#WHILE NONE OF THE SUIT PERFORMERS COULD SEE WELL | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

freedomfireflies · 5 months

Text

Better Not Pout*

Summary: The one where Harry isn't leaving until he gets what he really came for.

You.

Word Count: 10.6k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, violence, guns, gunplay, exhibitionism (This one-shot is a bit darker, so please only read if you feel comfortable! 💞)

December 24th, 1945.

The streets of Chicago are cold. Windy. Dark. Everyone is either at home, visiting loved ones, or spending their Christmas Eve at the one place they know they’ll be welcome.

The Bees Knees – the renowned, underground speakeasy – is rather sparkling tonight. The customers continue to bustle in, some here for the booze, some here for the atmosphere and warmth, and some for the entertainment.

You.

You’re one of the establishments best performers, three nights of the week. Employed by none other than Johnny Winters himself to sing for the lost souls of Chicago as they drown their worries in a bottle of whiskey.

You quite like your job, and the people you work with. Milton, who tends the bar, always has a compliment to lend, offering you engaging small talk between sets or any new mixes he might make.

And Johnny isn’t so bad. But perhaps you’re a bit biased, seeing as he is your fiancé. But more than that, he’s one of the most powerful men in all of town. And considerably wealthy, which you suppose doesn’t exactly hurt.

But he’s also kind. Giving. And so very attentive. He spends every second he’s not working with you. Doting on you, showing you off to all of his friends. And having such a handsome man on your arm is certainly not the worst thing.

Tonight, however, Johnny is nowhere to be found. Which you don’t consider to be too terribly odd, given how much work he mentioned he’d be catching up on.

Even still, he hates to miss your performances, and insisted that you keep a part of him with you as you take center stage tonight in the small bar.

That part happens to be in the form of a stunning red, silk dress that was gifted to you for this very occasion. It sits on your frame like it was always meant to be yours, hugging every desirable curve, and showcasing just enough skin to taunt the imagination of those in the audience.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so beautiful, and you walk up the steps tonight with pride. Shoulders back and painted lips poised with your first song.

The few gentlemen scattered across the main floor holler when the spotlight finds you, and you offer your signature smile.

“Evening, gentleman,” you call as the pianist begins behind you. “How are you all doing tonight?”

A few whistles are offered that make you laugh, and just like that…the show begins.

Santa Claus Came in the Spring is always a favorite, and you croon the festive lyrics while the live band follows your lead.

And even though the crowd is rather dull and distracted, you have a blast. You feel comfortable in this role and in the way their eyes drink you in. Even if their attention drifts between you, their drinks, and the cigars.

In fact, you get so swept up in your act that you hardly notice the door open or the tall, lanky stranger that slinks in from the cold.

But when his head lifts, and his eyes find yours, you feel a hitch in your throat.

Unfortunately, he looks away all too quickly, pulling off his trench coat before moving along the shadows toward the far end of the bar.

He goes unnoticed by those around him, yet your attention follows him all the way to the booth that he settles in. And it stays even after he’s leaned back, gotten comfortable, and pulled a cigarette from his rather expensive looking suit pocket.

But even though your focus has drifted, you don’t miss a single beat of the song. After all, you could sing it in your sleep, and this habit serves you well as the intriguing stranger finally shifts into the light and allows you a better look at his face.

He’s…stunning. Absolutely beautiful, with his slicked back curls, sharp jaw, and pointed nose. And he’s lighting the end of a cigarette with what you can only call practiced precision before perching it between his two, crimson-colored lips.

Rings adorn his fingers as he holds the nicotine to his mouth, inhaling a long drag before exhaling the dark smoke from his lungs.

Yet unlike the other patrons in the bar, this man seems to be rather put together. He’s not missing any teeth, his skin isn’t stained with dirt or grease, and his clothes appear to be rather new. It’s quite the upgrade from the usual appearance you’ve grown used to, and you can’t help but feel rather relaxed.

And it’s now that you realize that this striking stranger seems to be watching you much like you’re watching him. Studying your dress, your silhouette, the way you grip the microphone stand. He takes in each detail presented before him with what looks to be wonder, and your cheeks instantly grow warm.

Still, you carry on with the ballad, making your way through the final chorus and the last few notes as the band plays you out with a flourish.

The few men in front of the stage clap, and you smile gratefully as you nod your thanks and call out your appreciation.

Jingle Bells is next, and a few more people join in on the fun this time around. They clink their glasses together or belt out the lyrics a few seconds too late and wildly off-key.

Even still, it’s rather fun as you continue on with your set before finally wrapping it up with a high note that’s accompanied by a rather lively trumpet solo.

And once it’s all over, the room bursts into applause. You wave to the growing audience, taking a quick bow before gesturing toward the band. Offering them their due praise which the crowed quickly obliges.

But you notice the man in the booth keeps his expression indifferent as he continues to watch you exit the stage and make your way to the bar. He doesn’t applaud your performance or even offer a smile of encouragement. He merely takes another hit of his cigarette and throws his arm over the back of his seat. A position you imagine is intended to display dominance more than it is to find comfort.

Truth be told, you find it rather unnerving. He doesn’t seem to be here for the alcohol or the company. Perhaps he’s only here to get out of the cold or perhaps he’s avoiding his home.

Either way, his focus stays only with you, and you feel a sharp chill run down your spine as you turn to the counter and flag down Milton’s attention.

You ask for a drink and request that he tell Johnny that you’ll be waiting in his office until he arrives.

He quickly agrees, preparing the beverage for you before jutting his chin toward the silent stranger.

“Want me to have him escorted out?” he asks, but you only smile as you shake your head.

“No need, I’m sure he’s harmless.” You take the crystal glass and tip it toward him in thanks. “Besides, the attention is rather nice.”

Milton nods his understanding and you leave it at that, taking your drink toward the hallway just off the corner of the room.

You sip leisurely as you stroll to Johnny’s office, picking up the edge of your long gown so it doesn’t drag on the floor. The sounds of the crowd grow quieter and quieter with each step you take, and soon, it’s nothing but silence.

After retrieving the key Johnny insisted you keep on you at all times, you slip open the door, and make your way inside.

It’s quite dark, given the time of night and lack of lighting. He’s only got three lamps in the room, one by the window, one on the shelf, and one on his desk.

Right beside a photo of you.

Getting your photograph taken is quite the privilege, but Johnny insisted he have a vision of you in his office at all times. And you couldn’t help but indulge him, allowing him to dress you up and place you in front of the large contraption one Sunday afternoon in spring.

It’s his favorite thing in the entire world, and he mentions it constantly. Commenting on your beauty or your ethereal outfit. You know he’s only trying to embarrass you, but it’s still rather flattering to hear.

You grin to yourself as you take a seat in the large chair behind the wooden table. Downing the rest of the contents in your glass before setting it down and taking a glance around the large space.

Vaguely, you hear footsteps approaching just outside the door. Echoing through the hall as your grin grows a bit wider.

And as the knob turns, you expect to see the handsome face of your Johnny.

What you don’t expect, however, is the green-eyed devil and his quiet charm.

He’s followed you. You assume this immediately, and your heart leaps into your throat as he steps inside…and shuts the door behind him.

A tense silence settles between you as you slowly sit up and force in a quiet breath. “Hello,” you call quietly.

The sound of your unsteady voice seems to amuse him, the corner of his mouth curling up as the burning cigarette sits tucked between his lips. “Hello, mama.”

You feel your lashes flutter. “Can…can I help you?”

“I’m looking for your fiancé,” he says, and his voice is low. Deep. And you believe you catch just a hint of an English accent. “This is in fact his office, is it not?”

You hesitate, unsure whether or not to disclose such information to a stranger. “It…yes. Yes, but he’s not here right now. Perhaps you could come back later?”

“Later,” he repeats, almost thoughtfully as his head tilts. Then, he tsks. “See, I’m afraid later just doesn’t work for me. I need to speak with him right now. It’s quite urgent, and I’d like to finish this up and be home to my lover by midnight.”

“Oh…” You shift a bit in your seat and hope he doesn’t notice how nervous you’ve become. “Well, I would love to help, but I don’t believe I know when he’ll be in.”

He considers this for a moment before striding further into the room. Eyes tracking every tremble of your fingers and heave of your chest. “Can I tell you a secret, mama?” he murmurs, placing both hands on the desk and leaning closer.

You nod.

“Your boy Johnny owes me money,” he whispers. “And I’m here to collect.”

And now you understand. Now you know why he’s here. Because even though his tone is friendly, it can’t disguise the threat you know lingers underneath.

“Oh,” you whisper back, and he hums.

“Exactly. And I’m a pretty reasonable guy. Decent. So, I’ll make you a deal.” He begins to smirk behind the cigarette. “If he’s not here within the next five minutes…you and I will find another way.”

The truth is, you don’t really know too much about the financial side of Johnny’s affairs and business. You know he has plenty of money, but you don’t know what he does with it. Or where he keeps it.

And if this alluring stranger seems to think you’ll be his key…you’re afraid he’ll be mistaken.

“Problem, Doll?” He seems smug, and it makes your skin crawl. “M’not scaring you, am I?”

The answer is obvious to you both, but you force yourself straighter and attempt to appear calm. “Not at all, sir. I only want to help.”

"Mm? Good girl,” he mumbles, eyes flicking down to your painted red lips. “Knew you’d behave for me.”

Your heart is hammering inside of your chest. You’re unsure what to do now. Do you ask him to leave? Do you scream for help? Do you call the police?

And where the hell is Johnny?

He should be here by now, especially after promising to wrap up his meeting early in order to catch your last performance before Christmas. He’s always here. One of your biggest fans and greatest protectors.

The only thing you can truly think to do now is attempt to call him. You figure the police won’t get here in time, but at least if this gentleman can be assured that Johnny is on his way, he won’t be as inclined to act rashly.

However, the moment your fingers lift from the desk in order to reach for the phone, the stranger reaches for something, too.

In a matter of seconds, he’s wrapping his hand around the barrel of a gun, pulling it from his back pocket, and aiming it straight at your head. Cocking it loudly as you gasp and withdraw your arm as quickly as possible.

“What are you doin’, hm, mama?” There’s a haughty condescension in his sneer, laced with just the faintest disappointment. “Thought you were gonna be good.”

“I…I was just going to call him,” you stammer. “I know you’re in a hurry.”

The stranger studies you now, that familiar smirk beginning to fade as his attention flicks across your face. Perhaps he suspects a lie or perhaps he merely doesn’t trust you, but truth be told, you know better than to try and pull a fast one on him.

Finally, he plucks his cigarette from between his lips before tossing it to the floor and nodding at you. “Yeah? Go on, then,” he instructs, reposition the barrel at your chest. “Call your little pretty boy. Tell him he’s got a visitor.”

With a racing pulse, you once again slowly reach for the telephone, eyeing the gun carefully as you scoot closer.

You’re careful not to make any sudden moments. Hesitant to even look at him for fear of upsetting him, but your timid demeanor only entertains him further.

He simply chuckles as he slowly makes his way over to your side of the desk. Snatching up the phone just before you can reach for it and handing it to you almost cockily.

Curious, you glance up. That soft green in his eye is almost alluring, even despite the circumstance. Still, he reeks of nicotine and expensive cologne, and you lean back in an attempt to put as much space between you as you can.

He smiles. “I’m gonna watch you dial,” he tells you calmly. “Make sure you keep your word. Okay, Doll?”

Posed like a question, although you both know you don’t exactly have a choice. And you'd likely point this out if you were just a touch braver, but nevertheless, you nod. Agreeing to his terms as you take the phone and begin to dial.

As the seconds go by, you feel him watching you closely while the line rings. Leaving you to desperately await the sound of your sweet Johnny’s voice. A sound you’ve never needed more than in this moment.

Yet his voice never comes, and your heart sinks to the cold floor blow as you return the phone to the desk.

“He…he must already be on his way,” you murmur, and the man hums.

“You think so?”

You nod weakly.

He takes a seat on the edge of the desk, just inches from your arm before leaning closer. “How much are you willing to bet, hm?” His brow raises. “How sure are you that your precious fiancé will actually save you tonight?”

You feel trapped by him now. The closer he moves, the faster your heart pounds. You have nowhere to run, no personal space to disappear into.

But you only have to hold on for just a little longer. Johnny will come for you. He always does.

“Incredibly sure,” you respond, ignoring the slight waver in your voice. “He said he would be, so he will.”

The man considers this before clicking his tongue. “All right. Then how about I make you another deal, yeah? For every minute he’s late, and for every minute he leaves you here unattended…I’ll put an extra bullet through his head.”

A sharp chill runs down your spine, skin growing hot and prickly, but you force your expression to remain unfazed. “And why would you do that if you need him so badly?”

The gentleman laughs now. A sound that would almost be charming if he weren’t so vile. “Because I don’t need your precious Johnny,” he answers calmly. “I just need what’s in his safe.”

And despite the danger you’re in and despite your better judgment, your features scrunch into a grimace as you scoff, “Oh, how pathetic.”

Your reaction loosens his smile.

“Truly, how incredibly pathetic to come all the way down here at this time of night – and on Christmas Eve – just to break into his safe,” you huff. “Honestly. He won’t give you a damn thing. And you have absolutely no business to come storming in here and—”

You don’t get the chance to finish the rest of your furious scolding before he’s suddenly standing to his feet and wrapping his fingers around your arm.

Instantly, you’re yanked from your chair and shoved against the bookcase just behind you. Hard enough to knock the wind from your lungs as he traps you there, leaning in so close, his nose nearly brushes your own.

“I’d be careful how you fucking speak to me, mama,” he seethes quietly, yet even still, there’s just an air of pleasure. “Because you might not get the chance to do it again.”

He’s desperate to scare you. Desperate to see you cry, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction.

Instead, you suck in a sharp breath, and do the one thing you can think to do:

You spit.

The collection of saliva just misses his eye, landing on his cheek with a rather wet splat until the amusement fades and fury takes its place.

His fingers leave your arm and find your throat, curling around the delicate skin and forcing your head up as he begins to chuckle darkly.

“So, that’s how you wanna play, hm, Doll?” Another tsk. “You wanna be bad? Wanna test my fucking patience?”

You squirm a bit in his hold, yet for some reason, you don’t feel as frightened as you did before. Because there’s this look in his eye – this hunger. And even though his grip is tight…you feel oddly safe.

“Better find a way to keep this pretty little mouth shut,” he says next, head cocking to the left almost curiously. “Or I’ll have to shut it for you.”

His attention returns to your mouth, fingers slowly slipping up toward your chin until he can brush is thumb over the painted fibers of your lips.

Just enough to taunt you yet startle you all in the same second.

“Maybe,” you finally breathe before jerking your head away from his cruel touch. “If you knew how.”

The cocky grin widens as his hand immediately returns to your neck. “Still disobeying me, hm?” he nearly purrs. “Guess I could always just squeeze this sweet, little throat to keep you quiet, yeah? Feel your pretty pulse beneath my fingertips. Feel the life drain from your body…watch the light go out in your eyes.”

You take in a strained inhale, and he makes a sound that almost sounds like a groan.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, moving in just a bit closer until his lips are ghosting across yours. “Or maybe…I could put my gun in your mouth. See how chatty you are then, yeah, mama?”

Your chest heaves anxiously, but you find just enough confidence to whisper, “But without your gun, how will everyone know what a tiny cock you have?”

And you’re so proud of yourself. So endlessly pleased with the way you’ve managed to make his smug expression waver, even if he keeps his smirk in place.

“Oh, you think that’s funny,” he snorts as you attempt to bite back a laugh. “Well, you wanna know what I think is funny? I think it’s funny that you said Johnny would be here…and he’s not.”

“He will be,” you retort, a bit firmer. “He will.”

“See…you keep saying that,” he muses, placing one hand on the bookshelf beside your head. Truly trapping you beneath him. “And yet…your noble fiancé still isn’t here to save you.”

You tilt your head back in an attempt to appear stronger, but it doesn’t seem to fool him.

“Are you afraid?” he whispers, chest brushing against yours. “Are you afraid your Johnny won’t be able to keep you safe from the bad man?”

It’s almost hostile, the way he goads you. And yet you can hear just the slightest concern beneath his question.

“Or maybe you’re afraid he can’t pay up,” he continues. “Maybe you’re afraid he’ll have to find another way.”

Suddenly, the grip on your throat constricts. Recapturing your attention.

“Are you gonna be my other way, mama?” he exhales. “You gonna be my consolation prize?”

You feel dizzy. The room is spinning. And you aren’t sure if that’s because of the hold on your neck or the way he’s speaking to you.

However, before you can decide if you’re actually intrigued by his intimidation tactics…the sound of footsteps echo outside through the hall.

Johnny.

It has to be him. You almost need it to be him, and your shoulders unwind as the man glances toward the closed door curiously before finally leaning back.

Then, he grabs onto your arm for a second time, and flings you back toward the chair. Shoving you down and keeping you still.

“You’re gonna sit here and you’re gonna keep your fucking mouth shut,” he hisses softly right as the door swings open. “And then maybe…I just might reward you.”

But you don’t even mind this malicious threat because then you see him. Your fiancé, smiling brightly as his eyes find you before they flick to the man to your right.

For a moment, he seems surprised, seemingly assessing your position and the situation before his grin widens.

“Ah, Mr. Styles,” he calls as he strides into the room, quickly removing his hat and coat. “What a pleasant surprise. Did we have a meeting tonight?”

He seems relaxed. Almost too relaxed, as though he doesn’t view this man as a threat, and you aren’t sure whether to feel relieved or wildly confused. You hadn’t exactly expected him to grab the mysterious guest by the collar and throw him out the window, but you also didn’t expect him to welcome him with open arms.

A strange man is alone with his future wife, in his office, in the middle of the night, and that doesn’t seem to concern him even a little?

Perhaps Johnny is far too friendly for his own good.

The gentleman, in turn, straightens up while subtly slipping the gun behind his back. Tucking it into his belt just out of view before Johnny can catch it. “Not quite,” he says coolly. “I’m here to discuss a bit of unfinished business.”

Your heart sinks, yet Johnny merely nods. “Ah, I see. Well, is there any way this can wait until after Christmas? It’s been a long night, and I’d like to be getting the lovely lady home.”

Now, both of their stares turn to you, and eagerly, you begin to rise from the chair. Grateful for the opportunity to leave this unsettling stranger behind.

Yet before you can even find your footing, the man’s hand is coming down in a firm smack on your shoulder to force you back down.

“I’m afraid the lovely lady isn’t going anywhere,” he replies, and you catch Johnny’s expression fall. “And neither are you. Have a seat.”

Johnny begins to frown. “Look, Harry, whatever business we might have, I’m sure it can—”

“I said, have…a seat,” the man – Harry – repeats a bit brasher. “Yeah? Or things will get a lot worse for your darling fiancé.”

Johnny hesitates, eyes flicking to yours. But he must notice the panicked look you wear because he finally sighs and does as instructed. Taking a seat in the chair just in front of the desk before glancing toward Harry.

Harry nods, almost proudly. “There you go. S’not so hard, is it?”

Johnny’s figure slumps but his lips purse together. “What do you want?”

“Oh, I just want to talk,” Harry says, his smirk returning. “And lucky for you, your schedule just cleared up.”

“Harry—” Johnny begins, leaning closer as though getting ready to stand.

But instantly, Harry is reaching back behind him for the gun, pulling it free, and aiming the barrel straight at his head.

Johnny quickly leans back, eyeing the weapon hesitantly while you gasp and glance up at the stranger pleadingly.

Harry only looks at Johnny. “See, I’m running out of fucking patience. Eight goddamn months I’ve had to listen to you go on and on about this special fucking shipment you got. And now…it’s time to collect.”

Your sweet fiancé understands now. Realizes why this man is here and how real the threat is, and glances back at you almost apologetically.

You merely mouth, “It’s okay.”

Johnny’s eyes flick back to the gun. “I’d be careful waving that thing around. Somebody might get hurt.”

The man merely hums. “Oh, I’m fucking counting on it.”

Now, the office grows quiet. A tense, charged sort of energy that filters between the three of you as Harry begins to walk around the desk.

“So,” he continues, grabbing onto the other free chair in order to spin it around and sit in a straddle, “where’s the safe, Johnny?”

Johnny’s brow raises, but his Adam’s apple bobs with a thick swallow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do. Down at the club, you said you just got a brand new, fancy safe to hold everything from your latest shipment. Practically bragged about it to the whole goddamn bar, yeah? So…where is it?”

With piqued interest, you look between the two men curiously as you await Johnny’s answer. You’ve never really been sure where he gets all his money. You assumed most of it came from the bar and alcohol sales, so you’re rather stumped by what sort of shipment they might be referring to.

However, Johnny isn’t so quick to divulge all his secrets. “And what is it you’re expecting to get out of my safe, Mr. Styles?”

There’s another heavy pause as Harry rests his arms over the back of the seat and whispers, “Everything.”

Instantly, Johnny scoffs. “You think you can storm into my office on Christmas Eve and threaten my fiancé? Threaten me? That you’re entitled to anything you damn well please?” A bitter scoff as he leans back. “You’ll be arrested before morning, and you’ll never see a red fucking cent.”

His retort dangles between them for only a moment as a breath catches in your throat. Pulse racing as you watch the stranger’s reaction closely.

Yet the mystery man doesn’t so much as flinch as he suddenly repositions the gun into the air, aims it just to the left of Johnny’s head, and fires.

The sound is deafening, much like your sharp, shrill shriek as the bullet flies through the air – just missing Johnny’s ear – and lodges into the wall behind him.

Johnny immediately flinches, eyes screwing shut and muscles recoiling before he seems to realize that he remains unharmed.

And once he does, he takes a deep breath, and begins to smirk. “You missed.”

“Did I?” Harry runs his tongue over his bottom lip before re-cocking the gun. “No, see…I never fucking miss. That was your first warning.”

Johnny simply snorts. “Yeah? Well, eat my shit.”

Things move quickly from there.

Harry is instantly on his feet, tossing the chair aside rather angrily before he’s turning to you once more. And you don’t even have a moment to think before you’re being yanked from the seat for a second time and immediately tugged to his chest as he presses the barrel of the gun into the side of your temple.

“Where’s the fucking safe, Johnny?” he says again, and you notice Johnny’s face pale.

“Styles,” Johnny murmurs, “you don’t have to do this—”

“The safe,” he seethes. “Where is it? Or do you need a little incentive, huh? Need to see her pretty little brains all over your goddamn floor? Is that what it’s gonna take?”

Poor Johnny doesn’t know what to do. He looks from the gun, to your face, to the arm keeping you hostage.

And you almost feel bad for him, yet you aren’t even afforded the chance for empathy before Harry furiously growls and shoves you in Johnny’s direction.

You stumble across the wooden floor until Johnny can quickly take you into his embrace, keeping you safe from the bad man as you begin to sniffle.

“My love,” he whispers, tightening his hold on your trembling frame while turning you away as if to protect you. “It’s gonna be all right, I promise.”

With a quick nod and a hiccup, you look up and slip your hands around his neck for comfort. “I know.”

He smiles.

It’s Harry’s disgusted sneer that brings you attention back. “Fucking pathetic. Really, mama? This is who you choose to save you?”

Your features fall ever-so-slightly while Johnny begins to pull you behind him, shielding you from the aggravated aggressor. “If you need money so badly, there are plenty of other ways.”

“It’s not just about money,” Harry retorts calmly. “It’s about your money. Yeah? So where’s the fucking safe.”

“None of your goddamn business—”

The reply no sooner leaves his mouth before there’s another gunshot fired into the air.

One of the paintings on the wall falls with a crack and you jump almost two feet into the air, nails scratching down Johnny’s nice shirt.

“Johnny,” you whisper faintly, refusing to let this go on any longer. “Johnny, tell him. Tell him, please. I don’t care about the money; I don’t care about any of it. I just want you. I love you, and I can’t lose you.”

The office falls silent as you request hangs in the air, and you feel Johnny take in a deep breath.

“Yeah, Johnny,” Harry adds in a condescending murmur. “She loves you. Don’t make her watch you die. It’d be such a shameful waste of her tears.”

Johnny looks to you, and your expression softens. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “It’s okay, I promise.”

Finally, he sighs. “Under the desk.”

Harry’s head whips toward the large table curiously before he frowns. “Where?” he murmurs before repositioning the gun at Johnny’s chest. “I promise you don’t wanna lie to me.”

However, Johnny’s indifferent expression remains. “Under the desk,” he repeats while thrusting his chin toward the massive piece of furniture.

And now Harry seems to understand, although it does little to relax him as he suddenly reaches for you again and yanks you from your lovers’ arms.

“Show me,” he hisses, keeping you hostage again while ushering Johnny forward with the barrel of the weapon. “And don’t be dense.”

And Johnny can do nothing but obey, seemingly defeated while sending you one last remorseful look. Finally moving to lift the desk and pull it back.

The sound of wood scraping against wood is heavy, and it takes him quite a while to relocate the table beneath the window by himself.

But once it’s out of the way, you notice a particular part of the flooring juts out. The rotten board almost askew.

You and Harry lean closer, both magnetized by intrigue as he bends down in order to wrench the board up, revealing the hollow hiding place underneath.

And there you find it. The large, black box with a gold dial in the middle.

He glances up toward Harry, perhaps looking for permission – which Harry quickly gives him – before reaching down to put in the correct combination.

And after a couple seconds of clicking and turning…the door swings open.

Truth be told, you were hoping to find a secret gun that might help you out of this situation, but it seems there are no weapons to be found as Harry shoves you back in order to get a better look.

He no longer seems concerned about Johnny or the possibility that he might attempt to attack because Johnny seems to have given up.

All your dejected fiancé does is straighten up and motion you back to him, watching Harry bend over and reach inside the safe almost uninterestedly.

Your heart aches for him, yet you can’t help feeling relieved. You’re a few steps closer to this wretched night being over, and perhaps once Harry has what he came for, you’ll be able to leave.

“Are you all right?” Johnny whispers to you now as Harry begins to unload the contents in the floor.

You nod quickly, clinging to his strong frame as though you’re scared you might be taken again. “Yes, I’m all right. Are you?”

“I will be once I know you’re safe,” he says, and your heart sinks.

Once everything inside the safe has been shoved into a bag, Harry turns to the two of you. “That was a good start, Winters. Now where’s the rest of it?”

Johnny frowns. “I don’t know what you mean. Everything I have is in there.”

But Harry only tsks as he sets the items down and begins to stride closer, making you curl even further into Johnny’s embrace. “Come on, now,” he mumbles almost tauntingly. “You know what I really want. And you know that you’re gonna fucking tell me. Isn’t that right, mama?”

He looks to you for only a moment as you swallow.

Johnny begins to seethe. “No. No, you can have everything else, but you won’t touch that.”

“Johnny,” you try, unnerved by the sudden look of warning in Harry’s eye. “Johnny, please…just give it to him. Whatever it is, I don’t care, just…just make him leave.”

“Smart girl,” Harry adds. “Come on, Johnny boy, your darling fiancé is scared. Don’t you wanna save her?”

Your lover simply grows stiff, eyes narrowing at the faux sincerity in the stranger’s voice.

“Johnny,” you mumble again. “Johnny, please, he’s right. I’m scared and I don’t care about what you have or what you don’t have. I just want you. And I want him to go away.”

Still, Johnny wrestles with his decision. With the choice he’s being forced to make, and as the seconds go by, Harry’s patience reaches its limit.

He grabs for you – again. Forcing the weapon under your jaw this time around as Johnny’s muscles tense and his fingers curl into his fist.

“God, look at him,” Harry whispers to you now, lips ghosting up the shell of your ear while forcing your eyes on your fiancé. “Fucking look at your pathetic excuse for a man.”

You attempt to remain indifferent – appear unafraid – but he sees right through you.

“D’you really think he cares about you, Doll?” he murmurs. “Do you really think he’ll choose your life over his own?”

“Let her go,” Johnny barks, yet it only forces the barrel even further into your skin.

Your chin is tilted up, a sharp inhale getting caught in your throat until Harry begins to chuckle.

“How about this,” he says. “I’ll let you choose, mama. I’ll let you decide if he gets to watch me kill you…or if he gets to watch me take you. All for myself.”

“Fucking piece of shit—” Johnny hisses, but Harry simply tsks.

“So, what do you say? What’ll it be? Either way, I’ll have him on his goddamn knees by the end of the night. And then we all win, yeah?”

“Enough,” Johnny yells, and a strangled silence splits the air. “Fine. Fine, I’ll tell you. Just let her go.”

Harry’s arm begins to lower but not very far. “Once it’s in my hand, she’s all yours.”

And you want to resent these men for treating you like you’re some sort of object to be traded, yet you’d happily be given back to your lover if it meant you could leave this nightmare behind.

No matter the cost.

Johnny rolls his shoulders back and flicks his unrelenting stare back to his desk. “There. The picture.”

You feel your eyebrows raise while Harry slowly begins to loosen his hold on you.

“Get it,” he instructs, and with an aggravated sigh, Johnny obliges.

He retrieves the golden frame from the table before pulling open the back and removing the picture inside.

The picture of you.

It almost breaks your heart, the look on his face. Like he’s absolutely gutted to be defiling this memory of you both, and you ache to comfort him.

Once the photo has been plucked from the glass, you catch the faintest sparkle in the soft light of the moon, and hear yourself gasp.

There, sitting snug inside the small frame, is the biggest fucking diamond you’ve ever seen.

It’s…stunning. The most gorgeous jewel you’ve ever been privileged to lay eyes on, surrounded by what you can only assume to be hundreds of tinier diamonds and rubies arranged in a delicate but intricate pattern.

Altogether creating the most breathtaking necklace you’ve ever seen.

It has to be worth hundreds of dollars – thousands, in fact – and Harry reaches over to take it from the frame with the biggest Cheshire-like grin you’ve ever seen.

This is what he came for.

“You have it, all right? You have it, now go,” Johnny calls, already attempting to reach for you. “You got what you want.”

With an agreeable hum, Harry studies the necklace a moment longer before finally looking to you. “You’re right. We did, didn’t we?”

You both smile.

Instantly, you raise the gun that Harry had discreetly and secretly slipped into your hand only moments ago and aim it at Johnny’s chest.

Three.

Johnny’s expression shifts, eyes widening as he begins to piece together what’s really going on. Why Harry looks so proud and why you look so relieved.

Two.

His lips part. Ready to speak to you, whisper your name, ask for an explanation. And a part of you can’t help but wonder if you’ll feel any remorse for the deception you’ve put him through these past few months.

But as you stare at him now…you feel nothing but liberation.

One.

The third and final gunshot echoes through the air. Louder and far more permanent. Resolute.

Johnny stumbles back, unable to catch himself before he goes tumbling to the ground. A dark red stain expanding like watercolor across his chest, ruining the clean white shirt underneath.

You’d bought him that shirt.

And as the look of life slowly leaves his eye, you feel your muscles unwind, and your shoulders droop.

It’s over.

Harry’s got his arms around you before you can even release the deep breath you’ve been holding onto for so long.

“Oh, good fucking girl,” he nearly groans, pressing his lips to yours for the first time in months as you sling your arms around his neck. “Fucking hell, I missed you, mama.”

If Harry had had it his way, Johnny would have been dead months ago. He never liked this plan – not because he thought you couldn’t handle it, but because the idea of going without you for so long nearly killed him.

But it was the only way to gain Johnny’s trust. And to find his true weakness. He never would have given you the location of the safe or the necklace if you’d simply held him at gunpoint from the get-go.

No, he needed a reason to cave, a reason to put his possessions on the line in order to save something else he truly cared about.

And that’s where you came in.

Sure, it was hard to be without Harry, but you knew it had to be done. Getting these items would set you up for years. You’d never have to work in sleazy bars again. You could simply be with him…forever.

And perhaps pretending to be a stranger to him and appear frightened of his intentions wasn’t quite necessary, but you happen to like the roleplaying aspect.

The way he threatened your life as though he wouldn’t do everything in his power to protect it. The way he taunted you, teased you, scared you…when he knew deep down how much you fucking loved it.

You can still feel his fingers around your neck. The pressure of his hand against your throat, holding you still, keeping you close. You hadn’t felt it in months and a part of you wanted to keep the game going for just a bit longer if it meant you could have him.

You weren’t able to run into his arms and kiss him the way you can now and it’s…perfect. Absolutely perfect.

“Did he hurt you?” he whispers, leaving a trail of kisses along your jaw. “Did he fucking touch you—”

“No,” you’re quick to assure him. “No, never. He wanted to, but I never let him.”

“Good.” He takes hold of your hip and gives it a firm squeeze. “Good girl, knew you’d be on your best behavior, yeah?”

You grin. “Of course. Only ever thought about you.”

“Is that right, doll?”

“Mhm.” You tuck your lip between your teeth and nuzzle your nose to his. “How could it ever be him?”

His lashes flutter, and you can see the edges of his frayed sanity coming loose. He’s had to pretend for far too long, and you don’t imagine he can do it much longer.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, nearly clawing at your dress. “Then, maybe I’ll—”

“What…did you do?”

The sound of Milton’s confusion pulls you apart instantly. He’s standing in the doorway, eyes wide, expression horrified. Looking from his boss, to you, to Harry, and back.

He sees the necklace on the desk, sees the gun in your hand, sees the bag of gold and cash lying at Harry’s feet.

He understands, and your heart almost sinks. Milton was one of the good ones.

Quickly, Harry takes the weapon from you and points it in Milton’s direction.

Milton only leans back with a soft inhale while you turn to your lover and whisper, “No. No, not him.”

Harry’s pursed lips and furrowed brows never waver. “What?”

“Not him,” you repeat, as firmly as you can.

And he hesitates for only a moment before dropping the weapon and nodding his chin at you. “Grab the bag and go out the window.”

You nod your understanding before stealing one last glance at the bartender by the door.

He’s heartbroken and terrified…but his features grow softer as he finally mumbles, “…five minutes. I’ll give you five minutes.”

And you can’t help but smile.

You rush to grab what you came for and hurry to the window, with Harry right behind you. You don’t have a lot of time. Once Milton makes the call to the police, you’ll need to be far enough away that they can’t find you.

You know they’ll be looking. Know they won’t stop until they find you both – after all, they’ve been searching for you for years.

But you don’t mind a life that’s on the run, as long as it’s with him.

And the pleased smile he offers you now only confirms this.

You quickly lift the hem of your dress and begin over the ledge, with Harry right beside you to help. He takes your hand for support, keeping you steady until you can safely drop to the ground outside before he’s following suit.

The moment his feet hit the ground, you both run. The Chicago air is cold – frigid. You don’t have enough clothes to truly cover you and your feet are sore from having to wear these outrageous shoes all night.

But you somehow feel…alive. Invigorated and so very free. You have everything you’ve ever wanted.

You have him.

You both slip along the shadows as you make your way through town, leaving the speakeasy and Johnny Winters behind. After a minute or two, you hear the sirens in the distance, and the stakes are raised. They grow louder and louder the closer they get, and it’s then that Harry recaptures your hand and tugs you into a dark alleyway for cover.

This is where you stay until the cars have zipped down the street and proceeded without you. They don’t even think to look for you here and you’re rather impressed with your lover’s quick thinking.

Harry, however, isn’t as quick to revel in the success. Continuingly peeking around the corner in order to watch for anything unusual. Ignoring your amused laughter and giddy grin of accomplishment.

He’s on edge. Alert. Ready to run again if need be, and while you rather admire his practiced precision, you hope to put it to better use.

You drop the bag near the wall and make your way for him, palms quickly finding his cheeks in order to pull his attention to you.

He grunts. “What?”

But you don’t answer with words. You answer with a kiss. A kiss that makes your stomach flip and your mind grow fuzzy.

And this seems to be explanation enough as he groans with approval and wraps his arms around your middle to keep you against his chest. Nipping and licking at you as though his life depends on it.

Perhaps it does.

He shoves you back against the brick after only a few seconds, finding the leverage he needs in order to deepen the kiss and truly claim you. In a way he’d been desperate to the moment he saw you sitting in that office in such a beautiful dress.

“Trying to distract me, hm?” he murmurs, and you can’t help but smile. “Yeah? Or did you just need me that badly?”

He spins you around, pressing your cheek to the cold blocks of clay before dancing his fingers down your spine. Indulging in you.

It makes your insides twist.

You feel the hem of your dress gather in his fist as he finally gets a proper look at what he’s been missing for months. And the sound he makes goes straight to your cunt.

“You filthy fucking thing,” he whispers, rather delightedly while moving in to trail his mouth along your neck. “Look at you. Look at how perfect you are.”

His fingers find your pussy, stroking over your covered slit once or twice before plucking the covering from your hips and dragging it down your thighs.

“Just dripping for me, yeah? All fucking night.” He drags his palm up the inside of your leg. “Power makes you weak, doesn’t it, mama?”

You nod desperately, unable to answer with words.

But he understands, smirking to himself rather deviously before his hands are tangling in your hair in order to yank your head back. Just to hear you choke on a whine. “I’ve waited months for this. Yeah? M’gonna take my time with you…gonna make it worth it.”

And you don’t doubt that you will.

You nod again as the sound of his leather belt coming undone echoes between your ears. You’re trembling with anticipation, body aching for the feel of his cock. It’s been far too long, and you’ve nearly withered away without him.

You imagine he feels about the same, already fisting himself in one hand and readjusting your dress in the other. You hear him mumble something under his breath – you’re not quite sure what. But you suppose it doesn’t matter. He can say whatever he likes as long as he gives you what you need.

Normally, he’d take his time. He loves to make a show out of ruining you, but there’s no chance for that tonight. No patience. So, he kicks your feet apart, grabs your hip, and eases himself in all before you can take a breath.

And it’s perfect. Exactly the way you remember. The stretch, the scratch, the desperation. Nobody feels the way he does, and you both know it.

He’s still for a moment, merely pushing himself in and watching your pussy swallow him whole. As if so overcome by the sensation that he can’t do much else. As if losing control over his own body.

So, you push against his chest to remind him you’re here while your fingers reach back for his hair in order to tug it softly.

You feel him smile against your cheek. “All fucking night,” he whispers the moment he’s buried to the hilt. “Knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you?”

You grin as well. You’re rather happy he noticed.

“Spitting in my fucking face,” he continues. “Challenging me. Acting like a fucking brat. S’all cause you were so fucking needy for me, wasn’t it, mama?”

“Maybe,” you can’t help but retort. “Maybe I knew you’d like it.”

He laughs now. A low, deep, sadistic sound from the back of his throat. Using his hold on your scalp to force your head into his shoulder. “Is that right, hm?”

You only nod.”

“Yeah? Then say it,” he hisses. “Tell me you missed me. Tell me you missed my cock. That nobody fucks you like I do—”

He accompanies this request with his first, sharp thrust. Pulling back only to drive himself in so hard, the air is nearly knocked from your lungs.

“Because they can’t, can they?” he coos, yet it’s angry. Fingers moving from your hair to your neck. Squeezing until you gasp. “Nobody knows how to treat this little pussy like I do. Do they?”

You fall mute. Going limp in his hold as the pleasure begins to build.

“You love it when I fuck you like this.” His nose presses to your cheek as he breathes, your delicate throat a plaything in his touch. “Love it when I kill for you. Love it when I make you mine—”

You gasp at the ecstasy, hardly able to hear him, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You love me,” he murmurs, and you just about disappear into his embrace.

“I do,” you gasp, almost too loudly. “I do, Harry, please—"

“Quiet,” he hisses, glancing now toward the street in order to make sure the police haven’t found their way to you. “You know better than that. You’ll take me and you’ll do it quietly. Understood?”

Your only response is to whimper pitifully while your nails scratch down the brick walls of the alley.

In turn, he grasps onto your jaw, forcing your head to the side until your eyes can meet. “I said, is that fucking understood?”

“I thought you said to be quiet,” you can’t help but retort, and he hums.

“Oh, is that how you wanna play it?” He releases your throat only to take hold of your hips once more and spin you around between thrusts. Quickly returning to his place between your thighs before lifting one of your legs and hiking it around his waist.

“What…” you begin, chest heaving as the tip of his cock drags down your clit. “What are you—”

“Had to see you,” is his gritted response. “Had to see this pretty, bratty face as I ruined you.”

You imagine you’d smile if you weren’t so close to coming apart, but he understands. Pressing his forehead to yours before reaching up toward the top of your dress and ripping the fabric down to reveal your chest.

You can tell he’s been wanting to do this all night. Know he’s been ogling your tits from behind the expensive fabric since the moment he walked in, and truth be told, that’s the real reason you wore it.

Not because Johnny loves you in red.

But because Harry deserved to look at something pretty.

The cold air meets your skin with an unforgiving fervor, and you squirm against the brick as Harry’s eyes fall to the tattered fabric lying so pathetically on your chest.

Instantly, his head dips, mouth leaving open and sloppy kisses to the beautiful pair before him. Tongue stroking the hardened nipples rather respectfully, all things considered.

In turn, you run a hand through his dark curls as he does this to you. As you watch him take whatever he wants. Feeling the way his hair moves like butter between your fingers. The way he hums against you. The way his lashes flutter.

You’ve missed this.

Then, your grip tightens, and you yank his head up until his lips can meet yours. And you take. Take the taste of him, the taste of you, and the taste of victory.

His palm comes up to rest against the wall beside your head. Steadying himself as he works to find that perfect rhythm again. Over and over and over.

And all you can do is move your anxious kisses to his throat as he fucks into you. Whispering, “Nobody, baby. Nobody feels like you do. Nobody.”

Your fingers trail down his strong back, feeling each muscle that dips and flexes as he moves. The way he grunts when you scratch your nails down his spine. The way he consumes you and succumbs to you all at once.

Johnny was beautiful, but Harry is a beast. You’ve never seen a man like this before – never felt a man like this before. Every curve of his body is ethereal. Every detail, every touch.

Your touch continues to move lower and lower down his strong frame until you find something at the base of his spine.

And it makes you grin.

You slip it from his belt with ease, feeling the way it sits firmly in your hand as though it were made for it.

Harry doesn’t seem to notice. Or perhaps he just doesn’t care with the way he’s so deep into you. Emotionally, physically.

But he’s quickly pulled from his pleasured trance the moment he feels the familiar, cool touch of his gun sweeping across his jaw.

He stills. Straightening up ever-so-slightly, eyes finding yours.

But you’re too busy gazing at the barrel that dances across that beautiful face.

After all, he got to have his fun this evening.

Now it’s your turn.

You bring it to a stop just under his chin, tilting his head up exactly the way he’d done to you earlier as he releases a deep breath.

“Mama…” he warns, but you only hum.

This isn’t the first time this deadly weapon has made this an unofficial threesome, but it is certainly the first time you’ve been the one to wield it.

You hate guns. You do. But you love Harry’s. The way he holds it. The way he handles it. The way he uses great care and great power.

Because there’s something about seeing him with it. Seeing the way he controls it, controls the room. The way he holds someone’s life in the palm of his hand…

Perhaps you should be concerned by how enamored you are by it. By him.

But not tonight. Tonight, you simply enjoy.

And from the look in his eye, he seems to be enjoying it, too.

After all, you know he loved watching you use it on Johnny. Know he almost had you right then and there, on Johnny’s desk, before the mission was even through.

He’s endlessly pleased with you, and you can’t help but use this to your advantage.

So, with the weapon still taut to his clenched jaw, you lean forward and ghost your lips over his. “What’s the matter, Daddy? Does power make you weak?”

The twitch of his cock is answer enough.

You go in for the kill. With your fingers dancing over the trigger button, you lean back and dip down before dragging your tongue up the length of the barrel.

His eyes nearly roll back, and the sound that leaves his chest is euphoric. You think you might just kill him.

Because you’re slow. Meticulous. Licking every inch of the weapon until you finally reach the tip still tucked just beneath his chin.

Then…you kiss him.

And he’s so overwhelmed that he growls into your mouth, no longer threatened by the gun at his throat. Instead grabbing onto the back of your neck in order to squeeze it tight and keep you close. Devour you the way he’s been so frantic to.

You don’t even realize that you’ve begun to lower the gun until you feel it snatched from your grasp.

And pressed tightly to your clit.

The cold surface of the weapon against the warmest part of your body has you arching your back with a whimper. He has the upper hand once more, and he’s certainly not about to waste it. Mouth curling up into a satisfied, smug grin at the way your expression has gone hazy.

You’ve never looked at another man the way you look at him and he knows it.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks softly, adding just enough pressure to make you whine. “All fucking night? The moment you saw me? Saw my gun? Wanted me to fuck you with it?”

Your nails meet your chest, scratching down the frigid skin in a desperate attempt to find something to ground you.

His only response is to drag the tip of the weapon down just a bit further. Until he can watch it glisten in you.

“Fucking looking at you,” he muses beneath a strained exhale, enamored by the way you subconsciously begin to grind on it. “So desperate to feel it. To be fucked by it. And what if I do, hm? What if I fuck you with my gun right here in this alleyway?”

You only whisper his name and an airy, “Please…”

“I thought about it,” he continues quietly, nose brushing yours as he slips the soaked barrel back up your cunt. “Thought about ripping off this pathetic little dress and fucking you right in front of your precious fiancé.”

You wish he had.

“You’d have liked that, wouldn’t you, mama?” His fingers drum against the handle. “Yeah? I know you would. Would have loved to watch him watch me.”

And he’s not wrong. He hardly ever is when it comes to your darkest fantasies, and it’s just one of the many reasons why you love him.

“But I had to wait,” he tells you now, finally pulling the gun away from your dripping clit until you nearly crumple to the cold concrete below. “Because after all this time…I’m the only thing that gets to fill you tonight, yeah?”

You simply nod again as he brings the gun back to your mouth with a proud grin.

And you know exactly what he wants, swiping your tongue all along the barrel and tasting every drop, every indication of your need for him. Swallowing it all as he watches proudly.

The moment you’re finished, he takes the gun and returns it to his pocket, tucking it away safely. Because he’s right again, and you need to feel him far more than you’ve ever needed anything else.

So, you grasp onto his face and bring his lips to yours, allowing him to pick up right where he left off.

Because as much as you love the power…you love being weak for him more.

At least in moments like this.

He fills you and fucks you until you’re dizzy. Until you can taste the pleasure and the unraveling.

You make a show of it. A way to apologize for all the time lost. Trailing the tips of your fingers along your own chest and down your sternum until you notice you have his attention.

He watches you take your tit into your palm before you’re tweaking the hardened nipple with a soft whine. Allowing your head to drop back into the wall while you do it again and again.

And he’s an angry sort of infatuated. Groaning almost pitifully before kissing you again and easily swatting your hand away in order to do it himself.

But that’s still not enough. So, you play your ace, and move your touch down to your clit in order to pinch it exactly the way he likes.

And it’s beautiful. The most exhilarating feeling, and this is what sends him over. The feel of your pussy clamping down on his cock, the sight of your fingers against your clit, the sound of your pathetic whimpers and pants as you cry out his name.

He fills you before he can stop himself, kissing you quickly as he releases into your aching, abused cunt.

Claiming you in more ways than one until you have no choice but to follow.

It rips you apart in the same way he ripped the dress. Until you see stars, and your back arches, and your toes curl. And everything makes sense.

He works to make it last for as long as he can, and once it’s all over, there’s a soft, tender moment of silence as you work to catch your breath.

You forget about everything else. The sirens, the lies, the deceit. Even Johnny. You forget about it all.

Because you got more than a diamond necklace tonight.

You got Harry back.

After a second or two more, you lazily reach up to sweep some of his rogue curls from his forehead. Wanting to really see his eyes as he holds you tonight.

“Harry?” you whisper into the cold, dark alley.

He hums. “Yes, mama?”

“I love you.”

And you’ve never seen him so happy. “I love you more,” he breathes, kiss you again as if to cement this vow.

Eventually, the moment comes to pass, and you have to drop your leg back down to the floor and part from him. You find that your muscles are sore, and just a touch achey, but you don’t even mind. Because it’s somehow just as deliciously pleasurable.

Harry works to readjust your dress and keep you covered; despite the way he’s ruin the expensive fabric. He offers you his jacket – insists on it. Wrapping it around your shoulders before you can even argue.

You smile as you snuggle into the warm material, feeling calmed by the familiar smell of him.

“There,” he says as he looks at you before his head tilts. “Just missing one thing.”

Curious, you watch as he slips his hand back into his pant pocket in order to fish something out.

The necklace.

He hadn’t told you about it before the mission. Only about the safe, and now you think you’re beginning to realize why.

He places it around your neck and readjusts the clasp until it can sit comfortably over your heart.

And you both look down as it sparkles from your chest, smiling together as though you truly can’t believe it’s real.

“You like it?” he whispers.

You grin so wide, your cheeks hurt. “I love it.”

He kisses you again, and it’s perfect.

Everything. All of it.

Him.

Suddenly, a loud toll echoes through the small town. The sharp chime coming from the clocktower in the town square.

Once, twice, three times.

Midnight.

“It’s Christmas,” you realize aloud as you and Harry both glance toward the clock.

His expression softens, and it makes your heart soar. “I guess it is.”

And then…you feel it. The first drop of something cold on your cheek. And then another. And another. And another. Gathering in your hair, getting stuck on his lashes.

Snow.

With a gasp, you look up into the dark sky as it dances down onto the quiet Chicago streets.

A rather perfect ending to a perfectly imperfect day.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

With a soft giggle, you curl yourself under his arm and press your lips to his cheek. “Merry Christmas, Harry.”

He laughs, and you’ve never been so happy.

“Merry Christmas, Mama.”

I'M SORRY THIS ONE GOT A BIT DARKER, IT WAS FUN BUT MOSTLY JUST FOR THE ERA ASPECT!! Thank you for reading if you did and letting me write something a little weirder 😭💞

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs

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allysunny · 4 months

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Hello 👋 can I pls request dating and jealousy headcanons for Bale! Batman? The reader works in his company and is very sweet and generous? Thank you ❤️

Dating and Jealousy Headcanons | Bale!Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Words: 6k words

Warnings: None, I would say? Workplace relationship, if that's a tag, hahaha. Jealous and overprotective Bruce, one (1) makeout session and I don't think anything else? Do correct me if I'm wrong.

A/N: Hello everyone! Here's another one of my Bruce asks! I had a really fun time writing it - I love this man so much omg. I hope you guys have as much fun reading it as I had writing it!

Also I apologize if I got any of HR functions and tasks wrong, please do not kill me if they're not correct, I had to do some research, hahaha! Also, I've just realised how vague the information on Wayne Enterprises is. Like, what the hell do they do? I've been rewatching the movies because my family never has, and they're never clear about it lol. Except for the first movie and the whole "Thomas Wayne wouldn't want us to build war weapons" plot, what the hell do they do there???

At first, he had no idea who you were.

And honestly, could you blame him? He’s the owner of this enormous company that employs at least a hundred people.

You were working in the Human Resources department and were praised by every single one of your coworkers. You were the one keeping everything in check, from analysing performance and helping everyone set goals on what they wanted to achieve at work, to organising databases and generating reports. Those jobs should technically be made by at least 3 different people, but you were efficient and very professional, and most of the time took it upon yourself to oversee things and make sure all was running smoothly.

Bruce ran into you for the first time when you were checking on the Applied Sciences department. You had been sitting next to Lucius Fox, keeping a record of all the important work he’d done the last month, as well as going over the paperwork that outlined whatever his job entailed – while still in the AS department, Lucius was now a member of the board once again, and you wanted to make sure he had everything under control – as always, he did.

Bruce had walked in and raised an eyebrow. He’d never seen you before, were you one of his employees? Some relative of Lucius’s? His partner? Who the hell were you, and what were you doing in here?

“Ah, Mr. Wayne.” Lucius said with a nonchalant smile, standing up to shake his hand in a warm greeting. “As always, it’s a pleasure to see you. I was going over my Monthly Workplace Wellness Check with Miss [L/N] over here, and it seems all is in order.

“Mr. Wayne,” you greeted him, standing up and offering him your hand. This was your boss – the Bruce Wayne, the Prince of Gotham, arguably the richest and wealthiest man in the city, the boss, the man you’d never actually seen, but everyone spent no expense in talking about. And they did not lie – the man in front of you was handsome, with dark brown hair carefully slicked back and warm brown eyes that scanned you over carefully. He looked far too good in his navy suit, and you tried your best not to let your gaze linger on him – it would be unprofessional, and you wouldn’t want to be fired for sexual harassment.

Bruce, on the other hand, thought you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes upon. Your body was being snuggly hugged by a pretty, dark pencil skirt, and you wore a white dress shirt with flowy sleeves. The first two buttons were open, exposing a small patch of delicate skin and a leaf pendant. Cute.

Slipping his aloof mask back on, he shook your hand, relishing the feel of your hand on his. Your grip was firm – you were clearly trying not to be intimidated by him, but there was also something very tender about it.

“Miss [L/N], is it?” he asked, leaning back and placing his hands inside his pants pockets.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ve never seen you around here – are you new or something?”

You tried not to flush in embarrassment. It’s only normal he wouldn’t even know who you were. After all, he’s got a whole company to take care of. And it’s not like you hung around the top floors a lot – your work was among everyone else, not the board. They had their own assistants for that.

“No sir – I’ve been working here for a few years. I’m HR Director.” You replied, trying to sound confident. This was your job and you’d been doing it very well – extremely well – and you were proud of it. It was a great opportunity to let your boss know of how great of a worker you were.

“HR Director, huh?” Bruce hummed, turning to Lucius once again. “You familiar with Miss [L/N]?”

“Yes sir,” the older man replied, smiling confidently at you. “She’s been overseeing most departments for about five years now. She’s the reason everything’s going so smoothly.”

“Really?” Bruce raised an eyebrow. “That’s a lot of responsibility.”

“Yes sir, it is,” you nod. “I’m very proud of my job.”

Bruce took one good look at you once again and nodded.

“Fox, I wanted to check on you about some of the, well, some of the orders we placed last week. But seeing that you’re busy, I’ll return later.”

Lucius nodded and sat back down. Unlike you, he felt comfortable around Bruce, even if he was his boss. After all, who else had helped Bruce Wayne spelunking?

“How about I fax you when I’m done?”

“Oh, I can – I could come back later if you wished to talk to Mr. Fox right now?” You asked, quickly turning to your desk to retrieve your clipboard and pens.

“No need, Miss [L/N],” Bruce responded, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt an employee doing a good job. I’ll wait for Fox’s fax.”

You placed your clipboard down and nodded, offering him a small smile.

“Thank you, sir.”

Bruce found himself returning it, before turning to Lucius and nodding in acknowledgement and then walking away.

“I’m quite sure he’s gone, Miss [L/N].” Lucius announced, an amusing smile playing in his lips. You nodded, trying to get that flustered look off your face.

The man next to you supressed a chuckle – he was sure the first thing his boss would do when he got to his office was do a thorough research on his HR Director. And it’s not like he hadn’t noticed the heat that seemed to have crept up on your cheeks. He shook his head and turned to you, focusing on the Wellness Check.

Lucius was right. The first thing Bruce did when he got to his office, was do some research on you. Who you were, what job you held exactly you held, how long you’d been in the company. Not in a creepy way (or so he tried to convince himself), more in a “How come I’ve gone so long without knowing my HR Director? Who knows what kind of people are working in my company, and how come I don’t know them all? Who knows what their true intentions are” kind of way. Not that he doubted you – Lucius wasn’t the type to lie – but he was… Curious. Very curious.

He also decided to ask around about you. No one would know you and your work better than the people that interacted with you daily.

The word around was that you were an exemplary employee. Professional, hardworking, and kind to a fault. Everyone told Bruce about how incredible your work ethic was, and how helpful you were. How you always offered an arm when asked for a hand, how you’d go the lengths to help your coworkers even if it meant you would work overtime.

“She’s quite incredible, Mr. Wayne. Very efficient, very focused,” his board members would tell him, going over the fantastic things you’d done for the company. “She’s actually personally trained each of our interns herself – that’s why they’ve picked up on their work so quickly.”

“I don’t know about your department, but we work better when she’s overseeing us. [Y/N] is really kind, she’s very firm in her job, but never rude. You know what I mean?”

[Y/N], huh? Pretty name.

“She’s an excellent communicator, fights barely happen when she’s around because she makes everyone feel heard and understood.”

“Her initiatives have significantly enhanced our company culture, that’s for sure.”

“Her consistency to always go above and beyond in her efforts would make Thomas Wayne proud. This is what he would’ve wanted Wayne Enterprises to be about.”

There were many the people that mentioned his father’s name along with yours. How he’d be proud of you, how he’d give you a promotion right away, how workers like you were exactly what he needed in his company. And Bruce was intrigued. Because, how come such a gem was working under him, and he had no idea?

He had to change that, clearly.

“Miss [L/N]?” he asked you once as you were about to leave for the day. You turned around and couldn’t hide the way your eyes widened in surprise. What did your boss want? And how come he’d remembered your name?

“Yes, Mr. Wayne?” you looked up at him and tried to focus. A million thoughts were running through your head. What did he want? Why had he chased you? Oh goodness, had he chased you? Had he run a background check on you of some sorts and was unsatisfied with the work you were doing? Were you going to be fired? You couldn’t – you’d been working here for about five years and never once slacked off. This couldn’t be happening, could it?

“I was wondering if you would like to join me to dinner later this week.” The words rolled smoothly out of his mouth, practiced, precise. He knew what he wanted and was not going to play around.

“Dinner?” you repeated, furrowing your brows. “This week? With you?”

“Dinner, this week, yes. That’s what I said.” Bruce nodded, and patiently awaited a response. He knew it might be weird. Your boss, whom you did not know, suddenly asked you for dinner?

You stared at him, running his words over in your head. Your boss wanted to have dinner with you. Your boss. Bruce Wayne wanted to have dinner with you. Part of your brain told you this was a terrible idea. Everyone knew what the papers said about Bruce Wayne, that he was a womanizer, a playboy. You didn’t want to be just another name in a long line of women he slept with.

But there was something inside of you that kept screaming “GO TO DINNER WITH BRUCE WAYNE PLEASE. YOU LITERALLY HAVE NOTHING TO LOSE”.

Except perhaps, your job. What if he asked something of you, something you couldn’t give him? What if he punished you for it? What if, all along, this was a big ploy to check his sources and get you fired?

“Miss [L/N]? Is everything alright?” Bruce asked, looking at you in concern.

Screw it. You were a damn good employee. There was no way your boss was going to fire you, murder you, or whatever other silly ideas were going around in your head. You shook them away and looked at him once again, smiling.

“Yes, sorry. Everything is fine. And yes, dinner sounds really nice. Thank you for inviting me.”

Bruce gave you a polite nod, before looking behind you, where his limo went.

“I will send you the details later then. Is Thursday okay?”

“Yes! Thursday is fine.”

Bruce nodded again, and looked at his limo, this time with a tad more urgency.

“Miss [L/N], I would offer you a ride home, but I have quite the long list of errands to attend to. I will see you later this Thursday then.” He smiled – he smiled – and made his way towards a black limo, where an older man dressed nicely opened the door for him.

You couldn’t help staring as the car drove away.

You were going to dinner with your boss. With Bruce Wayne.

Surely, there was no need to panic, right?

Turns out, there hadn’t been no need to panic at all.

In fact, things went great.

Dinner with Bruce had been surprisingly pleasant.

It started out a bit awkward, with you not really knowing what your position there was, but after Bruce reassured you there was nothing wrong with your performance at work, you relaxed.

And surprisingly, so did he.

He found himself conversing with you the way he hadn’t done in a long time – casually, truthfully, openly. Sure, he didn’t tell you all of the secrets he kept, but he was genuine in his answers about his favourite memories from his childhood, or his hobbies, what season he liked the most, or whatever other question you had for him.

It felt nice to have a companion who wasn’t merely interested in his name or title or wealth. You didn’t seem to care about those, preferring to get to know Bruce Wayne the man, as opposed to Bruce Wayne the name.

He asked you about your life and you replied truthfully as well, telling him stories from when you were growing up, sharing some of your hopes and dreams, and opening up about yourself.

Bruce thought you were fascinating – at first he thought the things people said about your kindness were just polite office talk, but after spending 20 minutes with you, he realised how true they were. You’d smiled at everyone on the way to the restaurant, letting an old couple go inside before you (even though you two had arrived much earlier), refused to ask for anything without a gentle “Please” at the end.

And he could tell you weren’t fake – he was often met with fake smiles and faux politeness everywhere he went, but he could tell you were genuine, and it just made him even more interested in you. After all, not only you were beautiful, with your hair carefully tucked behind your ears, and a fitting dress that, while modest, still managed to make you stand out, but you seemed to be beautiful inside as well.

By the time you got to dessert, you were laughing heartily, head thrown back as joy overtook you. Bruce had been telling you about the worst excuses he’d made to get out of social events, and the last few truly were something. You then realised he was not the man media portrayed him to be. No, he seemed much more down to earth, more focused, more sensible. Not at all the reckless playboy gossip magazines painted him as. It was a pleasant surprise, and you were enjoying every minute of your evening.

At the end of the night, he drove you to your apartment (more like gave you a lift, since his driver – whom you learned to be his butler Alfred – was the one who had taken you to the restaurant in the first place) and walked you to your door, like a true gentleman. You giggled and swayed a bit, having drank a tad too much of wine. You weren’t drunk, no, but you could feel that pleasant buzz flowing through your veins, the one that made you gigglier and happier and made everything a bit funnier.

Bruce steadied you by letting you hold onto his arm and caught you when you tripped on the stairs to your building. You laughed loudly and he pulled you up, allowing you to face him clearly. Your breath caught in your throat, and you giggled once more when you realised how close you were, and how you could feel the alcohol on his breath.

“I really liked tonight,” you said, nodding along to your words. You had been drinking, but you weren’t dumb, and weren’t going to ruin the lovely night you’d had. As far as you were concerned, this could simply be a dinner for him to try and get to know you better, and not anything remotely romantic.

His next words changed your mind.

“Me too,” he said. “I’m sorry if my invitation was abrupt. You’ll have to forgive me, but when I saw you working with Fox that day, I was curious.”

“Curious?”

“Yeah. Everyone said wonders about you, and you seemed like a great worker, and not to mention you’re quite beautiful – “

“You asked about me?” you giggled, covering your mouth with your hand. Somehow, that was the line your brain picked up in this whole conversation. “You’re a stalker!”

“And I apologize for that.” Bruce steadied you once again when you leaned back to laugh and let out a dry chuckle. “But I really enjoyed our evening. I was hoping that you’d accompany me to dinner some other time?”

You looked at him, eyes now getting heavier. The wine was working its magic, and instead of moving around, you stood very still, enjoying the feel of Bruce’s arms around you.

“Dinner? Some other time?”

“Yes.”

“Like a date?” You don’t know what prompted you to say that out loud. That’s what you were wondering, yes, but you weren’t actually going to say it out loud, too scared to face rejection, too scared that this whole thing was a misunderstanding, and he wasn’t interested in you at all.

Bruce looked at you, surprised by your forwardness. Not that he wasn’t thinking the exact same thing – he was – but he thought he’d have to be the one doing the pursuing. After all, he was the “stalker”, as you put it.

“Yes, [Y/N], as a date,” he nodded. “Like a date. As I said, I’m interested in you. I know it might not be appropriate, seeing as I’m your boss, but I won’t lie and say you haven’t caught my eye, and I would really like to go on another date with you.”

You smiled, hands resting on the collar of his coat.

“This was a date?”

He shrugged, “If you want it to be.”

You pretended to think, placing a delicate finger on your chin, and looking away.

“Hmmmm…. I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.” Playing the part, you stepped away from him and tried to climb the stairs to your building door. Unfortunately, your foot caught onto one, and the floor went flying on your direction.

Luckily, steady arms wrapped around your waist, preventing you from falling face first. Bruce pulled you to him once again, and this time he swore he could see all the specks in your pretty eyes. Heat rose to your cheeks, and you couldn’t look away. Bruce’s eyes fell to your lips for a brief second, and you followed his gaze, wishing he would close the distance between you too.

But Bruce Wayne might be a lot of things and do a lot of things – but he wouldn’t take advantage of you. Not right now, when the wine was clearly getting to your head. He was going to do this properly.

He pushed away from you and gave you a friendly pat on the arm. Upon seeing the way your face fell, he mentally kicked himself. Shit. It was the wrong thing to do, wasn’t it? He should’ve just kissed you. But you weren’t thinking straight. And he didn’t want to take advantage of that.

“Goodnight, [Y/N].” He said, offering you a smile.

“Why are you such a goddamned coward?” A tiny voice in your head asked repeatedly. Why didn’t you just kiss him? You had a great time, didn’t you? He said so himself. He called it a date. He wanted to go on another. Why were you always so scared of going for what you wanted? Why dint you just take the plunge and do what you wanted to for once in your life?

Shaking away your nerves, you stepped forward and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“Goodnight, Bruce.” You said, nodding in contempt and walking towards your building. By the grace of some god up above, you found your keys rather quickly and didn’t have to deal with the awkwardness that would’ve surely followed, so you just walked inside and closed the door behind you.

It was Alfred who had to break Bruce out of his trance.

“Perhaps you could take a picture of the building and take it with you, seeing as it is far too cold for you to stare at the real thing the entire night.” He said in a sarcastic manner, causing Bruce to stare at him and get in the car, but not without shooting one last look at the building.

He’d see you again for sure.

Things went smoothly after that.

You went out a few more times, and within about two months, he officially asked you to be his girlfriend. You accepted of course – after all, you were just as head over heels for him as he was for you.

You had to settle some boundaries for your office life to work out. You didn’t want anyone thinking you were shagging your boss for a promotion, or financial extras – not at all. So, you set some ground rules.

No PDA at work – this was rule number one, and it was the most important one. After you two started dating, Bruce found himself seeking you out more during the day, just to catch up or look at you (he was whipped). You’d noticed, and it was hard keeping yourself away from him. PDA was a big no-no. You two had to be professional and keep your personal relationship out of the office.

No pet names, no endearment terms, and minimal contact as it was. He’d once nearly gotten himself in trouble, having to switch from “My dear” to “Miss [L/N}”. It was tough and some employees looked at him funny, but he just walked away with his Wayne confidence, and no one said a word.

If you two did want to meet, it’d have to be after work hours, or during breaks, and in private. You would often bring him lunch, sit by his side in his office and just talk about your day and go over work stuff. He liked the privacy his office offered. He could have you in his lap, laugh about whatever silly reality show the Gotham gossip channels had on, and just enjoy some time off work.

No special treatment of any sort. This was very important. He couldn’t turn a blind eye to any problems you’d caused or any work you hadn’t done properly. Thankfully for him, you’d always been an excellent worker and he never had to reprimand you nor scold you. But he also couldn’t just praise you for every little thing you did – at least not at work.

It was hard, to say the least.

At home, you enjoyed being close to him, away from prying eyes, doubtful employers or clingy assistants who wanted his everlasting attention. And you could manage just fine at work as well – sure, you didn’t like seeing other workers drool all over him and beg for him to look their way, but you were also always far too busy to pay them any attention. After all, you had so much work to do.

But Bruce couldn’t say the same thing.

He’d go down a few floors to check on one particular project, or to supervise a series of workers, and find you busying yourself around with tasks, giving orders, keeping files in check, and turning in reports, and you’d look so great doing all of that. Efficient, hard-working. That’s what everyone had called you.

But then he’d see every other person had noticed the same. He could see the way other men looked at you, calling you over to ask questions and chit chat with you. They’d try to make you laugh, offering you charming smiles when they achieved so, and Bruce had to control every fibre in his being not to walk over to where you were and punch those smug grins off their faces.

Their games didn’t work on you though. You’d politely decline their advances, and declare you were taken, but some of them were too damn persistent. To those, you simply wished a good day and returned to your tasks. Something inside Bruce beamed with pride, and he would be lying if he said their upset faces did not bring him joy.

“C’mon [Y/N], it’s just one dinner. What wrong can that do, huh? I’ll take you to some place real nice,” a man in the same department as yours once pleaded, holding your hands in his. Bruce’s jaw twitched and you firmly moved away from him.

“Sorry Joe, I told you, I’m very busy. And even if I wasn’t, I have a very loving partner, and would never cheat on them.” Your voice was calm, but he could tell you weren’t comfortable with the way he touched you.

Joe scoffed.

“Some partner you have – you leave by yourself every single day. How come they never come pick up their missus, huh? If I had a girl like you, I’d come pick her up every day. What kind of douchebag leaves his girlfriend all alone? C’mon – one dinner with me and you’ll forgetting all about that idiot.” Joe moved towards you once again to grab your arm, but you moved away, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I told you; I wasn’t interested. And please do not touch me. Now, you should get back to work. Your monthly reports tell me you’ve been slacking, and I would hate to have to give you a warning.” You said firmly, raising your chin and gripping your clipboard tighter.

Joe scrambled for words, and you walked away. While brushing past Bruce, you could feel the smirk in his voice as he whispered “That’s my girl” for only you to hear.

But sometimes, he had to jump in and save you.

Well, perhaps save wasn’t the right word.

Because you didn’t need saving – he was just jealous.

You were taking a break from your weekly roundups, sitting at your desk, and chatting happily with your closest work friends. You leaned forward to whisper in a woman’s ear, and the both of you leaned back in laughter.

“Good morning, ladies,” a man in a nice-looking dark blue suit said, approaching the two of you. His blonde hair fell loosely over his eyes, and he did little to nothing to tame it.

“Raph! Hey – you’ll not believe what [Y/N] just told me,” your friend smiled, and “Raph” bent over to listen closely to what she whispered to him. He widened his eyes in surprise, before snorting in response.

“You’re kidding.” He turned to you.

You shook your head, biting the pencil you’d taken to your lips. Bruce had half a mind to walk over to you and claim your lips then and there.

“Nope. Saw it with my own eyes.”

The three of you laughed again, and Raph quickly looked around. He clearly did not notice his boss staring at them from across the room, so he pulled up a chair nearby and sat down.

You three engaged in lively conversation, and Bruce fumed at the sight of you leaning towards him every so often and giggling, bending over to whisper in his ear and touch his arm. Why were you so god damn close to him? Was there something going on between the two of you? Why the hell did he not keep his hands to himself?

Bruce’s patience snapped when he saw Raph take your hand in his and place a dramatic kiss on your knuckles. You looked at him and rolled your eyes, doing your best to pry your hand from his.

“Let go of me Raph, you’re absolutely disgusting.” Bruce noticed the way you smiled as you spoke each one of your next words, and something twisted in his stomach. A very ugly feeling that told him he did not like the way you seemed so close to Raph, nor the way he seemed to touch you so effortlessly. Why the hell was he touching you in the first place? Did he not know you were taken? He decided then and there this had to stop. This man needed to get his hands off you, right this moment.

“I’m serious – ugh – get off me, you’re sick! Get away!”

“I believe the lady has told you to let go of her hand.” Bruce’s voice echoed in the room, and nearly everyone stopped what they were doing to look at him. Your breath caught in your throat and Raph, who was sitting next to you, quickly stood up, brushing his suit.

“Sir – Mr. Wayne, I wasn’t – “

“Working? Clearly. Shouldn’t you be occupying yourself with your tasks at hand, other than harassing your coworkers?” The words left his mouth with venom, and he looked very angry – part of you had to stifle a laugh.

“Mr. Wayne, I promise I wasn’t harassing, I was – “

“Get back to your job before I do something about it.”

Raph shot you an apologetic look before scurrying away.

“Miss [L/N]?”

“Yes?”

“A word.”

You shrugged bashfully at your friend and followed Bruce. He led you away from your department, looking inside each passing room to find one that was empty. Once he found what he was looking for, he pushed you inside, locked the door behind you, and pressed himself against you, kissing you passionately.

A gasp left your lips before you returned his kiss, hands instinctively wrapping around his neck and in his hair. He licked your lower lip as if asking for permission, and you granted it with a soft whimper which he swallowed, hands deftly pulling your hips closer and closer to him.

When you broke away for air, you noticed how flustered he was, and how his lips and chin were covered in lipstick.

“What was – what was that for?” you asked, panting.

“Couldn’t stand to see that bastard all over you,” Bruce muttered, before moving on to press kisses against the column of your neck. You sighed in pleasure and ran your fingers through his hair.

“Raph is just a friend.”

Bruce snorted.

“Yeah, and he’s clearly interested in you. Idiot. Doesn’t he know you’re mine?”

At these words, you pushed away from him and burst out laughing.

“Mind explaining what’s so funny?” Bruce asked you, raising an eyebrow.

“Bruce,” you managed to say in between laughs, “Honey, Raphael is gay!” You kept laughing, staring at his dumbfounded expression.

“What?”

“Honey, he’s gay! We were talking about how I found his work crush sending dick pics to some random guy on Grindr!”

Bruce stopped in his tracks; brows furrowed in confusion.

“Gay?”

“Yes! He’s not interested in me silly – we’re just friends.”

“Oh.”

You resumed laughing, before adjusting your clothes and trying to wipe some of the lipstick off his face.

“Bruce, were you jealous?” you asked, cocky grin playing in your lips.

“No – I wasn’t – “

“Oh gosh, you were!” You smiled warmly at him. It was flattering, and you felt slightly bad for him. He had been worrying over nothing. “You don’t have to, you know?”

“They’re all after you. I know it.”

“They’re really not,” you replied, giving him a chaste kiss on the lips. “And even if they were, I only have eyes for you. You know that right?”

He nodded, kissing you again.

“Besides,” you pulled away for air, fiddling with his tie. “If anything, I should be the jealous one. Every woman in this building is in love with you. And your personal assistant has tried not once, not twice, but three times bending over your desk, so you’ll look at her chest.”

Bruce shook his head, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

“I couldn’t care less. I only have eyes for you.”

“Well then, you have to learn to behave. This is still my workplace, and I still have to interact with all of these people. And unless you want everyone finding out about us, you’re gonna have to learn how to deal with your jealousy better.”

He sighed, dropping his head to rest it on your chest. You smiled and ran fingers through his hair absentmindedly.

“I only have eyes for you, you know.”

“And I only have eyes for you.” He replied, before straightening up and fixing his hair and clothes. He looked at you for confirmation and you nodded, wiping whatever lipstick he had on his face, and fixing his tie and shirt. “Perfect”, you mumbled.

Bruce gave you a quick kiss and you walked outside. He’d wait a few minutes before following.

He really needed to work on those jealousy issues.

And he did!

Sort of.

He tried not to think too much about it when coworkers of yours praised and complimented you. “Hey [L/N], heard the turnover rates stabilised thanks to you! Good job!”. “Nice outfit, [Y/N]. Makes your eyes stand out. Very nice.”. “Hey, you saw this week’s morale reports? They skyrocketed – you’re too good at your job, we should all just quit.” It made his blood boil.

He tried not to think too much when your colleagues brought you any sorts of gifts. Coffee, when you were feeling tired, cookies or some other snacks when you were hungry, some even offered to go get you full fledged meals like salads or other dishes from the cafeteria just so you could keep working. You were so kind to everyone – it was only natural the ones around you reciprocated. And Bruce loved it – he loved that people recognised how generous you were, how downright good you were, and wanted to repay in kind. But it still made him somewhat envious.

So, he decided to take action.

One particular morning, he found you in your floor, working tirelessly. It had been a very stressful week, and you’d been far too busy to even visit him at the Manor or have dinner with him. He missed you. Missed your smiles, your laughter, your voice, your touch. Alfred was positive he was behaving like a child whose favourite blanket had been taken from him. It was endearing, yet also somewhat pathetic.

He approached you from behind, ignoring the surprised and stunned gazes everyone around you gave him. He embraced you from behind, dropping his head to your neck, and kissing you there.

You gasped in surprise, face covered in an expression of astonishment. What was going on? Was that Bruce? What was he doing here? And why was he kissing your neck? You were in the middle of organising a few very important reports and did not have time for distractions of any sort.

“Bruce – what are you doing?” you whispered, voice laced in shock.

“You’ve been working so hard, my love,” he said, intentionally loud for everyone to hear. “You should take a break.”

“Bruce, we’re working – we can’t – why are you – “ you had no words. No PDA, no nicknames, no special treatment. Why was Bruce breaking these rules all of a sudden?

“I missed you, of course. You’ve been exhausting yourself. Look at what I brought you,” he placed a cup of coffee on top of your desk, and you gasped. It wasn’t just any coffee; it was a very special brand that you only got one or two times due to how expensive it was. “You need sustenance.”

“Wow, Bruce, I mean, thank you so much, but you didn’t have to – “

“Of course I had to. Can’t have my beautiful girlfriend burning out, now, can I?” He lifted himself up and faced you clearly. He then proceeded to dip down and capture your lips with his, hand cupping your cheek and rubbing gentle circles with his thumb. He parted from you slightly, and whispered against your lips, “I couldn’t pretend anymore. Couldn’t stand being away from you. Screw everyone else. If they have a problem, they can come and talk to me. I’m the boss, after all, aren’t I?”

You looked at him through your lashes and offered him a soft smile. You couldn’t lie; you too missed Bruce, and it was getting harder and harder to pretend you didn’t know him at all. You gave him a soft tug on his tie and pressed another kiss to his lips. He could feel your smile against him, and it only made him smile in return.

Bruce then stood up, straightened his suit, and caressed your cheek.

“I bought lunch. Meet me in my office in two hours?”

“Yeah. I’d like that very much.”

He stole another kiss from you, causing you to chuckle, and walked away, as if he hadn’t just shocked the entire HR department to hell and back with his actions.

It didn’t matter.

They all knew you were his now.

A/N: And that's it! I hope you guys enjoyed it! I love this man so much okay. And wish me luck, going to rewatch TDKR with the family. Yesterday we watched TDK and I don't think my family understood the sheer magnitude of that movie... 😔

Oh well! It'll be fun!

Once again, thank you very much! And please keep your eyes wide open, I have a surprise coming up for everyone!

Have an amazing day ahead!

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thesoftestirises · 2 years

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carry your throne

♡ pairing : aemond x reader ♡ rating : 18+. this is smut. like... toe curling, pearl clutching inducing, ‘what did he sayyyy?’ smut. minors dni. you will be blocked. ♡ word count : 4.5k ♡ warnings : light degradation, humiliation, quid pro quo set up (fr this could be read as prostitution - but only to one man), name calling, nipple play, breeding, sanctioned cheating, oral, aemond is kinda evil but he’s a sweetie on the inside i promise ♡ summary : If you had met under normal circumstances, you would have been expected to curtsy to him. But you and Aemond were far past societally expected niceties. ♡ a/n : if this seems familiar, it is! it’s a rewrite of the moon knight fic of the same name. i just felt it suited aemond so much it needed to be republished.

“Aren’t you just the prettiest?” A voice whispered into your ear, soft and teasing.

A familiar pair of hands moved to your waist, caressing your curves and playing with the laces of your gown. Goosebumps erupted all over your skin in response to the touch, your body growing warm at just the thought of the person behind you. Experience had not made you numb to the feeling those fingertips brought. You turned around to gaze into the single, pale blue eye you saw in your dreams.

“Prince Aemond,” you said, tilting your head downwards in a polite nod. If you had met under normal circumstances, you would have been expected to curtsy to him. But you and Aemond were far past societally expected niceties.

“Miss Y/N. That dress looks expensive,” Aemond said, his heavy gaze roaming around your frame before coming back to your own eyes.

Time had taught you that every conversation with Aemond went deeper than what was heard on the surface. Every exchange was a performance, an intricate dance where you would circle around the truth and try to gain the upper hand by pretending to care less than the other. There was always a double meaning to every word he said. You supposed it was a habit he picked up from being surrounded by two faced aristocrats. Cruelty masked as politeness, gossip masked as concern. Even though you were both well into adulthood, Aemond constantly made you feel like a clumsy little girl.

“Is it? I wouldn’t know,” you said. You kept your expression neutral and looked down at the vivid blue fabric draped over your body as if seeing it for the first time. As if you hadn’t spent two hours marveling at the intricate lacework before even trying it on. As if you hadn’t had to hide it under your bed to prevent anyone else from seeing and wondering why you were in possession of such a luxury. “After all, you were the one who bought it.”

He smiled in amusement and cupped your cheek, the cool metal of his signet ring pressed against your burning skin. “How’s Ron?”

You fiddled with your wedding ring without thinking. It was a gaudy thing, studded with sparkling gemstones that practically took up half your finger. Of course, none of them were real. As many things with Ron were, it was just for appearances. Appearances were all Ron could afford. All he cared about. His concern with what other people thought had driven the both of you into debt, leaving you to clean up his mess. But your solution to the problem was merely a house of cards. You just hoped it would last long enough for one of you to come up with a better solution than spreading your legs for your husband’s lender.

“He’s fine.”

Aemond hummed in acknowledgment. “Business is good, I presume?”

“It is.”

“Wonderful. Strip.”

You obeyed, quickly and efficiently removing your clothes. Aemond had little patience and didn’t care much for shows. In the beginning of your arrangement with him, he would tear the clothes off you himself if you weren’t quick enough. You had spent many nights hiding out in Aemond’s study until all his servants were off to bed so you could sneak out in a different gown than the one you had arrived in.

Aemond moved across the room to a red leather armchair and sat down while you set your discarded clothes down into a neat pile. You folded your hands in front of you and stared at him, waiting for further instruction. Every rendezvous with Aemond went a little differently. So differently, in fact, that you often felt like you were dealing with entirely different people who were simply wearing the same face. Sometimes, he just wanted you to stand in front of him while he stroked his cock to completion. Other times, he would pin you against a window and whisper immoral filth into your ear while rubbing your clit. Tonight, he watched you with a greedy glint in his eye as he dragged his gaze from your head down to your toes.

“Crawl.”

You sucked in a breath and sank to your hands and knees. The hardwood floors under your skin were unforgivingly cold, but acted as a welcome balm on your feverishly hot skin. You kept your gaze locked on Aemond’s lips as you moved forward, trying to remain as unbothered as possible to spite him. He liked humiliating you, just as he did with everyone else in his life. You tried to avoid giving him the satisfaction of shaming you. He already had more than enough power.

He stopped you with a simple hand motion when you got close enough to touch. “Sit.”

You leaned back and sat straight, allowing Aemond to brush your hair away from your face. You tilted your head up and allowed him to run his fingertips over your jawline, nose, and lips. His touch was gentle, warm, almost sweet. You hated how much you enjoyed it.

“When was the last time Ron fucked you?” Aemond whispered.

“Yesterday.”

He kept his expression neutral, but you could see the distaste on his lips. Perhaps he hated to be reminded that he had to share with someone he thought of as beneath him. “Did you like it? His cock?”

“Yes,” you replied, but it was a second too late. Aemond could easily see the hesitation written all over your face.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“What is it to you if I enjoy being fucked by my husband or not?” You said in a whispered hiss.

He smirked and stroked a thumb over your cheekbone. “Whatever are you so angry for, dove? Are you upset your husband can’t satisfy your cunt the way I do? Maybe next time we should invite him in. I could give him a proper lesson on how to tease and stroke your whore body.”

You wrapped your fingers around his wrist and sneered. “Are you going to talk all day or are you going to fuck me, my prince?”

“Patience is a virtue, princess,” he grinned, his teeth appearing inhumanly sharp. He plucked an envelope from the table next to him, tearing it open with an ornate ivory letter opener and extracting the contents. He leaned back in his chair with all the assured air of a refined aristocrat and spread his legs. “Be a dear and busy your mouth, won’t you?”

You glared at him but he ignored you, choosing to focus on the paper he held in his hands instead. A tense silence settled in the room, only interrupted by the sound of Aemond’s drunken servants having their evening meal in the kitchen downstairs. You bit your tongue and sighed to yourself. Pride wasn’t something you could afford anymore. The sooner you sucked him off and gave him his release, the easier it would be for you to go home without drawing suspicion.

You placed a hand on Aemond’s thigh and listened to his pleased hum. The material of his trousers felt like silk, the type of rich and smooth fabric that only the ultra wealthy could afford. You ran your fingertips over the inner seam and drew closer and closer to his cock. His warmth seemed to radiate right through the clothing. It was addictive. You were almost tempted to rub your face against him like a cat in heat.

You glanced up and were annoyed to see he still wasn’t looking at you. You scowled and tugged at his belt, swiftly unbuckling it and loosening his trousers. Aemond’s cock was half hard, the soft skin flushed pink instead of the violent red you were more used to. You spat into your palm and wrapped your hand around the base, gently stroking him as you got yourself warmed up. Even though you’d taken Aemond many times and in multiple positions, his size still intimidated you. You gave the tip of his length a kiss before swiping your tongue over the head. He let out a quiet hum of approval and pushed his cock against your lips more insistently.

“Get on with it, princess. At this pace you’ll be here until sunrise,” he grunted.

You glared at him but obeyed, wrapping your lips around his flesh, his bitter mint flavor washing over your tongue. You found his taste remarkably tolerable, almost arousing. Like his essence was laced with some sort of aphrodisiac. You pressed your tongue up against the underside of his cock and sucked, drawing a pleased sigh from his lips. A steady trickle of precum began leaking from his tip and filling your mouth. You pressed your tongue into his slit and looked up to see if you had gotten his attention. Aemond stared back down at you with a glossy expression, his letter long forgotten on the floor by his feet.

You pulled your mouth off of him, leaving his cock slick and shiny with spit, and pumped his length with the hand you kept wrapped around the base. “Is this satisfactory, my prince?”

“I’ll be satisfied when that pretty face is coated in cum and tears,” he replied, his chest heaving as he dug his nails into the leather of his chair. “Choke on my cock, princess. Let me see you look ravished and thoroughly had. Do that for me and I’ll give you the world.”

You closed your eyes in response to his filth. How he managed to make the dirtiest things sound sexy and pleasurable, you’d never know. “As you wish, my prince.”

You lined his length up with your mouth and took it as far into you as you could. His flesh pressed up against your throat, restricting your air flow and getting your eyes to well up with tears, just as Aemond had wanted. You ignored the discomfort in your mouth and jaw and moved your head up and down over Aemond’s cock. Aesthetics came second to doing whatever got him to react. Eventually Aemond stopped you, pulling his length away from your mouth and taking your chin into his fingers.

“It’s a pity we don’t have a portrait artist on hand to capture the way you look right now,” he said, gently stroking your cheekbone with his thumb and mockingly pouting at you. “You know, I’ve always admired the way you carry yourself. So poised, so refined. One could easily mistake you for a landed lady. But when I see you like this, I can’t help but think this is where you truly belong.”

He pulled you up and into his lap, your back pressed against his chest as he explored your body with his hands. You pressed your legs together to try to control the dull throbbing in your core and bit back your urge to whine. Aemond placed his lips on your jaw and moved his hands upwards to pluck at your sensitive nipples. You squirmed and pressed back to try to evade the pleasure his fingers brought, but there was no escaping him. He had caged you in his arms, enveloping you into a pine scented embrace. And even if he wasn’t wrapped around you, you weren’t sure you would really want to leave.

“My pretty little dove,” he whispered, squeezing your breasts. “If I were your husband, I would have impregnated you four times over by now.”

“My prince,” you gasped. “Your words are dangerous.”

Aemond merely hummed in response, nibbling at the shell of your ear while continuing to circle and pinch at your buds. Once your nipples were swollen and fully sensitive to the touch, Aemond twisted your head towards him. You obediently let him press at your bruised lips with his fingers and explored his face with your eyes.

Prince Aemond was undeniably good looking. He had a head full of white blond hair, golden skin, a rare smile that could bring a woman to her knees. A god amongst men. But your favorite feature of his had always been his gaze. The raw, unrestrained power on one side, the ghost of his past written on the other. Even now, your breath caught in your throat as your eyes locked with his.

“Spread your thighs,” Aemond said.

You obediently opened your legs and leaned your head back against Aemond’s shoulder. His hands directly went to your folds, one hand keeping you spread open, the other playing with your aching clit. You closed your eyes nuzzled into Aemond’s neck as he touched you, circling your bead in a slow, steady pace.

“Sloppy little harlot. Dripping all over my fingers and staining my trousers,” Aemond said, pinching your clit. “No one fucks this body as well as I do. Right, dove?”

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly, desperate to keep his hands on you.

“I’m going to prepare you for my cock, princess. Is that okay?”

“Please.”

Aemond chuckled and kissed your temple before taking your left hand into his. He ran his thumb over your palm and paused when he reached your wedding ring. He examined the glittering paste jewel before taking the band off and placing it on the side table next to him. You opened your mouth to protest but stopped when you noticed him taking off his signet ring. You knit your brows together and watched as he placed the ring on your finger where your wedding ring used to be.

“Hold that for me, won’t you?” he said, kissing the soft skin of your neck before playfully biting down.

You nodded and whined as he returned his fingers to your folds, this time focusing on your entrance. He circled your opening and pressed the pad of his finger in, teasing you without providing any release. You grabbed onto the arms of the chair you were both in and bit down on your lip.

“Please, my prince, I can’t take it,” you begged.

“What is it you wish for, dove?”

“Your fingers,” you breathed.

“And where would you like my fingers, hm? Your pretty breasts? Your sweet mouth?”

“Don’t tease me, my prince.”

“Oh,” he pouted, giving you a look of false pity. “I’m afraid I can’t help you unless you tell me where to touch you. So tell me, princess. Where does this lewd, whore body wish to be touched?”

“My cunt,” you said without hesitation, turning your head towards Aemond. Your gaze was so hazy, you could barely make out his facial features, yet you could easily focus on his berry tinted lips. You stared and longed to close the space between your bodies, to finally taste Aemond’s mouth. But some part of you, the logical part most likely, was demanding you keep your distance.

“Oh, my dove. Was that so hard?” He asked, pressing the finger he was teasing you with inside. You whimpered as Aemond began moving the digit in and out at a steady pace. “How are you always so tight? Is your husband even fucking you?”

“Sh-shut up,” you said, biting back your noises of pleasure. “Put another finger in.”

“Such filthy demands,” Aemond said, pretending to be shocked. He kissed your cheek and did as you asked, pushing another finger into your entrance and curling the digits inside to tease at your walls. You stiffened and let out a strangled cry, writing in Aemond’s arms as he pressed against every sensitive part of you. “Look, dove. Look at where I’m touching.”

You lowered your gaze to where your bodies were connected and groaned. Aemond’s fingers were glistening and flushed pink, dripping with your juices.

“Dirty, isn’t it? You can practically hear how wet you are. Listen,” he whispered in your ear as he parted your folds further to illustrate. “Do you hear that?”

You nodded, watching as Aemond rubbed your swollen clit with his thumb. Every time he moved his fingers, a slick, wet noise came from between your legs. You were mesmerized. Dizzy with pleasure, swept up in the desire that only Aemond could seem to bring out of you. He added another finger while you were lost in your thoughts and kept working you open.

You were only broken out of your trance by the brush of Aemond’s lips against your ear as he spoke. “Are you ready to continue?”

“Yes, my prince.”

He smiled, his sharp teeth on full display once more. You shivered, half in arousal, half in anticipation. He slipped an arm under your knees and another around your shoulders and lifted you up. You snuggled in close as he settled you onto his desk and cleared off the space behind you. The edges of the mahogany table felt harsh and unyielding underneath your hips, but you could barely focus on that when Aemond had his hands on your thighs.

“Beg for my cock, princess.”

“My prince,” you said, cupping the side of his face and brushing your thumb over his cheekbone. “I need you inside me. Take me. Please.”

He smirked down at you and loosened his tie. You laid down and stared up at him as he positioned himself at your entrance. The two of you had engaged in this illicit dance so many times, and yet each time felt like the first. You placed your hands on his chest, curiously stroking the silky fabric of his shirt. The material was thin, allowing you to feel the muscles he hid under his clothing. You briefly lamented the fact that he rarely ever had the patience to strip for you. While you were lost in thought, he took one of your hands and brought it to his lips, softly kissing it before placing it over his heart.

You let out a deep breath and winced as he began pushing inside. He stroked the skin of your hips and made sure to move slowly, keeping his gaze on your face. The pain mixed with pleasure until you could no longer tell which feeling was which. Every nerve in you had been set on fire, the warm arousal in the pit of your stomach flaring up to a heat that rivaled the sun. He bottomed out in you after what felt like an eternity and waited for you to whine at him before he moved.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you?” He chuckled. “I’ll give you what you want, dove. Don’t worry. I’ll tend to your every desire.”

You were too delirious to respond to him, lost in the overwhelming feeling of him filling what felt like every empty space in your body. His warmth, his scent, his touch - he overwhelmed you. He moved in a slow, deep rhythm, careful not to hurt you as he reacquainted your body with his. His consideration for you was sweet, but unnecessary. You wrapped your legs around his waist and gripped harshly at his shirt.

“I’m not made of porcelain, my prince. Please go faster.”

“Last time I obeyed your commands, I got an angry letter from your keeper,” Aemond said, keeping his slow rhythm steady as sweat began to gather on his brow. “Apparently you told him I had fucked you so harshly, you couldn’t bare to take another cock for two weeks.”

You flushed with heat and looked down in embarrassment. “I was fine.”

“Oh, so you lied?” He asked, raising an eyebrow and smirking.

“Will you fuck me properly or not?”

“Tell me why you lied to your husband, truthfully, and I’ll give you as many orgasms as your body can handle.”

You hesitated. The rational part of your mind screamed at you not to give someone as manipulative as Aemond information that could destroy you. But the part of you that was at the helm, the animal instincts that polite society had demanded you keep suppressed, thought destruction at the hands of your secret lover sounded seductive. “I did not want to lay with him.”

His lips curved into a slow smile, as if he had been expecting that answer all along. “Trouble in paradise?”

“I wasn’t aware ‘marriage counseling’ was one of your areas of expertise, my prince,” you sarcastically replied. “Fuck me harder or I’ll get myself off.”

At that he frowned, grabbing your hands and pinning them down at your sides. “You are the most infuriating little creature I’ve ever met.”

“Likewise, my prince.”

His lip twitched in displeasure before he slammed into you without warning. You gasped, digging your nails into his desk to keep yourself grounded as Aemond began fucking you relentlessly. Though his rhythm was meant to be a punishment, you enjoyed it far more than you should and quickly found yourself hovering over the edge. You only needed a little push to fully get yourself there. You attempted to move a hand between your thighs to rub your clit, but were still trapped by Aemond’s unyielding grip.

“Let my hand go,” you demanded.

“What for?”

“I need to come.”

“And you thought I’d just let you take your pleasure after how rude you’ve been to me tonight?”

You frowned petulantly. “You promised.”

“You didn’t get it in writing,” he smirked. “But I’ll make you a deal, hm? I’ll deliver everything I promised you if you say one, simple phrase.”

You paused and looked at him skeptically. “What phrase?”

He gave you a gentle smile, bringing a hand to your hairline and wiping away the sweat that had gathered there. “Say that you love me.”

You froze. This was cruel, even for him.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?” He asked, slowing the pace of his thrusts until he stopped entirely and released his grip on your wrists.

“Both,” you snapped.

“Why not?”

“Because,” you said, looking away from him as your eyes began to flood with tears. You kept your gaze fixed on a painting of a flower vase and willed yourself to stay calm. You had done everything to prevent yourself from developing feelings, villainizing him in your own mind so you wouldn’t have to suffer the pain of loving someone you could never have. Somehow, despite all odds, he had found you out. You felt embarrassed, ashamed. You were fearful that he’d throw your feelings back in your face, unable and unwilling to reciprocate.

Aemond brought the hand on your forehead down to your jaw and forced you to look at him.

“My princess,” he murmured, his brows drawn together. “Even if you do not say it, I want you to know that I do. Love you, that is.”

“My prince-“

“Aemond,” he corrected.

You licked your lips and nodded. “Aemond, we can’t. I’m a married woman, and you’re a respected member of this community. This affair was bad enough, but to get our emotions involved- this could ruin you.”

“I don’t care,” Aemond replied. “I need you, all of you. My entire life I’ve wanted for nothing. I understand the value of wealth and power, but all of these things that surround me are just baubles to show off to others. I could live without these things. But you, I could never live without you. I crave you. I think about you constantly. You are the only person in my life who I feel at ease with. Everything beautiful and pure in this world reminds me of you. Please, my love. Don’t give up on us before we even have the chance to try.”

You blinked up at him, searching his expressive gaze and only finding affection and overwhelming adoration. “I love you, Aemond.”

He grinned and leaned down, pressing his mouth against yours for the first time. He tasted surprisingly sweet against your tongue and you couldn’t get enough. You tangled your fingers into his soft hair, parting your lips and sighing into the kiss. He shifted his hips back and forward against yours, reminding you he had never pulled out.

You broke the kiss to look at Aemond incredulously. “Did you seriously stay hard that whole time?”

“You know how much I like it when you cry, my love,” he replied, nipping at your lower lip before moving to lick one of your tear stained cheeks.

You shivered in disgusted arousal. “You are a perverted man.”

“I know,” he said, stealing a quick kiss from your lips before moving back to his earlier position. He gripped the back of your knees and looked down at you with a smirk. “But you seem to like that, hm? Maybe that’s something we should explore.”

“Later,” you said, gasping as Aemond’s cock began pressing against a sensitive area inside you. “Oh, right there.”

He wordlessly continued hitting the spot, keeping a steady rhythm as he brought you back to the precipice. You struggled to keep your eyes open, the feeling he evoked inside of you becoming too much for you to handle. At that moment, he moved a hand down to the apex of your thighs and pressed his thumb against your clit. Your climax overwhelmed you, blocking out your vision and leaving you writhing in the aftershocks of pleasure. Aemond finished a few moments after you did, carefully pulling out before finishing on your stomach. You winced as he dragged his fingers through the mess he made and smeared the sticky fluid over your cheeks and lips.

“You make the prettiest picture like this,” he said, massaging the fluid into your skin as best as he could while you squirmed and shot him an annoyed look.

Once you came down from your post coital haze, you looked at Aemond apprehensively. “Did you mean everything you said earlier?”

“Of course I did,” he frowned. “I love you, and I’d do anything to have you.”

“Does that include leveraging your financial control over my husband to take his wife?”

“I did say anything, didn’t I? Don’t worry, I have plans for dear Ronald.” Aemond smirked and gently placed his hands on your hips. “Suppose a certain prince who Ronald was indebted to noticed a few discrepancies in his ledgers? Fraud is a serious crime, my love, especially when you’re defrauding nobility. That’s a guaranteed prison sentence for dearest Ronald. But oh, he would be leaving behind a beautiful wife to fend for herself. Would it be so bad if the handsome prince that Ronald defrauded kindly decided to take in his helpless, pretty wife? It would only be the honorable thing to do.”

You giggled and pulled Aemond down to brush your nose against his. “And would this handsome prince be marrying Ronald’s wife?”

“If Ronald’s wife permits, the handsome prince would not only marry her, he would fill her womb as many times as she likes,” Aemond said.

“I think she’d like that,” you replied, stealing a kiss.

#prince aemond #prince aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #prince aemond targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond smut #irisposts

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dcartcorner · 6 months

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a fantasy/dnd au because i can't help myself and the thought of ancient blue dragon simon who disguises himself as a human brings me joy.

please enjoy this small one shot ft. s1 adventuring crew (please excuse any errors, writing is not my strong suit!)

Rumours at the Tavern Characters: Tim, Simon, Sasha, Martin, Jon Ships: none

It wasn’t what Tim would consider a nice tavern. He had performed in nicer ones, ones where the counters were meticulously cleaned and the patrons were at least passably polite to the serving staff, and a mug of ale would set you back a silver piece. This place was not quite like that.

Then again, Tim had been to worse sorts of dives.

The Lazy Storm sat right smack in the middle of the two kinds of taverns, perched on the cliff side overlooking the choppy seas of the western coast, amidst the fjords in the town of Killn’s Rest. Not a bad place, not a good place. Just a place, somewhere to find some warmth, a quick meal, and something to drink. It was also the sort of tavern that didn’t take fire hazards all that seriously, if the number of people making merry that evening within its walls was any indication of the owner’s outlook on safety. It was busy, to the point where crowds spilled out onto the street even though the summer had come to a close and the winter, with its biting chill, was fast approaching.

Perhaps that’s why Tim noticed him - the old man. Because he was sitting on the bar top.

There were few other seats around. Sasha had managed to charm their way to a table of their own earlier in the night while Martin tried to see about rooms, and their party had stayed planted at said table all night as the crowds slowly but surely filtered in for the evening. They were lucky, in this regard, as many other people were forced to stand shoulder to shoulder. Not that old man, though. Perched on the edge of the bar like a bird, smiling kindly at the person next to him.

And his choice of seat was not the only peculiar thing about him, Tim thought. He wore clothing that Tim could only describe as ornate. If this was one of those nice taverns Tim had played in, he might have expected that sort of the look, but this wasn’t one of those places. This was the Lazy Storm, and that man was incredibly overdressed.

“It’s weird, right?” Tim said aloud. Martin looked up, then glanced around. Sasha craned her neck to look at him. Jon didn’t look up from his book. Tim nodded in the direction of the old man. “Someone dressed like that in a place like this. That’s odd, isn’t it?”

“Not really,” Sasha shrugged.

“Where?” Martin asked.

“Good on him, getting dressed up to go out for a night,” said Sasha.

“I think it’s weird,” said Tim. Because it was.

“Where?” Martin asked again. “Oh. Him? I mean. I suppose it’s… well, it’s a little odd.” The twist of a frown at the corners of Martin’s mouth. “Someone should offer him a seat.”

“Seems happy enough where he is,” Sasha said with a huff of a laugh as the other man at the bar leaned closer to the old man and whispered something to him.

“Could we please focus,” Jon finally interjected, shutting the book.

Tim rolled his eyes as he took a swig of his drink. It wasn’t silver coin ale. This was a copper-piece-per-tankard-ale, and it tasted like it. Which was to say, it tasted like a good night in the making.

“Have any of you actually asked anyone about any jobs yet?” Jon said.

“Asked just about as many people as you,” Tim said. By this, Tim meant: none.

“There’s a rat problem in the sewers,” Sasha said, “according to one guard. Doesn’t pay well, but at least it pays.”

“There are bandits, too,” Martin added. “Uh, just out east of here. Somewhere. Apparently they have a den in the woods? But I think someone might’ve already taken that one.”

“Mm.” Jon was not impressed. He looked over at Tim. “Anything?”

Tim raised his hands. “Don’t look at me, I can get a job whenever.” Plenty of people out there who were willing to pay for some good music. “Or did you forget who bought the rooms and drinks?”

Jon leaned his elbows on the table and put his face in his hands momentarily. Then looked up at Tim and said, “Could you please just. Ask.”

“Jon, maybe we should just… take a night off?” Martin suggested. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing…”

Jon shot him a look and that was the end of that conversation.

Well, didn’t matter. Jon didn’t have to join them in having a good night if he didn’t want to. Tim wasn’t going to let it bother him, and he got up to go order another drink with his own hard earned money, ignoring how much lighter his coin purse was compared to earlier that day.

Why was it his problem anyway, that they didn’t have much in the way of coin? He wasn’t going to let it get to him. It wasn’t getting to him. He and Sasha and Martin were just some poor souls dragged along on Jon’s pointless quest to find some answers that had nothing to do with any of them. So why did it matter?

It didn’t matter.

Dammit.

The old man was not the first person he asked that night about a job. As he waited for a drink he asked the person to his left and to his right, but neither of them were keen on talking - and it took him a little too long to realize they were part of their own adventuring party based on the matching bands on their arms, and wouldn’t be sharing any information with him. He tried to ask the bartender as well, but she was too busy to give him any answer that was not a look of inconvenience.

Tim sighed. And he kept asking, until finally his route around the tavern brought him to the old man at the bar. Sat there, dressed strangely, looking for all the world like he should be just about anywhere else.

“Are you quite alright?” the old man asked him. Tim blinked. “Not that I mind, but I’ve been told it’s rude to stare.”

Had he been staring? “Sorry,” Tim said. The old man smiled at him.

“Something I can do for you?” the old man asked.

Tim looked around briefly. The other person with whom the old man had been speaking earlier that night was gone. “Don’t suppose there is,” Tim said. “Unless you know of any get rich quick jobs around this place.”

The old man chuckled. “Well now, I can think of a few, but I’m not entirely sure those are the type you’re looking for,” he said, resting his hands on the head of his cane which he had propped up on the empty edge of one of the bar-stools. “Tough times, out there. Or so I hear. Something about the supply and demand of it all, I think. Too many adventurers, too few problems that need solving! At least around these parts.” The old man sighed thoughtfully. “This coast isn’t what it used to be. Time was you couldn’t take two steps on the road without running into bandits or cultists or a proper mountain troll. Now you’d be lucky to find a good sized rat nest to clean up.”

“Yeah, well. Killing rats doesn’t pay well,” Tim said.

The old man smiled, watching Tim over the rim of his glasses. His eyes were sharply blue, Tim noticed. “No,” the man agreed. “No it doesn’t.” He tilted his head. “Terribly sorry, but I’m afraid you’ll have to go further afield to find anything.”

“Thanks anyway,” Tim said, defeated.

“Although,” the old man said as Tim was turning away. Tim paused and looked back at him. “I’ve heard a rumour. There have been a few ships that have come into the harbour with some particularly strange news out of the Shivering Straight. Up north. Word is there have been a handful of whaling ships that have gone missing around Helkelson Bay. Only a couple of survivors. Those that do manage to best the frostbite say… well. You know how sailors can be, always creating the most fanciful stories. A ghost ship, they say! The mayor of Helkelson isn’t altogether convinced it’s anything so peculiar as that, though I hear he’s offering a handsome reward to anyone willing to… solve the problem. Whatever that problem may be.”

“Helkelson?” Tim said.

“That’s right,” the old man replied with a smile. “Ask around the docks, I’d say. Plenty of merchant ships coming and going that way. Of course, it’s only a rumour.”

Tim smiled back. “Better than nothing.”

It was at that moment the old man’s companion returned and gave Tim a wary look. Tim took it as his cue to leave with a nod of thanks and an imaginary tip of the hat before he returned to the table to join his companions.

“Let me start,” he said to them, “by saying you’re welcome. Now, any of you been to the Shivering Straight?”

#tma #the magnus archives #dnd au #fantasy au #tim stoker #sasha james #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #simon fairchild #fic #one shot #yes tim is a bard #fanart

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alsktudy · 4 months

Text

— svt at your christmas party

paring. ot13 x reader genre. humour wc. 0.7k warning. none

– seungcheol

gets scarily competitive at some of the games prepared. scares kkuma since he keeps yelling at one of the 12 to sit back down, although he’s standing up as well - how ironic. he’s the one who has to kick everyone out of your own home even though you insisted it was okay for them to stay.

– jeonghan

whispers some mean ass stuff to chan for him to submit answer for quiplash which literally turns svt into a frenzy - seungkwan yelling at soonyoung, chan trying to explain that it was all jeonghan’s fault and jihoon laughing his ass off. do not expect peace if jeonghan is involved.

– joshua

came early to help you set up your apartment/house for the party. brought all the decorations and even offered to clean your house while you were cooking (how sweet!!). he also brought his acoustic guitar which was played by either him or jihoon for the entire night.

– jun

the answers he submitted in quiplash literally make no sense whatsoever but svt does not care. thats what makes things funnier. they are rolling on the floor, hanging off the lights, climbing up the walls and smacking each other because jun’s funny. to svt, jun is a comedian and they need the world to know that.

– soonyoung

choreographed a bss version of the mean girls jingle bell rock dance with seokmin and seungkwan on the SAME DAY as the party. really wanted to wear matching articles of clothing with jihoon but he decided against it since it wouldn’t match the vibe of the choreo (definitely not because jihoon said no).

– wonwoo

the one who suggested playing the jackbox games after watching a stream about it. he's glad he bought it because its an absolute hit. when he sees everyone rolling on the floor laughing, pride begins to fill him. he feels happy and super proud that the idea he suggested was able to make his friends happy.

– jihoon

when i say no one expected him to ACTUALLY come, i mean, no one did. he waltzes into your party 5 minutes late, making everyone drop their jaws in shock saying, “jihoon? you actually came?” seungkwan later on claims to everyone he knew that jihoon was gonna come since he wouldnt miss out on something like this, making jihoon turn red on the spot.

– minghao

HAS THE MOST OUT OF POCKET ANSWERS FOR QUIPLASH . HE LITERALLY COULD NOT CARE ABOUT ANYONE AND I MEAN ANYONES REPUTATION. “good stage name for a chimpanzee stripper?” (a real question i've gotten once) hao’s answer? LEE SEOKMIN. he also beats everyones ass in drawful although mingyu came a close second.

– mingyu

most definitely helped you cook. arrived hours before the party, or possibly even came the day before and stayed over to help you prep for the amount of food that was going to be digested at your party. sulks at coming 2nd to minghao at drawful.

– seokmin

suggested the mean girls jingle bell rock dance to soonyoung. he also got forced to wear a santa suit to the party, although, he didn't really mind. he also agrees with the stage name for a chimpanzee stripper, “lee seokmin would be a good stage name.” he says nodding his head in approval while the rest of the boys are literally dying in the background.

– seungkwan

he's the self appointed host of the night, not that you're complaining, i mean, no one else was gonna do it if he didn't. helps make the night run (somewhat) smoothly although took a break from mcing to perform jingle bell rock w bss. (he also suggested the idea to soonyoung)

– vernon

watches bss in absolute awe as they preformed jingle bell rock - couldn’t comprehend how they were able to dance with straight face since he certainly couldn’t. also really enjoyed the jackbox games, although someone made a jab at his selcas which he shrugged off with an approving nod.

– chan

like vernon he also watches bss in awe as they preformed jingle bell rock. though unlike vernon he wants to be the 4th member. boo seoksoonchan? it has a ring to it! (at least that's what he tells himself). the one gets picked on for the entire night, since the other 11 knew mingyu helped with the food.

— extra!

unwanted proof abt the chimpanzee stripper question LMAAOOO

thank you for reading until the end!!

a/n. first time doing an ot13 type of post so pls tell me if you enjoyed this type of stuff from me :)) hope you enjoyed and merry christmas!!

note. i refer to quiplash quite often in this, if you don’t know what it is, it’s a very common party game which is multiplayer! perfect for svt. its where where you have answer a prompt, and you can submit ANY ANSWER which leads to alot of laughs. thought i'd explain it just incase. sorry for making this a bit inclusive but i feel like svt wld play this and really enjoy it :)

want to read more? » m.list

want to be tagged? » taglist

tags:

@aaniag @dkswife @kokoiinuts @nishloves @joshuashna @sofix-hc7 @mekuiikore @onlyyjeonghan

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yasu--blog · 5 months

Text

Enhypen reaction to you watching their fancams

Pairing: bf!Enhypen x Reader

Genre: fluff

warnings: none

Word count: ~approx. 400

Disclaimer: None of the images used in this post belong to me. All credits go to their respective creators. If you are the creator and wish for proper credit or removal, please contact me. Your work is valued and acknowledged.

Author's Note: Hope you enjoy it! As always, your feedback is highly appreciated! (ꈍᴗꈍ)

───────────────────────────────

Heeseung:

Heeseung catches you watching his fancam on TV, smirking confidently.

"Couldn't resist, huh? I don't blame you; I am pretty captivating," he says, playfully running a hand through his hair.

You roll your eyes, "Oh please, as if I could resist the charm of the one and only Heeseung."

He shamelessly does fond noises, "Aw, she's so cute," before pulling you into a tight embrace.

"I won't let you go until you hug me back," he declares with a playful tone.

Jay:

Jay spots you watching his fancam on your phone and grins with enthusiasm.

"Ah, the Jay show, always a hit! Enjoying the performance?" he asks, striking a dramatic pose.

You chuckle, "Always. You know how to keep it interesting."

Jay joins you on the bed, "Great! Maybe I should start charging for these private shows."

Jake:

Jake walks in while you're watching his fancam on the TV and immediately strikes a charismatic pose.

"Caught you watching the masterpiece, huh?" he says, doing a little dance move.

You burst into laughter, "Masterpiece might be pushing it, but I do enjoy the show."

Jake wraps his arms around you, "At least someone appreciates my charismatic moves. You're my favorite audience."

Sunghoon:

Sunghoon catches you watching his fancam on your laptop, his eyes widening with surprise.

"You're actually watching this? I thought you preferred my cooking videos," he teases.

You nod, "Well, your fancam is a close second. You've got some moves."

Sunghoon grins, "Maybe I should spice up my cooking with some dance moves. What do you think?"

Sunoo:

You have Sunoo's fancam playing on your tablet, and he walks in with a laid-back grin.

"Indulging in some Sunoo time, I see?" he says, sitting beside you.

You blush, "Can't resist. Your performances are like a chill vibe."

Sunoo grins, "Glad my laid-back style appeals to you. Need some more tunes?"

Jungwon:

Jungwon notices you watching his fancam on your phone and smirks, standing beside you.

"Caught in the act. I enjoy watching myself, too," he jokes.

You play along, "Confidence suits you. But seriously, your stage presence is something else."

Jungwon laughs, "Just doing my thing. And having an awesome audience makes it even better."

Niki:

You're engrossed in Niki's fancam on your laptop, and he walks in with a cheeky grin.

"Getting your daily dose of Niki magic, huh?" he asks, striking a playful pose.

You giggle, "Your fancams are like a burst of energy. Can't help but press play."

Niki nods, "Well, glad to bring some energy. Need more of my dance moves to keep you going?"

───────────────────────────────

Note: Please refrain from reposting my work. If you appreciate it and would like to share, kindly link directly to the original post. Thank you for respecting the effort and creativity put into this content.

@heelvsted @okwonyo @heesbaby @srjlvr @ensite @rikislady @rkvriki @hehehehehehehes-world @indigoez @ensite @alaezasmystery235 @princesswonyiee @tobiosbbyghorl

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rallentando1011 · 2 months

Note

about donnie making fun of Rom coms. What happens if s/o like them, but in a way where they watch them to make fun of them and it makes them and Donnie reflect on their own relationship without meaning too? 😂 . “It’s so bad. This love triangle. I gotta see how this trainwreck ends! All 3 are terrible and deserve each other”. “Geez I would hate that if a guy did that to me”. “Oh! He deserves better”. S/o does openly swoon over really sweet gestures sometimes though. “Oh. He gave her a library and fixed it up 😭 “.

The song is Nothing - Bruno Major, it does mention alcohol in like one line as well as making out but those are NOT in the story at all - just wanted to preface this with that (thanks for the request btw! I am working on all of them still I promise-)

Nothing

(rise Donnie x gn reader)

“Track suits and red wine

Movies for two

We'll take off our phones

And we'll turn off our shoes”

The evening opened at the lair.

A breezy night, the wind feather-light and warm, the sky had been dim and earth damp with a fresh rain, the frigid conditions of winter thawing into a complacent spring.

Below the concrete confines of the sewers, the weather was just as drippy, the continuous drips and drops of water trickling with a postnasal quality, drumming peacefully throughout the lair.

A dreary morning had bled into a dreary day had bled into a now dreary evening. With the dispelling weather, you had found it drudgery to even perform basic tasks like getting out of bed and dressing yourself and eating. But you had to. And you did.

After getting through the necessities and chores of the day, you had bound to the lair, renewed from your climatory blues with the expectation of good company and no obligations. Sounded good to you.

What you hadn’t anticipated was walking into the lab to see your “company” sitting, hunched over his desk, busy at work, with webcore music playing over the speakers and a rom-com, of all things, playing on his PC.

“Psh,” you half-laughed, the energy behind your amusement not completely convincing. You worked your way beside him and leaned against his desk. “What’s going on here?”

“Oh,” Donnie, just the man you’d been looking for, startled and slowly, as if trying to avoid detection, moved a hand to shut his screen. “Hey, I didn’t see you there.”

Before the computer screen could shut, you nudged it back up. “You like these movies?”

Donnie paled, sitting up straighter, lips pressing into a flat line. “Absolutely not. They’re just good background noise.”

You hummed. If his posture and lack of alertness was anything to go off of, he’d been at this a while. He could use some R & R, and honestly, you wouldn’t oppose.

“Well, in that case, would you like to watch some ‘background noise’ with me?”

He slumped back down in his chair and looked at you blankly. “I am quite obviously in the middle of something. I think we both already know the answer to that.”

“And how long have you been at that?”

There it was: guilt.

You nudged his shoulder, flashing a grin at him. “Come on. We’re getting snacks and taking a well earned break.”

“But-”

“No sir, none of that. We’re going. Projector room. Now.”

“But-”

“First one there chooses the movie.”

That impetus was enough to spur both of you into motion.

“We'll play Nintendo

Though I always lose

'Cause you'll watch the TV

While I'm watching you

There's not many people

I'd honestly say

I don't mind losing to

But there's nothing

Like doing nothing

With you”

Unsurprisingly, he beat you to the projector room. Sure, he was a genetically enhanced mutant turtle and the odds were stacked heavily against you from the get go, but you were still salty about losing your own bet.

Not as salty as you were about his choice of “movie” not being a movie, instead being playing Super Smash Bros.

And especially not as salty as you were about getting irrevocably obliterated.

Round after round of the game, you had been infuriatingly greeted with screen after screen declaring your loss and all but screaming how terribly you sucked. Normally, you got the one up on him at least once, but with how drowsy your motor function was today, not to mention how you kept getting caught up in how invested he was but that was irrelevant, the game was not gaming.

Furthermore, you tried to pin your inopportune streak on S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N., who had taken up residence on your lap after retrieving your and Donnie’s snacks and drinks of choice from the kitchen, but Donnie had disproven that theory. By holding his controller higher to simulate the space the drone took up and proceeding to desecrate you again.

You groaned and slumped down the couch as he once again laughed victoriously, boisterously. Seriously, his ego needed to be humbled.

“Another round,” you demanded, half-dead on the couch. “I got, uh, distracted.”

Donnie halted his gloating, tilted his head down at you and the little drone, though the smug grin had yet to clear his face.

You knew what was next, probably your favorite and least favorite part of your dynamic - banter.

“I know you’re only looking at me to have some semblance of an excuse to lose, but I’ll take that as a compliment of both my rugged good looks and superior gaming skills.”

You feigned injury with a hand over your heart. “Man, that is a harsh accusation. I am wounded. Mortally wounded.”

“Your Yoshi will be the wounded one after I annihilate you in this next round of Smash.”

“Oh, you are on.”

“Dumb conversations

We lose track of time

Have I told you lately

I'm grateful you're mine

We'll watch The Notebook

For the 17th time

I'll say ‘It's stupid’

Then you'll catch me crying”

After a few more times of crushing you in Smash, it apparently became boring. Either that or your pouting convinced him to hand the reins over to you and let you pick a movie.

Finally, you could relax.

Head on his shoulder, his arm around you, a plush blanket resting on your laps, a borderline unbearable romantic comedy on the projector, it was blissful.

“Hmm would you look at that?” you commented on one particular scene. You felt Donnie shift next to you, raising an ever so slightly judgmental eyebrow. “The love interest did something wrong and then compensated by making a library. And spending time with them. And apologizing.”

He stared at you.

You stared back. “Looks like someone could take notes.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Donnie blinked, and you smiled.

“Oh, nothing.”

“We're not making out

On a boat in the rain

Or in a house I've painted blue

But there's nothing

Like doing nothing

With you”

“I would die if you ever did that to me.” You shuddered at the absolutely foul scene unfolding on the television and sunk a little closer into his side, second hand embarrassment seeping into your bones.

“Good connotation or bad connotation?” he pondered, all too genuinely. It made you want to gag.

“Good or bad?” you asked, incredulous. “Like, the worst connotation. I mean, if you showed up to my work like that I would actually spontaneously combust. Deceased. No hesitation.”

You plopped unceremoniously sideways onto his lap, the back of your hand dramatically resting on your forehead.

“That’s what spontaneous means,” he deadpanned, the arm that had been over your shoulder slowly slinking back to his side.

“I don’t need called out on my redundancy right now,” you jabbed an accusatory finger at him, looking up, “I just need you to promise to never do that.”

“Okay, okay,” he conceded with a content grin. “I’ll try not to show up to your work with some overly pedantic display of affection.”

You scowled.

“So shut all the windows

And lock all the doors

We're not looking for no one

Don't need nothing more

You'll bite my lip and

I'll want you more

Until we end up in a heap on the floor”

The room had grown dim, illuminated only by the faint blue on the projector screen. You blinked yourself awake from a half-asleep stupor as you realized the movie had come to a close.

“Hey, are you still up?” you whispered groggily, noting his closed eyes and shallow breathing.

“Unfortunately yes.” His eyes peeled open begrudgingly.

“And you’re not working on anything?”

He seemed visibly more awake at that observation. “Huh. That is correct.”

“Hehe. I finally got you to be unproductive.” You poked his cheek jestingly, still lightheartedly.

“Yep. I concur - you got me.”

“And I finally got you to have a good time.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You sat up, incredulous. Sure, it hadn’t been an eventful night by any regard, but it had surely been enjoyable.

“Just that all of the characters are stupid,” he elaborated with a gesticulation of his hands. “Just- all of them are total dum-dums.”

“Well, yeah,” you agreed with a shrug. “That love triangle was destined to fail from the start. They’re all horrible people and deserve everything they got.”

“And watching that is enjoyable for you?”

“Yeah, it just makes me appreciative of what we have.”

Donnie paused, reflected at that. “Huh. That’s… an incredibly introspective view.”

“So, you enjoyed the movie?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“You could be dancing on tabletops

Wearing high-heels

Drinking until the world

Spins like a wheel

But tonight your apartment

Had so much appeal

Who needs stars?

We've got a roof

But there's nothing

Like doing nothing

With you”

Busy personalities beget busy schedules, and who would want to be anything but? If the choice is between being mundane or multifariously vibrant, isn’t the choice obvious?

Yet sometimes the hustle and bustle and pressure build up, workloads stack up, a devastating fatigue sets in. And the best thing to do together is absolutely nothing.

“No, there's nothing

Like doing nothing

With you”

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beefrobeefcal · 4 days

Text

an Ezra & Cricket One Shot: Brass Knuckled Debauchee Summary: Ezra, after abusing your healing talents, returns to make good on his debt... for a price.

Pairing: Ezra x F!Reader | Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 4,752

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, fingering (f receiving), weight gain, eating, edging, soft!dom Ezra being an overall ass, teasing, begging, crying, malfunctioning prosthetic limb, the occasional swear

Author's Notes: requested by two (count'em - 2!) lovely babes for the 900 Friendo Celebration - thank you to @xdaddysprincessxx and @morallyinept for bringing Ezra some love.

Huge thank you to @strang3lov3 , @noxturnalpascal & @bitchesuntitled for their beta badass skills and to my ever lovely beta fish, @neverwheremoonchild. None of you will understand the depths of gratitude I hold you all in.

No more tag lists - follow @beefnotes + turn on notifications for fic updates!

You’d cared for him when his appendage was newly parted from his person, after a young woman dumped him off at your meagre midwife’s centre.

You hadn’t delivered a baby in at least eight cycles, but you were busy tending to broken bones and crushed limbs from the mine nearby, so the idea of caring for a wound caused by a missing arm wasn’t far from your everyday.

What was far from the standard men in your care was that this one wouldn’t shut up. Truly. You’d never met someone so close to death spew such a narrative. You almost wished to have him out of his misery just to stop his linguistic vomit.

Thank Kevva for sedatives.

You didn’t even want to know his name, worried that if you had his, he’d need yours and there was no way someone this sick and wounded that could carry on like he’s memorized a thesaurus wasn’t capable of performing a hex or a curse on you.

After three blessedly quiet and devoid-of-narration days, the open wound where his arm once hung from was no longer festering and the fever that wracked his body broke. Despite your own desire to keep him silent, you stopped administering such a high dose of the sedative, and you allowed him to regain consciousness.

For the first little while, all you heard was his steady, deep breathing, so you left the room to grab some water and liquified sustenance for him, figuring that when he would finally come to, he’d be hungry.

“To what do… do I owe the pleasure?”, you heard croaked as you walked softly back into the room.

“Oh good…”, you replied flatly. “You’re awake and talking.”

The remainder of his stay that time had revolved around you doing what you could to keep his mouth occupied enough to keep it quiet; you fed him. By the time he’d left, he’d made you aware of his name – Ezra – and bestowed a nickname on you for lack of giving your own. Cricket. He then made the terrible promise to return to see you and left with a wink and a smile.

Your whole body bristled at the thought of having to deal with him again.

*****

The first return visit he made, his confidence and vocabulary were still obnoxiously inflated. Whining of a bruised rib, you resumed your frustrated feeding to keep him down to two to three sentences and responses between mouthfuls.

The second time he returned, he stated that he had been ‘brutalized by a deviant, one who you should not even be told of his true form else your fragile and virtuous mind be stained’. There wasn’t a single mark on him, save for a bite on his only arm that looked to be self-inflicted. He enjoyed himself, smiling between bites of food.

By the third visit – complaining of a sprained toe - you knew that he knew that you knew what you were doing - and vice versa. Despite this, you fed him, and he ate very well. After several days of ‘healing’, he hauled himself up and it was then that you noted his flight suit looking like it was getting tighter around his middle.

Those visits happened in a fairly rapid succession, but a longer period – more than six cycles at least - lapsed before he darkened your doorway and approached your desk once again. Without even looking up, you knew it was him, having heard his cavalier long-form salutations being crooned out at anyone he passed approaching your unit.

“What now?”, you sighed in irritation, dropping your head into your hand, not bothering to look up at him – something you would come to regret to save yourself future embarrassment. You didn’t see him close your door and lock it behind him.

He approached your desk, and his hand came into view along with a mechanical one; the smooth-as-silk tongued devil was now outfitted with a prosthetic arm that looked like it had been stolen from a brass skeleton and had gears added. Your eyes followed the mechanical limb up to the hem of his shortened sleeve, hiding the joint between it and what remained of his actual arm. The new colour of his clothing caught your attention, too, pulling your eyes to his torso. Yes, it was definitely a different colour. He was no longer in the moss greens and soil browns you’d associated with him. Now, he was in a dark blue flight suit with a gold zipper that looked to just be barely holding together.

Your brain paused to take in what was in front of you.

“No more chirps for me, sweet Cricket?”

His raspy, southern drawl sounded sweeter than you’d noticed before as your eyes took in the added weight on his middle. Before looking up to his face, you noted the way the zipper rippled from the strain and the clear indent his belly button made as the fabric pulled taut across his expanse.

His face. As soon as you took it in, you regretted not doing it first. He’s held you in his big brown eyes’ gaze before, but you’d been able to avoid being trapped. But this time you couldn’t help but let them absorb you. His smile widened as he slightly leaned forward, arms putting further weight on your desk.

“You seem at a loss for word, Crick-“

“You’ve been eating well.”, you managed to croak out in a somewhat aloof-sounding voice, nodding towards his middle.

He didn’t shrink back at your comment; instead, it seemed to embolden him. “You started me on a path of decadence that a mere man such as myself isn’t able to easily shake.”

He stood to his full height, eyes never leaving yours. “Is that all you noticed?”, he grinned, lifting his brass appendage, bringing the crude and simple brass hand to his face, smoothing over his moustache.

Your lips parted then closed and parted again before you were able to spit out, “I saw y-… I see you got a new… limb.”

His eyes gleamed at you, seeing his every move had you further in his grasp. You inwardly scowled, chiding yourself on how quickly you were falling under his spell. Narrowing your eyes, you shrugged at him.

“Looks old.”

If it stung him, he didn’t show it; he simply kept that smile on his face and continued to look down at you from across the desk. “I’m not its first owner.”

The pleasantries had only lasted a few more moments before Ezra moved around your desk and hovered over you.

“I’m here to return the favour, Cricket.”

“...Favour?”

“For all the hard work you put into bringing me back to my full health.”, he cooed lowly as his brass hand cooled your cheek with its feather-light touch.

“It’s nothing... I was just doing my j - “

He leaned over you further, cheshire grin pulled menacingly across his face. His voice slipped into a lower pitch and his eyes darted from your eyes to your mouth.

“Doing your job would have been to send me away when I appeared with erroneous and fabricated injuries and illnesses. You, my sweet Cricket, stepped over and above the threshold of your employment and I intend to repay you for your sweetness in full.”

You sucked in a few shallow breaths and nervously swallowed. This was a side of him you hadn't seen, assuming that he was a submissive and pliant brat who’d chosen you to dote on him. But no. There was no favour he intended to pay back. He was just sizing you up and wrangling you into his web, and now he was out loud declaring that you were his prey. His eyes were dark and fixed on you, in contrast with the gentle smile on his face.

“Don’t be nervous, sweet Cricket. You can tend to your own wounds afterwards. Now, let me hear you chirp.”

His brass arm shot out and gripped your wrist tightly and he pulled you from your seat. Dragging you to the maternity room, he tossed you onto the low soft bed.

“Ezra!”, you squeaked as your body hit the push mattress below you.

He dropped to his knees and crawled up, forcing your legs apart, and his belly barely grazed your middle as his face lined up with yours. You let out an involuntary whimper.

“Oh, sweet Cricket. How badly I wanted you on your back, making those sweet vocalizations your namesake promised me.”

His flesh and bone hand gently grazed your face and moved to the back of your head, softly fisting your hair, forcing your head to stay still as he traced his nose along the contours of your face. His eyes remained half lidded and he watched as your own rolled back when he pushed his knee into the crux of your thighs, knowing he had all but your verbal consent.

“This is all you need, sweet Cricket? Someone to light the way?”

All you can muster as his hold on your hair tightened and his knee applied more pressure was a light whine through your parted lips.

You wanted to respond, but the moment you opened your mouth, Ezra’s brass arm made a clunk sound and began to shudder.

“Oh, for Kevva’s sake.”, he muttered, sitting up on his knees as he examined the arm. It made a mechanical sound before it shuddered again, then a higher pitched noise droned as the arm vibrated.

You watched him sitting between your parted legs as the realization of what he had at his disposal dawned on him. Your eyes widened as he turned and looked at you like a starved man with a wild grin.

“Sweet Cricket, I think I could go for a bite to eat.”

*****

Once you’d gotten some finger foods together and brought them back into the room, you found Ezra laid back in a mountain of pillows on the bed. He nodded his head towards you and raised his hand, beckoning you to him.

“Come on, Cricket. Tend to your weary traveller.”

His eyes were glued to you, cascading up and down your form, as you hand fed him. He’d had a few pieces of the savoury pastries when you felt the cool touch of his brass hand slide between your thighs.

“Curious...”, he mused as he chewed. “… that when I make a certain motion with my appendage, it malfunctions in such an amusing manner that I know you will find benefit in, pet.”

Your brows furrow in question and before you can ask how that could benefit you in any way, the arm made that clunk sound again. You felt the vibration between your thighs and your eyes widened.

“Ez – oh fuck!”, you gasped as he pushed his knuckle up against your mound and held it there firmly.

Your mouth was open, allowing shallow panting breaths to puff out and your eyes were closed with your brows pinched as the shuddering vibrations pulsed against you. You’d never felt anything like this before in your life and you thanked Kevva.

The low amber tones of his voice cut through to you and pulled you out of your silent prayer. “Now, sweet Cricket. We are both here to derive enjoyment from one another given we both now have the intel on each other’s vices. You can’t go holding out on me to seek your fruition – that is not fair.”

He pulled his hand from contacting your core, and your eyes snapped to his, a pleading whimper bubbling out from your pouting lips.

“Uh-uh, Cricket. We will play fair.”, he growled in warning. His smile dropped as his features darkened, and he nodded towards your suspended hand holding a small meat-filled pastry. “Don’t you dare hold out on me.”

Shakily, you brought the morsel to his mouth and as he took it in and let his tongue touch your finger, his hand once again pressed against your core.

*****

Ezra had continued to eat and finished over half of platter. But every time you started to get close to your peak, he would pull his hand away, leaving you a shaking mess.

“P-please… Ezra, please!”, you begged mere seconds away from ecstasy.

“I am not finished, sweet Cricket.”, he said with a mouthful. “You will be sated when I have found my fill, and we are not yet there.”

You could have screamed at him, strangled him in a rage. “Ezra please! I - ”.

The warning look he gave you stopped any further pleading. Your mind reeled, trying to find some way to get relief. You could kick him out and try to finish yourself off with your fingers, but you knew it would be fruitless; you’d never gotten this worked up on your own before and you doubt that you had anything in this clinic that vibrated at that frequency.

As you trembled and panted, Ezra watched, amused at how clearly you were seeking a solution to the problem he’d created for you.

“Cricket…”, he cooed, soothing his biological hand up your arm and to your face. He gently guided your chin towards him. “Sweet Cricket, come back to me.”

When your frantic gaze met his, his eyes softened and creased as he smiled. “I will not leave you unfinished. I repay my debts, darling nurse.”

You sighed in defeat, nodded, and took a deep breath. Your eyes trailed down to his noticeably rounder middle that made the already strained zipper pull at the seams of the fabric. He shifted in what looked like discomfort.

You put down the current half-filled plate of food and reached for the zipper tag, tugging it down. It only got to the beginning of the swell of his belly before you met resistance. You tugged a little harder, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Suck it in.”

“Now, Cricket, let’s not be hast-“

“I said suck it in.”, you snapped back far more forcefully than intended.

Ezra froze then nodded. “Sweet girl, I will try, but…” You saw his middle pull in slightly. “… the profound conundrum I experienced in getting it on…”

The zipper finally moved, and he groaned as his stomach expanded. “Sweet Kevva… such relief.”

You were desperate for him to touch you again, but seeing him fat and swollen before you, knowing it was your work that was filling him out. Ezra watched your gaze turn hungry and almost feral. Granted, he felt that way as he watched you teeter on the edge of falling apart over and over. He wasn’t ready to let the power he held over you go, giving him the drive to get through, bite by bite. But that power began to slip the moment his vulnerable and considerably rounder middle exposed, and it left him feeling uneasy and unsure.

“A change of flavour… is needed, my sweet Cricket.”, Ezra crooned, trying to exude as much confidence he could muster, despite his self-consciousness lingering in the back of his mind. He swallowed down a moan as your blown-pupiled eyes met his. He pushed a faux-confident smile and spoke softer. “Something sweeter, perhaps?”

Letting a small huff escape, you nodded and got up from the bed, cursing him under your breath for having this much power over you.

As you stood in the small kitchen area, waiting for the food rehydrator to loudly prepare the freeze-dried baked goods, you didn’t hear Ezra huff and grunt as he got off the bed and saunter into the kitchen. You weren’t alerted to his presence until his belly hit your back and his brass hand went to your hip.

His nose and mouth pressed against the back of your neck, whispering filth as his hand cupped your breast and squeezed.

“You leave yourself so vulnerable, sweet Cricket... back to the door, not an ounce of concern…. any rapscallion of low morals could take advantage… of your sweet, supple figure…”

You let out a light, breathy whine gripping his hand as he kneaded your breast. As much as you wanted his hands on you, you wanted his mouth on your own more, so you pushed your body back against his, making enough room between him and the counter for you to turn around. His brass hand stayed on the curve of your waist, not offering any resistance, and his other hand cupped your cheek, holding it in place while he kissed you softly. His lips moved against yours like he was able to read your mind, or maybe even needed this point of contact as badly as you did. His mouth parted and his tongue pushed for entrance into your mouth, and once it was granted, the kiss fevered and boiled over. You felt your core throb with need and want, soaking your pants and already ruined underwear, and he crowded you against the counter. So wrapped up were you in his mouth and teeth and tongue, that you didn’t feel his brass hand move from your waist.

In one swift move, Ezra shoved your pants down in the front enough for his brass hand to slip with no barrier into your folds. The cool touch you would have expected from it was long forgotten as the metal now met your body temperature. Still engulfed in the kiss that was beginning to rob your breath, the telltale clunk barely registered in your mind until the vibrations started. Sending a jolt through your body, you pulled your face away from his and let out a shrill gasp.

The timer on the rehydrator went off, and Ezra chuckled darkly, watching your brows draw together and your eyes flutter.

“The rules stay the same, Cricket. Sweet or savoury, I will have my fill and you will have your petite mort. But one will meet the other at the same time.”, he said in a wickedly soft tenor. “Now, you can begin holding up your end, sweet girl.”

Once again, Ezra ripped away any power you might have had or believed you had, edging you with each bite, withholding his metal hand’s vibrations from the moment his mouth was empty to the moment your hand shakily pushed another bite past his lips. Overstimulation mixed with the pent-up fury of being denied an orgasm had you panting rapidly, tears threatening to spill over. High pitched whines and shuddering whimpers were all you could produce, and it was music to Ezra’s ears.

“You… create the most… glorious cricket song…”, he mused softly as he chewed the mouthful. “Keep chirping, sweet girl…”

You were coming to a point where you weren’t sure you would make it. Your brain felt like it was filled with the static from a communicator’s blank channel and your hearing and sight felt fuzzy. The coil tightening in your cunt was hitting a painful level, causing you to drop the next pastry you’d picked up with your shaking hands.

As soon as it hit the floor, Ezra tsk’d you, and pulled his hand right out of your pants. The pained sob that burst from you from the loss of contact was loud and harsh, and the tears finally spilled over, staining your cheeks.

“P-please… I… I can’t!”, you cried out, jutting your hand out clumsily to grab his wrist as he pulled back. His dark eyes scanned your desperate ones, pausing momentarily, before his gaze shifted to one of pity and amusement.

“You can’t what?”, he mocked with a cruel grin. “Can’t what, sweet Cricket?”

A rasped and pained whine peeled out of your throat as your head fell to his shoulder, and his hand gripped your hair and pulled back, forcing you to look at him. You looked ruined. Your cheeks flushed and eyes wet and lidded, your lips parted, turned down and chin quivering. He shoved up back and up onto the counter.

“Oh, come now, sweet Cricket. Don’t look at me like I won’t give you your due.”, he whispered, ghosting his mouth over yours. His brass fingers traced lurid shapes along your inner thighs, causing your body to shiver and that coil painfully wind up in your core once more.

“I asked you for something sweeter, pet,”, Ezra mockingly cooed as he pulled back, your face involuntarily following his to try and capture his lips against yours. He shook his head, smile tugging at one side of his mouth. “Something sweeter and you dropped it on the floor. It’s precious currency, Cricket, and you mishandled it.”

Your eyes followed his, stuck in the trance he’d put you under. He could have told you to do anything, given any order and you would have obeyed to your detriment. His brass hand moved to your throat, long, metal fingers grasping just tight enough to keep you precariously seated on the edge of the counter. His thicker middle forced you legs open wide, and his other hand took its place between your legs and without warning, he shoved two fingers into your core.

Your mouth and eyes widened as a wrecked gasp escaped you and your hands went to grab onto what ever meaty part of him you could grab for stability. Ezra hummed in response as the pads of his fingers felt the walls of your cannel twitch and flutter at his intrusion.

“Good Kevva, sweet girl…”, he groaned, watching your face contort. “As much as this contraption of a limb can bring me such sadistic joy at your expense, my own digits needed to feel the silken walls of your inner sanctum.”

As he pumped his fingers in and out of you, he dropped his forehead against yours and hummed again, answering your repeated whining pants and moans.

“Keep chirping, Cricket… sing me your evening song… that’s it….”

As you felt your peak come careening in, he felt your walls convulse and slicken up. The soft tenor he’s just lulled you into a steady rhythm with fell away and the low chuckle followed by his fingers being removed made you scream out and dig your nails into the fattened flesh of his upper arm and shoulder.

“EZ-EZRA! PLEASE! FUCK-PLEASE!”, you sobbed out in a shriek.

His brass hand’s hold tightened around your throat, and he shoved your shoulders flush with the wall behind counter roughly.

Your desperate eyes looked him over as best as you could, given the position he had you in. His bloated and full stomach moved with each laboured breath he took and the strain he put himself under to wreck you was fully apparent. You could feel the outline of his clothed hard cock seated against your thigh and the sweat beading on his forehead. He wiped his face and parted his lips to take in deeper breaths; his irises were indiscernible from his pupils as he looked down at you.

You had never known need like this, and you felt as though you were going to succumb due to your lack of orgasm as a final line in the life that Kevva had written for you.

“P…please…”

“Is it my cock you want to be impaled on, pet? You want to whine and mewl while I rut my quiver bone into your sopping celestial cavern?”, he coolly growled, but there was a slight waiver in his voice. You saw the same desperation in the dark abyss of his eyes.

You nodded dumbly and he scowled, baring his teeth, and tore his brass hand off you, trying to make quick work of getting his flight suit off his shoulders. The arms were tight around his fleshy arms, and you shakily sat up and tried to help. Once his arms were free, you tugged the material over his waist, taking note of the roll of flesh sitting just above his waistband, showing just how much he had been indulging. You gave it a squeeze, revelling in the sound he made, sucking his breath thru his teeth at your fingers.

“Marvel the fruits of your labour, Cricket… The destination you set me on course to has made me beyond redemption and unfit for galactic adventuring…”, he grunted breathily, shoving his flight suit off his legs before kicking it off entirely. “You have effectively rendered me useless beyond what effect I am able to wield on you.”

He shoved his mouth against yours before you could respond or ask what he meant, sucking you into a bruising kiss. His hands gripped your hips, pulling your twitching cunt flush with his weeping, hard cock, knocking the plastic plate that held the desserts onto the floor at his feet. Fumbling slightly, he pulled back and gripped his member, before lining it up with your entrance and pushing it in all at once. The sting of his intrusion melded perfectly with the relief of finally connecting, and the sound you made caused Ezra to almost break. His eyes softened and his brows tented, body tense at the gentle yet firm, warm hold you had on him.

“I’m af-afraid I’ve pushed too far to allow for… for niceties and gentle welcomes, sweet Cricket…”, he panted against your face, teeth clenched as he tried to focus and draw this out as long as possible.

“Please move...”, you begged in a strained whine.

“If I move to fast, sweet Cricket, I will... end this fortuitous connection with an... an early release, and that would render me- fuck!... render me less than a gentleman...”

“You’re no gentleman... now shut up an-and fuck me!”

It seemed that your tight walls and frantic begging were too much for Ezra, and he pulled out with a grunt, followed by a whine as he came onto the plate on the floor. The vulgar sounds of his panting breaths mixed with the sploot of his spend had you seeing red.

“You asshole!”, you screeched, shoving him off you.

He panted and held his hands up in surrender as you charged at him.

“Cricket... forgive me! You’re too sweet... your sacred cavern was too - “

The slap you landed across his face stopped his fancy wordplay. “You fucking bastard!”

Ezra’s eyes flashed in anger, and he stood to his full height, towering over you.

“That was uncalled for, Cricket.”, he snarled. “I will take the wrath of meeting an end without you by my side, but I will not allow you to besmirch my good mother with a question of my paternal lineage.”

You stared at him, eyes wide with anger at his audacity, and before you could say another word, he tackled you to the floor. You tried to fight him off but the moment you heard the clunk of his brass arm and felt two metal fingers punch up into your slick heat, you ceased your struggle.

“See, sweet Cricket? I may be a wayward traveler, but even I know the dangers of leaving a woman on the precipice of completion... “

“Don’t stop... please... don’t stop...”

The vibrations of his arm and the smooth curves of the worn metal fingers found a rhythm that had you seeing stars.

“I plan to keep demanding your company each time I move through this sector, and-”

“Oh Kevva... Ez-Ezra!”

He leaned forward and ghosted his mouth over yours, speaking in a low, husky growl, “... if I were to fail you now, what kind of welcome would I receive the next time I darken your doorway?”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your skull and your body arched off the floor. Pent up energy burst from your burning cunt, sending wave after wave of precious release through your body. The scream that peeled out of you was dampened by Ezra kissing you forcefully.

His movement slowed and he slowly pulled his brass hand from your core. You were greeted with his grin as he looked over his brass hand.

“You’ve polished only two fingers for me... there are three more.”, he cooed, placing a delicate kiss on the end of your nose. “Next time.”

“N-next time?”

He nodded and stood up with a grunt. You sat up carefully, and it seemed you both took note of the plate on the floor, covered in his cum. The chastisement was on your tongue, but never became words out loud as you were struck speechless as you watched him pick up the plate and fling it out the window.

He turned back to you, standing naked in the kitchen, fat and sweaty, with a grin on his face.

“There is always a next time, Cricket.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #ezra prospect #fat ezra #chubby!ezra #chubby ezra rights !!!#🥩#900 friendo celebration #900 milestone #900 followers #pedro pascal tummy #you ask beefro answers #thot tank #you asked beefro answered

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piratefishmama · 1 year

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You're writing is godly. Can you take a shot at

09. “I should’ve told you back then, but I didn’t want you to leave.”

Writing Prompts | No longer accepting new prompts

It was the first time in ten years that Steve Harrington had seen Eddie Munson in person, and it was from what felt like miles away in shitty seats up on the balconies, the only saving grace was that Eddie was being tracked like prey by the camera guys, each step, each sway of his hair, each manic, dimpled, toothy grin blown up larger than life on the big screens on either side of the stage. The rest of the band blown up on the ones in the back.

He wasn’t looking at the ones in the back, although the guys suited being up there.

“Steve… he’s uh… Eddie I mean, corroded coffin, they’re playing, y’know? In Indy? Dustin got tickets, but… well they’re not the best tickets, nothing VIP or close to the pit or anything, I don’t think Eddie even knows Dustin’s going, but… we could at least go and see him perform…” it’d been Robin that’d mentioned it, none of them had seen Eddie in person.

He kept in touch when he could with Dustin and his little adventurers, Lucas, Mike, and Erica. But he’d left Hawkins behind with nothing there to hold him back.

There could have been.

Steve knew there could have been, Eddie had told him the night before he’d packed his stuff and left, bore his heart to him in his backyard, hair haloed by the blue light that shimmered off of the pool, nervous but hopeful, he’d offered his heart on a silver platter and Steve… god…

He hadn’t known.

He hadn’t known just how much Eddie meant to him until he was gone, off to stardom with his band, leaving a possible life behind for something else. Could have, should have, would have, it made no difference in the end. Steve had said no when he really meant he needed time to work out his feelings, he’d shut down the possibility before it could grow, and had regretted it ever since.

Eddie had been gone by the following morning, he’d only said goodbye to the kids. Apparently there’d been a record deal offered at his last gig, and his choice depended entirely on whether or not Steve said yes.

Part of him wished he’d have been selfish, part of him wished he’d known his own heart before he’d stupidly let the rejection slip out, things would have been different… but then… Eddie wouldn’t have had this.

He wouldn’t have had a stage, an audience of thousands cheering for him in awe. He would’ve been stuck, in Hawkins, a place that still hated him… Steve was happy for him, truly. Happy that he’d made it, even if it meant Steve could never have him. He could stomp around the stage dressed in denim and leather and shred on a guitar in a way that made Steve’s ears ring but his heart happy, he’d never be tied down to a place that hated him.

He'd never be stuck where the past could haunt him. He could be happy even if Steve couldn’t.

The gig was amazing though, even if Steve stook out like a sore thumb, he’d done his best, wore a little eyeliner, mussed up his hair, he wore Eddie’s old battle vest with the blood stains still visible cause he’d never been able to get them out and Eddie had never taken it back, had seen Steve still had it after they’d won and claimed “it looks better on you anyway” he still looked like someone’s out of place dad, but he was surrounded by the party so, it didn’t matter. Nobody was paying attention to him, nobody was looking for him, Eddie wouldn’t see him from so far away, probably couldn’t even see the row in front of his face with the lights shining on him so brightly.

And yet near the end of the concert, while the band were wrapping up on their final song (before the inevitable encore the audience demanded of them, Dustin claimed it’d probably wind up being Upside Down, or Pariah, two songs he’d always claimed had been inspired by ‘his past’ from the bands last album, they were fan favourites.) A burly guy dressed in a black crew neck with a big white ‘SECURITY’ stretched over his broad chest, flagged him down.

Steve motioned to his ears, he couldn’t hear shit over the music, and could barely hear shit on a regular day, but that particular security guard, simply signed the words:

‘Not in trouble, come with me.’ confidently, as if he knew Steve would understand it. Only when Steve frowned in confusion and signed back

‘why’ did the guy thrust his thumb over into the stage’s direction. The band.

Steve, feeling suspicious, turned to look toward the party, only to find Dustin giving him a thumbs up, and Robin making shoo motions with her hands. Scheming little shits knew he wouldn’t think twice about attending if the seats were so far away. Would think it was safe, that he wouldn’t have to face Eddie. Face his terrible decision that worked out for one of them but not the other.

He wouldn’t have to find himself waiting backstage in a quiet room behind a door labelled ‘Talent’ because of course he’d go. His traitorous legs and heart would force him to go at the mere chance of seeing Eddie again, of seeing him up close, of talking to him, of the chance to fix a mistake he’d made years ago even if his new answer wouldn’t change anything between them. It’d been too long, Eddie wouldn’t still want him when he could have anyone.

If they had told him, he wouldn’t have to see Eddie, quietly (a word not many used to describe the man) enter, his back facing Steve as he closed the door just as quietly as he’d entered. His hair was longer.

The curls fuller, they reached down to his mid-back now and glistened with a mixture of product and sweat, Steve still wanted to touch, still mourned the fact that he’d never gotten the chance to.

“Y’know… When ol Dusty bun said he’d get you here… I wish I’d have believed him. I owe him 20 bucks now.”

“You bet on me coming?” Of course he did.

Eddie turned to face him, a small wistful smile on his cheeks that just hinted the presence of dimples. “Wouldn’t you if you were in my place? Steeeeve Harrington, at a metal concert? Pfft, seems a bit farfetched. You even dressed up too, shit, man, I guess that’s forty bucks. Vest still suits you more.” Steve let his head duck down a little, his cheeks warming under the mans gaze, unsure of the feeling within it. He didn’t know Eddie anymore…

Had he ever really known Eddie though? Had he ever given them chance to know each other outside of sharing trauma and comparing matching scars?

“…Why?”

“Hm?”

“Why am I back here, Eddie? Why’d you call me back here? Why not the party, they’re here too, they’d probably wanna see you too, it’s been years… why?”

“Ah. Dustin told me to, said I should have another go at something I tried years ago that didn’t pan out very well for me the first time around… has been chatting my ear off about it every time he calls… I guess I finally humoured him.” Something he tried years ago? Involving Steve? “Listen, Steve… I—”

Steve cut in, he shouldn’t have, but words just… had to burst from him driven by a flickering ember of hope, he had to, even if it wasn’t the path Eddie’s words were taking, he had to, with hope driving him on “I should’ve told you back then, but I didn’t want you to leave.” Eddie’s mouth shut, his head tilting to the side a little in uncertain interest “I didn’t know… I should have just told you, I didn’t… I wasn’t sure, shit, Eddie… I’d never… you—I’d never felt like… like that for a guy before… I didn’t know what it meant, I should have said—I should have told you that I just needed more time… that I wasn’t ready to answer but… but I didn’t want you to leave. I didn’t know you’d be gone by the time I woke up. By the time I realised I was wrong, you were gone.” He wanted time, but his words had come out wrong.

He’d stumbled through them like he stumbled through everything, struggled to get the right words out and they’d wound up wrong. So so very wrong. “And you didn’t think to call?”

“Heh, you were on your way to fame, Eddie and you didn’t exactly leave a number, Dustin told me you had a chance at stardom… why would I want to weigh you down? Where would I fit in in this life of yours, Eddie? I’m no one, you could have anyone.”

“Mmn, anyone. Even if the one I want believes himself to be no one?” Hope burned brighter, its embers brilliant and warm. “So… can I try again? Or was Dustin wrong?”

“Did you make a bet with him about this too?”

“Absolutely, I’d owe him two hundred bucks if he’s right.”

“Would it be worth it if I said try again?”

“God, Sunshine, I’d drain my entire bank account right into that little buttheads pocket without a care in the world if it meant he was right… i never stopped...” Eddie stepped closer, "I never stopped wanting... even though I wished for the longest time that I could stop... it's always been you, Steve..." now close enough to be within reach, his voice quiet but hopeful “so... is he right? Should I try again?”

“…Please try again.” This time… he wouldn’t be saying no.

#Steddie #Writing prompts #thank you for the compliment!! :D #💖💖💖💖❤️❤️❤️

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 7 days

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RoR x Replacement Fighter Reader, where the arenas, palaces, pools etc are all redecorated & the gods hosts a rave/club like party. And the reader (wearing a full face masks with a suit that covered their tattoos) preforms many tricks & shows that mesmerized them. Like fire dancing with swords, bartending tricks, poker etc, but the gods/humans didn't know it was them until the reader finally takes off their mask. Their reactions are up to you!!

Gods: Odin, Hades, Poseidon, Thor, Anubis, Susanoo, Beel, Loki & Apollo

Humans: Lubu, Tesla, Raiden & Leo

-It was unlike anything they had ever seen before, seeing your home, your backyard to be precise, where your massive pool was.

-Lights were strung everywhere, all in different colors, tables with glow sticks and jewelry available to all, turning your normally calm backyard into a rave like setting.

-It had started a few weeks ago, with Loki inquiring if you knew how to party and have fun, normally you brushed off comments like that, but this time it bothered you, just a bit, and everyone was stunned when they were invited to the party.

-They hadn’t been expecting what they walked into, music playing, people already dancing, having fun, there was plenty of food, drinks, and live performers entertaining the crowds.

-(Love) was in awe, walking into the party, being greeted by Goll, as the Valkyries were all helping, at least in the beginning to get the party started, as she handed him some of the glowing bracelets, necklaces, and any of the other accessories he wanted, as there were some who took less than others.

-There were even lights in the pool, ones that were floating and some that were on the bottom, illuminating the pool from below as the music filled the air.

-(Love’s) attention had been caught by a performer, an acrobat on a large suspending hoop, bending and contorting in unnatural ways, wearing a black body suit over large, bulging muscles, a black face mask covering their whole face, and wearing glowing jewelry just like everyone else.

-The acrobat was very impressive, seeing how flexible they were while being so jacked at the same time before he easily spun out, leaping dramatically into the pool as the crowd roared with cheers.

-Later on, (Love) found this mysterious figure again at the bar, making him a drink, shaking it expertly, performing tricks, turning his drink into a show which made him grin.

-(Love) did have to wonder however, where were you? This was your house- your party, and even after asking around, nobody had seen you all night! Where were you?

-Their answer came when the popular acrobat performed again, as of the all the different performers and entertainment, he was the most popular, and it was even more exciting when he came out with some swords and began a complex looking swords dance.

-The crowd was cheering loudly, including (Love), who was impressed with the skills as the performer bowed and as he stood up, he removed his mask, revealing himself to be none other than you!

-Jaws dropped all around, everyone in complete shock that it had been you the whole time! You surprised them with a rare, cheeky grin, amused that you had been able to fool so many as the party continued as many jumped into the pool.

-His mouth was still on the floor after your big reveal! He had no idea that it was you and to know that you had been doing so many things during the course of the evening showed how many skills you had. You were so well rounded! As you approached him, a shade of a smirk on your lips, you cupped his jaw, closing his mouth, “You’ll hurt your jaw babe.” before heading into the party. He quickly turned and rushed after you- he had so many questions, with the first being how flexible you were!

-Loki, Apollo, Raiden, Nikola, Susanoo, and Anubis

-He couldn’t help but laugh as you came over, impressed with your various skills, it made him curious on what else you could do. The two of you headed over to the bar where you made another pair of drinks, for the two of you to share, making it much stronger this time, something he voiced and you gave him a small smirk, almost like you were flirting with him, but he wasn’t 100% sure, “You’re a tough guy, you can handle it.” You were just getting better and better the more time he spent with you.

-Odin, Hades, Poseidon, Thor, Beelzebub, Lu Bu, Leonidas

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror loki #ror apollo #ror raiden #ror nikola tesla #ror susanoo #ror anubis #ror hades #ror odin #ror poseidon #ror thor #ror beelzebub #ror lu bu #ror leonidas

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strawberry-whorecake · 3 months

Text

Quite the Little Rockstar | A.S.

pairing: Adam Stanheight x fem!reader

summary: Adam’s feelings for his roommate are strictly platonic, right? At least he keeps telling himself that, until he finds you getting ready for a performance with your band, and you offer do to his eyeliner.

word count: 2.8k

warnings: none, just pure fluff <3

A/N: I’ve been in my Leigh Whannell era for months and the other day when I was doing my eyeliner I couldn’t stop imagining sitting on Adam’s lap and doing his eyeliner aaaaaaa

Having a roommate was weird. What was weirder was having a female roommate. But she’d answered his ad and she paid her half of the rent on time, so who could complain? Especially not when said female roommate was as good looking as you were.

The sound of rock music blaring over the stereo interrupted Adam’s darkroom session. He’d been so lost in developing and perfecting his photographs, he’d barely noticed just how much time passed.

Still… the interruption was not what he was hoping for. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger as he shut his eyes tight. After a moment of realigning himself to reality, he stepped out of the darkroom, following the sound of the music, which only grew louder the closer he got to the bathroom.

He hesitated for a long moment, the door was slightly ajar, but was it weird to enter the bathroom while his roommate was in there doing god knows what? He didn’t want to be a perv. Was it even pervy in the first place if the door wasn't shut?

About to give up as a whole, he stopped once more to the sound of you singing along to the music, and it pulled a small smirk to his lips. He swallowed down his anxieties and knocked first–like a gentleman– before pushing the door open anyways.

“What the hell’s going on in here?” he asked a bit playfully, looking around at the state of the bathroom.

The edge of the sink was littered with products, some of which had lost their balance and fallen to the floor. You looked nice, which confused him for a brief moment. Nice, but in a bad-ass, edgy kind of way. His gaze flitted over your outfit, and he couldn’t help but mentally admire your figure.

“I’m getting ready for the concert.” you said simply, and he furrowed his brows slightly. Concert? What concert? Then it hit him.

“Oh shit… the Wrath of the Gods concert is tonight?! Fuck! I forgot all about it… Scott’s gonna crucify me.” He groaned before running his hand through his hair. He huffed as he caught your reflection in the mirror.

From what he could see it looked like you were about to stab yourself in the eye with a pencil, and his eyes practically bugged out of his skull. He watched with incredulous curiosity as you brought the pencil not into your eye like he’d expected, but around it. The pencil left messy black smudges around your eyes.

“What is that…?” he asked, probably sounding like an idiot.

“Eyeliner?” you replied with a little huff of a laugh. Yep. He was an idiot, and your words proved that to him..

“Oh, yeah… I knew that.” he bullshitted. He’d seen that particular makeup look on girls before, but the only thing he’d ever known in terms of makeup was lipstick and eyeshadow. Oh, and that black gunk you’d put on your eyelashes that made them look long and dark. Mascara?

He watched the way you applied the makeup around your eyes, only to then rub the tips of your fingers over your eyes, making the black pencil even messier… though, it was oddly attractive. It suited you well.

“What?” you asked, peering at him through the mirror’s reflection. His expression turned sheepish, not realizing he’d practically been ogling at you until you’d called him out on it.

“Oh, just uh… that makes you look cool, I guess.” In typical Adam fashion, he downplayed his compliment. He had a hard time being genuine around you, he didn’t want you to think he was a pussy or something by calling you pretty… or gorgeous… or just plain outright goddamn sexy. He did think all those things about you, but would you like him to call you those things? Or would you just think he was weird if he did?

“Thanks.” followed by a little laugh pulled him from his thoughts. You liked his compliment? His gaze softened a little as he watched you reapply only to smudge the makeup around your eyes more.

“Does that like… hurt?” he asked. It looked painful… a pencil that close to your eye? He shivered as he imagined that feeling.

Your laughter once again pulled him out of his thoughts and he regained his focus on you as you turned around to face him, leaning back against the sink with your arms crossed over your chest. “You.. wanna try it?” you asked.

He was a bit hesitant, he still partially believed it would hurt. Didn't girls always talk about how beauty was pain? But also… he was a guy. Wouldn’t makeup make him like, less masculine?

“I don’t know…” he mumbled. “You’re gonna put makeup on me?” He asked, narrowing his eyes a bit, not at you, though. At that pointy pencil between your fingers.

You rolled your eyes despite the smile on your lips, which he always thought was an attractive quirk of yours, and the gesture made him smirk a bit in return. “Adam… every rockstar wears eyeliner.” you explained with that same smile he thought was really enticing.

“Every rockstar?” he said a bit jeeringly.

“Only the best… Billy Joe Armstrong, Bowie, Ozzy Osbourne, Alice Cooper…” Your smile widened a bit as you continued on, and Adam couldn’t help but roll his eyes, though this time a small smile pulled on his lips too.

“Whatever.” he said, though that was the closest thing you’d get to a yes from him.

“C’mere…”

His gaze drifted from your eyes to your arm outstretching, finally to your hand as you held it out to him. He rolled his eyes in an attempt to keep up his arrogant nonchalance, though he silently begged that his cheeks hadn’t blushed. Especially when your fingers entangled with his.

He let you guide him to sit on the lid of the toilet seat, and watched with shaky breaths as you stood in front of him… between his legs. Only to be close to him, of course… right?

When you brought the pencil up to his eye he immediately flinched away, listening to your little scoff at his cowardice. “Shut up.” he bit back.

“Adam, I swear it doesn’t hurt. Don’t you trust me?”

Goddamnit, how the hell was he supposed to say no to that sweet tone in your voice!?

“If you stab me in the eye, you’re paying the full rent.” he threatened, narrowing his eyes slightly as his gaze darted between that pencil and your eyes.

“I won’t stab you in the eye if you don’t move.” Your tone held a sense of focus as you brought the pencil back closer to him again, and he couldn’t help but close his eyes.

“Adam…” you huffed, making him open his eyes again.

“What!? You’ve got a sharp pencil so close to my eye! You really expect me to just be calm or some shit!?” he scoffed.

“Don’t be a baby,” you teased and before he had time to even process what you were doing, he found you practically straddling his lap, your hand holding onto his cheek.

His breath hitched in his throat, but he covered it up by pretending to clear his throat. Your body was so warm pressed against him… and so soft.

Oh fuck… he was blushing.

It seemed like you knew what you were doing though, because his eyes were practically glued to you. Wide and unblinking, not wanting to miss a single one of your movements.

And you took the opportunity and ran with it. You brought the pencil to his eye, almost touching, and he clenched his jaw a bit to resist his urge to close his eyes or flinch away.

“Look up for me.” you instructed as you gently tilted his head downwards, and he obliged your directions, glancing up at the ceiling.

He was scared as shit as the pencil grew closer and closer to his eye… but then suddenly it tickled? He couldn’t help but pull back slightly from the sensation.

“What the fuck…?” he huffed a laugh, which only made you laugh too.

“I told you it didn’t hurt. But you have to stay still okay? It’s gonna tickle a little bit, just try to ignore it.” you reassured him as you gently gripped his face a bit more firmly.

He definitely noticed the way you leaned into him to get closer, your face only inches from his and he suppressed the urge to groan, instead bringing his gaze up towards the ceiling like he’d done before.

Adam fought with every ounce of strength to not let his eyes shut in defiance as the pencil tickled his waterline. He was relieved when you’d moved from his left eye to his right, figuring you were finally finished. But when you said it was time for the top, his eyes widened a bit.

“You’ll be fine, just look down this time.” you said, tilting his head up, and begrudgingly he obeyed. You gently placed your fingers on his eyelid, tugging it up as the pencil met his upper lash line.

“Jesus christ… this tickles worse.” he practically whined. He ignored the smile that pulled on your lips in response to his griping.

What he couldn’t ignore though, was how cute you looked like this. Sitting on his lap, your eyes soft but so focused on lining his eyes perfectly. Your fingers gently guiding and pulling at his face. He liked your touch… maybe a little too much.

That thought only made him blush and he looked away from you, still keeping his gaze downward like you’d instructed him too. He knew if he looked at your thighs pressed to his, his blush would only grow worse. Hell, his face would probably envy a tomato at that point.

You worked from his left to his right eye again, and the sensation definitely didn’t get easier the second time around. It was insufferable, like a stuck eyelash that was constantly tickling and poking into his eyelid. “Are you done yet? This sucks… you like doing this!?” he asked, his tone full of disbelief.

“Relax.” you said simply, running the pencil along his upper lash line a few more times before you pulled the pencil away completely. And leaned back away from him which he wouldn’t admit he didn’t like so much.

“Now just rub your eyes.” you said, reaching over to grab the pencil’s cap from the sink and sliding it over the pointy end.

He looked at you quizzically for a moment. “But you just did all that… to mess it up?”

Your little laugh unwillingly pulled a small smile of his own to his lips. “Yeah, pretty much. That’s what makes it look cool… and like you don’t give a fuck.” you explained, and oddly enough, you were speaking Adam’s language.

He huffed a laugh, still feeling a bit ridiculous, but obliged, using the heel of his palms to rub both of his eyes at the same time. When you gently grabbed at his wrists to tug his hands away, he peered up at you.

He watched as a smile pulled on your lips as you looked him over. “Totally bad-ass.” you reassured him.

Adam had to suppress a pout as you slid off his lap. He’d gotten really used to that closeness, and now that it was gone, he missed it. He wouldn’t admit it, of course. But he perked up when he realized now he could see what you’d done.

Pulling himself to stand up, he turned to stand beside you in front of the mirror. “Damn,” he said simply. Your eyes were practically glued to his reflection, and he could tell you were worried that he’d hated it. He let a small smirk pull on his lips. “I look punk rock.”

He tilted his head in a few different directions, looking over, and practically admiring his appearance in the mirror. He did look pretty cool and that made him feel cool too. “Maybe I should be the guitarist and singer for Wrath of the Gods instead of you.” he teased, earning him a gentle elbow to the ribs which made him laugh.

He looked from his own reflection to yours beside him, and the way your eyes matched. It felt strangely intimate… and he liked it. He tangled his arm over your shoulders, pulling you into him–wanting to feel your closeness, but easily played it off as a friendly gesture.

“What do you think? You think I look cool enough now?” he asked, enjoying the way you rolled your eyes despite your smile, and how you didn’t reject his touch… and instead you seemed to lean into it.

“If you want me to tell you that you’re always cool… it’s not gonna happen.” you teased back, making him laugh. He liked that you were a little spunky. It only made him more attracted to you.

“Okay, okay… fine.” he said with another small laugh before turning his head to actually look at you, not your reflection. “We look pretty punk rock together, huh?” he asked a bit teasingly, though he was pleased at the way you practically giggled. You’d never giggled before and it felt like a huge accomplishment to him.

“Shut up, Stanheight. You’re such a dork.” You rolled your eyes, but still had that same intoxicating smile.

He glanced down towards your lips, telling himself he was just admiring the way they curved into the most precious smile he’d ever seen, but he knew that wasn’t true. He was actually wondering if your lips were really as soft as they looked.

“Shit! We gotta go, Adam!” you interrupted his thoughts as you practically dashed from the bathroom. He glanced in the direction of the clock on the stove, seeing your source of panic.

“Oh fuck, Scott’s gonna kill us both.” He quickly followed after you, hurrying to his darkroom to grab his camera, looping it around his neck as he met you back by the front door of the apartment.

He admired only for a moment how good you looked with your guitar case strapped over your shoulder, and he couldn’t deny his excitement to see you on stage performing with so much energy and passion like you always did.

You were quite the little rockstar, and he liked that.

It was a silly thought, but he also liked that your eyeliner matched… like in a weird way, your matching eye makeup was a claim on each other. He just hoped you were thinking the same thing he was.

“C’mon!” you said, snatching up his hand as you ripped open the front door, pulling him along so hastily he barely had time to shut the door behind him.

“Hey, hey… slow down,” he said as a bit of a huff. You begrudgingly slowed your roll, peering over your shoulder at him as you dropped his hand. He anxiously ran his fingers through his hair.

“I was just kinda wondering… if you’d let me kiss you without the guys around.” When he noticed the way your brows raised at his request he quickly stumbled out, “You know! For good luck, duh!”

Before he even had a moment to backpedal, say that he was just fucking around, there it was again, that soft little laugh that was practically a giggle.

“Well… if it’s for good luck.” you said, stepping closer to him and making his heart race in his chest. He gently reached up and cupped the side of your face, tilting your head up a bit as he leaned in. He watched the way you leaned in too as your eyes fluttered softly shut, and he swore he melted in that moment.

He shut his eyes too, as he closed the distance between your lips, kissing you softly. It only lasted a few moments before you pulled away first, though he didn’t mind. He was awestruck that you’d even let him kiss you.

He got to kiss you, and he knew for a fact that your lips were indeed as soft as they looked. He was a fish and you cast out the line, hooking him in. He didn’t just want to kiss you again, he felt like he had to. Until your words quickly shut down that desire.

“C’mon, let’s go before Scott loses his shit over how late we are.” you said with a small, almost shy smile.

“No way…! What if that wasn’t enough good luck!?” he playfully argued, making you laugh.

“Then if we totally blow tonight, I’ll let you give me a little extra good luck later. Deal?” you offered, and this time, it was his turn to laugh.

“Okay, fine… deal.” he agreed a bit reluctantly, though that reluctance faded as soon as you tangled your arm around his waist, and he did the same to you.

Usually he hated being the personal photographer for Scott and Wrath of the Gods, but tonight he was rather excited about it. He already knew most of his pictures would be of you.

And even if you guys killed it tonight… he was still dead set on giving you that extra good luck once you guys got home later, anyways.

#adam stanheight #adam stanheight x reader #saw 2004 #sawposting #saw fanfic #adam faulkner stanheight #adam faulkner x reader #leigh whannell #whorecake fics

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wuahae · 1 year

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✶ seventeen, after it all ends.

post-breakup hcs, ft. vocal team (special track: dust)

-> hip hop | performance

the spring air rests cool on jeonghan’s skin. reserved for late nights when the weather suits him perfectly, he likes to think walking helps clear his mind, but it seems even a small thing like this has become harder to fit into his busy schedule as of late. tonight, though, he indulges himself a little, falling into a ritual he practically knows by heart. the last time he'd done this, he had done it with you, a few weeks before you had—ah. (after the breakup, jeonghan had tried to cut off the frayed ends of the thread. deleting old photos he had saved of you, throwing away the small things in his wallet that you had given him.) he likes to think that he's moved past it by now, letting go of a past he can never come back to. and yet, jeonghan finds himself led to the corner of the street you would stop him at, the lamplight you would always kiss him under. (he doesn't think he could forget any of it. your twinkle in your eye every time you pulled him in for the kiss, as if it could never get old. the light still flickers twice every three minutes, only you're no longer there to count the seconds with him.) jeonghan briefly wonders if he should break the habit while he still can, change to a different route that isn't so entrenched in memories. but for now, he walks past the lamplight without pause; you may still linger in the flickering, but he'll be just fine counting the seconds by himself.

joshua runs into your mom on a drizzly tuesday afternoon in the leafy greens section of the veggie aisle. he matches her warmth with an easily, falling back into exchanging cheerful pleasantries, and for a moment, it's like nothing has changed. your mom still tells him he gets more handsome every time she sees him, and she absorbs his polite compliments shamelessly with a hint of socially acceptable bashfulness. ("how are they?" he asks, eventually. the question isn't solely out of obligation either; you'd both ended things on good terms, even if the only texts exchanged lately were happy birthdays and holiday wishes.) you're doing well, from what your mom tells him. a new job in a new city, a nice apartment to go along with it, and—("it seems serious, they might be getting married soon!") his following congratulations are genuine, but for a moment, joshua imagines what it would have been like if you'd never broken up. would you have still moved to a new city and gotten that new job? (now that he thinks about it, he would have proposed by now, right?) tomorrow, joshua will go back to his normal life, passing through the what-ifs like a light mist. but today, when the grocery store feels more like a bubble waiting to be popped and the distance between him and you resembles the past more than the present, he allows the ache of an old wound on a rainy day.

jihoon deletes his fiftieth unfinished draft in his song files, crumples yet another scribbled sheet of paper and throws it onto the floor. none of the chords sound right, his lyrics all come stilted and awkward and fuck, he can’t think of anything except for the things he wants to forget the most. (everything jihoon tries to put on paper ends up permeated by you. the way you had gently reminded him to take care of himself, the way there was still so much love in your eyes even as you said goodbye. you, you, youyouyou—) and for all his insistence that he just doesn’t have time for this, some part of jihoon knows that he can’t keep doing this forever. that inevitably, everything he’s been pushing down and stifling will come back up twice as volatile, flames catching onto stray threads of cloth the more he tries to smother it; it’s a disaster waiting to implode on itself, but it’s a choice he wants to make for himself. (now that he thinks about it, his stubborness was always the thing you hated most about him.) a fire will still burn even if you cast your eyes away, but jihoon chooses to bury the flames under work and projects and anything else, even if it will eventually swallow him whole from the inside out.

seokmin’s world still spins tilted off its axis. he brings it upon himself, really, each memory he refuses to let go crashing into him like ocean waves, the tide dragging him under. and just when he pulls himself up to the surface and blinks the salt out of his eyes, another wave crashes into him again, doomed to repeat itself. (the shore is within close distance. seokmin could walk back, if he wanted to—break the cycle of crash-drown-breathe-repeat. but his feet sink in the sand, the weight of his body heavy in the water. crash, drown, breathe.) it’s stupid, he knows, to be holding onto something that can’t be held onto anymore, but seokmin doesn’t know what else to do. you were his first; at least, the first that really mattered. (he doesn’t want to say it, but a part of him is still holding out hope. that his phone will ring and you’re calling to ask him to pick you up and to bring your favorite hoodie of his because you’re cold and it will return to how it once was. stupid.) everything is still the same. your hairties laying precariously on the bathroom counter, his shampoo bottles organized the same way you’d insisted on rearranging long ago, the potted plants you’d brought home one day sitting by the windowsill to soak up sunlight. his home is still yours as much as it is his—the only difference is that you aren’t there anymore.

it finally hits seungkwan a week after, on a sunny saturday morning. he starts his day as normal—washes his face, brushes his teeth, goes into his kitchen to make his breakfast. his leaky faucet drips, a single drop falling every few seconds; it's been leaky for a long time, he's aware, since even before the breakup. and admittedly, the breakup itself is a blur—all he remembers is the feeling, really. the defensiveness that swelled up and burst from inside his chest, the way he had said some things he’d meant and other things he didn’t. (seungkwan will be the first to admit to himself that it was petty, the way he had egged you both onto the path of no return. the ending comes neat and clean, seungkwan makes sure of it.) another drop plops to the bottom of the sink, and he suddenly remembers the note you had stuck on the refrigerator door weeks ago, make sure to call the plumber! scrawled onto it. the weakening adhesive is already starting to peel off, softly, slowly, and seungkwan swallows hard. there’s only one toothbrush in the bathroom now, the hook next to where he hangs his keys stays empty. seungkwan looks down to cups on the table, the americano he had habitually made for two. gently, he peels the note off the fridge, what little stickiness is left on it. (drip, drip, drop.) seungkwan dials the number, finally, when there’s nothing left but the ripples of what once was. it’s best to still the water himself, rather than wait for the end; it’s best to let go.

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kimbappykidding · 1 year

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Hot things TxT do that drive you crazy

Yeonjun - Everything he does

You're convinced everything Yeonjun did is hot. It could be the most mundane act in the world but him doing it made it sexy.

Him singing? Hot. Yeonjun working out? Hot. Him performing? Super hot. One of the best things was he knew it too. He'd catch you watching him and know immediately what was on your mind. It didn't matter where you were, a smirk would form on his face and the teasing would begin. You were backstage at your boyfriend's concert for the first time in a while and were taken with how good Yeonjun looked. You always forgot how good he looked when he was in the middle of a performance but you had been vividly reminded. While the others with you were dancing and singing, you were stood still staring. The song had changed to a faster one, and Yeonjun kept doing body rolls, twerking, and generally showing off how good a dancer he was. If that wasn't enough his skin was glistening and anytime he moved his muscles stood out. So you were distracted and when Yeonjun glanced to the side he of course noticed. He smiled and when the next break came he rushed over to you "like something you see?" he asked opening his arms to you. You shook your head hugging him so you could hide your face "maybe, you're doing well out there". "Am I?" he asked drinking some water "fancy a private showing lately". Your heart sped up just at the thought and Yeonjun smiled "you like that don't you". You nodded "but only if you do that same choreography, I want full stage Yeonjun". He smirked "oh you're getting that as soon as this is over don't worry" and with a wink, he ran back on stage. Yeonjun was the hottest man on the planet and he knew it which only added to the hotness making the whole thing a cycle but it was okay because he was yours.

Soobin - His humility

Soobin was a huge kpop star but he never acted like it. He was incredibly humble and never flexed about his career. It took 8 dates for him to admit he was an idol. You thought he was just a producer or something behind the scenes because he never acted conceited or like a celebrity and that was the most attractive thing about him for you.

You were watching TxT on an award show from home to virtually see Soobin and cheer him on. He was coming home right after this but you'd missed him and hadn't been enjoying the cold weather lately. So you plonked yourself on the sofa and wrapped up with a blanket. Soobin looked adorable with his members while also looking incredibly handsome in his suit. Then he performed and transformed into professional Soobin aka an amazing actor who adapted to the hot concept perfectly. However, as the night came to a close you wondered if something was wrong because the show was 30 minutes behind but Soobin still wasn't home. You texted Yeonjun who assured you Soobin wasn't with them and had left a while ago for home. You were beginning to panic as none of the other members knew where he was when the door opened. "Soobin where have you..." you started when you saw Soobin. He was still dressed in his suit having come straight from the show and looked amazing in person but that wasn't what made you pause. "Y/n!" he said smiling brightly "sorry I'm late but I figured you might be hungry" he said gesturing to the pizza in his hand. "Then for afterwards I've got hot chocolate and marshmallows to warm you up and some candles" he said showing them to you. You beamed at him and he laughed "what?". "You're wearing an expensive suit and left an exclusive event just to get me food and hot chocolate?". Soobin shrugged "I...I wanted to look after you". You shook your head and took the things from him putting them down and kissing him. Soobin wrapped his arms around you and happily kissed you. When you separated he grinned "it was only a pizza". You shook your head "it's so much more than that" and took his hand leading him further into your home.

Beomgyu - His mischief making

You loved how cheeky Beomgyu was and enjoyed how bold and confident he was with his hyungs. He never hesitated to annoy them, especially Yeonjun which you liked. Anyone could go for the quieter younger members but Beomgyu went right for the scariest one.

For this reason, you loved games night at TxT. You would egg Beomgyu on and just watch as the chaos unfolded and so now the boys insisted you be on separate teams but Beomgyu knew you liked him misbehaving so he still played up. He was actually on the same team as Yeonjun tonight and they were doing pretty well...until Beomgyu just started using all their money to attack Soobin's empire for no reason. "Why did you do that?" Yeonjun asked when he spent half their money buying out all the properties around Soobin so Soobin couldn't. Beomgyu shrugged "it's funny" and Yeonjun rolled his eyes taking their finances off him. Despite losing his money privileges Beomgyu managed to cause trouble. He got Taehyun and Huening Kai to fall out even though they were on the same team and when Yeonjun went to the bathroom sold his best property to you for a very discounted price. "Why?" Yeonjun begged and Beomgyu shrugged "Y/n asked me to" and Yeonjun sighed "Y/n why do you encourage him?". "Because I like when he's chaotic, he gets all power-mad and it's hot". Beomgyu's ears perked up at that and he had a smile on his face all night. The boys knew there would be no stopping him now. After the games you all settled down with drinks but Beomgyu only had you on his mind. "So you find it hot when I cause mischief huh?" he asked and you smiled turning to face him "I didn't think that was a secret, I never hid it". Beomgyu smiled "now that you mention it I do remember you getting a bit clingy at the last game's night, want to save us all the bother and just head to bed now?". You nodded "sounds good to me" and Beomgu grinned "later everyone we're going to bed!" and he practically skipped up the stairs.

Taehyun - How authentic he is

Taehyun was one of the more real, natural people you'd ever met. He always followed through on his promises and never said or did anything just for the sake of it. He wouldn't just compliment you because he felt he had to or buy you a generic present on a holiday to tick a box. He thought about everything first and meant his actions and worlds wholeheartedly which made it that much more special. It had been valentines day a few weeks ago and you and Taehyun agreed not to bother with presents or anything and that you'd rather just show each other throughout the year, in small ways, that you loved one another. Your friends claimed this was just Taehyun's great idea to veto valentines day and as a month passed with no gestures you began to think they might be right...then you got home from work. As soon as you walked through the door you smelt something amazing and paused "Tae?" you called and he appeared. "You're home!" he smiled "so you know how I'm making dinner tonight? Well I finished work early and thought I'd make a show of it" he gestured for you to come into the kitchen and your jaw dropped. He'd set the table with beautiful placemats and lit some candles giving the room a nice flow. "I'm cooking your favourite meal and have your favourite drinking chilling in the fridge". You shook your head "this is beautiful but what is the occasion?". Taehyin frowned "no occasion I just wanted to do this. You were at work all day so I wanted to spoil you when you came home. Plus we agreed to show each other we loved each other throughout the year right? Well, this morning I woke up feeling so grateful to be dating you and I wanted to show it to you...is it all okay?". "Everything is amazing!" you cried hugging him "this is so much better than a generic card and an overpriced meal at a packed restaurant". Taehyun smiled "that thought did occur to me too, that's why we're so great together". You smiled "perfect some might even say". Taehyun smiled "and I would agree with them" before kissing you "happy non-valentines day Y/n". It was the best non-valentines day ever.

Huening Kai - How good a brother he is

Idols weren't really supposed to interact, even if you were from the same company. It wasn't even an unspoken rule, you were told that as trainees and any rumours that got out were blamed on absolutely any interaction between the accused pair. Huening Kai was incredibly brave and always tried to have some interaction with you to let you know he was thinking about you and when his little sister debuted he also made sure to interact with her. Ever since she'd debuted Huening Kai had been Bahiyyih's biggest cheerleader and it was so sweet. You knew he was an amazing brother but liked how he wouldn't compromise his family just for his fame and image. Your group was lined up on one end of the stage and you watched the big screen which was showing all the other idols still coming on the stage. Kep1er were also lined up and Kai poked Bahiyyih as he passed. She jumped letting out a squeal and looked around before spotting her brother. He waved and she smiled instantly looking more relaxed and you smiled too watching them. After the show, you and Kai left together and when he climbed into the car next to you, you threw your arms around him. He laughed "not that I'm complaining but what is this for?". "You being such a great person" you told him "you're so kind and sweet. It's your most attractive quality". "Really?" he asked "not my handsome face?". You smirked "well I like that too but I like a lot of things about you". "and I like a lot of things about you" Kai replied kissing you and you smiled into it. Nice guys were way hotter than mean ones.i

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harlowcomehome · 1 year

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Studio 8H:

Series link

At the beginning of the week, Jack had to fly to New York to get ready for SNL and as much as you wanted to be there with him you couldn’t because of your job.

You had got the time off to fly out on Friday and meet him there so you were grateful for that. Your boss didn’t ask you any questions about needing so much time off lately, which you were relieved. You and Jack had been keeping your relationship incredibly low-key, and you didn’t expect that to change any time soon.

Jack had called you earlier in the week and let you know he could only get a few visitor passes for SNL, meaning Layla wouldn’t be able to come.

You hated how shy you were but Jack assured you Urban and his parents would be there to sit with you.

“I wish you could come” you sighed as you packed your suitcase for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Me too, but you’ll have so much fun and you’ll have to tell me all about it” Layla replied as she sat on your bed and watched you struggle to fit everything in your suitcase beside her.

Your eyes started to water and Layla noticed immediately.

“Hey, none of that” She stood up and held you while you started to cry.

“I’m just nervous to go without you” Your voice shook, and you couldn’t help but sniffle.

“Jack is a good guy and his team will take care of you, I promise that. Don’t worry about it okay?” She pulled back to make eye contact with you, she was always good about calming you down and you nodded, wiping your tears.

“Why don’t you take my suitcase? It’s bigger and you’ll have a part of me with you” she joked before she went into the hall closet for her luggage.

“You’re the best” You smiled as you placed her suitcase down so you could put all of your things inside it.

“I know” she laughed. “How’s Jack doing? Is he nervous?”

“You know how he is, he pretends he isn’t but I can tell he’s losing his mind. He’s already asked me four times today when my plane lands tomorrow” you giggled.

“He probably misses you. It’s been like a whole week and a half” She playfully rolled her eyes and laughed.

“Also, Lay I wanted to tell you that if I meet Pete, I’ll tell him all about you” You smirked and Layla burst into a fit of laughter. When she finally composed herself all she could say was “You better!”

The next day you were at the airport waiting for your flight and Jack was consistently texting you. He let you know Neelam and Urban would meet you at the airport because he couldn’t get out of rehearsals. You could tell he was disappointed but you tried not to let your anxiety add to his frustrations.

Your flight was quick, and you met Neelam and Urban almost immediately. Neelam explained that she had a hotel room set up for you and that Jack would be done with rehearsals soon and then you two would be able to meet for dinner.

Urban could sense your nerves and talked to you the entire way to the hotel, he asked you about your week and made small talk. You finally asked what songs Jack would be performing and he couldn’t help but laugh, “You know damn well if he hasn’t told you, I can’t tell you either.”

You smacked your lips at that, “it was worth a try.”

After Neelam got you checked into the hotel room both Neelam and Urban went back to Studio 8H, where SNL is filmed. You took a shower and got dressed having zero ideas what the plans were for dinner.

Jack: You stayed at the hotel? ☹️

Y/N: I wasn’t sure if I could go with them or not and I didn’t wanna push. 😅

Jack: I’m almost done here anyway. 😌

It was another hour before Jack showed up at the hotel, you were starving but you were mostly just excited to see him. Neelam had given him the other key to your suite and he text you when he was headed to you.

When he walked into the room he made sure the door closed behind him before he ran over to you and immediately wrapped his arms around you. You could feel his body relax against you.

“I missed you so much” you confessed before wrapping your arms around his shoulders and kissing him. Jack deepened the kiss and your hands got lost in his curls, eventually, the two of you were making out in bed.

“I missed you too, in case you couldn’t tell” He laughed and you did too. Just then you heard a knock on the door, Jack got up quickly and you stayed in bed.

You listened as Jack thanked the guy at the door and then wheeled in a cart of food.

“Dinner is served” he joked as he showed you the options and you just smiled at him with all the adoration in the world.

“You’re a dork, you know that?” You laughed.

The two of you ate and talked about your week, Jack always wanted to hear about yours which you found to be funny considering you did “normal things” and he well, he didn’t.

He apologized profusely about Layla not being able to come and you could tell he meant it, you felt like he understood your sadness because of how close he and Urban are.

“It’s fine! Next time you host or something she’ll come” You smiled and Jack seemed taken aback by that.

“Host? You have a lot of faith in me” he laughed nervously.

“I do! You’re going to do great” You comforted him and he responded with wide eyes.

“I don’t need to watch you rehearse to know that” you chimed in before he mentioned it.

“I’m just glad you’re here” He smiled, and you knew he meant it.

“When do your parents get here?” You asked innocently.

“Ummm, this morning” He blushed knowing you were going to tell him he should be spending time with them.

“Jack!” You gasped and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Baby, I’ll see them tomorrow!” He said defensively and you shook your head.

“You’re going to make them hate me!”

“They would never hate you and I saw them for a little while today!” He responded. You just pouted and he laughed as he began to tickle you.

“Jack!! Stop!” You giggled and he did for a moment to let you breathe before starting again.

When he finally stopped you straddled him, poking at his sides as he pretended not to be ticklish himself. You looked down and tickled his thighs making him jump. “Okay, okay truce! Shit!” He was out of breath and you leaned against him.

Jack stayed in your hotel room that night, he talked until he startled to mumble which you found adorable. He was always more vulnerable when he was tired and you found the lisp his retainer gave him adorable.

The next morning you were both woken up by his phone going off like crazy. Neelam was trying to make sure he was awake considering it was almost noon.

“I’m awake” he whispered and you reached out to touch his back as he sat on the edge of the bed. He turned to look at you and smiled, mouthing “I’m sorry.”

You shrugged, you never slept this late anyway. You just watched him as he listened to Neelam give him the rundown of today.

“Well can’t I- well- Neelam- listen” He hung up and groaned, immediately crawling back into bed with you.

“By the sound of that call we should probably get ready” you teased and he agreed. The two of you showered and got ready before you waited for his team to show up. Jack wanted you to come along with him for the entire experience so you knew today would be a very long day.

“Are you sure I won’t be in the way?” The two of you waited in the hotel lobby for the car.

“Yeah, it’ll be fine. I want you there, my parents are coming too. I made sure to get everyone a guest pass” He smiled, trying his best to hide his nerves.

You and Jack went inside a limo, which you assumed SNL had provided. You tried not to be obviously “wowed” by it. When you got into the limo you greeted everyone, sitting beside his mom immediately.

Maggie was warm and inviting, the kind of person who made you feel like you’d known her for years. Jack was the same way, so you knew where he got it from.

When the limo was parked, Jack gave you a few pecks before helping you out. You knew even without a real discussion that you couldn’t publicly be all over him.

When you got inside the studio, you spotted Maya Rudolph right away. You wanted to fangirl but you kept your composure. Urban walked with you as Jack led the way. You didn’t mind it because Urban also had a way of making himself feel familiar, which you needed especially without Layla.

You expected the day to drag considering the show wasn’t until later in the night but everything was so quick.

Before you knew it Jack was performing his first song. You could feel the energy shift in the row you were sitting in, his entire team and you were nervous. It wasn’t because you didn’t think he could do it but because you all shared the same idea. Each one of you knew he could do it, and that this moment would be another big career shift.

Jack's first performance was a medley of both Tyler Herro and Whats poppin, but you expected that. You were more curious about his second performance because you had zero ideas what that could be.

When he was done with his first performance you turned to his mom and smiled, she squeezed your hand for reassurance and you looked over at Urban who had been filming and taking photos.

You were mesmerized by the entire show. You grew up watching SNL so just being there was a dream come true. When Jack took the stage for his second (and last) song, you noticed Urban looking at you and smiling. “What?” You turned your head to the side, utterly confused by his grin.

“You’re going to love this” he whispered before he directed his attention back to the stage. Jack was standing next to someone, and once you realized who it was you turned to Urban with a big grin.

Jack had discussed his album with you on one of your very first dates, he was the one to bring it up of course. You confessed to him that his song with Adam Levine didn’t get as much love as you felt it deserved. Jack seemed surprised by your take, even calling it a “flaming hot” take but since the two of you never discussed it again you didn’t think much of it.

You sang along to the song, and your heart swelled at the thought of your comments influencing his decision to pick this song in particular. When he was done, you and everyone else met him backstage and his parents were both in tears. He hugged them for a long time before coming over to both you and Urban.

“I’m so proud of you” you whispered as he hugged you. To keep himself from tearing up, he asked you and Urban about the afterparty. His parents and Neelam were ready to call it a night but he was still wired from performing. He said his goodbyes and Neelam warned both you and Urban to keep an eye on him, half joking and half serious.

You agreed to go to the afterparty, both of you had talked about it last night and Jack brought a change of clothes for the three of you, storing it in his dressing room.

The three of you were fashionably late to the afterparty but both you and Urban grabbed drinks while Jack worked the room. He eventually showed back up to your table with Pete Davidson and you tried your best not to be obviously starstruck.

“Thought you’d wanna call Layla” Jack teased and you nodded, FaceTiming her so she could have a cringe conversation with her celebrity crush. Jack shouted over the music that he owed her since she couldn’t come and Layla could hardly form words, it was funny and awkward but memorable.

The four of you talked for a while before a few other cast members joined in.

Eventually, Jack excused himself again to network but you expected that. You and Urban got to know each other fairly well considering the circumstance, which was nice.

“So Laylas a Pete girl huh?” Urban smirked and you couldn’t help but laugh out loud at his tone.

“You jealous?” You teased and he shrugged, not giving you a yes or no answer. The look on his face said it all though.

“She’s going to hate me for saying this and I’ll deny it if you tell her but I think she was more upset about not being able to see you than not being able to come this weekend” you hummed.

“Oh, really?” He attempted and failed at trying not to sound too excited about it.

Your eyes scanned the room for Jack, losing eyes on him for the first time tonight. You assumed he’d show back up soon so you took it upon yourself to mingle, following Urban's lead.

You checked the time on your phone realizing just how long all of you had been at this afterparty. You had an early flight and you didn’t want to ruin Jack's night but you were exhausted. You called him twice and he didn’t answer, Urban noticed you were growing anxious about it.

“Let me go look for him real quick, okay?” He motioned for you to stay where you were standing while he went to find Jack.

Less than three minutes later both Jack and Urban showed back up, Jack apologized profusely but you weren’t upset, just tired. The three of you got an Uber back to the hotel and you fell asleep leaning on Jack's shoulder.

Jack gently woke you when you got to the hotel, and before you parted ways you thanked Urban for keeping you company all night.

Jack was silent as you two walked to your room, which wasn’t like him at all.

“Are you okay?” You yawned as you rummaged through your purse for the hotel room key.

He didn’t answer you until you got inside the room, “I’m sorry if you felt like I disappeared tonight. I just had to show some face and Chris and Neelam said I should spend my night talking to people and I never want you to think those people are more important because they aren’t. You know that right?” You noticed he was nervously rambling, as he sat on the bed and looked up at you.

“Jack? I’m okay baby. We are fine” You smiled as you took a step toward him, placing your hand on his shoulder.

“Promise?” He smiled, the corners of his eyes were wrinkled and you could tell he was also exhausted.

“I promise” You bent down to kiss him. “I get it, I do.” You reassured him and he felt a wave of relief come over him.

“I wish you didn’t have to go home so early” he mumbled as the two of you changed into pajamas.

“I know me too. I’m proud of you for tonight though, and I’m glad you wanted me there” You smiled before going into the bathroom to brush your teeth.

The two of you eventually fell asleep and cuddled up against one another.

The next morning was hectic, you had overslept and almost missed your flight meaning you and Jack only had a quick moment to say goodbye, leaving your stomach in knots.

You were sure to see him soon but with his hectic schedule anything could change at any moment and you felt uneasy about it.

You were waiting for your plane to depart, looking at reviews online about Jack's performances, and scrolling through pictures of the after-party. You hadn’t noticed someone was taking photos, you assumed they would just be of Maya Rudolph and Jack since they were the host and musical guest along with other cast members.

There was a photo of Jack, Pete and someone you couldn’t exactly place, you knew she was famous obviously and no doubt it was either for modeling or acting but you didn’t know who she was right away or who she was even there with since you hadn’t noticed her all night.

You saved the photo and immediately sent it to Layla before takeoff, she usually recognized everyone.

You knew she was asleep so you shrugged it off and sent another message letting her know you’d be home soon.

You quickly sent a text to Jack letting him know you’d tell him when you landed back home.

You hated to admit just how much you already missed him. There was no denying that you both were already growing attached in such a short time.

#Jack Harlow #Jack Harlow x reader #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow concepts #Jack harlow blurbs #Jack harlow fluff

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