice enough, it was pretty run down. They were lucky that Pepper had lent them one of the Stark’s many homes in New York until they found a place for as long as she did. With Tony having been in a coma for as long as he had been, and is still dealing with recovery, it felt wrong to intrude in such a way.

They’re new apartment has already been broken into twice. And May and Peter were currently sharing a cellphone where they bought minutes as they needed. May was finding small jobs here and there that was enough to cover the bills. And Peter was chipping in where he could.

Then the ceiling in May’s bedroom started to collapse. And while typically this would be the part that Tony would swoop in and save the day, May and Peter currently had no way to reach of to him, and Tony was still deep into recovery, still not permitted to even stand on his own.

Peter and May started putting money aside where they could to get the ceiling fixed. It was April and school had been cancelled until at least September to deal with the influx of students. So Peter got a full time job as a bartender while he isn’t actually old enough to serve or drink his ID is technically doesn’t say he’s too young either. And May finally found a full time position working for a non-profit that pays well enough to help relocate people after the snap.

May’s mattress is brought over to Peter’s room, (because the living room is too small and doesn’t have a couch yet, only too foldable chair and a little table in between) and they become roommates.

After 3 months they still don’t have enough money to fix the ceiling and Peter is feeling antsy.

May likes to sleep with the lights off, and Peter doesn’t want to tell her that the dark makes him think about the battle, or space, or the time he crashed an airplane, or when he was trapped under a building.

May goes to bed early because she has to wake up early, which means that Peter doesn’t get to be alone very often.

Peter misses having privacy.

He misses getting changed in his bedroom.

And crying without worrying about waking up the person a few feet away.

He misses having a place solely his own.

Peter understands why this is happening. He gets it. He knows they’re poor right now. Peter knows that they can’t afford to fix the ceiling. And he feels guilty. And selfish for wanting a place of his own.

He feels so selfish when he looks down at the pizza him and May just ate -because they were both over tired and their stove broke- and sees it as a luxury. Sees the money that could have gone to giving him his room back. He feels selfish for putting money on their shared cellphone so that he can check the internet to see if Ned or MJ were also snapped. To see if the news knows about Tony’s recovery.

Peter feels guiltly and horrible for just wanting to be alone for longer than a shower. He just wants to be able to be alone.

When Happy spots Peter when he’s walking home from work at 3am, Peter feels guilty for taking the offer for the ride home. He’s wasting Happy’s money. He’s wasting Pepper’s and Tony’s money. He feels like a burden.

“How come you haven’t come round to visit boss yet? I thought you too were close.”

Happy doesn’t want to say that he misses the kid. Doesn’t want to tell Peter he’s concerned over the hallowed cheeks and sunken eyes. He wants to see if Peter is okay, but without the kid feeling like he’s put on the spot.

“Don’t know where he is.” Peter responds simply with a shrug.

The way Peter slurs his words slightly along with the raggedy look of the kid are some massive red flags for Happy. Peter isn’t going off on some tangent about anything and it isn’t right.

“If you called I could have given you a ride.” Happy tries to sound nonchalant, looking at Peter in the rear view mirror, the kid doesn’t even perk up.

“Gotta have a phone for that, Happy. And your phone number.”

Happy pulls over to where the Parker’s used to live. Where things were good and happy and there was no snap. And there was no missing out on five years of life or sharing a bedroom, it was just another day.

“You guys still live here?” Happy asks, hoping for something to turn the conversation around, hoping for something, anything.

“No, but I can walk the rest of the way, it’s no big deal.”

“Not happening.”

Happy pulls back out onto the road taking Peter out of Queens to visit Tony and Pepper and Morgan. Hopefully that’ll cheer the kid up. Morgan is the cutest kid, so it’s impossible to be upset by her. And now that Tony is doing better it’s bound to have Peter rambling in no time.

“Happy, Happy, what are you doing? You need to pull over. C’mon man, not cool. I gotta work tomorrow. Let me out!” Peter tried the open the doors to no avail not thinking to unlock it.

“Peter I’m just taking you to the Lakehouse, just for a night.”

“I have to work tomorrow Happy, I can’t not go. Just let me out.”

Peter felt desperate, and selfish. Tears were in his eyes and he was seconds away from crying. He couldn’t miss work. Couldn’t miss out on the money that went towards his privacy. Towards having his room back. 

As Happy turned to pull into the driveway for the Lakehouse it was turning to 4am and the kitchen light was on. Peter felt the tears escape and he couldn’t call May, or his job and they needed the money.

“Happy, please.” Peter tried again.

Happy and Peter both got out the car, Peter trudging behind, dreading the idea of intruding on someone else. He didn’t want to be there and he was sure he wasn’t wanted.

They both walked in, gathering the attention of Pepper, who was making food in her pajamas. Pepper looked up and smiled at Happy, not seeing Peter who has hidden himself behind Happy. 

“Look at who I found wandering through the streets of Queens.” Happy pulled Peter out from behind himself to show off the boy to Pepper.

“Wandering through the streets? Peter, honey I know you’re enhanced but it’s not safe to be walking through Queens in the middle of the night.” 

Pepper moved and gave Peter a hug, surprised at how skinny he way. He wore enough layers that it wasn’t that obvious in any place other than his face, but when she squeezed him. All there was, was bones.

Peter didn’t respond verbally, only a slight shrug, and that was so out of character for him it nearly had Pepper reeling.

“Let me make you some breakfast.” Pepper nodded to herself before moving back into the kitchen to make Peter some food too.

“I really shouldn’t be staying long.” Peter broke the silence finally when Pepper got him to sit with food infront of him.

“You just got here, honey, there’s no rush. We missed you.”

Peter doesn’t really believe her.

“I have to go to work. I can’t miss work.”

Pepper gives Peter a look. A look that he’s received multiple times from May, the look a parent gives when they’re trying to figure out if their child is lying. It’s the squinting eyes and the frown, with the one corner of the mouth turned up.

“I’m sure you can take the day off.” Pepper’s tone has an air of finality to it. “We’ll get May here tomorrow. It’s been too long since we’ve last seen you guys.”

Peter shrugged, feeling tired and defeated. Fighting Pepper is a battle Peter doesn’t ever want to take up. Sometimes you just need to accept your losses. This is one of those times.

“Can I use your phone to call in then? I’m supposed to work at noon.” 

Peter held onto his head with both of his hands, already coming up with an excuse to why he can’t come in.

“Didn’t you just finish your shift? Why would you work at noon.” Happy snorted, clearly not believing Peter having a job.

“It’s called working a double. My shifts are 12pm-2am. Now could I please call in?”

“I’ll call for you honey, where do you work?” 

Ah, shit. This wasn’t a turn that Peter was expecting. He didn’t think that he would have to tell Pepper where he’d work. 

“Death & Company.”

“Excuse you?”

“I work at Death & Company. That speakeasy styled bar where we all wear bowties and suspenders. It’s pretty rich people stuff, I’m sure you heard of it Pepper.”

“Peter, impossible. You’re sixteen, they wouldn’t hire a minor.”

“Except the fact that my ID say’s I’m 21. I just happen to be the type of guy that they like to hire. Also the tips are really good.”

“You can’t work there. I won’t allow it. I’m sure May and Tony would agree with me.”

Peter groaned, dropping his head onto the table. He didn’t want to do this. He was tired and missed having privacy and he was doing something good. Sure, maybe he got the job for selfish reasons. And maybe he’d stay a little later most shifts and have a drink or two with his coworkers. It’s not like it’s illegal anymore. Might as well reap the benefits of being a legal adult while still 16. 

“May actually knows where I work and is grateful that I’m helping out while not in school. Four months ago it would have been a problem, or I guess five years ago, but now we need the extra cash. Besides, you don’t own me, I’m not your child, I’m technically a legal adult and therefore can work at a bar. The last time either May or I have spoken to you was right after the snap, and the last time I talked to Tony was during the battle.  You didn’t give us anyway to contact you, and the only reason I’m here is because Happy brought me here even though I asked to be dropped at home. You can’t just decide to show up in my life now and tell me what I can and can’t do. You haven’t been here and you don’t get to choose to be here for me now.”

“Peter, I’m so sorry that we’ve ignored you, but there’s been a lot going on, we’ve just got Tony back home and he’s able to do things again, and there’s Morgan and the company too. It’s been a lot.”

Peter felt tears in his eyes. He didn’t like doing this. He didn’t want to, but he might still be a little drunk. It’s been exhausting and he hasn’t gotten to talk about it with anyone, and now Pepper is here and it’s convenient.

“We’ve been threatened with homelessness multiple times, we’ve been robbed twice, our roof has caved in, we have one phone where we buy minutes when we need it, we don’t have hot water, our appliances barely work, May is working two jobs that don’t pay anywhere’s near as much as her old one and I’m working as well and sometimes we have to choose which utilities are more important to us. May had to talk a week off of work last month because she got the flu, knocked her down pretty good. I wanted her to go to the hospital because her fever hit 105 degrees, we couldn’t really afford it before everything either, but it would have been doable. Now she didn’t want to be brought to the hospital because it’d be cheaper for her to die and wouldn’t lead to me being homeless. We had our electricity and water shut down for a little while because of that.” Peter took in a big breath, trying to reign in his frustration, trying not to take it out on Pepper. “I understand that you’ve been through a lot these last few months, years even, but so have I. It isn’t your fault, but you’ve also not been there, so please don’t try to force yourself into a situation you will never understand. I need my job. May needs me to have my job. This isn’t about what you or Tony want, it isn’t about what you do and don’t like. It’s about what May and I need. And that happens to be me working at a bar for the unforeseeable future.”

The two sat in silence, and Happy backed his way out of the kitchen. It was clear that Pepper was processing Peter’s words. It was a lot. He couldn’t blame her for that. Or for her not being there. It happens. Life gets in the way.

“Okay. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry Peter. I’ll call them for you. Just the one day, and then you can go back to work if you’d like. For now why don’t you go to bed sleep a little bit. Then you can see Tony and meet Morgan.”

‘Meet Morgan.’ Because Peter hasn’t done that yet. Because Peter hasn’t been important enough to meet her before. Or important enough to see Tony. Maybe Peter just isn’t important. He’s an intern. Just an intern. Always will be an intern.

“Sure, tha-that’s fine.”

“Okay, you can take the first bedroom on the left. On this floor.”

Peter nodded with a mumbled thanks, moving out of his spot and to guest bedroom. When he entered the room it was obvious it was made for visitors. There wasn’t anything personal in there. Queen size bed, white comforter, white pillows with a colourful quilt. A tall dresser and desk, an ensuite bathroom and walk-in closet. 

It was too much. Way too much. It’s probably a memory foam mattress. He doesn’t deserve this. He wanted privacy, not to abandon May in a time of need. Peter just wanted his room back, not to be sicced on Pepper or Tony when they’re also in a time of need. All he needed was his creaky twin size mattress on his nearly okay bed frame, in his dingy bedroom that totally didn’t have mold or mice. All he needed was to be able to go to his own bedroom at night and be alone, not in this knock-off hotel room. 

May deserved it. Not him. May deserved better than him. Better than what she got. 

“I need another drink.” Peter groaned, closing the door behind him and through the room. He opened the window, throwing himself and his bag outside. 

The fresh air coming off the lake helped calm Peter’s nerves. The sun rose in colours of pink and orange and red. There were still stars in the sky and the moon too. 

Peter found himself being drawn to the docks. He sat down at the edge, pulling out a bottle of whiskey. The bottle was still mostly full, so he took a swig hoping for it to solve any problems. Of course it didn’t. It never could, why would it start now? Just because Peter was seated on the Stark’s dock, using up valuable resources, money and space didn’t mean that anything would be solved. It just meant that the sinking feeling in his stomach grew heavier and heavier. 

He should be at home. Dreading work, but grateful for the extra money. He should be in his shared bedroom with May. He should be doing more. May should be the one swept off her feet and given a day off. Why should he have anything good? Why should he be sitting here, privileged, when others are struggling much worse than he is.

He takes another swig.

It doesn’t burn anymore. Not like it used to. 

“You know, Whiskey was the first drink I ever had. Mind you, I was six years old and told I needed to drink it to show how grown up I was. I’m sure there’s a different reason as to why you’re drinking.”

Tony’s voice shock’s Peter’s system. There’s electric currents and his vision whites out for a second, he nearly drops his bottle. Peter can’t stop himself to turn around, finding Tony standing there, keeping himself up with a cane, his right arm a prosthesis, and healing burns up his face. Tony has a sad smile on his face as he carefully maneuvers himself to sit down next to Peter.

“I know that look.” Peter says carefully. “It’s not your fault.”

“Peter, you’re drinking.” Tony huffs, pulling the bottle from Peter’s hand.

“Don’t put this on yourself. It’s not like I drink all the time. Only after my shift sometimes. I’m legal, technically, and it’s not hurting anyone. Controlled environment with other adults. The whiskey was a gift from the owners because I bring in the most customers.”

Peter laughed, it was a heartbroken, self-deprecating laugh. The tips of his ears were red, and Tony noticed how Peter’s eyes were bloodshot and filled with tears. Tony was surprised to see that Peter was also skinnier, his cheekbones and jaw more prominent, his collarbone popping more and his spine visible through the sweater. 

“So then why?” Tony asked, testing the waters a little bit. 

This was the first conversation he was having with Peter after five years. Their first conversation and it isn’t one of happiness. Tony finally gets to talk to his kid and he’s scarred he’ll push Peter into closing off. 

Peter considers his answer. “Well I’d rather be dead and I can’t do that to May because that’s selfish of me. And I don’t have any privacy and we can hardly pay any bills. I don’t even know if Ned or MJ were snapped or finishing college. It’s been five years and I don’t really fit anymore. I just feel so selfish for wanting my own bedroom.”

Tony felt like an asshole. Of course Peter would be struggling with adjusting to a new world. He should of reached out sooner, though Tony wasn’t very lucid these last few months, finally weened completely off the pain medication this week. 

“Can I hug you, kid?” 

Peter nods, sobbing once he’s held in Tony’s arms. Tony rubs Peter’s back hoping to bring any comfort to the kid. Being alive for the last five years has been hard, trying to mourn the loss of half the world, move on from what once was, and then try and reverse everything to bring back Peter.

“Ned and MJ were both snapped as well. It was one of the first things I checked when I made it back. And I don’t know how much it helps but I literally invented time travel to bring you back, not for the greater good, but because I’m a selfish man who wanted my kid back. I know that there is no excuse for why I’ve not been there since you came back but I’m here for you now and whenever you need me in the future. I’ll put my number and Pepper’s and Happy’s and Rhodey’s number into your phone so you can call any of us whenever you need.”

Carding his fingers through Peter’s hair helped soothe Tony and he hoped it would also soothe Peter. Having a crying boy in his arms made him more like a failure than he already thought himself to be.

“I don’t have my own phone. May and I share, and we hardly ever have enough minutes. I wouldn’t deserve it anyways.”

“No, no, Kid you deserve it so much more than anyone else, and you deserve everything good. You’ll have a phone by the end of the day, with so many minutes you wouldn’t know what to do with any of it. Whatever you need, I’ll get it for you, but I need you to promise that you’ll only drink on special occasions or parties and not when your sad, or angry, or upset in anyway.”

Peter sobbed, his whole body shaking in Tony’s arms, he tries nodding, though the way that his body is shaking it made it hard to decipher, but Tony knew, he always knew.

“I don’t know why I thought things would be like normal. It didn’t really click that it’s been five years, but then it really was, and May and I don’t have anything and I went to space and died then came back to life and was thrown into a war. I can’t even sleep anymore, especially not in the dark. I don’t know why I thought things would be the same. Everyone moved on, the world moved on. There’s no room for me anymore.” 

“Okay, okay, Underoo’s. It’s okay, I know it’s hard and what you’re feeling I’m sure a billion others are feeling too, and that doesn’t make you any less deserving of your feelings. We’re going to find a place for you in this new world. We’re going to help you the best we can. You’re my kid too, and I’m so sorry I haven’t been there for you, but we’ll do this together, however you want to. You get to call the shots here. You have a room here for as long as you want it and forever after that, we’ll get you and May set up wherever needed. I love you, Pete.”

For the first time in a while Peter feels like things will be okay. He’s here with Tony and the world isn’t ending, and he has a room and someone who can tell him that it’s okay. He’s not happy, but he’ll get there.

#peter parker #irondad #spiderman #spiderson #tony stark #iron man #avengers #tony and peter #tony and pepper are full on supportive parents who love their son #pepper potts #pepper stark #post endgame #endgame fixit #depressed peter parker #tired tony stark #tired dad #suicidal peter parker #may parker

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Sinners & Saints-Chapter 14

               A special thanks to @statell​ for all your help

Previous chapters at AO3

Chapter Fourteen

The tender ride to the island had Claire’s last nerve in shreds. She was very afraid of having her chip taken out today, even though Jamie already tested the safety of the procedure the day before. The four of them split up at the front of the clinic, Darius and Maia would hang out at the back door of the facility just in case the good doctor made a run for it.

Jamie held Claire’s hand and scowled at the nurse during check-in. The doctor saw them and abruptly turned around but was soon escorted back by Darius. The nurse was decidedly unfriendly today which added another layer of stress to the procedure. Jamie just wanted it over with and pulled Claire to the treatment room when they were called.

The doctor thankfully started with a shot of Valium that put Claire out completely. It was a little unnerving. Claire was not a rambunctious mover when she wasn’t sedated, but this complete stop even unnerved the doctor, so he put a monitor on her heart. Jamie held a glass jar out for the doctor to drop the bloody implant into before closing the incision. He knew women had a thing about their upper arms looking nice, so he watched every stitch closely.

Jamie handed the doctor ten one-hundred-dollar bills and they left as soon as Jamie could wake her up. Claire smiled continuously and said hello to everyone they passed. She stopped to pet a lady’s purse and asked what its name was. Jamie was struggling to keep her walking in a straight line and if he stopped she would go off in another direction, so it took multiple attempts to call Darius.

Once Claire was in the tender, he searched for Darius and Maia, hoping they would hurry. The inebriated Sassenach needed to be locked in her room until the Valium wore off. Everything almost went south getting her onto the aft deck when she fell backward. Jamie was able to catch her before she slipped into the ocean. He was so rattled, he put Claire to bed and watched her from a nearby chair. Maia came in with a tray of food and agreed to sit with her so Jamie could get his sketch pad. He was intrigued by the locals, the tone of their skin, their gestures, and facial expressions. While Claire slept, Jamie roughed in the scene he wanted to paint and the remainder of the day was uneventful.

Jamie had given up hope that Claire would wake up that day. He wanted to talk about Danny and the extraordinary things she said and knew about his paintings, even those not done yet. It would have to wait until tomorrow he decided and slid his sketchbook into his bed table.

Claire’s eyeballs peeked out from under their lids at first light. She could hear the rhythmic breathing of her husband next to her, so she knew it was very early and after almost twenty-four hours of sleeping, she needed to get up. Adso had other ideas and did nothing but purr when she stroked him.

Sipping delicious coffee on the foredeck, the sun energized her to feel more alive by the minute. There was movement on Danny’s yacht and she watched the peculiar crewman standing on the foredeck holding a flat of flowers like a statue. How odd, she thought, until she saw Danny’s head pop up and take a handful of young Petunias before dropping out of sight again. She forced herself to stop looking and jumped at the vibrating cell phone next to her. Javier was the only person who called so she picked it up and said his name.

“Javier!”

“No darling, it’s Danny, do you remember giving me this number? If not, I’m sorry to intrude. How are you on this beautiful morning?”

“I feel amazing today, and you?”

“Very well indeed, but I could use a hand with these young plants if you have a moment.” She chuckled, “I apologize for being unacceptably straight forward, dear, please forgive me.”

“No, no, I would love to help, plant flowers? On your boat? I love gardening but never considered doing on a boat. Yes! I would love to help you, Danny. I see your tender is out, can someone come and get me in ten minutes?”

Claire left a note for Jamie and got into the tender waiting for her at the aft deck. She was excited to see Danny again and planting small flowers, however weird that was on a boat, was the perfect activity for her energized morning.

Danny smiled brightly when Claire walked onto her deck, removing her gloves to shake her hand warmly. The tender engines screamed away until it was clear of the yacht, then the crewman pulled the steering wheel harshly for a nautical-donut that launched the young man sideways, splashing down about twenty-feet from the tender.

“Oh my God!”

Danny held her arm before she could jump overboard and rescue the man. “Don’t worry about the cub my dear, he has a racer’s heart and can’t help himself. I had the tender engine modified so when someone let’s go of the throttle it stops moving. He’s fine,” she giggled. “Let me show you our chore for this morning.”

Claire followed Danny along the side deck to the other end of the enormous yacht and stepped down to the foredeck. She watched her step descending the six steps and noticed greenery around her feet and heard the most amazing music. Once on the deck, she looked around at the beautiful garden Danny had created. There were large trees, many bushes, vines, trellis clinging roses, a proper rose garden, and planters overflowing with pansies in every color that lent their sweet smell to the air.

“This is amazing, Danny! It is the last thing I would expect on a boat. It is beautiful but what happens during a storm?”

“If we can’t outrun it the planters are wheeled into a garage beyond that door. You just lift a bit on the end of the planter and the wheels pop out.”

“Oh! That is so clever! Well, I’m ready, where do I start planting?”

Danny showed her an empty planter and they discussed what levels and colors should be included then Claire got to work. When Danny came to check on her a bit later, the planter was done. She and Danny took turns watering the expansive deck full of flowers and talked as they worked.

“Have you always loved to sale or yacht?”

“No, I bought this yacht to get away from my son who wants to put me in a home. Turns out I really like the freedom, the people, and my crew.” She regarded Claire for several minutes and finally spoke to her about the joys of being nosy.

“My dear, I was raised strictly, trained in social graces at the best boarding schools, I was a debutante, and my family is at the top of the social food chain so to speak. I caught a fever in my early thirties that killed my husband and put me into a coma for a month. I had a lot of time to think before I woke up and I was a changed woman from then on. The first change was I spoke my truth, whatever that was. Let me demonstrate.”

Claire was delighted with her perky and fun attitude and listened closely.

“You, my dear, might spend the entire time asking socially acceptable questions and never get an answer to the question that burns in your mind. Give it a try, what do you want to ask me?

Claire watched Danny encourage her to speak up and she finally blurted out “how can you afford this boat and live-in crew? Oh God, it’s none of my business Danny, please forgive me!”

Danny stood straight and held her head high, “nonsense! When I tell you the answer, we will be friends and I want to be your friend so come inside, out of the sun for some refreshment while I explain.”

Claire pulled off her deck shoes and looked up as a glass wall opened to the formal saloon. She was struck dumb as her eyes took in the exquisite furniture and art in the massive room. There was a double grand staircase that went up to the second floor of living space and the boat seemed to go on for a mile. She was barely aware of Danny talking to her until she felt her hand slip through her elbow, leading her through the saloon.

“I can see that you like my floating home, and now there are two burning questions, are there not?”

“What…what does the rest look like?”

Danny chuckled and led Claire on a tour of luxury and abundance she didn’t know existed. The artwork was exceptional and they chatted about several of the artists. The formal dining room could serve twenty-four people comfortably with another dining room for everyday use. The floor to ceiling windows provided a stunning view with glass doors spaced to provide fresh air and an exit to the side deck. Beyond the double staircase were Danny’s expansive office, sitting room, private atrium, and bathrooms as big as Claire’s bedroom. All the flooring was Italian marble that also lined the walls of the shower, which you could fit a basketball team in.

“I don’t stay in these rooms, too big. I live in one of the staterooms and it’s just right for me.”

“What? Why? My God Danny, this is so beautiful it’s making me emotional.”

Danny showed Claire the private deck with a hot tub, full bar, outdoor shower, and lounges big enough for two. They continued the tour to the upper decks, four of them, a large movie theater, an upper saloon that was a bit more casual with flatscreen televisions that appeared when a button was pushed, a bar that looked fully stocked, and a foredeck with formal dining. Another level was dedicated to a full-sized gym with all the equipment, free weights, benches, a huge screen for watching aerobic videos, two saunas, a huge hot jacuzzi, and a running track that circled the enormous room.

They stepped into an elevator made of glass and went down to the lower deck with a large swimming pool and waterfall. The glass wall in front of the pool opened completely to the aft deck that was set up like a beach party with two bars, outside showers, lounges, and a closet full of towels. Danny pulled Claire’s hand and they were somehow back on the main deck walking through the expansive galley that included four of every major appliance needed for entertaining, four commercial refrigerators, freezers, and dishwashers, a two-hundred bottle wine cellar, and huge tables for food preparation.

Claire was in luxury overload and felt sad she would forget half of what she had seen.

“I wonder if you would accompany me for lunch and the second question you asked?”

Claire was delighted to spend more time with a woman she was really starting to like. Danny led her out to yet another private deck off the galley that was smaller and more intimate with a small table for two already made up for lunch. She picked up the phone and spoke to someone about a sore ankle, asking questions that made Claire feel she was really concerned about the person on the other end. Then she ordered avocado toast and tuna stuffed tomatoes with several side dishes and iced tea. Claire was overwhelmed by the experience and the calming water around the deck, about thirty feet down she guessed. When the food came, a muscular young man brought the plates stacked carefully up and down his forearms which were transferred to the table with no apparent effort. He limped away.

“You are very quiet dear Claire. Oh, you’re starving, poor thing, I don’t imagine you had much to eat yesterday.”

Claire’s head jerked up to look at Danny, smiling at her cheeks stuffed with food. How would she know about no eating as she slept yesterday away?

“Well, you eat while I tell you who I am and maybe what I hope to be to you sweet girl.”

“My birth name is Sepora Cornelius Meyer. My grandfather immigrated to America from Poland and worked in a small grocery until he learned to speak English. He purchased the store eventually, but I digress. Everything my grandfather touched turned to gold and he reinvested every dime he made in oil, real estate, and steel. The short version is he became rich and celebrated before he died, leaving a son to take his place, my father.”

The young muscular man came out with plates of cheese and fresh vegetables that were bite-sized. While Claire crunched on carrots she looked to Danny with anticipation.

“Things were different then. The household adopted the opinions of the father and never questioned. They had more money than could ever be spent but an idle life was not allowed, so my father worked, starting at the bottom, learning the business of steel, oil, and real estate. He was quite a man, my hero, never to be replaced.”

Claire waited and crunched celery while Danny took several tiny bites of her avocado toast.

“Before my brother died, poor Alfred, my life was positively glorious! Boarding school in France and Sweden, summers in various countries with my friends, and beautiful parties during the social season where we could be in the same room with boys our age. It was such fun. When we buried Alfred, all that changed. No more school, no more summers away, and parties became a new kind of classroom where I would learn from watching the men. I didn’t like it one bit so I stuck my nose in the air through the first season and won myself a stiff neck and a cross father, more determined to ruin my life.”

“What took the place of school?”

“I spent dreadfully long hours reading communications from my father to other companies, banks, businessmen, and political people. When the steelworkers refused to let me take an active role on the production floor my father set up a small desk and chair and that is where I read stacks of documents. When I could finally wash at the end of the day, I pretended I couldn’t hear my mother saying I was now deaf from the ungodly noise of the production floor. She smiled and told me to set the table when my hearing came back or none of us would eat. I recovered quickly.”

“Did it ever get more tolerable for you?”

“Father planted fake letters, several of them during my second year leaning the business. Brazen mistakes in accounting, materials, even which political party he supported. I missed them all because I was daydreaming of lovely parties or who I would marry. Father became distant and terribly unhappy and one night I heard him talking to mother about his shame over not having a qualified heir to lead the business. He was so sad and it broke my heart hearing his defeated voice. It took about a minute to realize I was an utter failure to the most important man in my life.”

“Oh, Danny, how could you know how important it was for you to learn?”

“He and mother both told me and I didn’t listen, until that night. After that, he would hand me a stack of documents and I ran back to his office for more, asking questions about certain decisions and correcting the math where I found mistakes. It took several days to convince him, but soon I was waiting for him to come down the stairs for our walk to the office and I pumped him with questions along the way. It seemed like he grew three inches but it was the weight of defeat getting off of his back, allowing him to stand straight and proud, beaming his smile to the world. I was never so happy, or relieved, to know I wasn’t a failure in his eyes. And that’s all there is.”

“What? How old were you when you took over? Did your family keep all three businesses? How did you survive the depression? What was it like to be the leader of that kind of fortune? What …”

Danny smiled at Claire and her eyes twinkled. “I would love to tell you more after we discuss my coma.”

“What?”

“I had become my father when I fell ill. My loving husband had succumbed to the illness and I didn’t know it for over a month as I was deep inside myself. I could see how I distanced myself from real life to free my mind for running the business and such. When I woke up I had a new burden to suffer because I could see things in people. Their happiness, sorrow, who they loved, and who they were deceiving. It was like living in a nightmare that never ended. Young people from the best families would shake my hand and I would see their hands around someone’s throat, choking the life out of them. It felt like I had gone insane, especially when my mother had me committed and took over the raising of my son.”

“Good God.”

“You are feeling my pain at the moment because you are an empath, dear Claire, and those that confide in you feel they are truly understood for the first time. It is a rare quality.”

“I think everyone feels the way I do.”

“Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

Claire heard a loud whistle and looked across the water finding Jamie and Darius standing in the tender holding spears up with two large fish impaled. She smiled and clapped a bit in the air, suddenly wanting to wrap herself around her husband.

“Thank you for spending time with me today, Claire. I hope to see you again, but it is time for me to rest. The cub has a boat race later and I will need my strength to endure it.”

Danny walked Claire to the aft deck and was truly surprised when Claire hugged her, thanking her for everything. Jamie helped her into the tender and she waved to her new friend who watched them smiling, until she disappeared into her own boat.

Jamie, Darius, and Maia, were asking about Claire’s morning making her uncomfortable with keeping Danny’s confidence about all she told her. She finally went to her room and drew a bath with bubbles to idle away part of the day.

“Everything alright, love?”

“No.” She looked at Jamie’s handsome face, “I miss you, although I don’t know how that could be.”

“I do, because I miss you too Sassenach. I came to ask you to go to the island with me today. I want to take some pictures of the five lads that will be in the painting. After that, we can play, have dinner, or drinks. But it is a date so look your best, like you do right now, mo chridhe.”

“What, here in the bath?”

“No, that wouldn’t be right unless we stayed right here.”

Jamie smiled and tried to grab her getting a wet sponge in the face for his efforts. Claire pulled the plug and stepped into the shower so Jamie could wash her hair.

When he came back an hour later, Claire was sitting on the deck in a pretty yellow dress that reminded him of something. She had straightened her hair and wore makeup to add the exotic dimension to her eyes. He slid his arms around her waist and asked if she was ready to go.

Once on the island, it wasn’t hard to find the five boys that hung out together. Jamie explained he was painting a picture and they were in it which caused quite a ripple in the calm of the afternoon.

Jamie took several pictures of each of them, close up of the face, one showing some mannerism, the other a body shot. He showed them and they laughed. Once Jamie sat down to sketch, Claire called them to her and when they realized how friendly, and pretty she was, they showed off for her trying to outdo the others. The sun was shining off her hair and shoulders and her smile was like a beacon on her tanned face. Jamie laughed at the playfulness of the boys he guessed to be fourteen to eighteen. Gentle, beautiful boys who had taken over his creative mind. Jamie packed up his paper and tools and they bid the boys goodbye to wander around town.

Jamie could see Claire’s shoulders getting red in the sun and pulled her into a dress shop that had a large section of hats, which he brought to her, five at a time. He chose a wide-brimmed hat and the shop owner was happy to wrap a yellow ribbon around it, tied in the back with the extra length hanging off the brim. They laughed and stole kisses and wandered aimlessly until it was time to find a restaurant and gorge themselves on local cuisine and whisky. Jamie slipped an arm around Claire when they left. If they had been more aware of the people around them, they might have noticed the stares, but they were in their own world.

Claire pulled her shoes off when they reached the sand. Jamie waited to be alone with her on the beach because the full moon provided all the light he would need.

“Sassenach, I have something for you.” He pulled her hand and she turned around with her tipsy smile and sparkling eyes. “God, your beautiful.”

“Do I get some sort of prize for something awesome I did?”

“Something like that.” He pulled a tiny box from his pocket and handed it to her.

She looked excited until she pulled the box open and her eyes fell on the diamond inside. She could not pull her eyes away from it.

“We can take it back and get something you like better. Just put it on, one time, and then decide.”

She handed him the box and never took her eyes off the ring. Offering her outstretched hand she watched him push it onto her finger, and then he pulled her to his mouth for a sweet kiss.

“Thank you, Jamie,” she whispered.

“Your welcome, love.”

Once in the tender, they moved slowly to the yacht, careful to keep the engine quiet as they passed boats and yachts with people sleeping inside. Claire moved to the floor of the tender and leaned against the inflated side and dropped her head back. She was looking up at the moon, directly above her, feeling deliciously happy, slightly buzzed, and ran her hand down her burning nipple. Jamie watched her tipsy arousal and wanted her naked under the moonlight.

When the motor shut off, she looked at him like he was all she needed for the rest of her life. Jamie crept toward her and pulled off his shirt and shorts. He wanted her to remember this night. The dress came off, as did the tiny thong she wore and he pulled her leg up and over the inflated side of the tender. He pushed into her body placing greedy kisses on her face and neck. He wanted it to last but seeing his naked wife and the way her breasts bounced with every thrust was his undoing. He couldn’t help himself, he let it go when her orgasm started and pumped his warm love into her body while she clung to him.

They laid in each other's arms and talked quietly, about love and what was ahead.

“Jamie, I want to buy a new tender. This is like an inflatable raft, so I suppose the previous owner had little use for it. It doesn’t feel safe, but it was a marvelous bouncy thing to make love on.”

“Of course, Sassenach.”

Jamie raised up on an elbow and looked around the tender in all directions. He pulled Claire up with a worried look and helped her dress before getting them back to the yacht. He held Claire with one arm and drove the tender with the other.

“Did you just turn completely around?”

“That I did Sassenach. Lay against me and rest, we’re almost home.”

When Jamie turned again she started giggling. “Sweetheart, are we lost?”

The motor started to sputter and lurch as the last of the gas was consumed. Claire could not stop giggling which calmed Jamie more than she would ever know. Claire dropped to the soft bottom of the tender and held her arms out to him.

“Come here, my darling man, and rest under the stars with me.”

Once she had twisted her arms and legs with his and laid against his chest, Jamie smiled at the moon and decided to relax. When they were dropping into sleep a huge noise woke them up and they clung to each other.

“What the fuck was that, Jamie?”

“It’s gone love, whatever it was. Rest now.”

Claire wasn’t relaxed and buzzed anymore, she was panting with fright and suddenly felt something very large push against her from under the water. Before she could say anything the horrendously loud noise was back and slimy cold water rained down on them.

“Jesus Christ, Jamie, what is that?”

Jamie suspected it was a whale that surfaced near them but had not formed a word before he felt something bump the tender. Claire started screaming as the bump came again, harder this time. Jamie pulled out his cell phone and prayed Darius would answer.

“Darius, thank God. We have a bit of a problem here.”

Something under the surface pushed on the tender again and kept pushing it until they were spinning around clinging to each other. Claire was screaming for all she was worth, and Darius was trying to sound calm for both of them.

“Do you see any lights, anywhere?”

“No, Claire sweetheart please don’t scream.”

“Do you have a flashlight? If you point it at whatever is beneath…”

“No.”

They were spinning in the tender pushed by something massive under the surface. Darius was running down the stairs as fast as his legs could go, worried they had drifted into the shipping lanes where they would never be seen before a gigantic cargo ship plowed over them, dragging them underneath it.

“Darius searched the water and saw nothing. “Jamie look up and tell me if you can see…”

“The sky is full of clouds now Darius, I can see nothing, it’s pitch black out here and something under the water is pushing us in circles. We need help!”

Darius noticed the lights coming on all over Danny’s boat and two bright searchlights swept the water for as far as he could see. He heard a tender approach and jumped in pointing a direction for the crewman to go. He had his phone on speaker and the young man was getting rattled by Claire screaming. He moved away from the throttle and told Darius to drive.

Claire was screaming the boat was going to tip over and Darius did his best to calm them down.

“Jamie! Hold onto Claire really tight and ask her to stop screaming, I’m in Danny’s tender and I’m coming to get you!”

When it was quiet Darius took a deep breath and played the only card that might save them.

“Be calm and don’t blow this, my friend. There is a flare gun in the water-tight compartment under the steering whflareIt is the only chance I have of finding you so ask Claire to sit perfectly still, take aim at the sky directly above you, and fire.”

A minute later the crewman pointed to a brilliant purple streak climbing into the sky, in the other direction.

“Did you see the flair from the water level?” The boy shook his head no, which meant they were very far away and Darius had only seconds before the flair extinguished.

“Sit down!”

Darius pulled back on the throttle and the dual engine tender launched in the direction of the flair. He noticed both searchlights were now directed at the ocean under the flair and hoped they could see the lights and know help was on the way.

Talking at that speed was impossible because the wind snatched your words away. Darius dropped the speed enough to tell the crewman to keep sight of the flair and then watch the smoke if it went out, then tap his leg when they were close. The tender jerked alive again, like a bullet shooting across the water. Darius was feeling frantic when the boy tapped his leg and he pulled up on the throttle. It was black as pitch above and below them and he knew his friends must be terrified. The boy put something in his hand, it was a flare gun!

“Holy shit, you just saved the day my man!”

“Jamie, are you there?”

“Well, I was about to hang up but decided to stay on a little longer,” said sarcastically.

“We have flairs, shooting one now, watch it for my direction.”

The bright red flair went shooting to the heavens. “Starboard, maybe half a mile.”

The crewman found an emergency box stored inside the bench seat at the back of the tender. There was a light that plugged into the battery port and it almost blinded them both. He held it high above his head and Darius shot another flair.

“Talk to me brother!”

“Portside, same distance.”

“What?!”

“We aren’t spinning anymore, it’s pushing us, a bit rough I might add.”

Darius could not wait. They had to take a risk if they were going to find them before the boat sank from something underneath.

“Your name.”

“Ethan, sir.”

“I’m Darius. It’s only right I know your name before risking your life. How do you feel about that..Ethan?”

“It’s what I came for, sir.”

“Perfect.”

Darius aimed the light a foot above the water and about 500 yards ahead. Once Ethan took the light, Darius pulled back on the throttle and kept his eyes glued to the direct path ahead.

Claire was on the edge of sanity after being bumped, spun, and pushed, by something large underneath the little tender. She couldn’t see anything in the dark black night except maybe a two-foot space that was lit by Jamie’s phone. She watched that space while Jamie talked to Darius and when an unexpected shape came up out of the water, caught by the dim light, Claire’s scream shattered the night and she fainted.

Jamie looked up at a large head shaped like a torpedo with an eye that regarded him before slipping back under the water. He held Claire on his lap and patted her cheek, begging her to wake up. Jamie was aware of another flare shot into the sky and realized he heard the gun go off this time.

“Darius! You’re close! Starboard and close!”

“Can you see my light, Jamie?”

Suddenly, there it was, like a hand reaching through the dark night to save them. He watched it until the white teeth of Darius’s smile materialized. Claire was rubbing her eyes and crying, waving at Darius in her filthy yellow dress.

Jamie pulled her to him, “thank Christ.” He reached for the rope and tied it tightly to the tow ring at the front of the tender. Darius heard the song of the Humpback whales in the distance and smiled at Claire.

“There’s your tormentor. Probably a female with a calf who had a bit of fun playing with the tender.”

Her ghostly white face peeked out from Jamie’s chest and he could see her shaking and teeth chattering. Jamie asked if she wanted to ride back on Danny’s boat. She moved to the side of her boat and looked down at the water before launching back into Jamie’s arms.

Darius slowly turned Danny’s tender around and moved the boat forward very slowly until the rope was taught and they were pulling the other boat. He turned toward them and asked them to lay on the floor of the tender and hold onto something. They were right in the middle of a shipping lane and Darius wanted to get them out of there pronto. He told Ethan to watch for bodies flying out and picked up speed gradually keeping the tow rope taught. Soon they were flying across the water until he gradually slowed down when the yachts were in view. Darius circled the boats twice, letting his wake provide resistance to slow the towed tender. Danny was waiting on Claire’s boat with Maia and helped bring Claire on board with teeth chattering and pasty white skin. The women helped her into bed and covered her with a quilt.

Danny sat next to her and pushed her hair out of her eyes. “I can’t imagine how terrifying that was for you. Luckily, your man is strong as an ox and would have beaten the sea thing off to save you.” Danny’s voice was soft and caring and Claire was so grateful for her help. Jamie is coming to warm you up and I hope you rest tonight dear. Goodnight.

Jamie and Darius thanked Danny repeatedly, not finding the right words to convey she had saved them tonight. Danny looked at Darius with a sleepy smile.

“You are rather good at what you do, don’t ever doubt that Darius. I saw your brave heart tonight and felt your relief when you found them. Quite extraordinary. Goodnight.

“Thank you for everything tonight ma’am.”

Darius helped Danny into her tender and watched until she was safely on board, the tender was resting in the garage, and the lights flicked off one section at a time. He knew the chance of finding them in time was zero without a fast boat and he felt the gratitude down to his toes.

Small arms circled his waist and he looked down at the incomparable Maia with her head tilted and her chin raised in a healthy come fuck me pose that threatened his very sanity. She would pull him back to earth and make him right again. He gave himself over to her.

[duchessfics]

Midnight Disclosure

(https://friendly-deatheater.tumblr.com/post/152731371953)

(https://alainashuffman.tumblr.com/post/66522632737/sarah-paulson-in-piggy-piggy)

Billie x Fem!Reader x Audrey

Requested by Anon: hi! i was wondering if you could you write some fluff for billie x reader x audrey? 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 i’ve gotta a lot of tough stuff going on and on top of that the world is going crazy, so my mental health isn’t doing very well. maybe r feels like a burden and doesn’t really talk about her mental health or problems because she doesn’t want to bother anyone so she avoids billie and audrey. you are one of my absolute favorite blogs!! take as long as ya need writing this!! ☺️💕

Warning(s): Mentions of anxiety and depression, description of a panic attack, Mentions of Covid-19 

Summary: On the eve of current world events, the reader is overwhelmed but doesn’t want to bother her girlfriends with personal struggles. However the truth eventually emerges and they offer support in a way that she hasn’t experienced.

Word Count: 4347

A/n: Tbh, I’m a little nervous to publish this just because I know Covid-19 is everywhere at the moment and it’s frightening. But I thought this could help with those of us who may feel overwhelmed or are struggling to fight inner demons. I am fortunate enough that even though I’m currently laid off from work I am in a relatively stable environment. And my heart goes out to everyone who is struggling right now.

With the time I have now I’m trying to write more and publish some content where if nothing else you can get an escape for a couple minutes. I’ll also be reposting others’ works too. If you are struggling know that I care about you and am willing to listen even if you just want to be anonymous. Wherever you are in the world I’m sending positive thoughts/vibes/prayers your way. 💖

“Y/n, darling!” Billie calls out from the kitchen. 

In response you get up from your spot on the couch and walk over to where she is. When you enter the luxurious kitchen, the medium gives you her million dollar smile and curls her finger in a beckoning motion, showing off her fresh set of acrylic nails—cherry red of course. 

You smile back, cheeks warming as you come within close proximity. Then she leans in and pecks your lips before asking you, “Were you busy, sweetheart?” You shake your head and ask, “Why?” Billie takes a step back and picks up a slip of paper off of the countertop while replying, “I wanted to ask if you could run out and buy a couple things we need?” 

You take the list from her and scan over the items before returning your gaze to her chocolate brown eyes and asking, “Is Audrey around to come with me?” The blonde gives you a sympathetic smile and lifts one of her hands to cup your face before she answers, “She’s rehearsing her lines for the next couple days of work. And I have a conference call with a couple of producers in ten minutes.”

 You look down and nod in understanding, but feel bummed that you’ll be going alone. However Billie uses her hand to guide you to look at her before soothing, “When you get home, Audrey and I will give you something special. Ok?” 

The way she smirks at you makes your ears burn and a small giggle slips out of you before you reply, “Ok.” Her hand falls away from you and she gives you another brief kiss, letting her plump lips press against yours a little longer than before. Then Billie says with a wink, “I’ll see you later, babygirl.” 

You tell her goodbye and gather your purse and keys before walking out to the multiple car garage. Then you climb into Billie’s “old” sports car. In reality, the car isn’t that old, but she bought a new one and has basically given you this one. You climb in, turning the car on with a low growl and speed off to one of the local grocery stores…

You assumed this would be an easy in and out task, however as you pull into the parking lot it is jammed packed and you struggle to find an available parking spot. 

Maybe...there’s a really good sale? But you have never seen the supermarket this busy. 

Finally you find a space to pull into and step out of the car, list in hand. While walking towards the entrance, people pass by and have their shopping carts filled to the brim with cleaning items, toilet paper, canned goods, and water. Beyond the stuffed shopping carts, you also notice that each person’s facial expression is tainted with worry. 

In the midst of looking around, you nearly get run over by someone pushing their cart towards you. Luckily you back up out of the way with a gasp as they say on the phone, “They’re running out of everything. I’ve never seen so many empty shelves. You better come here soon or it will all be gone.”

Without you consciously realizing it, your heart rate has increased and you take shallow breaths. But you look to the ground, trying not to notice the numerous other people around you. 

You can do this. You only need three things: eggs, milk, and a bottle of Audrey’s favorite brand of fruit juice. No big deal. 

But when you enter the bustling building, a small whimper escapes your throat when you see the massive line of people checking out. Each cart is packed with items and the employees rush around trying to appease the masses. 

You don’t realize you’re frozen in place until someone brushes past you, letting out an annoyed huff. 

Maybe you should get more? You could call Billie—except she’s in a conference call. Should you call Audrey? She’s working too. You can just grab a couple extra things. Deep breaths. You can do this. 

You grab a shopping cart and wipe the handle with a sanitizing wipe before beginning to navigate through the packed aisles to pick up the items…

By the time you return to the car, your breath is stuck in your throat and your eyes smart with tears. You manage to unload the grocery bags of items into the car’s trunk before you get into the car and break down into tears. 

Yes you bought the three items. But in your panicked state you also filled your cart like everyone else. And you weren’t fast enough to even get any toilet paper or sanitizer. Why do you always fail when it’s most important to perform well? 

Your hands shake in fear and you know you just spent much more than you intended, but you’re so scared. Everyone is rushing around and things are flying off of the shelves so you panicked. As you cry and gasp for air, the thought crosses your mind to call your girlfriends. 

But they’ve never seen you like this. And you don’t want to bring them down. They’re so busy right now. You don’t want to burden them with your irrational thoughts. So you do your best to pull yourself together on the drive home.

When you pull into the garage and turn the car off, you make yourself take a couple deep breaths, collecting your emotions enough to get past them. For now you only pick up the three items you were sent out for and leave the rest to bring in when they’re gone. You were out for at least an hour, but hopefully they won’t notice.

You walk in to see Audrey pacing the length of the kitchen while listening to someone on her phone. She huffs and crosses her one arm over her chest, not giving you more than a stiff smile and honestly, you’re grateful. 

You slip off your shoes while she scoffs before arguing, “I don’t see why we are considering not filming at this point. I have been thoroughly rehearsing this role and have plenty of auditions and other projects after this.” 

Meanwhile you hear the news playing in the background from the living room.

 As she keeps pacing, you quickly put the items in the fridge, listening to her continue, “We’re already behind on production. If we don’t keep going now this will be a complete loss for everyone involved. Yes, I’m sure that I would take that risk to finish filming.” You silently leave the room and peek your head into the living room where Billie stands with her back to you smoking a cigarette while watching the news.

Before you can get any more anxious, you clear your throat and softly murmur, “I-I got everything on the list. I’m just going to lie down and rest for a bit.” She lets out a puff of smoke before partially turning towards you, but her eyes remain on the TV as she mindlessly replies, “Alright, thank you, sweetheart.” By the time you finish mumbling, “You’re welcome.” she’s back to watching the news. So you back into the hallway, your shoulders sagging as you hear Audrey’s frustrated words and the news.

Once you make it to the bedroom, you shut the door behind you and make a beeline for the bed. Then you flop back on it, letting out a sigh. 

However, you shoot back up and mutter, “Shit.” 

How could you be so stupid? 

You rush over to the bathroom and turn on the sink tap, wetting your hands before scrubbing them with soap. After humming happy birthday to yourself two times you rinse your hands and dry them off, just finishing when your phone rings. 

As you walk back to the bedroom, you pull your phone out of your pocket to see it’s your sister. So you press the answer button, sitting on the edge of the bed as you say, “Hello?” 

She greets you before asking, “Have you been watching the news? They’re saying the coronavirus is spreading especially quick in LA.” You let out a sigh, trying not to panic again as you answer, “Yeah. Things are pretty chaotic, but I just went grocery shopping so we should be good.” 

In response she warns, “Just be extra careful. This whole thing is getting worse and worse. Try not to go out.” You assure her you won’t and tell her you love her before saying goodbye. Then you fall back against the bed and snuggle under the covers. 

Maybe a nap will help you. 

But just as you get into the foggy daze of sleep, your phone dings. So with a groan of annoyance you pull out your phone to see your mom texted you, 

Did your sister call? 

You quickly reply, Yeah. Then you toss your phone out of arm’s reach before burrowing back under the covers.

However, your phone dings again, interrupting your quiet time. Maybe if you ignore her you can just text later. But after hearing 5 more dings, you toss the covers back with a groan and pick up your phone. That’s when you see your mom has texted you five times. 

She’s really concerned about you in LA. 

I don’t know if you’ve been watching the news, but this is all they’ve been talking about. Everyone’s saying they’ve never seen a global pandemic like this.

And LA is one of the hot spots. Did you go out and get essentials? Think through what you’ll need for the next couple weeks and go fast. It may all be gone soon and who knows how long it will be sold out.

Also try to do some things even when self-isolating. We all know how you get in situations like this.

Are you reading any of this?

Your eyes well up at that last text. Maybe you are just a burden to the people around you. 

Before she decides to call, you sniff and swipe away the tears that threaten to fall before texting back, 

Yeah. I got stuff today. 

As soon as you send it, the message says read and three dots show up on the screen. Your stomach clenches with nerves as they continue to bounce. You are positive that she’s going to send you a long message and sure enough a wall of text appears:

Don’t let yourself sleep these days away. Spend time cleaning the house. Exercise. Read that book I sent you. Don’t spend all day on your phone. That’s a complete waste of time. Don’t stay up late at night. Eat healthy, keep a regular schedule. Do some knitting. Spend time cooking. Go outside. This is not a time to stay in your pajamas and watch TV all day. Don’t fall into bad habits because of a lack of self awareness and self discipline. If you do this time will be incredibly disappointing and wasted. These are just a couple small things. I love you and only want what’s best for you.

By now you feel that earlier heaviness resettling on your chest and the pressure of her words just feel like too much right now. So you turn your phone off and set it aside before sliding under the covers and succumbing to the darkness…

At some point you must fall asleep, because you’re awakened by a soft, British voice saying, “Y/n, darling. Are you awake?” You shift under the blankets and they get slowly drawn back to reveal Audrey smiling down at you as she comments, “I don’t know how you fall asleep with all of those covers pulled over you. You’re like a little mole.” 

Your eyes squint as they adjust to the light and you shrug your shoulders, still feeling quite drowsy. But her face gets serious and her eyes narrow before she asks, “Is something wrong? You look upset.”

Your heart clenches as you realize how your eyes probably look puffy and irritated. Luckily, you come up with a quick excuse, saying, “It’s just my allergies. They flared up for some reason.” 

Her disposition goes back to normal and she nods in understanding, making you inwardly let out a sigh of relief. Then she says, “Well, I came in here to tell you that dinner is almost ready.” So you assure her you’ll be out in a few minutes and freshen up before joining your girlfriends at the dinner table.

As the three of you eat, Billie says, “I was talking to my producers and it looks like we’ll have to delay filming after this trip.” You feel guilty for being relieved, but can’t contain the small smile that forms on your face when the medium looks at you. She smirks back and purrs, “I wonder whatever I will do with all of the free time after that?” Your cheeks heat up at her insinuation and she gives you a wink, leading you to look down to hide your grin.

However, the moment is broken by Audrey stating, “Well I still plan to travel and film. This whole thing is ridiculous.” 

Your smile fades at her words and Billie looks to the actress before teasing, “Awe come on, Audrey. Don’t you want to spend time with y/n and I?” But Audrey scoffs and sternly replies, “I have worked my ass off for this role. So unless everything shuts down, I will be traveling to finish filming.”

Your eyes widen at her determination, but you keep quiet, looking down to your food. On the other hand, Billie doesn’t seem fazed, assuring her, “I’m sure it will all be fine, darling.” before she picks up her glass and finishes off her wine. 

You try to finish your plate of food, but the anxiety you feel makes your stomach unsettled. All of this turmoil makes you feel like your anxious thoughts are eating you from the inside out. But you don’t say anything. Why trouble them when they have enough on their plate?

The rest of the evening goes by in a blur of watching TV and even though you sit next to your girlfriends, your mind is miles away stuck in a loop of anxiety about your girlfriends, your family, your friends, and even the world. These fears continue to run through your head and get bigger to the point that even though you lie in bed you can’t fall asleep. 

The faint sound of Billie and Audrey’s even breaths is soothing and you’re happy to see them both fast asleep with peaceful expressions. Normally you don’t catch them sleeping, but whenever you do they both always look so beautiful. 

Just being able to watch both women makes your heart feel like it’s going to burst. You love them so much. 

The way Billie flirts and compliments you all of the time especially when you’re down on yourself. Or how she showers you with gifts and will always hold you close. 

And Audrey. Sweet Audrey is always there to cheer you up and notices anytime you don’t seem to be doing well. She even did today. And if you ever question how essential you are to this relationship; she’ll immediately share how essential you are to them. If something happened to either of them in all of this—

That’s when you come back to reality and feel the tears streaming down your cheeks. Before you can get loud enough to wake them you slip out of bed and leave the bedroom. The first place you walk to is the kitchen where you get a glass of water, sniffling through your tears. 

Then you step over to the living room and take a seat on the couch, quickly finishing off the water before setting down the glass. While you feel anxious enough to stay awake, your body is also worn down from the panicked state you have been in all day. So you play a game on your phone. The minimal strategy is enough to distract you and as you begin to feel your stress and anxiety fading you hear from behind you, “What are you doing out here little mouse?”

Even though you recognize Billie’s voice, you still gasp and whip your head around to see her standing in the doorway with slightly mussed hair. But she still looks breathtaking. 

You look down and shake your head while muttering, “Nothing.” 

That makes her brows furrow and she comes closer as she replies, “It doesn’t seem like nothing, babygirl.” Then walks around the back of the couch to sit beside you. At first you turn to look away, but Billie softly says, “Hey,” then she brings her hands up to cup your face before guiding you to look directly at her. However, her brows are slightly furrowed when she asks, “Have you been crying?”

While she keeps your head from turning away, you can’t keep eye contact as you reply, “I-It’s stupid. I’m just being dumb.” The medium gently shushes you, skimming the pads of her thumbs along your cheek while murmuring, “Whatever is bothering you isn’t stupid, y/n. And you aren’t dumb. Please tell me what’s bothering you, darling. You can tell me anything.” 

While your mind scolds you for being weak right now and screams that she doesn’t really care, your exterior cracks and, after swallowing enough to feel like you can speak, you barely whisper, “I’m scared.”

Billie scoots closer, still keeping your face cradled in her smooth hands as she asks in a voice still husky with sleepiness, “Oh, honey. Did Audrey or I do something to upset you?” 

Right away you shake your head and reply, “No, never. It’s just…when I went to the grocery store today it was packed with people rushing around and grabbing things.” 

Then you take a deep breath before shakily continuing, “All anyone could talk about was the coronavirus. A-And I saw store employees being yelled at by multiple people. And when I was in the cleaning section there was this elderly woman looking for toilet paper—”

Your voice catches and you get teary-eyed as you whimper, “A-And the shelf was completely empty. P-People were pushing and shoving and she was just trying to pass. She looked so defeated and it—it broke my heart. That’s someone’s grandma and if someone did that to my grandma I would be so upset.”

You begin to shed tears as you continue, “Then when I got home, my sister and mother both contacted me about the coronavirus saying what I should do. Even though they were trying to be helpful I-I got overwhelmed. And just watching the news while knowing you and Audrey are traveling—”

You let out a choked sob before rasping, “I’m just so scared, Billie.” 

While you can’t see her face due to your blurred tears, the medium brings her hands away from your face to gather you close to her while murmuring, “Oh, sweetheart.” In response to her warm hug, you wrap your arms around her and cry into her shoulder. Then you say between gasps, “I-I told you I’m being dumb.” 

Billie strokes one hand up and down your back in a slow motion, softly shushing you while soothing, “You’re not being dumb, y/n. These are scary times. And I’m sorry we never asked about the grocery store or how you were feeling.”

After a while, you feel yourself begin to settle and merely let out soft hiccups whilst nuzzling into the bend of her neck. Her smooth, soft hair gently caresses your forehead and cheeks and she keeps quiet besides softly shushing you, holding you close to her. 

You feel spent as you mumble, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for all of that to come out.” 

Billie guides you to look at her and wipes away the stray tears on your sensitive, puffy cheeks as she murmurs, “You have no reason to be sorry, y/n. I sometimes forget what a kind, tender heart you have. You care about others around you so much it’s no wonder everything feels overwhelming right now. But that’s nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed about.”

Normally people would call you a “worry wart” or just tell you to stop being anxious, but you’ve never been told that it’s due to caring about others. You do care. And being anxious doesn’t have to be bad or make you a bad person. It just took someone rephrasing what you have been feeling in a way your own brain wouldn’t allow.

You’re not the problem. 

You give Billie a wobbly smile and whisper, “Thank you, Billie.” She smiles back and leans towards you, running her nose against yours as she replies, “You’re welcome, babygirl.” 

You keep quiet for a moment, feeling better. However, you straighten up and while you wish this wasn’t nagging at you, you need to know. So, you ask, “Will Audrey really still travel? Or you? It seems so dangerous to travel at the moment and I don’t really want to be left alone—”

Your girlfriend silences your worries with a soft kiss before soothing, “It’s ok, y/n. All of my travel ended up getting postponed. So, I’ll be home with you the whole time.��� 

That confirmation leads you to let out a breath of relief and you nod. Then Billie loosens her hold on you and suggests, “You should tell Audrey how you feel.” 

Her idea makes you stiffen up and you look down to the lacy hem of Billie’s baby doll nightgown as you reply, “I don’t know…she talked about working so hard for this role and I don’t want to be the selfish girlfriend and take that away from her.”

The medium chuckles, making you look to her face and she says with a smile, 

“Now y/n, you know how dramatic Audrey can be at times. I know without a doubt if you told her how you feel she would reconsider. And, if nothing else, she wants to hear from you, honey.” 

She has a point. You bite your lip, pondering her words for a moment before slowly relenting, “I guess I could say something to her…”

Billie’s grin grows and she gives your cheek a small pinch before assuring, “I know you can do it. And I’ll be with you the whole time.” So, you return to your bedroom, holding Billie’s hand the whole time, and when you step into the darkened room, you see Audrey nestled under the covers breathing deeply.

Billie leads you over to the side of the bed the actress is closest to. Then, with one encouraging nod, she releases your hand and you slowly climb up onto the bed. Once you’re on, you place a hand on the her shoulder, gently nudging her while whispering, “Audrey?” 

She shifts in her sleep and turns to face you, opening her bleary eyes while she drowsily slurs, “Yes, darling?”

As soon as she shows any semblance of being awake you wrap your arms around her middle and pull her close to you, making her squeak in shock as you begin to plead, 

“Please don’t leave LA, Audrey! Please! I know you worked hard to get this role, but I don’t want you to get sick or be separated from me and Billie. Just please stay home. I know I’m being selfish, but I love you both so much and don’t want anything to happen to you. I’ll do anything you want to get you to stay home. Anything—”

While her senses are still fogged over from sleep, she lets out a low chuckle, hugging you back before she croakily soothes, “Hey, hey it’s ok, sweetheart.” making you stop your pleas. 

Then she pulls back to see your face when she asks, “You love us?” That’s when you register that you said those words. 

While you haven’t said those words out loud before, you don’t regret saying them. 

You nod, your cheeks warming as you look to her and shyly answer, “Yes. I-I love you, Audrey.” Then you look to Billie who still stands beside you both and say, “I love you too, Billie.”

Both women smile and Billie murmurs, “We love you too, y/n.” Then Audrey presses a kiss to the corner of your lips before huskily purring, “We both love you so much, darling girl.” You sheepishly smile and turn to face her again, sharing a brief kiss on the lips. 

Then she looks to you and apologizes, “I didn’t mean to frighten you earlier. While we’ll be tying up a couple loose ends the next couple days, it looks like any further production has been delayed. So I’ll be here. Ok?” While you feel bad, knowing how much Audrey loves acting, you can’t help but feel relieved. You nod and reply, “Ok.”

Billie starts to join you both on the bed, so you shift to let her have room. However, she takes your wrist and teases, “And just where do you think you’re going, babygirl?” 

You look to her smoldering gaze and slowly answer, “My side?” The medium chuckles and murmurs, “Oh no, that just won’t do. You can stay in the middle so both of us can love on you.” Her sultry tone makes you blush, and you nod at her instructions, staying put while both women move to keep you in between them.

Once you’re settled, Audrey spoons you from behind and Billie snuggles into your front. For the first time today, you feel the weight completely lift off of your chest and within minutes your eyes begin to get droopy. 

Billie tucks your hair out of the way while soothing, “If you start to feel anxious again, you can always come to either of us.” Then Audrey kisses just behind your ear and murmurs, “Whatever happens we’ll get through this together, love.” You relax into their arms and nod, sleepily saying, “Thank you.” And even though you still have feelings of being worried and depressed, you begin to sense a pinprick of hope in the midst of the tumultuous unknown.

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