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thestarrynightslover · 3 years

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He has a thing for the mice

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Word count: 2,514

Warnings: Slight angst.

Summary: (y/n) works as a tech consultant at Intelligence and, even though the team guarantees her that she is one of them, Jay doesn’t seem to agree with that.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the One Chicago shows, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: So… I finally managed to finish a WIP!! But I do have faith that it will be better from now on. Thanks for all the mind-blowing support, and feedback is appreciated, as usual! 💕

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

| masterlist |

It had been six months since you first started working with the Intelligence Unit 𑁋 in the CPD 𑁋, as a tech consultant. At first, it was obvious that you weren’t very welcome there. All the officers just kept side-eyeing you all day long. Every single day. It was like they were expecting some big betrayal from you at any given moment and simply couldn’t risk sleeping with one eye open.

As time passed, though, they started warming up to you. And you, to them. You began to understand that, them being such a tight group, they had a hard time trusting outsiders. Also, that they’d already lost a handful of team members, for one reason or another, so it was plausible that they wouldn’t wanna get attached to someone new right away. And, you’d learnt that the last person who had that job, long before you even considered moving to Chicago, was detective Halstead’s best friend, who had gone back to risking his life for the army overseas.

That’s also how you accepted that, if he was ever going to warm up to you 𑁋 like the others had 𑁋, he’d do it on his own time. No point in pressuring him. Even though sometimes you really wanted to do so, you wanted him to like you. But not just because you two worked together and that would make for a good environment. You wanted him to like you because he was so kind. Caring. Funny. Smart. Cute. And you wanted that kind of guy to like you the same way you were realizing you liked him.

But, if you were being reasonable, it wasn’t about to happen any time soon. Nor should it happen, really. Over that half-year that had passed, you’d also learnt that that job was actually pretty cool. You were using your abilities for something truly good, for once. So, if Jay Halstead ever came to like you the same way you liked him… Whatever the two of you decided to do with that information could really jeopardize your spot there.

Not that you were a cop, you knew you weren’t. But, on your very first day, the sergeant had made it pretty clear that his rules, all of them, applied to you just as much as they did to everyone else.

What started to threaten that certainty you had was the way the detective talked to you on that morning: “Hey, uh, (y/n),” he started saying while walking over to your desk, “could you try and see if you can get any hidden information on our suspect? You know, that little magic you work out?” Jay finished his question with an amused look on his face: raised brows, twinkling eyes, a small smile on his lips. As cute as he looked, that whole behavior made you very confused. Was Jay Halstead really being friendly with you? That mere possibility was enough to send your mind into a spiral of thoughts, which made the detective start calling out for you. “(y/n)?” He questioned, already panicking a little, afraid that you were ignoring him on purpose. Of course, that didn’t make any sense but he always got super nervous when you were around, which was why he tried to keep you at a safe distance. “(y/n)?”

“Oh my God, I’m sorry!” You couldn’t believe yourself at that moment. What were you? A teenager? “I’m so so sorry, detective! I just, uh… Got a little distracted. Could y- you repeat?” You weren’t looking in a mirror then but you knew for a fact that you were blushing. Hard.

“Ah, no worries. And please, call me Jay.” He told you, making your heartbeat race even faster. “Uh, I asked you if you could get any hidden information on our suspect? You know, that stuff us, cops, usually let slide…”

“Ah, right! Yeah, yeah! Sure, thing, detec- Jay.” You said, making him chuckle a little bit. So cute. You motioned towards the other monitor, to do what you were asked, but suddenly stopped yourself as you felt eyes on you. “Can I, uh, help you with anything else?” You asked Jay, who was just standing there staring at you.

“Oh! No, no! Thanks!” He quickly answered, looking like he was trying to decide whether or not he should keep talking. "It's just that you, um, you reminded me of Mouse a little bit."

"Um… Is that your friend? The one who used to work here?" You shyly ask, not knowing if it was a good idea to pry like that.

"Yeah! That's right. So, I assume someone here has told you about him?"

"Yes, they mentioned a few things. Said he was great. Now I'm just… Trying to live up to the standard." You confessed, suddenly remembering that that was Jay's best friend you were talking about. So, in order to correct your previous statement, you started rambling and ended up only burying yourself deeper: "I mean, not live up as in replace him or anything. More like be as good as. For the team. You know because we need to-"

"Hey, hey," he called out, laughing and raising his hands in front of his chest. "Relax. It's okay. I understood what you were trying to say. Besides, as a replacement to Mouse, you’re not bad at all.” The detective finished his reassurance with a wink, leaving an astonished version of you behind.

It was only much later on that day that you decided to just shrug off any mixed signals you might’ve been exchanging with Jay. Adam and the ladies had made it clear that you were all invited for a mandatory night out at Molly’s. Which meant you and the group were going there straight from the district, you being absolutely determined to drink your feelings 𑁋 and your day, really 𑁋 away. So that’s what you did and, considering that you didn’t have too much alcohol resistance… It was safe to say that things started to get pretty blurry pretty fast.

Before you could stop yourself, you were dancing and chatting with every guy that showed up in front of you and wasn’t a certain good-looking detective. All of which wasn’t going by unnoticed on Jay’s end. He could tell you were avoiding him, he just had no idea why. It seemed to him like you two could get along fine 𑁋 not that he didn’t want it to be more than just fine 𑁋, he wanted a lot more than that but, after all he’d been through, he simply wasn’t sure he should make a move. And now… He really wasn’t sure.

That was until he spotted you struggling with a guy that seemed to be getting a little too handsy for your comfort. It was beginning to cause a scene but most of the familiar crowd was either gone or too distracted to help you.

“Hey, do we have a problem here, buddy?” You jumped a little as you felt Jay’s warm hand in the small of your back. He had a smug smirk on his face and his voice was filled with condescendence as he eyed up the guy you’d been trying to get rid of for the past minutes.

“Uh… Who the hell are you?”

“None of your business. Now, why don’t you just walk away from her, huh?”

“Well, I don’t see how this is any of your business.” The guy replied, maintaining his asshole stance.

“Well, the minute you started sexually harassing this woman you made it my business,” Jay said, lifting the side of his shirt just enough so that the dickhead could see his badge.

“Wow- relax, man! That’s not what was happening here! Besides she didn’t even accuse me of any-”

“Yeah? So, if you wanna keep it that way, I suggest you start walking away.” Hearing that, the guy just stood there, as if not believing the detective. “Now.” And that was the cue the idiot finally took to leave you alone.

“Thank you, Jay. Really.” You started saying after you turned to face him. “But you didn’t have to do that. I could’ve handled it.” You didn’t mean to sound rude or anything, it was just the truth.

“Oh, you could have? Because, from where I was standing, you were in trouble.”

“In trouble?” You ask him in disbelief. “I wasn’t in trouble. Just because I’m not a cop, doesn’t mean that I can’t defend myself, detective.” Hearing that, he seemed to realize what he’d just said.

“I- I’m sorry.” His eyes were so filled with worry at that moment that you couldn’t keep looking directly at him. But he just searched for your eyes until you gave in. “I’m sorry, (y/n). I really am. I didn’t mean that, I don’t think that. At all! I just-”

“You just wanted to help.” You finished his sentence whilst stifling a yawn with the back of your hand. “I get it, Jay. I do, don’t worry. I’m just really tired now. Think I’mma head home.”

“Right.” He muttered, still concerned about how you were leaving things with each other. “So, how about I take you home, hum?” He offered with a peace-making grin on his face, which you eyed suspiciously. “And all I’m really offering here is a cab paid for, I promise! Besides, I think I should get going too, so if we split… You know, at this time o' night, it's cheaper and safer. For both of us.” You were so tired at the moment that there didn’t seem to be any energy left in your body for bickering over a stupid cab.

"Okay, then, let's split the cab." You finally agree, making his smile grow even bigger. So you two make your way outside, where you get on the first available cab you can find. Jay, obviously, making you give the driver your address for the first stop. Which you weren’t so reluctant in agreeing with, to tell the truth. But you hadn’t imagined that, on the way to your apartment, you’d end up falling asleep with your head on the detective’s shoulder, him caressing your hair.

After a few minutes in the car, you were completely knocked out, which made him take it upon himself to struggle with you and your purse to make sure you got safely carried inside your house. Being the smart, resourceful person he is, Jay manages to pay the driver, get you both inside and gently put you in bed. The only thing was that, at that point, he was so tired that, somehow, he ended up climbing in there and falling asleep by your side.

The next morning, when you wake up, you turn your back to meet Jay's gorgeous sleepy face and, thinking that you were just in a very good dream, you start kissing him, who responds by kissing you back. Until you realize that it is actually happening.

"Wait a second, are you real?" You ask him, already feeling the embarrassment reach your cheeks.

"Uh, yeah, I think so? I mean, last time I checked..." Hearing that, you can’t help but start to panic a little. Watching you looking down at your fully clothed bodies and just becoming more confused, Jay decided to explain: "Oh, no! Don't worry about it! Nothing happened between us, until now anyway..." Seeing your horrified face, he added: "I just brought you home but, since you fell asleep in the cab, I brought you inside. And I guess I must've been so beat that I ended up falling asleep here, too. But I should have found a way to go home, I'm sorry." He finished the story, shooting you an apologetic look.

"No, no, that's okay... You were helping me and it was super late. It was only fair that you'd stay here. I'm the one who's sorry about, um, kissing you. I guess... I just thought that I was still dreaming." The second the words leave your mouth, you regret it, as he just smirks at you, eyes twinkling.

"So, you dream about me a lot, do ya?"

"No, I don't. That is not what I said. That is not what I said at all."

"No?" He playfully asks you, who quickly gets out of the bed. "Okay, maybe not... But it was implied."

"No, it wasn't." You say, not missing how he was crawling on the bed, towards where you were standing up.

"It was so implied." He continued teasing, already out of the bed and walking in your direction.

"That's- that's not even a thing. So implied." You ramble a little, feeling your body press against your bedroom wall because of all your walking backwards to get away from him.

"You know what? That doesn't really matter. Because," he was so close to you, and you didn't have any more room for an escape. Was he always that hot? The answer was an emphatic yes and you knew it. You'd spent so much time thinking about what those strong arms could do to you... "It was clearly implied." And that's when he kisses you. Roughly. Sweetly. Passionately. All in once. How was that even possible? There was a reason why you didn't want him to kiss you, you knew there was. But how could you remember it, when all you could think was: oh my God, oh my God, oh my God?

"No, Jay-" You managed to breathe out, his mouth pressing hot, wet, kisses to your neck. "We can't do this." You said a bit more firmly, pushing him from you a little.

"Why not? Is it because we work together? If it is, you should know that a lot of people have done it before. Besides, you're not a cop. So our relationship wouldn't put each other's lives in any danger." You kept your eyes on the floor, as you couldn't bring yourself to look at him just yet. But, hearing him say that... 'Our relationship'... Made you smile and look up at him. "Just- just give me a chance, that's all I'm asking for. One chance to prove to you that, not only we can do this, but, also, that we should do this.

"Okay... One chance." He kisses you right on the spot, as soon as you say that. "Okay! That was not what I meant when I said I’d give you a chance!"

"Of course not! Besides, that's definitely not how I'm using my chance. I'll present my plan to conquer you tomorrow night, at eight o'clock."

"Oh, so you're already willing to decide things for me? Just like that?" His smile was beaming so brightly at the moment, that it could have blinded you.

"Yeah, just like that. Cause I know we’ll have plenty of time for you to be the boss of me." Jay states, not even giving you any time to giggle, as he starts kissing you again. Only pausing to say: "But, for now..." And you can't even pretend to want him to stop kissing you anymore.

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raeynbowboi · 3 years

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Disenchantment and Fairytales

By now, we’re well aware that Disenchantment is to the fantasy genre what Futurama is to the Sci-Fi genre. It’s made many references to Game of Thrones, Lord of the Rings, and of course, Disney. But a less glaringly obvious inclusion in the realm of Disenchantment is its use of fairytales, as they often exist only in sight gags or very minor elements. Take for instance the glass slippers Bean refuses to wear for her coronation in the finale for season 3, or Elfo’s Snow White style glass coffin actually being an aquarium. The only overt fairytale is Hansel and Gretel, which even then is given a very dark spin with the twins being cannibals who imprisoned the witch and used the gingerbread house to attract kids and other people to cannibalize. So, I wanted to examine the use of fairytales and how they might be used, played with, or subverted by Disenchantment.

The Wicked Step-Mother

Most noteworthy in the fairytales like Snow White and also Hansel and Gretel, in the original versions of both stories, the wicked mother is actually the biological mother of the heroes. But in later renditions, it was altered to vilify step-mothers. Thanks largely to the Brothers Grimm popularizing these stories with evil step-mothers, they were driven to make these alterations due to their own perception of motherhood as pure and sacred, making the step-mother a wicked obstacle to the wholesome nature of the nuclear family. Disenchantment heavily leans on this trope, mostly with Dagmar resembling the wicked mother from Snow White. Like the Evil Queen from the fairytale, Dagmar is a smolderingly beautiful queen with a knack for witchcraft and sorcery. Oona meanwhile is the deconstruction of the Evil Stepmother trope, as Bean comes to recognize that she put her birth mother on an undeserving pedastal, and only comes to appreciate how cool Oona was too late, only seeing Oona as a true friend once she and Zog were divorced.

The Princess and The Knight

Lady Bowmore is the bee knight that Bean meets in Steamland, and she even calls herself Bean’s “Knight in Rusted Armor”. The only thing we really know about Lady Bowmore is that she drives a mechanical horse-car, is very helpful and flirtateous with Bean, and she wears a bee medallion. While this is a personal theory, I wonder if the bee blimp that Bean took back to Dreamland belonged to Lady Bowmore, which would mean that she’s connected to Gunderson Airships, and possibly in allegiance with Alvin Gundersen and the plot to kill Zog. Based on the story conventions and Disenchantment’s general tone, the fact that she calls herself Bean’s knight in rusted armor implies that while she’ll seem like a heroic helper at first, the apparent chivalry isn’t as clean and pretty as it seems, and she’ll turn against Bean somewhere down the line as a deconstruction of the gallant heroic knightly figure. However, I could be wrong and applying a cynical reading, when instead the trope will play rather straight, and Lady Bowmore will be the stock gallant knight who rescues, aids, and defends the fair princess, possibly even defecting from Steamland to serve Bean as the new Penderghast and captain of the royal guards.

Pinnochio

So far, Freckles has only been in three episodes. He showed up in a cameo in the pilot, and then appeared in earnest at the end of season 3. Freckles is clearly mischevious and very probably dangerous. For starters, the shop is literally selling haunted puppets, and the shop keeper (who is very likely Dagmar) says that she can’t part with Freckles because he’s a very naughty boy who is like a son to her, much like how Pinocchio is like a son to Geppetto. What’s more, in the book version of the fairytale, Pinocchio is a mischievous little brat whose actions get Geppetto arrested and kills his conscience. We also know that Dagmar told Zog to let her into his mind in exchange for being let out of the asylum, so this access to his headspace could have something to do with why he was drawn to Freckles specifically. There’s also a sign in the shop that reads “Replace your Child”, which Pinocchio was a substitution for Geppetto who had no biological children of his own and replaced that void in his life with a puppet he made. This stands to reason that Freckles is somehow going to threaten Bean’s place in Zog’s heart in one way or another. Another sign reads “Need a Friend? This Won’t Help” again alluding to how dangerous Freckles is going to be. When buying the puppet, Freckles says “Don’t you see? He talks through me. But it won’t be free.” Fairytales have a longstanding tradition of “paying for something in an unconventional way”.

Beauty and the Beast

I’ll admit, when Merkimer first turned into a pig, I assumed he was downgraded to a running gag side character, but season 3′s episode Hey, Pig Spender shows us a miraculous bit of character growth for Merkimer. He gives up his chance to be human in order to save Bean, and in that moment, I realized he wasn’t just a man turned into a pig as a joke. Merkimer is the Beast. Like Merkimer, Beast is usually depicted as a cruel, selfish, or vain man, who is changed through magic into a hideous creature in order to learn a lesson. While the Disney version is more similar to a wolf, most of the older illustrated versions depict the beast as either having the head of a boar, or being otherwise pig-like. In fact, the fairytale even has a related fairytale called The Pig King, which likewise features a handsome prince turned into a pig and only becoming human again once he obtains the love of a woman. With only 3 seasons so far, it’s hard to say whether Bean will eventually come to love Merkimer as he keeps growing and changing or if he will slowly win the heart of another woman (or man), Merkimer’s character arc is clearly setting up that he’ll become human again when he’s completed his redemption arc and become a better person. In a sense, he’ll stop being a pig when he stops thinking and acting like a pig.

The Little Mermaid

Like her fairytale counterpart, Mora gives up her home and family to pursue her passion, only to find it’s not what she expected it to be, and find herself regretting the choice she’s made to leave it all behind. The Little Mermaid wanted to see the land of the humans, and also longed for an immortal soul that she might live forever in Heaven. Mora meanwhile desired to be an actress, but due to her tail, wasn’t given a fair shake. This also mirrors the real life casting discrepancies of the early film era, when non-white actors had a hard time finding roles, and even the few actors of color who did manage to get roles were still largely disrespected by the industry at large. Due to the original tragic ending of the fairytale, I half suspect that Mora too will get an unhappy ending with Bean, likely due to how distant their kingdoms are, or how different their biology is. However, considering how much merfolk imagery appears in the Dreamland Castle, it is highly possible that Mora is Bean’s soul mate and ultimate love interest for the series. Mora’s song, though short, all but confirms that Mora is not gone from the story. When Bean finds herself caught in a war, Mora will appear and take Bean’s side, and fight beside her, likely as an archer like the mermaid in the constellation.

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laequiem · 3 years

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Kiss-proof

/ Jude has lost Cardan in the mall. Of course, he is in the one place she would never go. Domestic fluff, fluffy fluffiest fluff

Fandom: The Folk of The Air

Rating: T for mention of characters having a sex life, but that's it.

The flaw in Cardan's glamour is the same detail that infuriates me when I look at his face when he wakes up: he is impossibly beautiful. Not handsome like a popular actor, not pretty like the members of a boyband. He is absolutely devastating, just as he is as a faerie.

read on ao3 • part of Tales from the Mortal Realm

I check my bulky flip phone for the 5th time.

4:23pm.

I don't know why I expected Cardan to be back on time. I had some errands to do—which might include lingerie I wanted to keep secret until our anniversary—so I told him to explore the mall on his own. I gave him some (real, non-glamoured) money to spend like a child with an allowance.

There are so many red flags with this whole plan.

I do not like to admit it, but I'm worried. My extravagant husband has enough trouble fitting in with humans when he is with me, I can only imagine the trouble he can get himself in without me. Or the trouble that can find him when I am not there to protect him.

I get up from the bench that I had designed as our meeting point. Where could he be? Anywhere I would not go, which does not narrow the list down very much. As I walk around, I can imagine him enjoying every single one of these places.

Cardan smelling some bath bombs and chatting up with a pushy Lush salesperson. All that glitter, all that dye—the servants would rage at having to clean the tub afterwards.

Cardan entering a sterile-looking jewelry store, eyes glittering at all the precious gems.

Cardan browsing Hot Topic, digging into bowls of plastic rings and looking at shirts for bands he does not know.

My stomach drops as I stand before the one store I know I will find him in. Black-and-white striped pillars stand on either side of the storefront and the dreaded white font over black spells out the name of the store: Sephora.

I have never entered a Sephora before. They are intimidating and I know nothing about their products. Whenever I needed new eyeliner, I would just ask Vivi to buy me whichever one she thought was best. Nowadays, I can count on my husband's extensive makeup collection and skills.

“We have servants to do this!” I had insisted the first time he approached me with a kohl pencil. He had laughed, and I let him line my eyes. Ever since, I look forward to it. It’s a small, intimate gesture with which we prove our love to each other without saying a word. It is his way of showing care, and my way of showing trust.

I pass the threshold of the store and I spot him immediately. Even without my True Sight making his glamour ripple when I gaze at him, I would still have a hard time believing he is human. His glamour is perfect—rounded ears, no tail, the glitter of his skin dulled down to a normal healthy shine—but every glamour should have a flaw. The flaw in Cardan's glamour is the same detail that infuriates me when I look at his face when he wakes up: he is impossibly beautiful. Not handsome like a popular actor, not pretty like the members of a boyband. He is absolutely devastating, just as he is as a faerie.

Even amongst gorgeous people who perfected their faces through makeup and good lighting, he stands out.

For me, however, bewilderment comes from seeing Cardan wait in line like a normal person. Like a boy who did not grow up as an entitled prick. It shakes me so much that I stop in my tracks and watch him walk up to the register once the previous client leaves.

He adapts better than I give him credit for. My heart swells with love for this male who keeps challenging and surprising me.

I go to bypass the line and I catch a snippet of his conversation with the boy manning the cash register. On the counter lay piles of makeup, from eyeshadow palettes to colorful eyeliner.

"A good choice!" the cashier exclaims, holding a dark lipstick, "it has the best matte finish. It even passes the kiss test!"

I swear I can see him wiggle his perfectly defined eyebrows. The smile he gives Cardan is wicked—the same kind of grin my husband gives me over dinner then he's feeling particularly hungry.

"The kiss test?" my husband asks, a grin forming on his sinful lips.

"Yeah," the cashier replies, "you can make out with someone, it won't budge. Or transfer."

I get to Cardan’s side and the cashier notices me then. His brows raise in surprise for a moment before he schools his features into a socially acceptable customer service smile.

I can't blame him for his surprise—Cardan and I could not look any more mismatched. His sharp features are accentuated with contouring and a lighter version of his usual silver highlighter. I, on the other hand, barely had time to brush my hair before putting on an oversized hoodie and leggings. I bet I look like someone he took pity on and brought to the mall for a makeover.

"Where is the fun in that?" Cardan looks at me then, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief. "Still, I suppose I will have to try."

I roll my eyes and he presses a kiss to the top of my head.

The cashier tells Cardan the total, and he raises a brow when my husband starts counting cash. I know other humans use cards nowadays, but without a permanent address in the Mortal Realm, we have been dealing exclusively in cash—mostly given by Vivi in exchange for Elfhame goods.

The boy thanks Cardan for his purchase, and it's all I can do not to laugh when he replies "you're very welcome", like that is a normal thing to say to a retail employee.

On our way out, Cardan stops by one of the many mirrors in the store and applies his new lipstick, ending with a pop of his luscious lips.

"Really? You couldn't wait until we got back to the hotel?"

I smile teasingly at him, and he grins back. The lipstick is deep, dark purple.

"If I did, nobody would see it but you." He slides an arm around my waist and winks. "That would be a shame, when it looks so good."

I roll my eyes and slip out of his embrace, making towards the exit. When my back is turned to him, I allow myself a smile. It does look good, I think, though I won't give him the satisfaction of saying it aloud.

"Jude, wait—"

With those long legs of his, Cardan catches up to me quickly. He puts a hand on my shoulder and spins me around to face him. I lift my chin to look at him, and his expression sends a chill down my spine. This face used to send unwanted images of our younger days to my brain—Cardan spitting on my shoes, pulling my hair, kicking my lunchbox. Nowadays, this wickedness sends my blood rushing south and fills me with memories of his clever fingers and his face between my legs.

"I was not done," he says as he circles my waist again, pulling me towards him sternly. "I have to debunk the claims the boy made."

"Fine," I say, and peck him quickly on the lips.

He chuckles. "You know that won't do, Jude dearest."

Cardan leans towards me. Instinctively, I part my lips and close my eyes. Even after all this time, I hate that he has this effect on me, even though I know it's not fair. I have spent my whole life training with a blade while he spent his training his mind and body to seduce and manipulate.

His lips claim mine and I all but melt into him. I forget where we are, how utterly exposed we are to the judgement of others. I seek out his tongue with mine and bite his lip the way he likes.

Cardan pulls away and I chase after his lips, desperate for more, until I feel his mouth on my neck. Slender fingers grip my chin, angling my head to allow him access.

I open my eyes and finally remember myself, where we are and how inappropriate this is—

"Cardan!"

He hums in question as his cruel mouth continues kissing its way up to my ear. His hand moves back towards my nape and tangles in my hair, pulling lightly.

"We're in—you can't just do that! People are—"

I look around, mortified. The mall is not that crowded, but I see people looking abruptly away when I look in their direction. A mother covers her child's eyes as she notices us. An old lady sneers.

I feel Cardan grin against my skin before dragging his teeth up my ear to nibble at the curved cartilage.

I give a small shove to his chest and he pulls away with a chuckle that curls my toes.

"You're shameless," I say.

"You look like you drank an entire bottle of faerie wine," he replies, then gives a quick kiss to my heating cheek.

When he pulls back, he inspects my face with narrowed eyes, then my neck. He lets out an impressed hum.

"It seems he was right. No marks."

I laugh and his eyes light up, a genuine smile forming on his dark lips.

"Will you buy more, then?" I ask.

"No. I prefer when it leaves marks."

#The folk of the air #tfota #cardan greenbriar #Jude duarte #jurdan #judecardan #holly black #fluff #domestic fluff #fanfiction #fanfic #folk of the air #the cruel prince #the queen of nothing #the wicked king #queen of nothing

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geminil0vr · 3 years

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𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙖 𝙬𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 !

the masterlist -> part one

summary ✰ it's the night of the slytherin bash, and, intoxicated, you almost blurt out all your relationship troubles to pansy and the boys of slytherin.

tags ✰ @partr1dge <3

word count ✰ 3.4k

content ✰ alcohol, weed, rip. mill's hairbrush, a big party, drunk/high people and reader, mentions of sex, mild (but just as serious) sexual assault, boyfriend being pushy, arguments, gaslighting, guilt-tripping, pansy lowkey admiring the reader and vice versa, pansy taking off your makeup for you.

a/n ✰ yes we're having a lil party moment right on shedyool <3 i think i made draco too hot in this like have i forgotten this is a pansy fic ?? and i've been listening to the playlist on repeat for some inspiration but now all the songs are stuck in my head yikes... anyway, happy reading :))

letting out a short yell, you bolt out the way of millicent bulstrode being chased by her own hairbrush in your dorm room, falling backwards onto your bed, then leaning up on your forearms to watch in amusement as she squeals.

"stop it, stop it!"

pansy crosses her arms, leaning in the doorway for a moment before speaking calmly despite the urgent situation, "mill, i already told you not to try any beautification spells for tonight. they take a certain finesse that you clearly..." she eyes the hairbrush, which has somehow grown teeth, "lack."

daphne fervently attempts to throw millicent's wand to her, having lost her own somewhere in the room, ducking whenever the hairbrush swings too low by her head and yelling encouragement to her as she wails.

"it's gonna bloody eat me!"

you glance over to pansy, your lips quirked but still fighting the brighter grin that tries to force its way upon your mouth, one brow raised. she looks back with a smirk, raising her brows lazily, then pulls out her wand at last.

sure, you have yours, but come on! this is quality entertainment.

muttering a spell under her breath, the hairbrush rises, letting out a sharp, plasticky sound, teeth gnashing at the unknown force which has suddenly halted its rampage. then, thin, dark cracks begin to show upon its surface as it travels higher and higher into the air, finally letting out one last high-pitched sound before exploding into hot pink shards of plastic onto the wooden floor of the room.

millicent makes a lacklustre attempt of trying to catch certain pieces that are still falling, whining about how it was her favourite hairbrush. daphne drops the wand and falls back onto her duvet, exasperated, and you watch ahead in shock.

"blimey, pansy, couldn't you have just done 'finite'?" you ask, eyes wide.

"'s not nearly as much fun," she grins, bounding over to the large, dark oak wardrobe in the corner of the room, "now, ladies. what are we going to wear for the slytherin bash?"

"i bagsy y/n's black dress!" daphne pipes up, bouncing to sit cross-legged on her bed.

"no, you bloody well don't!"

you look in the mirror of the vanity, tucking back a few strands of hair out of your face and looking down at your silky emerald dress, the neckline dipping a little at your chest, the straps thin.

"whatever, i actually might look better in the green, anyway."

slinking out from the bathroom, daphne fixes the button on the back of the dress she's wearing, the black fabric clinging to her skin, "you definitely do."

"you're just saying that to keep my dress, aren't you?"

"maybe so. but you're still very pretty." she pecks your cheek and sits on her bed, fixing her curled hair in a compact mirror and swaying slightly to the thumping music already playing downstairs.

pansy pulls at her dress, leaning onto the vanity and applying a thin coat of red lipstick over her lips, looking at you through the glass "she's not wrong. you look nice."

you swallow, blinking at your reflection. you've brushed your brows, applied some blush, and a little smokey eyeliner, but nothing much. you don't mind letting your skin breathe a little, anyway.

"thanks, pansy." you eye her loose, sparkling, red dress, neckline dipping so low on her chest that you feel the sudden need to look away, instead focusing on her light-green eyes which never actually ceased intensely tracking the movements of your iris. "so do you."

"right. thank you."

millicent finishes tying her hair up, avoiding using any muggle products and therefore resorting to something simple, clipping it back with a claw accessory, "okay," she starts, and you and pansy quickly look away from each other, "so, are we going or not? can't be too late, they're still missing the life of the party!"

"mill, you pass out after three hours during almost every single party." daphne blinks.

"what's that saying, here for a good time but not a long time?" pansy snickers, zipping up her black boots.

millicent rolls her eyes playfully, crossing her arms. "shut your gobs, the two of you! now let's go!"

locking the door quickly on your way out so you won't have to deal with any arseholes doing it in your bed like last time (well, at least they were having a whale of a time), you bid goodbye to your dormmates who all part ways, immediately grabbing a bottle of firewhiskey from a large table in the corner, looking over at the youthful atmosphere suddenly claiming such a place as the slytherin common room.

pouring yourself a shot, although you're awful at doing those, you hold your nose (as if that's going to help) and gulp down the alcohol, finishing by setting the little glass down and placing your hands on the table full of drinks in front of you, hair falling down into your face.

feeling a hand on your waist, you tense and stand up straight, not relaxing much when your boyfriend kisses your cheek and whispers a 'hello' into your ear.

"ben!" you exclaim, turning around and smiling at him, though not genuinely, "i didn't know you were coming."

"some guys in the year above invited me, unlike my own girlfriend." he teases, gripping you by the waist and pulling you closer, and your nose scrunches at the sharp stench of beer on his breath. putting two and two together, considering how he's slurring his words, you realise he's already tipsy.

"right, sorry!" you genuinely are, though if he hadn't showed up, you wouldn't mind much, "i didn't really find out until the lesson before my free hour, and, well, you wanted us to go to your room, so —"

"oh, yeah. how could i forget?" he leans in, almost stumbling over his own two feet as he gets even closer to you, pulling you to him by your waist and kissing your neck, making you push your head down a little. the party having only just started, people are still piling in and the lights aren't turned off just yet.

you push him by the chest, gently, "it's still early, benny. not now."

ignoring your wishes, he nibbles at your neck, and you bring your shoulder up in discomfort, "but don't you want a repeat?" no, you really don't.

"ben, just, back off, please." you push a little more firmly now, shaking him off, and going to grab the bottle again to pour yourself another shot of firewhiskey as an excuse to not stay so close to him. but clearly that tactic isn't great, because he pushes up from behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly.

"come on, this party'll be lame anyway. your room's empty, right?" you freeze as his lips meet your throat once more, swallowing before finding it in yourself to stretch your shoulders back, and push his arms from your waist, quickly pouring the shot and keeping it in your hand, just in case you need to spill it on him as a distraction.

if he's gonna be pushy, he could at least be decent in bed.

well, at least, that's your cynical view on it.

"ben. no. my — my friends are here, and i... i don't want to leave them all alone." you fiddle with the shot glass in your hand, brows furrowed, and he exhales loudly before shrugging his shoulders.

"if you don't want me then you could've just said so."

your eyes widen, "no, i didn't mean it like that, just that... just not tonight."

"well, it kinda seems like you're not interested. but whatever, y/n, it's fine." as you try to reach out to him, he walks over to his friends, and you lean against the table, gulping down the firewhiskey and wincing at the burn in your throat.

shit.

"come on, y/n! they're dimming the lights now, i wanna dance!" daphne bounds over to you, dragging you by the arm before you can protest.

and you oblige.

two hours in, you're tipsy, worn-out from all the dancing, yet still going back between the many students for more adrenaline. grinning as a song you love comes on, you regroup your dormmates in the crowd, grabbing them by their hands and all winding your hips to the beat, millicent giggling and falling over her feet, daphne tearing away from her boyfriend to join with a smile on her face. pansy isn't very giggly when drinking, you've noticed. in close settings, sure, but in big parties like this, everyone so close, air hot, green lights strobing across the common room... she just dances. raising her hands above her head, swaying her hips, twirling her friends around by their fingers — it's almost sensual. well, to anyone else. not to you.

pansy eyes you as you spin — the exhilarated grin on your face from being able to shrug off everything burdening you, everything weighing atop your shoulders. and she realises that she likes the shine of the strobing lights against your skin, your nose and cheeks gleaming, eyes a little bloodshot and chest glistening from all the alcohol in your system, and all the dancing. and when you and pansy finally get off the dancefloor to join the slytherin boys on the sofas, she likes the way your eyes tear up a little after taking a long drag from the joint that's being passed around.

"this isn't laced with anything, right?" you clear your throat to speak over the music, passing it back to theo, head dizzy. you watch the lights entangle themselves between little clouds of smoke, and wonder which cloud is yours.

"what do you think i am, a drug lord? no, it is not laced with anything." he rolls his eyes, leaning back on the sofa.

blaise elbows him, looking at you and pansy who are both sitting next to each other, "don't mind him — you know he gets bitchy when he smokes."

"do not." theo huffs.

"yes, you do." draco deadpans, snatching the joint from his hands and inhaling the smoke, blowing it upwards from his bottom lip.

you chuckle, stretching to settle comfortably into the sofa and tapping pansy's bare thigh subconsciously, to which she tenses, "i feel like nott's always a bitch, regardless."

"not wrong there." theo winks at you, rubbing at his eyes. your head feels like it's spinning, and you giggle again, leading blaise to do the same.

"what's so funny, y/l/n?" pansy raises her brows nonchalantly, crossing her legs and studying you at her right. she's taken the joint between her plump lips now, inhaling deeply for a second, then blowing it up into the air.

"think it's the weed." you giggle once more, eyelids heavy, leaning your head onto her shoulder — you two are much more friendly when a little bit intoxicated and high. more so you, than her.

draco leans back into the armchair he's sitting in, looking over to the corner of the room and spotting your ravenclaw boyfriend drinking with his friends in the corner. and, being significantly less of an arsehole with something in his system, draco decided to be polite.

"how's the boyfriend, y/n?" you chuckle at this, smiling softly and lifting your head up from pansy's shoulder.

"my boyfriend is an absolute, grade O, cockhead."

the whole group is still for a short moment, exchanging varying levels of shock and amusement, before turning back to you. draco speaks again, "is that so?"

"mhmm." you nod lazily, as if your head is too heavy to hold up, pointing over at him from the other side of the room, "ben sucks. he's awful. if i could, i would — well, i mean, i could, but if i really could, i'd —"

"right, i think that's enough of that for tonight." pansy takes the joint from between your index and middle finger, interrupting you and attempting to change the subject considering your tipsy and high state. she’s been through enough non-sober confessions in her lifetime to know best.

"no, i mean it. and it would be worth it if he would actually fuck m—"

"i said, enough." pansy presses, trying to save you any embarrassment. being good enough friends with the slytherin boys of your year since you all first arrived, you know there'll be no judgement or rumours spread around. but, still. better not to air out all of your dirty laundry, or whatever the americans say. well, that's what 'sober you' would say. and right now, you're completely ready to confess how shitty your boyfriend is, to reveal the dialogue that usually only stays in your head.

"come on, pansy, the people wanna know." blaise raises his finger to her, grinning. the boy loved drama; he wasn't a sharer, but certainly a listener.

"i, the people, do not care." draco raises his finger as well, slouched in his seat.

"and i, the people, say you're not gonna let y/n humiliate herself. if she really wants to say this, she’ll do it when she’s sober.” pansy frowns, standing up and gripping your arm, passing the joint over to theo who was watching the scene casually.

“usually you love this stuff!” theo raises his arms lazily for emphasis.

“well, she’s my friend.” pansy gives him a blink stare.

"blah, blah, blah, parkinson." you slur you words a little, and she scowls, "i'm ready to say it. ben rowen is shite in and out of the be—"

she muffles your voice with her hand, forcing you to get up and follow her to the dormitory calmly, as you attempt to yell through her fingers, instead practically humming. it's not a messy, nor embarrassing scene -- you're at least sober enough to know better, and no one's paying attention anyway, not with the beat of the music thrumming through the room, vibrating the floor beneath your feet. but you're not sober enough to control your urge to break down and admit that you desperately want to break up with your boyfriend, even though you think you still love (the old, fake) him, even though you're scared to break his heart.

seeing the scene from across the common room, ben strides over with a purpose, and the boys on the sofa snort at his actions. "what happened?" he tears pansy's hand from your mouth (thankfully, you're not wearing lipstick), to which she scrunches up her nose, clenching her jaw and glancing to the side impatiently.

"your girlfriend had a little too much to drink and smoke. she's going to bed."

"she can just stay with me." he seems over his annoyance from before. shame his annoying personality continues to linger, you think.

pansy eyes him up and down rapidly, grip still firm on your arm. there’s something about your boyfriend, especially considering your change in behaviour around him, that pisses her off. you're looking between the two of them with wide eyes, considerably amused. "no."

"what do you mean, no?" you notice now that he's much, much drunker than before. the boys are still watching, leaning forward to hear over the music. well, theo and blaise are -- draco gives the 'altercation' a glance before setting his focus on the almost-finished joint between his fingers.

"i thought ravenclaws were meant to have an IQ of at least more than ten — no, means, i will not let her stay with you, she's going to sleep it off." you look over to the sofas and give a look the boys, half-grimacing, half-grinning.

"listen, i'm the boyfriend here —"

"are you? because i don't recall you ever being present the entire party."

"what the fuck is that supposed to mean, i was just over —"

"with her, i mean. why don't you go drown yourself in some more of that beer you obviously like so much," 'ouch', blaise mouths, "and i'll take care of your girlfriend, who... y/n?" you stop making frantic pointing gestures to the boys to ‘translate’ what they were saying since the boys couldn’t lip read, turning your attention to the people in front of you.

"yup?" you shrug, tilting your head up at her, being just an inch or two shorter.

pansy closes her eyes, sighing, then shakes her head, feeling a little wobbly herself, "nevermind. let's get you to bed, huh?" she shoots daggers at ben, whose nostrils flare as you're guided to the girls dormitory. he goes after you two again, but is quickly halted when draco's voice raises over the music.

"perhaps you should let them leave, rowen. just head elsewhere — don't be an arse."

ben sighs in exasperation, making his way to the group, but draco sticks his leg out through the gap between the armchair and the sofa on which you were just sitting, making your boyfriend stumble back.

"that wasn’t an invitation." draco deadpans, although the corner of his lip quirks up as he takes a sip of firewhisky and raises his brows.

instead of casting a quick makeup removal spell, pansy opts to lean you against the bathroom sink at a safe distance, using a cotton pad and cleaning off your eyeliner and any sweat or blush left on your skin. you know, just in case the spell doesn't go well, and you end up being eaten by a magic cotton pad.

you close your eyes, gripping the cold sink behind you loosely as pansy wipes warm water over your skin.

"done." she nods, expressionless, as your eyes flutter open, easily casting 'incendio' on the cotton and not bothering to watch as it crumbles into ash on the floor. she certainly has a flair for the dramatics, and you can't help but think she's picked it up from draco malfoy.

you look into the mirror to smooth down your hair, eyes bloodshot, lips swollen from the firewhiskey (and a little from when pansy pressed her palm into them). she tosses pyjamas at you, and you wobble a bit when they hit your side.

"change."

"okay, sergeant." you snort as she shuts the door, clumsily picking up the shorts and sweater she'd thrown.

shrugging off your dress, you call out from inside the bathroom. "why did you get mad at ben?"

for a beat, there was silence, until she called back. "because he was being a 'cockhead'." pansy mocked.

"and why did you make me leave?" you pull up your pyjama shorts, squinting down and trying to tie a little bow at the front, rather unsuccessfully, "i was having fun."

"well, you were gonna embarrass yourself, y/n. i only helped you out."

after slipping on your large sweater, you peek your head out the door, seeing her tie her raven hair back into a tiny ponytail, most strands falling out due to the length of it (or lack thereof). she'd done a makeup removal spell on herself.

"you're going to bed, too?" you murmur, furrowing your brows.

"yeah, tired." she lies, sorting out her bed covers.

you bite the inside of your cheek before deciding to ‘confront’ her, “and, pansy?” her movements still, “i didn't need help. they're my friends, and i wanted to tell them —"

she turns around, cutting you off with a challenging look that makes you step fully into the doorway, "tell them what?"

you swallow. nevermind. maybe she was right to drag you out of the party. maybe she was right to have cut you off, instead of letting you indulge into your history and your barely-there sex life.

feeling like you're being frowned upon by authority, you duck your head sheepishly and clamber into bed, glancing over to millicent who has seemingly collapsed onto her bed and blacked out.

"is... everything okay with you and — you and ben, though?"

"yeah. i don't know what i was saying. he just pissed me off earlier and i started... talking shit." you lie through your teeth.

"right." she flicks off the lights with her wand, back turned to you as she sits on her bed, pulling off her dress and slipping into a big shirt. the lamp on your bedside table that she turned on beforehand faintly casts the room in a warm glow, and through the darkness you can see the pale skin of her back as she pulls it down. your eyes dart away, deciding to focus on the ceiling, instead, "and you're really okay?" she turns now, and relief washes over you — relief that she didn't turn sooner.

you eye her as she gets under her covers, propping her head up with her hand. you bury yours sideways into the pillow, wrapping the duvet tightly around your frame. "yeah. you?"

"yes, y/n. now, sleep off all that shit in your system. and lie on your side, not your back." you listen to what she's told you plenty of time before, and lean over to switch off the lamp, the entire room pitch black.

"'night, pansy."

"goodnight."

114 notes · View notes

redhoodieone · 3 years

Text

Hate You More Part 2

Hey!!! Here is Part 2! Hope you all like it because there WILL be a Part 3! And I didn’t actually plan that lol.

WARNINGS: Language. Masturbation. Sex Toy.

“Do you think she’ll really like it?”

Who is Jason talking about?

Is he talking about me? Is he actually trying to make up for what happened between us earlier? Is this his way of saying he’s sorry and that he doesn’t really hate me?

I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. The thought of Jason doing something nice for me makes me suddenly nervous.

What if he smiles at me? What if he hugs me? What if there’s a moment between us?

Just the thought of Jason being nice to me and the possibility of “anything” happening between us sends me into a panic state. I find myself running back up the stairs and slamming my bedroom door shut and locking myself in.

What should I do to prepare myself when I see Jason?

Hiding out in my bathroom that’s privately connected to my bedroom, I stare at my reflection in the elegant massive mirror and begin to list what I should do.

Brush my teeth? I’d definitely need my breath freshly mint just in case we talk very close.

I hastily grab my tooth brush and apply a significant amount of toothpaste just to fresh up my mouth. After the appropriate time of scrubbing my mouth clean, I rinse and spit out the excess fluids and stare back into the mirror.

Touch up my makeup? I could apply more black eyeliner and mascara to make my eyes pop.

After retouching my makeup, I decide to put on my favorite tinted lip balm that’ll make my lips kissable yet comfortable.

I realize then that I should change my outfit. I sigh happily after pulling on my red lady thong. Deciding to slip on my favorite black skinny jeans with the tears throughout my thighs and knees, and my “lucky” red and black sexy corset top. The reason why it’s lucky is because any guy who sees me in it always lets me have my way with him. I chuckle to myself as I put on my black high heel boots because I can only imagine what Jason’s face will look like.

I hope he’ll be shocked as hell. Picturing his mouth hanging open like a cartoon’s and seeing the lustful look in his eyes sends a shiver down my spine.

I then make sure my push up bra makes my cleavage look so fucking amazing, I straighten my long hair and leave it down because I definitely have a hair pulling kink and it’s something I take very seriously.

After the spritz of my go-to hookup perfume, Oud Wood by Tom Ford, I realize I’m at my 150% best and make my way down the stairs. The second I make it to the sliding door leading to the backyard, I freeze.

And then suddenly, I’m hit with a wave of shyness; a feeling I’ve never really felt before. But why the fuck would I feel nervous about around Jason? Because come on—I HATE the fucking guy!!!

The little voice in my mind throws it’s head back and laughs in a tormenting manner at me: because you have feelings for him, you jackass!

No. No, I don’t. I’m not stupid enough to believe that. I should just go outside and see if the fool even flirts with me, because if he does, I can just laugh at him and make him feel like shit.

With one deep breath, I open the sliding door and slip silently outside. The backyard is lit up in a blue hue from the pool and jacuzzi. It’s a beautiful setting, I won’t admit that out loud. I look around and realize Jason isn’t where he was before.

Where the fuck is he?

A wolf whistle behind me alerts me fast.

“Fuck...holy shit. Is today my birthday?”

Spinning around, I’m face to face with a smug looking Jason. I may be frozen in place but I can see that he doesn’t hide the fact that he’s checking me out; like a hunter sneaking up on its prey. Jason licks his bottom lip and winks at me.

“So, what brings you down here looking like...that?” Jason teases.

Why the hell is he making me so nervous?! Out of all the other horrible times we’ve had, I’ve never felt so anxious to tell him to fuck off, but here I am! Standing like an idiot who can’t open her mouth and speak like a normal person!

I find myself pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. Fuck my life. “I...I saw your peace offering. I-I figured if you want to try to play nice that maybe I...I could too.”

There. I said it. Now that wasn’t so hard, right?

Jason stares down at me in surprise. His green eyes so wide and maddening that I find it difficult as hell to breathe. Slowly inhaling some air, I smile at him.

“I saw you got pizza. You also set out my favorite drink. You did all that, right?” I ask, pointing back at the mansion.

“I-uh...I did but-”

“Jaybird?”

We both whip around and see Isabel standing behind him. Isabel Ardila, one of Jason’s many one night stands. My eyes trail down from her curly blonde hair down to her skimpy purple dress with her huge tits practically falling out.

She pouts her pink full lips and flirts at him with her pretty blue eyes.

“Isabel...what-what are you doing here?” Jason stammers out. He instantly looks stunned as if he really wasn’t expecting her to come over.

“It’s a slow boring night. I thought we could hit up one of your dad’s nightclubs and have some fun,” Isabel says, and approaches us. She has a few inches above me, and looks down at me with a smirk. “Look at you all dressed up so sexy tonight, and for Jason...”

I frown and look between Jason and her.

“He is your brother, you know?”

Isabel cringes and grabs Jason’s arm tightly. “Please tell me nothing is going on between you and your sister. That is sooo disgusting!”

I look to Jason and plead with him through our eye contact to say something. Say anything to her! I know Isabel’s right, and that Jason is my brother but he’s also my stepbrother. I also want him to admit that I’m not the only one who is flirting between us...if that’s what we’re even calling it.

I can’t be the only one who has feelings right now. Jason must have them, too.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Of course I don’t have feelings for her! Y/N, you’re my fucking sister, and I think it’s gross as fuck that you’re trying to fuck me. I mean, God damn! We’re family!” Jason taunts. He acts repulsed and pretends to puke in front of me.

Isabel giggles and the two of them laugh their asses off at me. Don’t get me wrong. There is a questionable amount of pain in my chest at what Jason said, but my inner bitch is clawing her way out of my head and I may or may not be responsible for whatever happens right now.

“That’s a bit rich coming from you, Jason. As of this morning, you’ve made it perfectly clear that I’m not in your family. So, if we’re not family, then we’re nothing to each other,” I say with a bitchy grin.

Jason and Isabel aren’t laughing anymore. As a matter of fact, they’re completely shocked at me.

“Oh, and for the record Isabel, there’s absolutely NOTHING going on between Jason and me. I know he’s my brother. I’m not even denying that. But as for him,” I say, gesturing over to Jason, who is staring me down hard. “He doesn’t see me a sister. If anything, he might want to fuck me. He’s completely obsessed with making me hear him fuck other girls. His behavior is disgusting because he’s supposed to be my brother! What he’s trying to do to me is borderline illegal!”

Isabel jerks her head over to Jason. “What is she talking about, Jason?!”

“Go on, Jay. Tell her. Tell her how you always stare at me, tease me, and how you’re always talking about sex with me!” I urge him angrily.

Jason’s eyes darken and for a second, I’m kinda scared of him. He clenches his jaw. “I rather get castrated by the Joker, than ever fuck you, princess.”

It’s like everything around me freezes. My smile shifts into a frown and my confidence is taken away fast like a toy from an adult. Isabel scoffs and shakes her head at me. My cheeks burn with humiliation and I just know I won’t hear the end of this from either of them, especially Jason.

I don’t know whether I’m more embarrassed of the fact that Jason claims he rather get castrated from the Joker, the psychotic clown villain in Gotham than have sex me, or if the thought of having sex with me in general is just so...unbearable.

I didn’t think I was so unfuckable until now.

“That’s fine with me. I rather fuck Dick than you, because he’s Bruce’s favorite son and he’s more of a man than you’ll ever be,” I spit out before turning to run back into the mansion.

——————————————————————————

I slam my bedroom door again for the second time today, but I don’t care. Rage is fucking pumping through my blood and I need a fucking release before I lose control.

Ripping off my clothes until I’m down to my lacy bra and thong, I climb up my big bed and reach into my nightstand to get my dildo and lube out. The thick, veiny replica of a man’s penis is what I’ll have to take out my frustrations on.

I throw myself down; my head hitting the pillow and my hair fanned out around me in a sexy manner as if I’m ready to get my brains fucked out. Popping open the lube, I squeeze a good amount in my hand to smooth it over my dildo. Tossing the lube somewhere on my bed, I pull my thong to the side to reveal my bare pussy.

My fingertips rub up and down my folds. I’m so wet that I know I can slip a finger or two in without any resistance.

“I fucking hate him so much,” I mutter under my breath.

Jason is literally the only guy who could piss me off and make me want to fuck him into submission.

Maybe he could even fuck me until I’m down on my knees for him.

Closing my eyes, I start to push my dildo into me. My walls squeeze around the toy tightly as I gasp at how good it feels to be full.

“Fuck...” I choke out in overwhelming pleasure.

“Fuck princess...”

My eyes shoot open and I’m completely horrified to discover Jason Fucking Todd is standing in MY bedroom, with his mouth hanging open in shock and with wide eyes, and his Fucking hand rubbing against his prominent bulge.

“Jason...what are you doing in my room?” I struggle to say, as I continue to push and pull my dildo in and out of my pussy fast. I just can’t stop. I can’t find it in me to stop when Jason is in my room watching me.

He quickly closes my bedroom door with his foot and makes his way towards my bed to stand directly in front of me. I use my other hand to caress my tits that I so badly want to free from my bra.

“I came to tell you I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N,” Jason begins but trails off when he watches intently when I pull out the dildo and he can see all my slick coated on the sex toy. He licks his bottom lip and bites it. “You’re right though. I don’t see you as a sister or a part of this family because the way I feel for you isn’t the way a brother should feel. I-I never meant to hurt your feelings. I just...I tried so hard to not to fucking fall for you but I did and I can’t stop.”

I look up and notice Jason’s eyes are wet. Despite his usual cocky behavior and sexual advances, he was standing here before me and he appears to regret everything.

I sit up and lean back on my elbows. I drop the dildo in between my open thighs and I force myself to look up at Jason. I expected to see him staring at my obvious insanely wet pussy but his beautiful emerald green eyes were locked on my eyes.

“I really thought you hated me,” I whisper, afraid to hear what Jason says that might hurt me again.

“Oh sweetheart, I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. The only person I hate is myself, and that is something I’ve been doing for most of my fucking life,” Jason admits. He tries to smile but it falls when he sees I’m not.

Jason crawls onto my bed and stops as soon as he’s in front of my legs. He’s immediately nervous; his shaky hands run up my knees and stops until he reaches my closed thighs. He keeps his eyes on me.

“Listen to me, Y/N. You’re right. I’m a fucking asshole. I’m always a dick to you and that isn’t right. I’m sorry for everything I’ve said and done to you, and I know sorry won’t even make up for all the hurt I’ve caused you. Just...please,” he whispers and reaches for my hands. He holds them tightly. “Please give me a chance to show you how much you really mean to me. One chance. Please?”

I know our fight is both our faults, and if one chance can fix this, I’m game.

“Okay, you get one chance Jay,” I say and with an evil smirk that I can’t help, I open my thighs and I pat my pussy. “You want a chance? Make me cum. With your fingers. With your mouth. If you can make me cum so hard, you can do whatever you want to my body.”

Jason’s eyes darken with lust. He licks his lips and he gives me his usual shit eating grin. “Oh princess, you are aware of my oral fixation for pussies don’t you? I’m going to make you cum so hard that you’ll be begging to be mine!”

#dc comics #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd #batman #jason todd smut #jason todd x y/n smut #red hood #jason todd x reader smut

120 notes · View notes

sylvie-writes · 4 years

Text

Petty Golfers

Warnings: Swearing, but what can you expect with a Ransom fic? Some cheesy, real bitchy moves. Bad depictions of golfing. Some suggestive material, but not rlly? Dad Ransom! There’s so much affection that I might have diabetes from all the fluff.

If you can’t tell, I suck at writing summaries and warnings. Please just take a leap of faith and read. It took me a week to write this and we are at a whopping 7k word count. So please leave some feedback, ik I sound desperate. Love y’all!

Summary: A trip to the country club with Ransom and his aristocratic friends goes south.

“Ransom! Your mother is on the phone!”

You were curled up on the sofa when Ransom’s phone rang, a picture of Mrs. Drysdale herself showing up. She rarely ever called, except to bitch at you or her son. Out of curiosity, you had answered the call, unknowingly becoming an victim to her demands.

“Get Ransom for me.”

“He’s on his way down.”

“Tell him to make it quick.”

Who the hell did she think she was? You rolled your eyes, annoyed at her demand. The phone that was once pressed against your ear, was now pulled away from your face.

“Ransom! Your mother is on the phone!”

A quick huff from your mouth made you regain composure, continuing your ‘conversation’ with the woman.

“Why did you answer my son’s phone, anyway.”

Linda’s tone was cold, just as when you had first met her. In the five years you had been with Ransom, not once had she shown you any form of kindness.

Sick of her impertinence, you shoved back a snarky remark.

“Well, I don’t know if you know this, darling, but I’m dating your son! Actually I’m even engaged to him!”

Her end of the line was silent except for a loud scoff.

It was about time that Linda learned you weren’t some obedient dog, cowering down to her like Richard or Walt would.

“That’s my girl!”

Ransom, thank the heavens.

Turning your gaze to the stairs, you saw Ransom wearing a smirk, sauntering his way over.

The man bent down to kiss your lips before swiping his phone. You could practically imagine Linda’s screeching fit to her son and husband about what just happened. Clearly, it was actually happening as you heard Ransom nonchalantly reply, “That's not my problem.”

You took this time to get cleaned up and ready, seeing Ransom was currently occupied and would be for at least the next hour.

This was the first time you were gonna go golfing with Ransom and his friends. It was pretty obvious they were all gonna show up in Castore golf clothing, while you opted to wear a coral Columbia polo shirt and navy skort, caring less about the name of the brand and more about its versatility.

After applying some minimal makeup, you walked out from the bathroom to take a peek in the bedroom mirror.

The coral polo was neatly tucked into the navy skort, stopping mid-thigh. Taking your hands, you slowly smoothed out the shirt, stopping on your small baby bump. About 22 weeks in, and you were already in love with this child.

“Hi, little lemondrop. Oh goodness, are we gonna have a long day, honey.”

As you talked to your baby, Ransom quietly snuck into the room, smiling at how great of a mother you are already turning out to be. In his mind, he figured at least the child would have one good parent figure.

“Hey Sweetheart, sorry to interrupt, but I found you some golf shoes that should be comfortable.”

You looked up into the mirror to see Ransom behind you, with a big grin on his face and a pair of white golf shoes in his hand.

“Thanks, Ran.”

A bashful smile spread on your lips as you took the shoes. A part of you felt guilty for him getting you these shoes, but you knew he didn’t mind. Unfortunately, your feet and calves had already started swelling due to the pregnancy induced edema.

A quick trip to the bed, and you sat on the edge, struggling to get your shoes on, while Ransom was in the closet getting changed into his own golf attire.

Ransom confidently stepped out in all his glory, a navy polo and some light khaki shorts, that clung to his muscular physique. Your eyes were glued to him in awe and like the cocky asshole he is, a smirk grew on his face.

“Like what you see, Babe?”

“Oh shut up, Drysdale.”

You threw your shoe at him which he so expertfully caught. He gave a teasing smile and raised his hands in surrender before making his way to the edge of the bed where you were sitting. Getting down on one knee, Ransom gently picked up your foot and put it in the shoe, tying the laces, but not too tight.

“Hmm, this feels vaguely familiar.”

Yup, Mr. Silver-Spoon Fed, was down on the ground, putting on your shoes. In his own words he’d only do the “Helps” part for you.

Once Ransom was done tying your shoe, he motioned to himself on his knee, trying to provoke the memory of when he proposed months ago.

Leaning forward, you placed your hands on his shoulder, and pecked his lips.

“I do.”

With a wink, you got up and left the room, also leaving Ransom on the floor, as he just chuckled to himself.

In all honesty you were dreading the day’s agenda. Ransom was taking you to the country club for a few holes of golf with his friends and their newest set of girlfriends.

Even though you had met Ransom’s friends and all, you could tell they had never liked you from the beginning. Eventually, with some work, Bently and Dylan warmed up to you. Without doubt, you understood why they were Ransom’s friends. They were exactly like him in every way, lifestyle and all.

In the years you had known the two men, Mallory and Samantha were the longest to stick around so far. Five months to be exact. This was an outstretched time of fidelity for the life-long playboys.

Maybe the men were trying to somewhat settle down like Ransom had.

The two women were standoffish from the start, always talking about things you never really cared about. Their lame attempt at trying to make you feel like an outsider was just straight-up annoying. When they did include you, it was a constant conversation about Ransom. You loved him and all, but if you were gonna be friends with these chicks, they might as well like you for you and not your fiance.

Out of all the ‘lady friends’ the guys had brought, Mallory and Samantha were total bitches in comparison to the rest. And no, you weren’t jumping to conclusions and making assumptions about these women. Life had given you a fair share of bullies back in your day.

This whole ordeal could be marked as the most uncomfortable thing you’ve done in your life.

Mallory and Samantha were anything but friendly, going on and on about a Versace fashion show, and some model, from last month. Inwardly you reminded yourself that you were doing this for Ransom, who was having the time of his life with Bentley and Dylan. How they could have this much fun golfing, was beyond you.

The three guys golfed while you three ladies stood watching and chatting. In a more accurate account, the three guys golfed while the two ladies stood watching and chatting about purposeless things in life, deliberately leaving you out.

Well, come to find out all along you really weren’t gonna play golf, you were just gonna watch. Yay, so exciting.

You would’ve played golf with the guys had Mallory and Samantha not opened their opinionated mouths and made the decision for you.

At this point Mallory and Samantha were now blabbering about some new type of leather purse and you really wished Ransom’s club would have hit your head at that moment. Anything to relieve you from having to hear their pathetic whining. The two women didn’t care to include you. Surprise, Surprise. Apparently, you weren’t good enough to be in their aristocratic circle.

What the hell was this, high school?

“So how are you doing, (y/n)?”

It was odd how Samantha was actually trying to engage in a conversation with you. You just hoped that maybe this was her olive branch. These were Ransom’s friends' significant others and you were gonna try your damndest to impress them, not really wanting to stir up any drama if it weren’t necessary.

“I’m doing pretty well, thanks for asking. How about you two?”

Now both women were fully turned to you, their attention no longer on the men, more so Ransom.

“Dylan and I are gonna take a trip to Europe, not exactly what I wanted, but good enough I guess.” Samantha rolled her eyes and heartily laughed along with Mallory.

Her simple statement made your eyes almost bug out of your head. It was like an expensive trip to Europe to her was just nothing more than a drive across the state line. You swallowed harshly in an attempt to figuratively stomach Samantha’s words. Ransom regularly offered those luxurious things to you, but as always, you turned them down, claiming he was just enough. It was very true, though. You didn’t have high standards which took Ransom some time to get used to. Most women he was ever with, wanted things, extortionate commodities.

You didn’t want to ruin your only chance at a somewhat blossoming friendship, so you trepidatiously giggled along with them.

“Oh honey, did you gain weight? I know a great personal trainer, really cute too, maybe not as cute as Ransom though.” Mallory’s perfectly manicured hand motioned towards your growing stomach.

You just stared in utter shock at what she just said. To most people that would be offensive but then you remembered the crowd you were with. Judgemental.

“Umm, no-well, uh, I’m expecting.”

Sheepishly, you looked down at your feet, now noticing the difference between your choice of shoes and theirs.

Samantha was wearing those white oasis Hermes sandals she had mentioned earlier, while Mallory was sporting some gaudy rockstud Valentino stilettos. Yeah, they definitely did not come here to golf.

“That’s why Ransom kept someone like you around!”

And that was definitely not the answer you were anticipating. If anything, you figured they’d be gushing over your pregnancy like any normal person would.

“Oh Sam!” You saw Mallory nudge Samantha who looked at her in shock, immediately stopping her obnoxious laughter.

A breath of relief left your mouth as you looked to smile at Mallory in gratitude.

“I should’ve known it would take a fake pregnancy to get him!”

“Yeah, he can’t have a bastard child running around, now can he? He would never get laid again!”

Your smile collapsed.

Samantha and Mallory grabbed each other’s hand, careful of their bubble-bath groomed nails, yet laughing so hard that they had to support each other.

The three men looked over in the direction of the women’s giggles and smiled, returning back to their game, completely unaware of the real situation.

Of course they didn’t see you, because your back was to them. If they had, your impression of a deer in headlights would have most certainly piqued their attention.

Your jaw dropped and you couldn’t even comprehend what you just heard.

Holy hell, they were just egging it on, weren’t they?

It was then that you realized Mallory wasn’t trying to stand up for you just a minute ago.

So apparently the two women weren’t trying to become your friends at all. You were just their little toy to ridicule.

“Aww hon, don’t get upset! We are just joking around.”

Samantha gripped your shoulder tightly and you gave a tight lipped smile, in an attempt to show that you weren’t hurt by their idiotic antics.

As Mallory and Samantha turned to continue to stare at the men, you saw them roll their eyes, for the nth time.

“Joking, my ass.”

You just stared daggers into their backs, slightly wishing the daggers were real. How dare they insult you by saying you were “faking” it? They could joke with you, but definitely not your baby.

The motherly instincts were already kicking in apparently.

“Hey girls, wanna try?”

Dylan waved his driver club in the air trying to get your attention. You were in such a trance, anything anyone said was just tuned out, that was till two arms wrapped around your waist.

The simple action made you jump out of your own skin, ready to strike whoever was behind you.

“Jumpy, much babe?”

When you turned to be met with Ransom’s grin, a wave of relief swept over your anxious body.

“Huh, yeah. Sorry I kinda zoned out.”

“I definitelyyyy couldn’t tell.”

Crossing your fingers, you had hoped that Ransom wouldn’t question your edgy tone that came out with the sentence.

Luckily, he didn’t notice and instead unwillingly dragged you over the teeing ground where the rest of the group was standing nearby.

“So, who wants to go first?”

Bentley spun on his heel to face the caddy and pulled out a gap wedge, handing it to Samantha who giddily volunteered herself first.

“I’m not really sure what position, I should be in.”

Samantha held the club, elbows bent, and performed a lazy test swing, striking the grass.

“Ransom, could you help me? After all, you are the one winning.”

Her flirtatious wink made you wanna vomit. You practically held back the gag, not wanting to cause another scene. Ransom’s water bottle was in the cart. Deciding you couldn’t watch anymore you walked to go get the water that seemed life saving at the moment.

“Ok, so first off you are gonna want to spread your legs a little.”

Samantha moved her hips suggestively as she got into the proper stance.

“Is this the correct position?

Ransom nodded, not catching her drift at all. The way she said “position” was absolutely flagrant.

As you turned from the cart and back to the group, you saw Samantha pushing her hips into Ransom, her Prada dress, lacy, white, and most of all short, slid up just a hunch.

“Oh, good god I’m gonna be sick.”

Briskly, you semi-jogged towards the country club, not wanting to catch anyone’s attention.

No one had noticed your disappearance as expected and just continued on with the game.

Of course, you came back just in time for Mallory’s turn, who was also getting coached by your fiance.

“Don’t get mad, don’t get mad.”

The navy skort you were wearing, had to take the hit as you clenched your fists tightly, balling up the smooth fabric.

Mallory swung the golf club clumsily, her arms way out of whack. You just grimaced, these women were supposed to know how to golf for goodness sake. After all, golfing was a sport for the rich, at least in Mallory’s own words.

“Oh Ransom. I think I might need your help. How do I swing again?”

Ransom politely nodded and strode away from his previous conversation. He situated himself behind Mallory, her back resting against his chest, his arms encasing around her sides. The golf club was positioned in between Mallory’s long legs and the two of them slightly bent at the hips, Ransom’s hands over hers as they slowly swung the golf club a few times.

It finally came time for Mallory to actually swing. She insisted that Ransom help her, and of course he did. As they swung their arms over their shoulders, Mallory twisted her head and kissed Ransom’s cheek. The ball teed off and Mallory thanked Ransom once more.

“Thanks for all your help, Ranny.”

Mallory then leaned in to hug Ransom tightly, smirking when she saw your belligerent attitude.

You swore to yourself that you were living a movie because my god, was this so fake. No one in their right mind would ever have the guts to accomplish anything that had happened so far today. Quite the lucky streak you have, if I might say so myself.

“You wanna go, Momma?” A teasing offer came from Bentley, one you wouldn’t pass up.

Confidently, you smirked and walked over to grab a pitching wedge from Ransom’s golf caddy.

You were really ready to knock these women off of their damn high horses, it was time they joined you all in the corral.

“Gladly.”

The straight up sarcasm that dripped from your sneer thoroughly confused Ransom.

Straightening his posture, he quickly walked over to help you tee off too.

Normally, you wouldn’t have minded Ransom’s help, but at this moment you were fuming, striking the ball on the tee with great vehemence.

Shamelessly flirting with Ransom, even when they knew you were right there. The deliberate actions of your so called friends really was the last straw. You could normally handle the level of pettiness Ransom’s friends propounded, but you couldn’t take it anymore. It all flowed through your blood and into your swing.

Ransom’s eyes widened when he saw how you hit with a perfect form, swing straight and all. Your ball even landed on the green, closer to the end, unlike the two women who landed on the rough, even with his help.

“Well looks like Ransom got a good start, now.” Dylan shook his head in disbelief as Ransom winked at you, a token of his appreciation. Unfortunately, you were only seeing red and completely missed his action of affection.

“That’s impossible!” Samantha had a look of repugnance on her face. Visibly upset that she wasn’t beating you in this game of cat and mouse, insult edition.

Mallory then discreetly flipped you off, the guys too busy packing up in order to move further down the course.

“I’m over this shit.” You walked away from the teeing ground and towards the swarm of people.

“You ready to move on ladies?” Bentley pointed towards the golf carts that were pretty much all packed up, except for the club in your hand.

“Sure!” Mallory’s overly peppy and fake voice was the last straw.

The two women started to walk away with the men, swaying their hips, every step taken with aplomb.

“No, you know what, Sam, Mal, who gives two shits about a Versace runway model standing three inches off center, because I sure as hell don’t.”

Bentley, Dylan and Ransom stood gaping with confusion at your sudden outburst. From their point of view, nothing extreme had gone down between you and the girls all day long.

You turned from the outraged women, disregarding their insults thrown your way and meeting the faces of the befuddled men.

“Sorry boys.”

“Oh and one more thing, girls. If you say one more shitty thing, so help me, I am gonna take Samantha’s Hermes heels and shove them so far up both your asses, you’ll be able to cough them up.”

You ever so gracefully returned Mallory’s kind gesture and flipped her and Samantha off.

In typical Ransom fashion, you turned away once more, basking in their shocked looks and ignoring their pitiful attempts at being the victims.

With that you handed Ransom the golf club which he gripped angrily, as you stormed off towards the women’s locker room. You could feel him practically burning holes into your back.

It was almost impossible to put in the combination to the lock for your eyes were welling up with tears. What made the whole thing worse was that Ransom didn’t even say a word, and he was angry at you?!

With a swipe of your hand, you wiped away the tears before grabbing your purse. You looked at Coach logo laughing when you thought of the Celine and Louis Vuitton purses Samantha and Mallory had.

When you had gotten to the country club, Ransom handed you the keys to the Beamer to put in your purse. His car was the only other thing he loved more than himself, you, and the baby. In reality, it was his first child.

Seeing the Beamer in the parking lot was like light at the end of the tunnel for you. Into the driver seat you plopped and the keys turned to the ignition. At the moment you could care less where you ended up, you just wanted to run for the hills and get far from here.

Sure, you were embarrassed, but you were more angry than anything else.

As you drove past the golf course you didn’t miss Ransom’s appalled look when he saw the Beamer leaving without him in it.

Back at the course, everyone stood around giving each other confused looks.

Dylan bravely broke the silence first.

“What just happened, man?”

Ransom just huffed and shook his head.

“No clue. Hormones probably.”

Samantha full on giggled while Mallory took the next step and grabbed Ransom’s bicep as she laughed.

“Thanks for making me laugh Ran, I really needed it after what just happened.”

Mallory looked up into Ransom’s deep blue eyes with her sparkling green ones and batted her long eyelashes at him seductively.

The clueless men took no mind in what was unfolding in front of them.

“Oh that’s right. Congrats dude!” Bentley supportively patted Ransom’s shoulder, before returning back to his own caddy at the cart.

Another shaky breath left Ransom’s mouth.

“Yeah, thanks.”

As Ransom headed back to the golf cart, he couldn’t shake the weird feeling inside.

What was it, you ask?

Concern.

He was concerned about (y/n).

A cloud of vexation and offense floated around in the car with you, that when you arrived at Harlan’s estate you had not even registered it quite yet.

The keys of the beamer were clenched tightly in your hand as you knocked, waiting patiently for Marta or Harlan himself to answer.

As the door swung open, it revealed a surprised and smiling Marta.

“Oh hi (y/n)!”

It was then that the weight of the prior events came crashing down on you and sobs were the only thing you could manage.

Marta quickly ushered you inside and enveloped you in a hug.

For the few minutes that passed, you had finally calmed down. Taking a deep breath you explained everything to Marta while she led you to the guest room you and Ransom normally stayed in.

“I’m so sorry for your terrible day, love. Why don’t you get cleaned up and you, Harlan and I can have some dinner?”

At the offer, you returned a small smile, but a genuine one nonetheless.

A hot shower would hopefully help clear your mind a bit. You padded over to the bathroom, starting the water and then returning to rummage through the wooden dresser. Thankfully, Ransom had left his maroon sweater and your leggings. Your first win of the day after a colossal shitstorm, maybe things were starting to look up.

The last thing on your mind at the moment was Ransom, who was supposed to be here with you. Just the mere thought of him, irked you.

When you returned from the long and much needed shower, you checked your phone.

Ten missed calls from Ransom Drysdale

Five text messages from Ransom Drysdale.

You just scoffed, turning off your phone. He definitely didn’t deserve an answer from you and you most certainly didn’t want to hear his lame-ass excuse. Was he even calling to apologize or was he calling to pester you?

Whatever.

The cell phone just rested on the bed, while you scurried downstairs to the smell of lasagna, tending to yourself with Ransom in the very back of your mind.

It had been about an hour since you left and Ransom couldn’t get in touch with you. Bentley and Dyaln had just left the table to get some more drinks at the bar, something Ransom clearly needed.

He called your phone once more, but to no avail, it went straight to voicemail.

Your sweet voice rang through his phone, oh how he wished you were here.

“This is (Y/n) Drysdale, I’m not here at the moment, please leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Have a great day!”

Ransom felt a sense of pride that emerged when you used his last name as your own. Never in a thousand years had he assumed he’d ever be married, until you came along. You charmed him with your humbleness and patience for his antics. So many things about you were good for that man. Long gone were the days of shunning off a committed relationship with his pinky ring that now rested upon your index. A small diamond engagement ring, another symbol of Ransom’s love, made home on your ring finger too. You, a beautiful vision in white, walking down the aisle, and he can already imagine it.

An annoyingly squeaky voice broke him from his enchanting daydream of you as his wife.

“Oh Ranny, just give up.”

Long fingers wrapped around the glass flute, bringing it up to the red lips of the vanilla-blonde woman.

“Excuse me?”

Mallory moved her drink away from her lips, resting her hand on Ransom’s right forearm that laid on the table.

“Well it’s no use to get in touch with Betty and the bastard. She isn’t gonna answer, clearly, but I will.”

Now he could see why you were upset.

They must’ve said something to you. What was really surprising though is that you’d never take shit from anyone. Why would you cower down now?

He mentally scolded himself, that was a question to ask you later. First order of business was to give these two lovely ladies a taste of their own bitter medicine. Revenge was practically the man’s middle name, unfortunately.

Ransom couldn’t lose the only thing in life that mattered to him. You brought him light in the darkest of his days. Family get-togethers always put him in a terrible mood, but when you were linked into his arm with a bright smile, things seemed a little bit more bearable.

Who cared about the consequences at this point, Ransom madly grabbed the bellini and spilled it across Mallory’s black Dior button-down dress.

“Don’t ever talk about my wife and child like that.”

The two women cried in disgust, popping up from their seats, prompting Samantha to drag Mallory to the ladies’ room.

Bentley and Dylan came back to the table, cackling, three Malibu sunset cocktails in hand.

Ransom was practically seething at this point, his jaw clenched as tightly gripping the glass Dylan was handing him.

“Woah man, what’s up with you?”

“Your petty ass girlfriends, that’s what.”

Many drinks later, Ransom had finally finished his story, Bentley and Dylan not believing anything the brunette spoke about.

“You’re bullshitting us, Drysdale. Maybe we should take your drinking privileges.”

Ransom’s signature smirk curled onto his face as he found his evidence.

“Look over a few tables, fellas.”

There was Samantha, her tongue down some guy's throat, Mallory wearing the other man’s large polo.

“Shit, man!”

Dylan dropped his glass onto the table in complete shock. He had really just assumed that Ransom was drunkenly hallucinating.

“I’m not here to listen to both of your problems, now help me go win my wife back.”

Bentley and Dylan weren’t even phased by Ransom’s forwardness, for they were both too caught up in their own drunken sorrow.

“Why? Can’t you see I have plans tonight with some rum?” Bentley motioned to the bar before chugging his own drink down.

“She-” Ransom hung his head in shame. “She-took-my-beamer.” In one quick breath the man made his embarrassing confession.

“Fine, it’s only because I like your wife. She’s good for you ya know.”

“Yeah, yeah, just get your drunk asses out of here.” All three men doubled over in cachinnation due to Ransom’s quip.

Like expected, Bentley and Dylan continued to tease Ransom before going off to get some water in hopes of sobering up, coming back with two women instead.

A small snicker left Ransom’s mouth. He could remember the days when that was him, but now was much happier and satisfied to always come home with you.

You were ecstatic to be greeted with Harlan’s large and welcoming smile. The man was basically your grandfather.

“Well there’s my favorite granddaughter and soon to be great-grandchild!”

“Hiya Harlan!”

Your crappy day suddenly brightened at the appearance of your favorite Thrombey.

“Something’s wrong isn’t it?”

Harlan rested his hands in yours offering a reassuring smile. You chose not to deny the correct accusation from the man, instead going to sit down with him and Marta, once again explaining the story.

“I just wish Ransom wasn’t mad at me.”

A dejected sigh fell from your lips as you looked down at your growing stomach.

“My dear, if you tell him what you just told me, I am positive he would understand.”

“But I feel terrible for not being able to handle those girls. I mean he was having such a great time with his friends-.”

Harlan abruptly stopped you from spiraling into a depressive cloud.

“No buts, (y/n). Ransom’s friends are a crazy crowd of people, well, then again you have dealt with the rest of our family. Besides, Ransom’s friends deserved to be shown a bit of what you are made of. They need to understand that it’s not about the money or title, but the character within the person.”

You chuckled at Harlan’s exquisite speech.

“Wow, so this is why you are a best selling author?”

“I guess so, just remember (y/n), stay humble and who you are. Don’t change for Ransom or his friends because in the end that boy really needed a girl like you.”

A beautiful smile graced your lips at his encouraging words. Harlan always gave advice with much equanimity.

You finished the sapid and delectable lasagna with Harlan and Marta, often stopping to talk about the baby, who was to make an entrance in a few months.

After dinner was finished, you helped Fran clean up the dishes which she greatly appreciated. It was surprising to anyone that someone with your kind and caring personality would end up with a bonehead like Ransom. If only they all knew, Ransom was rarely ever an ass to you, occasions like these didn’t occur frequently.

By time you were done cleaning, Harlan had retired for the night, but not before playing a round of Go with Marta, who happily obliged and Fran gave you some clean sheets and then headed home herself. You were all alone now, only hoping when you’d see Ransom again. The two of you were both stubborn knuckleheads, who never wanted to surrender to the other.

Step after step, the wooden staircase creaked loudly as you slowly climbed to the second floor. Hand on the knob, you leaned against the bedroom door, tiredly pushing it open. A glance at your cell phone told you it was only a little after nine o’clock. It was an emotionally tolling day and you only wanted to curl up with your fiance, oh who are you kidding, your husband. Unfortunately, the closest thing you had to him at the moment was his maroon sweater, casing your body. All of this made the silk bed sheets even more comfortable, entrapping your exhausted body and lulling you to sleep.

Shooting up from your slumber, you made sure your phone was not on silent, just in case Ransom called again. Content, a void of darkness littered your sight, and you were out like a light.

RING!

The loud ringing emitting from your phone startled you, making your head shoot up from the pillows.

Bentley Livingstone

The bright light from the screen awoke you fully. Squinting to look at the time, you scoffed.

10:14 pm

“What the hell, Bentley.” Your voice raspy from sleep, it was evident that he had woken you.

“Sorry Momma Bear, but can you let us in?”

“Us? And if you are at the house, I’m not there, Benny boy.”

The last thing you wanted now was to be talking to him, you practically ripped apart his girlfriend, who he was actually committed too for once. You felt awful for ruining Ransom’s day with his friends, but quickly reminded yourself that those women were even worse to you. The men probably thought you were a total bitch, after their girlfriends had played the victims.

“Cut out the sarcasm, will ya? I’m not mad at you, and actually I’m here at Harlan’s.”

You felt so relieved that you could almost cry, damn hormones.

Bentley must’ve known something had happened which meant Dylan knew and hopefully Ransom too.

“Fine.”

You went to the bathroom to hurriedly tame your messy hair and brush your teeth, ridding the final taste of lasagna away.

Harlan was asleep and Marta had left by this time, so as you opened the front door, you made sure to make it as quiet as possible.

“Hi (y/n).” Bentley was the first to walk in, giving you a hug which shocked you before reciprocating the action. Dylan did the same and you were bemused at the men’s kindness.

“So… what’s up.” Nervously, you crossed your arms over your chest, resting them on your small, yet protruding bump, all while awaiting an answer.

“We’d like to apologize on behalf of Samantha and Mallory.” Dylan stepped forward, placing his hand comfortingly on your shoulder.

“I’m so sorry guys. I didn’t mean for all this to happen.”

“Hey don’t be sorry! I’m glad I found out Sam was in it for your hottie.”

“Yeah. I’ve dated plenty of women but not anyone that cold.”

“Thanks, guys.” You looked up to be greeted with their bright smiles. It was nice to be so trusted.

“Dude, those babes said they were free tonight.” Dylan held out his phone to text said woman, Bentley doing the same.

Without second thought, you quickly put your hand between the two men, still having a very animated conversation.

“As much as I’d love to hear you guys babble over some girls, do either of you know where Ransom is?”

“He’s right here.”

A very familiar voice sounded from behind you.

There he was. Your hormones were through the roof and you couldn’t stop the happy tears that fell.

You ran to your fiance, throwing your arms around his neck, while his one free hand wrapped around your waist. Ransom placed a sweet kiss on your neck, laying his head there for a while, relishing in your love. How could he be so deserving of someone with such patience?

Too caught up in the moment, you didn’t even notice Dylan and Bentley sneaking out the front door.

Ransom held out a bountiful bouquet of exquisite light pink roses. With his free hand, he took both of yours, placing a few kisses to your knuckles.

Turning your hands over, Ransom kissed your wrists and then handed you the bouquet. You couldn’t help but giggle at all his affection.

“Pink roses, for you and our baby girl. I owe you both an apology.” Like a scolded puppy, he held his head in shame.

“I owe you an apology too-”

Your fiance’s index finger came up to shush you.

“No you don’t, I do.”

Ransom took your left hand, your ringed fingers intertwined with his now bare ones and led you up to the bedroom.

You went to go flump on the bed, observing as Ransom shut the door, and wordlessly sat next to you.

“I’m sorry that I, of all people, upset you. I should have been there for you, but I wasn’t.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, full of remorse. Truth be told, you had never seen Ransom like this. Taking your left hand, you lifted his chin gently, the cold metal of the rings somewhat startling, making Ransom turn his solemn face to look at you.

“How did you know?” Gazing into his gorgeous and endless eyes, you saw his sorrow, a large pang to your heart.

“Well, both girls tried to make a move on me. Mallory called our little lemondrop,” Ransom took a deep breath, saying the next word like it was gonna summon the devil himself, “a bastard.”

You were so desensitized at this point, you just accepted the vile words. There was no use in letting their locutions affect you, because if they did, you’d be letting them win.

“Yeah, they both kinda said that to my face too.” In hopes of lifting the mood, you let out a dry chuckle to let Ransom know that you were somewhat okay. Especially, that he was here, next to you.

“You girls were laughing and everything, I truly thought you were having a good time. I am so sorry, Sweetheart.”

Ransom was so upset, he buried his face into your chest, while you slowly and soothingly rubbed his back. Instead of telling him about your other banters with the women, you just kept your mouth shut. The poor thing was already so unsettled, you didn’t want to make matters worse for him.

It seemed like an eternity that Ransom was in your loving hold. His sobs were quieted and he examined your look of content. First, he softly pecked the corner of your lips then placed his warm hands on the small bump of your baby.

“Hi little miss, I owe you an apology too. Today I was not a great father at all. You and your mom will always mean the world to me. I can’t wait to meet you, honey.”

Ransom ended his heartfelt confession with a slow kiss to the unborn baby, that even you could feel through the sweater, making your heart flutter. For many months, Ransom worried about being a terrible father. Well, if what he just said didn’t prove that he was gonna be a great father, then you don't know what would.

Your hands flew up to your fiance’s face, once again holding him close, so close that your noses bumped. Both of your eyes were closed in bliss, that was until Ransom quietly spoke up.

“The beamer’s fine right?”

Believe it or not, but sometimes Ransom could be a comedian around those he cared about. A few giggles left your mouth as you pulled away from the man who was also laughing himself.

“I-I’m...serious, babe!” It took a few tries for Ransom to get the sentence out without cackling. For years it had been a running joke that Mr. Drysdale loved his car more than himself which was quite the revelation, if you ever heard one.

Getting up from the bed, you leaned down to kiss between Ransom’s eyebrows that were knitted with concern.

“Yes, your other child is fine.”

“So now that the air is clear, are you hungry?”

Don’t judge, just because you may have eaten lasagna just a while ago, didn’t mean you’d pass the golden opportunity for more food. You eagerly nodded your head before sitting on Ransom’s knee. His arms were wrapped around you in a protective manner, while his hands held the phone with the menu on screen.

“Ran, what Chinese place is gonna be open this late?”

“Trust me, I know this place.”

Half an hour later, a man showed up on the doorstep holding a plastic bag hopefully filled with your late night smorgasbord. To your surprise, the bag was actually filled with all its content which needless to say didn’t last long. Between your endless stomach and Ransom’s growing hangover, the greasy meal trays were soon empty. You and Ransom had taken the food up to the bedroom, devouring it all, while laying on the bed enjoying the time together.

Even when things were rough, you and Ransom always found a way to get through.

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #chris evans #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale x you

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yn-dreamlife · 4 years

Text

Our Princess

Ok so like I don't know if ya’ll have seen the interview or whe=atever where BTS dresses up as Princes and then proceed to like kiss each other on the cheek and stuff but imagine like you're there and they dress you up as a princess and like.... yeah. (Heres the interview if you haven't seen it)

BTS x reader (OT7 x reader)

Genre: fluff

Warnings: fluff, low-key smut/lemon, mentions of smut, cuteness, nicknames, eventual shy reader use of the word daddy/daddies (like once)

Images not mine just found them on the internet but I did make the collage.

As I sneak into the back of the building I have to stifle a gleeful giggle at the sound of my boyfriends laughter. I can tell at this moment its Namjoon and Taehyng laughing and my heart swells at the thought of them.

I truly am blessed to have such seven amazing boyfriends. And im blessed to have a friend who's willing to sneak me into this interview, of course I could have just told them the truth and come with them but this would be better.

I just got back from my world tour and while most of it they where with me the last month (give or take) they had to return home. They called me to ask when I would be home and when I heard they where having an interview at the place my friend works I quickly lied so I could surprise them.

They’ve done it to me tons of times before, it’s only fair I get to do the same. And hey if this happens to be how we officially tell the fans we’re together then I’m okay with that. Sadly im not actually sure what this interview is and y/f/n wouldn't tell me.

“y/f/n!” I groan as she drags me away from where my feet were already carrying me.

“Sorry y/n/n but I gotta get you in the proper attire first.” She says winking.

I look at her suspiciously “you’re not sending me out in lingerie or some shit right?” She sputters before quickly yelling at me in a hushed whisper how they don't do that here and I couldn't help but chuckle, “just checking.”

She rolls her eyes pushing me into a room and locking the door behind us, sometimes the boys need to leave an interview during break just to be alone and it would ruin the surprise of me being here if one barged in.

As I finally look around I gape at the big ball gown right in the center. “Woah! What lucky duck gets to where that?!” I gasp admiring the beautiful dark blue dress.

“You” She states like its a simple fact like humans need to breathe.

“M-me- What?!” I look at her dumb founded and she just smiles.

“Mmmhmmm!” She hum happily pulling it off the mannequin. I waste no time undressing and quickly putting the dress on before she changes her mind or something.

I feel giddy as the dress slides on my body. “y-y/f/n” I stutter out staring at myself in the mirror as she quickly applies some makeup and puts my hair up in an elegant updo.

“Hmm?” she hums.

“I look-” You pause truly speechless.

“Absolutely amazing?” You nod silently, “of course you do! With me as your stylist where could you go wrong?!” She chirps happily as she looks at her watch.

“Are we to late? Did this take to long?!” I ask worried trying to ignore my growing disappointment.

“What?! No! Just trying to see if they’re all dressed and ready. You’re going to be the last one to go as our surprise guest.... and it looks like its time!” She says as her phone chimes.

I stand up hands sweaty so I wipe them on a towel. “Wont they see me as I enter?”

She shakes her head, “no they’ll be turned around and blindfolded incase someone tries to peak.” She says winking, “oh and you will be too!”

“What?!” I exclaim shocked.

“Yep... haha kinda for the whole beginning half.” she says scratching the back of her neck.

“W-wha -why?!” I asked in a hush voice as she leads me out of the room.

“You’ll see.” She whispers placing a silky blindfold carefully on my face, not tight enough to ruin my makeup. I sigh as we continue walking.

“Alright boys! Are you guys excited?!” y/f/n asks excitedly. she whispers for you to sit back and you do so carefully.

“Yes!” Jungkook says excitedly. “I want to see this mysterious beautiful princess!” I can hear the smile in his voice and ignore the slight ache. ‘He’s doin it for the fans, they dint know about us yet.’ I remind myself.

“May I ask a question?” I hear Namjoon ask.

“Of course!” y/f/n says.

“How old is this princess?” He asks I assume I’m supposed to answer but a hand is slapped over my mouth before I can do so.

“She’s around all of your age!” she says quickly as Namjoon hums thoughtfully. You nod remebering they don't know its you yet.

“Can I please please please take the blindfold off now?!” I hear Hoseok asks and I almost ‘aww’ at him but I refrain.

“No.” y/f/n, states simply. “-First” she says cutting of there groans of frustration. “I want you to guess who it is.” She says, “Or who you hope for it to be.”

“Papa Mochi!” I hear Jimin cheer happily and I almost bust out laughing but I quickly cover my mouth.

“That’s a guy!” y/f/n says exasperated like she's heard this all day.

“fine!” he groans, “ummm Kumiko!” Jimin says.

“Is that just a random person?” She asks and when I don't hear anything but a sigh from her I assume he just shrugged. I shake my head smiling as I listen to a bunch of random names leave there lips.

“Kaede” I hear Namjoon next.

“Iva” Jungkook says

“Koge” Jin spoke next.

Now it was Hobis turn “Rai”

Taehyng waited a second before also replying, “Risako”

“Ishi” Yoongi speaks calmly.

“What do you all just have a random store of names in your head?!” Y/f/n asks exasperated. I can hear the smirk in her voice when she speaks next, “Surprised none you said your best friends name.”

“She’s still on tour.” Tae says rather roughly.

“Calm,” Namjoon whispers but I still caught it, ‘just how close to them am I?’ I wonder reaching my hand out only to meet the fabric of someones shirt.

“Wah!” He exclaims and I recognize it as Taehyung. ‘So I’m very close.’ I think to myself. “Uh thanks...” he mutters moving his shoulder away. ‘cute.’ I think.

“Jeez sore subject haha sorry folks,” she pauses and clears her throat before continuing. “Anywho go ahead and take off the blindfolds!” She says and as I go to reach for my own a hand on my wrists stops me.

“Not you m-lady.” She says in a fake accent. I hit her hand away pouting.

‘Lame.’ I think to myself bitterly.

“If she can't see us why is it fair we get to see her?” Yoongi questioned. ‘Thank you!’ I thought exasperated. She groans.

“ugh! fine! Party pooper, you can keep your mask on too!” She chirps and my shoulders sag, ‘so much for that.’

“Fine” he says and I can hear him sit back down. I hear the others collectively gasp as I assume they remove there masks.

“What? Who is it?” Namjoon speaks this time, ‘so he kept his blindfold on too.’

“You two are gonna wanna see this!” I hear Jungkook say and I can hear the grin in his voice. It makes me smile and I wave shyly biting my lip.

“Y-Y/n?!” I hear them both exclaim. My grin widens.

“Y/f/n get this damn blindfold off me I want to see my bo-” I cut myself off, “My boys!” I say in a rush. She groans

“Okay but you'll have to wear it again for one of our games.” She states matter-o-factly. I Quickly rip it off and my smile gets impossibly larger as I see them all standing there.

“Look at all of you!” I say grinning as I stare at all of them in there prince outfits. A noticeable warmth spreading to my cheeks, ‘shit they look really good.’

Before I can think more on how amazing they look I am quickly picked up and spun around by Namjoon. I laugh gleefully as he does so, me and him spent the least amount of time together on FaceTime over the past few weeks sadly, both busy at the wrong times. But that doesn't mean we didnt catch each other eventually.

“Why didnt you tell us you where coming?” Jimin asks swiping in as soon as joon set me down to hug me and the rest of the boys followed.

“To surprise you of course!” I say grabbing Yoongis cold hand as he pulls away.

“Well it worked!” kook exclaimed.

“Yeah this is almost as good as papa mocha right jimin-ah?” Hobbi says nudging him.

“Hey don't be like that!” He says as he stares at me helplessly. I laugh at this.

“No, no I think chim would have preferred Papa Mocha right Jin?” I say looking at the handsome man.

He smirks, “I dunno... maybe” I laugh bending over slightly as I do so missing the way all there yes where trained on me.

“Alrght alright, enough of the gooey best-friend stuff!” y/f/n says. “We’re gonna take a break to give you seven time to prepare and poor y/n here time to enjoy herself before our next game.” she says about to walk away.

“Wait! Whats the next game?!” I ask.

“You’ll see.” As the cameras are turned off we are all sent away, the boys walk with my to ‘my room’ but we all know cameras where there to catch what would be said and whatnot so we stopped in the middle of both and I turned to all of them smiling widely.

“You should have told us!” Taehyng grumbles as he clings onto you from behind nuzzling his head into your neck.

“If I did that I wouldn't have been able to see you get all angry at the thought of me being away any longer.” I said bopping his nose and his own cheeks reddened.

“Oh yeah, guess you heard that huh?” I make a mhm sound and he hides further in my neck as I giggle.

“So kookie was I pretty enough to be worth it? Was I a good enough mysetery beauty princess?” I ask, he bends down cupping my cheek, “The only one who fits the bill,” he whispers placing a kiss on my lips.

“Hey knock it off!” I say as a blush creeps its way onto my cheeks. They all laugh at that.

We go to our own rooms and I sit waiting impatiently. Ten or so minutes later y/f/n comes back and pulls me into the room again and sits me back in the chair.

“Okay so our next game is called... drumroll please!” All the boys smack there hands on there thighs, “Blush-rush!” She declares.

“What?! Oh no!” I say exasperated “grrr curse you y/f/n!” I say shaking my fist at her as the boys laugh.

“Yeah yeah thats the witches job not yours m-lady.” I scoff. “Ok! theres two rounds! One action round and one verbal round! y/n sets the boundaries, and you boys follow them but otherwise your good. Your goal? Make y/n blush as long and as deeply as possible.” She says looking to you to set the rules.

“Ok obviously you boys know the no-no squares.” You say simply and they all chuckle nodding. “Okay, uhhhh I guess..Oh! No yelling in my ear!” You glare at Jungkook then remembering when you where still best friends and he screamed in your ear to wake you up, while acting out how he would wake his future girlfriend.

He holds his hand up defensively and I shake my head at him smiling. “I don't know! You guys know me, so you know whats to far!” I said shrugging. They all nodded smiling, they know old boundaries of when we where trying to hide it from the fans are off the table, we’ve seen the theories and there isn't any negativity towards them so we figured why not.

If it comes out it comes out, if not then thats okay to. We’re happy ether way, it was a group decision.

“Alrighty then lets get going!” She says smiling. “Boys pick which one you do first-” she gets cut off by an enthusiastic Namjoon.

“Words!” He says quickly and all the boys quickly nod in agreement. I can't help but laugh.

“Alrighty then y/n back on with the blindfold.” I groan but put it on anyways.

it’s a long moment of silence before I hear anything at all, quickly thoughts of being alone flood into my mind but are quickly washed away by someones breathe hot on my ear.

“Baby girl,” Instantly I recognize Jin, “you should have told us you where coming, we could have welcomed you home properly.” my eyes widen beneath my mask knowing full well what usually happens when we reunite.

I clear my throat trying to avoid the blush on my cheeks. “Don't try to hide it princess,” Namjoon says his voice deep and on my other side, I can feel the warmth from the two bodies next to me. “You always react so well, such a beautiful blush.”

This time I can't stop my cheeks from turning pink. “Little one~” It’s Jungkook, completely different from the excited adorable one who just minutes ago was excited to see a mysterious princess “doing so good, you’ve barely blushed so far.” He purrs but then chuckles deeply “Or you weren't blushing.” I groan slightly as I shift in my seat.

‘Damnit only three of them have-’ “Hello Kitten,” ‘Yoongi, shit’. “Look at you, don't you look so pretty?” He says and I know if he could he would run his hands threw my hair right now.

“Hello my little flower,” I hear another voice right next to my ear, ‘hello hobi’ I chuckle. “Something funny? Or you just like the way we’re making you feel?” I don't answer and he just chuckles at that.

“Hello my little angel~” Jimin practically purrs into my ear just like Yoongi. “I love your dress, it would look better on my bedroom floor though, don't you think?” I try to shake off his words but of course the blush continues to grow.

I know who has to be coming next and I’m not surprised when I hear his deep voice, “Hi baby, are you happy to be surrounded by your daddies?” He whispers in my ear and by now the blush has moved down my necks and up to my ears.

“Yes how are-” Jin gets cut off by y/f/n.

“Alright alright!” She cuts in, “jeez guys I said make her blush, not kill her... you seven jeesh.” She pulls the blindfold off and I look up to see all seven of them around me smirks on there faces.

‘uh-oh’ I look down not able to stare at them any longer, its to much I’m already warm enough. I didnt think they would be so.... suggestive.

They chuckle as they see my cheeks warming up again. “I have to go cool off in the bathroom!” I say quickly standing up and moving to the hallway. I lean against a wall breathing deeply.

“Damn you.” I sigh as I cover my face, even the after thought makes me blush.

“y/n?” I hear y/f/n, I look up at her smiling softly. “We can't make it a silent part, no one would no what they said and we all sign privacy policy contracts.” She said seriously.

“Oh it’s fine I just was shocked really,” I huff out a laugh, “but lets make it silent, I want to see what our fans come up with.” She grins nodding.

I go back out smiling reassuringly at the boys who all relax visibly. I sit back in the seat preparing myself for the next round. I breathe deeply as y/f/n gives the all clear as I watch Hobi approach.

Truth be told I don't know what I was expecting but I wasn't expecting him to just sand in-front of me forcing eye contact, thats for sure. So when it got to be to much I quickly looked away, and thats how I knew I fell into the trap. His finger making its way under my chin to turn my face towards him as he leans in closer.

And just when I think he might kiss me he pulls way smirking and I purse my lips to prevent a smile. So caught up in the moment I didn't realize Yoongi slipped behind me until I felt his hands move down my exposed shoulders only to go back up and move towards my collar bones. Goosebumps forming on my heated flesh.

He drew his hands away drawing them close to my throat. Jimin also comes up not hesitating to move his hand from my cheek to my neck where he hovers placing slight pressure from his finger tips almost like from one of the first few videos he took of my where instead of doing the face smooshy thing he went and choked me.

I know my face is beat red by now but there is still four more to go. I smile as Jungkook comes up to me, he wouldn't do anything to bad- I’m instantly proven wrong as his arms go around my middle, feather light touches moving over my sides the same way he does when I’m blindfolded and- ‘nope! don't go there then you WILL blush more!’ He smirks triumphantly knowing that was enough.

Taehyung is much more.... pg I suppose as he peppers my face with kisses repeatedly, but I realize that that he was just to prepare me for when Namjoon sneaks up behind my sticking his face in my neck. He is sure to hide what exactly he’s doing by his position but I feel his lips moving up and down my neck going to the spot by my ear.

Jin is the last, and what he does is simple but effective. He simply takes me off the chair and places me right onto his lap, and of course once again by now my face is beet red and they’ve surely beaten me since Hobi, but it was more fun to let them all go.

After that the interview was basically done we stayed for about an hour more before we all decided to drive home. I was in my car with just Jungkook and Namjoon while the others went in there car. Im sitting in the back in Namjoon’s lap, yes there was a perfectly good seat beside him but honestly neither one of them cared and I loved the contact.

We where stopped at a stop light the conversation at a comfortable silence when I spoke up. “You guys where very... open.” I say as I hide my face in Joons neck. he chuckles his hands moving up and down my back.

“What can we say, not seeing you for, what a month? Add onto that the opportunity to publicly do anything we want with you, well we have to do everything we can.” he said smirking squeezing my hips.

“Well not everything.” Jungkook says winking in the rear view mirror and once again I blush as a giggle leaves my lips.

It’s a week later when I go onto youtube and find the latest conspiracy video for the eight of us shockingly. It’s videos of us over the whole time we had been dating, proof of the long time relationship. I smile as I show the boys and we reminisce on the old videos.

I decide to post a picture on my instagram from the interview, one of the seven of them in there costumes and then one of me with each of them alone, namjoons was one of my favorites, not that I didnt love them all of them but one of the camera men caught the moment he picked me up and spun me around and I knew I would always treasure it. I put the caption, “My princes.”

Seeing this they put a picture on there official insta saying “Our princess.” No one truly asked any questions, they all just knew. The comments where filled with friends saying finally, and fans agreeing saying how happy they where. And we where too. We truly would have a happily ever after.

Hey guys my request an taglist’s are always open! Thank you!

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damnusillygoose · 3 years

Text

Jerza fanfiction(Fluff)

Title: Some insecurities to overcome

summary: Erza has some insecurities. Can Jellal help her overcome them?

Disclaimer: These characters belong to Hiro sensei

'Mira, listen. I think I am overdoing it but I can't stop.'

'I know right? A woman cannot stop her raging heart inside a shop selling skincare products after all.'

'This is very addictive', Erza grimaced, looking down at the products in her hands, ranging from body lotions to SPF to cleansers to moisturizers. All sorts of products a woman can buy to pamper herself.

'You are finally paying attention to your skincare routine. I wonder who is that lucky man who triggered such a change in you, huh?', Mira smiled in a suggestive manner.

'wh-what makes you think I am doing this for a man?! I am doing it for myself you know-

'Yes, yes feminist, I know. In fact, we all know when you exactly started paying attention towards this department. Especially your hair. Stop trying to divert the topic, will you?

'….'

'Does he make you happy?'

Her eyebrows de-tangled themselves from her frown as her face softened at the mention of the man who held her heart within his. 'He does, Mira. He makes me really happy', she gushed in a barely audible whisper.

'I am going be the "best aunt" to your kids. Mhm, though Meredy could be a potential rival for this title', she rambled.

'M-Mira?! That's- You are going too fast! Slow down! It's been just six months to us, give us a break. I would…love to have a family with him in future but right now, it's too soon and I…. I would like to marry him before that', she stammered and covered her face with her hands, turning red at her confession.

Mira eyed her friend smugly, studying her reaction. Erza truly acted different when Jellal was involved. She would turn into the sweetest cinnamon roll around him. Not that she purposefully acted different in front of him.

Erza felt free when she talked to Jellal. She could act spoiled, flirty, bossy, whatever she wanted. She could act vulnerable in front of him because Jellal was her place of comfort. She could be herself within his arms, he was her childhood sweetheart after all.

'Yes, yes grow as a couple, bloom as a couple. Take your time. You guys don't have to rush anyways. Make up for the time you lost', Mira remarked.

Erza lowered her hands slowly, producing a shy smile. 'Yes, we are making up for the time we lost.'

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

Seriously though, skincare was such a hassle. It needs dedication and consistency. You have to be patient. You don't get results overnight. Jellal's face was super soft and absolutely blemish free, no dark spots whatsoever. He didn't even use any special product.

'Greens Erza, greens. Eat your greens. Plus, I don't go snacking on sweets in the middle of the night, you know.'

Erza pressed her lips together in defiance. Cutting out sugar redeemed results when someone is trying to achieve clear skin but that's something she couldn't accomplish, if she were to be honest. Leave it, I will try to compensate in other departments like quality sleep and exercise, she tried to convince herself.

She finished applying her hair mask and tied her hair into a secure bun. She reached for her tea tree scrub, took some of it in her hands and started rubbing it in circular motions on her face.

She rinsed it thoroughly after 2 minutes of exfoliating and entered the bathroom to prepare her bath.

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

Jellal entered the front gate of their little cottage which they bought just at the outskirts of Magnolia. The location had advantages of its own. They both enjoyed and appreciated scenic beauty away from the clanging energy of the city. They could wake up peacefully, hear the serene chirping of birds, as the soft morning rays would kiss their faces gently. After spending an entire decade fighting battles, they thoroughly appreciated the tranquillity provided amidst nature.

Plus, they could very well use some privacy from media houses because Erza and Jellal's relationship was a hot topic going around in the city. They could take long walks without being pestered by them, flirt and make out whenever they pleased, without the fear of being stalked by them. No one could invade their privacy. It was their personal heaven.

Their friends obviously knew about their location, they came to visit them often.

Team Natsu would often come by to annoy Erza but Jellal knew she loved when they visited and she loved picnics as well, so he tried to create an aesthetic arrangement by adorning the flower pots in their lawn with golden lit fairy lights, situated within the close vicinity of their seating layout. He would switch them on late in the evenings, as they all would watch the sun set while sipping tea, stargazing and laughing with each other. Sometimes, Gray would bring his music speakers and they all would dance and listen to some traditional songs together as the fairy lights embellished their surroundings. Jellal truly enjoyed their company, they were a fun bunch to hang out with.

Crime sorciere was no less. Jellal would often play cricket with them on Sundays and afterwards, they would laze around in his lawn, basking in the sun, as it was the closest place from their playing field.

Jellal would find Erza trying to engage herself with his team and serving them pastries. It would warm his heart immediately when he would see her making attempts to integrate with his people.

'Well, you try to spend time with my friends, I want to know yours as well.'

Not to forget the fact, Erza had taken upon herself to look after Meredy, just like she did for Wendy. She would also do her best to include her in girl's night out and slumber parties. The two of the most important women in Jellal's life became close pretty quickly.

He was grateful to have such an exceptional woman who tried to indulge herself with his life, entwining them together, just like they both were meant to be. He was lucky, he contemplated.

He had gone out to visit Meredy. She had recently rented a place in magnolia and Jellal went to check on her if she needed any assistance.

He closed the door behind him quietly and proceeded to place the groceries he bought in the kitchen. He treaded upstairs to their bedroom and found her sitting in front of her dressing table-applying some lotion on her face, her hair neatly wrapped in a towel.

'I am back.'

'Hey. Everything okay with Meredy?'

'Yes, she is ecstatic to have her own place'

'I see. That's good. I should visit her soon and inform her of some cheap shopping complexes, which offer quality clothing in Magnolia. I love to frequent those with Mira. A woman should have some tricks up in her sleeves.' She replied as a matter of fact.

'I am sure she would be grateful for that', he almost laughed. 'What are you doing?'

'Applying moisturizer'

He sat at the edge of their bed and observed her closely.

'What?', she asked

'Can I help you in drying your hair?'

The corners of her mouth raised on hearing his request. She closed her eyes relishing his adoration for her hair that he named himself.

'Please do', she said as she finished applying her lotion on her face.

They were always like this around each other - content and serene, just like two important halves of a single soul, reunited after treading a long and strenuous journey of self-actualisation. Erza took note of the fact how loved he made her feel even through his tiniest action. Like how he was helping her dry her hair right now.

Jellal, unaware of her musing, took hold of her towel and carefully unwrapped it. Her hair was damp but not dripping wet. He divided them in two partitions and gently started squeezing the excess water out with immense concentration and meticulosity. He repeated the process with the other section as well until he was satisfied with his job. He kept the damp towel aside and ran his hand through the soft and glossy texture of her locks reverently.

Erza felt the tension residing her shoulder muscles leave when she felt his expert hands massage her the nape of her neck firmly. He moved his fingers, tracing her collarbone, bringing her against his chest gently.

'Erza, please remember that you are beautiful. Blemish free or not.' He reminded her, whispering gently in her ears before kissing her cheek lovingly. He held her face softly in his hand and turned her to face him, as they held each other's gaze.

She recently developed a complex regarding her skin not being flawless. Those cursed vogue magazines she picked at a store depicted ladies with blemish free faces. They continued to attack her newfound insecurity.

Jellal often witnessed her groaning while examining her face more than usual in front of the mirror. He saw her reading some magazines where models were photoshopped to an extreme extent, as if they had no skin texture at all. Some didn't even seem human with their body enhancements. It was abhorrent, he felt, to make women insecure regarding something which was naturally unachievable. He just wanted to let her know that he was going to love her no matter what and that outward appearance would never dwindle his feelings which he held for 14 years.

'Thank you Jellal', she took a deep breathe and smiled at him, being grateful for his support. 'I am not hating myself anymore for not having clear skin. Those vogue magazines depict a very unhealthy beauty standard and some women end up hating themselves for not looking that fabulous.'

'You shouldn't read them anymore. I don't want you to feel sad over something unrealistic. You are beautiful the way you are.' He didn't think she knew how beautiful she was in his eyes along with her flaws, especially her flaws.

'I am not, believe me. People are meant to be imperfect after all. That's where the real beauty lies. right?', she replied, meaning every single word she spoke, finally brimming with some self-confidence.

'Come here love, sit between my legs, come', he urged her and she relented by walking towards him. He shifted further along the mattress to make some space for her. She crawled over and seated herself comfortably between his legs and laid her back against his chest. He brought his legs around, boxing her within his hold. She brought her hands up to hold his and leaned into his cheek, sighing contently.

They spent a few moments in this position, simply observing and cherishing the sunrays falling into their room-for warming them up in this cold morning. Their hearts-already warmed up with the love they held for each other.

'Hey sleepyhead', he nudged her mildly when he noticed her blinking in exhaustion, almost ready to fall asleep owing to the cosy atmosphere they created, 'Aren't you hungry? What about breakfast? No- brunch.', he corrected himself when he turned his neck to look at the clock. It was almost 11.30 A.M.

'mhmp...? Oh brunch, right. I almost fell asleep', she chuckled, still slightly drowsy.

'What about strawberry sprinkled donuts glazed with white chocolate?!', she exclaimed ecstatically with her eyes wide open, now fully awake.

Of course, he should have known she would reply something of this sort.

'Sure, but after I feed you some healthy omelettes along with salad consisting of broccoli and beans.'

Jellal was kind of particular about nutrition.

'But those donuts are baked, not fried!', she argued. Apparently eating sweets for breakfast was perfectly healthy in Erza's dictionary.

'You can eat fried as well but after we have our brunch.', he hugged her tightly and kissed her forehead. Forget brunch he wanted to eat her right now.

She smiled and rolled her eyes in her apparent defeat.

'Salad it is then.

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

A/N: This drabble is also a gentle reminder to all the beautiful ladies out there who feel inferior after browsing through Instagram, looking at those models and wondering why aren't we like them. We are not like them because they themselves do not represent a reality. Instagram is not real, nothing depicted there is. Keep loving yourself and stay hydrated. Do check out my others stories and leave a review if you liked this one. Constructive criticism is appreciated!

link to my profile on fanfiction.net

https://www.fanfiction.net/~damnyousillygoose

#jerza #jerza fanfiction #fairy tail #fairy tail 100 yq #erza scarlet #jellal fernandez #jellal x erza #jellal and erza

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starkeristheendgame · 5 years

Note

Peter tattooed Tony's name on his ass after a drunken night on his 18th birthday. And then Tony found out.

I had so many ideas for this and I fucking loved this prompt. Honestly Anon, thank you so much for the burst of inspiration! I absolutely love this concept and spent like two-hours just staring into space and internally fic-writing 😂

Its not exactly a ‘drunken night tattoo’ AU, but that’s because any respectable tattoo shop will not tattoo you if you’re drunk, or if you’ve consumed alcohol within the last 12 hours. So in respect of the professionals and in the interest of promoting safety, this is a slightly different base!

TW: Very light D/s Dynamic | Slight possessive behaviour | Under-negotiated (but consensual)

Peter couldn’t even blame being drunk. He wished he could; really. People did stupid things when drunk. It seemed to be an immediate write-off excuse for anything, instantly accepted as a valid reason for any stupid decisions.

Peter had been completely and utterly, stone-cold sober at every point in this process. He’d been sober when he’d scanned one of Tony’s signatures onto his phone. Sober when he’d booked the consultation with InkSpren Tattoo. Sober when he’d walked into the studio a week later in a pair of MJ’s velvet shorts.

He wasn’t entirely nervous. Pain didn’t really scare him as much as he supposed it used to. Especially not pain from a set of tiny, teeny needles. He’d gone with MJ for her first tattoo, and she’d taken it pretty well. Well enough that somewhere around the first hour, she’d begun to snore.

His tattoo artist was named Dave. That was comforting. Dave sounded like a nice name. Normal. Friendly. Guy-Next-Door-Dave.

Peter faltered in the doorway.

Dave was a 6″1 male with a beard and more tattoos than Peter thought possible to fit on one man. He was in the process of sapping on a pair of gloves, and eyed Peter critically when he noticed him lingering in the doorway, before motioning for Peter to join him.

“Lay down on your front. Arch your spine a little. You’re gonna have to pull those down under the cheek,” he instructed, reaching into a small tub to pull out some sanitary wipes. Peter tried not to feel embarrassed as he did as told, crawling up onto the bed and settling comfortably, before he squirmed, tugging down his shorts and his boxers both.

The wipe was cold and Peter huffed out a breath in surprise, nose scrunching as he forced himself to relax again. It was fine. It was a wipe. “I’m going to apply the stencil now. You wanted it dead-centre on the right cheek, yeah, mate?” Dave asked after a pause, and Peter nodded.

It would be more accurate to say that MJ wanted it there. Or at the least… That was the spot she’d chosen, when he’d lost the bet. Or… The pseudo bet. It was better to say that MJ had simply said she didn’t believe Peter would ever do something like this, and.

Here he was.

The stencil felt a little like rice paper. A little wet, and having some strange, scary dude palming his asscheek was definitely an experience, but Peter lay quietly through it, glancing nervously at his phone.

God. He hoped Mr. Stark was too busy to call him today. Or worse, face-time him. Was Mr. Stark watching him through the camera? Had he hacked the microphone?

“Alright. Get up and have a look. We can wipe it off and re-place if its not right,” Dave instructed, and Peter moved gingerly, keeping hold of the waistband as he shuffled awkwardly over to the mirror and twisted.

There, emblazoned in dark purple on his asscheek, was Tony Stark. In a perfect replica of Tony’s elegant, eccentric scrawl. “He’s gonna kill me,” Peter breathed, staring at the stencil with growing horror. He caught Dave’s quizzical, raised eyebrow, and forced a grin. “Yeah, yeah. Its perfect. Right in the middle there. Great. Thanks.”

He lay back down, and after a brief warning, Dave begun.

“You lost a bet or something, kid? Or are you just…Really into the whole Iron Daddy thing?”

Peter wheezed.

Iron Daddy?!

“Lost a bet,” he managed to hiss out, burying his face into his arms. Oh, god. Thank whatever Deity was lurking up there that MJ wasn’t here to witness that. She’d immediately demand that the stencil was changed. Dave gave an affirmative sound from behind him.

“Why this guy? You a big fan or something? Or is it the opposite?”

“Uh… I guess a fan? I Intern. At SI,” Peter replied, wincing at a particularly harsh nip from the needles. It wasn’t so bad, all things considered. It stung, but it wasn’t the raging fire of pain that some people mentioned when they spoke about getting tattooed.

“Mmph. Must come with a nice paycheque. You gonna show him?”

“Absolutely not” Peter responded instantly, to Dave’s amused chuckle. Christ. Mr. Stark would fire him on the spot. He’d take back the suit. He’d get a restraining order. What mentor wanted their name on their eighteen year old mentee’s asscheek?

Then again.

Tony was egotistical enough that he’d probably love it, and think it was the most hilarious thing in the world, and Peter really wasn’t sure which one was worse. Not to mention that both involved him dropping his pants in front of his boss.

It was quiet for a little while after that, just the buzz of the needle and the odd puff of breath at the occasional sting from the gun.

“You know anything about knitting?” Dave asked after a pause, and Peter frowned, considering. He knew a little about sewing. He’d made his own suit, before Mr. Stark had showed up. Aunt May had taught him back when he’d thrown a tantrum over ripping his favourite shirt as an eight year old.

“Uh… Not really? I mean, I can sew a little. But I’ve never knit anything,” he remarked back, pondering it. Knitting was soft sweaters and thick scarves. It made him think of little old Russian ladies on their porches.

“My Ma wants to knit. Says she’s at that age. Told me to get her some wool and those special needles. I dunno the first thing about knitting.”

And that was how Peter learned that Dave’s Ma was what Peter imagined Ms. Romanoff would be when she was eighty, and that Dave’s main job was actually as a Doggy Daycare assistant at Paws ‘R Us.

“All done,” Dave announced, squirting a weird, green froth over Peter’s asscheek before wiping it lightly with a series of cloths. “Go take a look.”

Peter obliging, sliding off the bench and twisting to see his butt in the mirror.

“Aw, man. This is gonna be on my mind literally every time I see him,” Peter complained, clapping a hand over his face. There, in what looked like thick Sharpie across his ass, was Tony’s signature. Forever. If he ever died, it would be with this stamped across his butt.

“He ain’t gonna know none, unless you drop your kick in front of him,” Dave shrugged, peeling off the gloves. Peter had to concede that he had a point. He had zero intentions of ever telling Mr. Stark what he’d done, and in the three years they’d known each other, Mr. Stark had never seen Peter in less than a shirt and bottoms.

MJ looked moderately impressed when she pulled the hem of his shorts down, peering at the taped-up tattoo with her phone flashlight. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” she shrugged, flopping back onto her bed and resuming the video she’d been watching on her phone.

Peter shuffled around to lay on his stomach on the bottom of the bed, slapping at her ankle. “Never tell a Peter Parker he can’t do something,” he announced, and MJ rolled her eyes.

“I never said you couldn’t do it. I said it was a stupid thing to do, and you argued it, and then decided it was your new personal challenge.”

Peter paused, then tipped his head. “Fair.”

Hiding it was both predictably and surprisingly easy. Peter spent the next few days sitting very gingerly and working himself up into a lather about meeting Mr. Stark on the weekend. Would Tony somehow know? What if MJ had emailed him to spill the secret?

What if Peter and his big mouth spilled it for him?

Except… It went fine. Tony picked him up in a sleek, red sportscar and they went straight to the Tower. Peter was taking a gap year in order to process what he wanted to do with his future.

Spiderman suddenly changing locations would be suspicious, and sooner or later, someone would think to check on new students at local facilities. People moving for jobs, that sort of thing.

Mj was just… Refusing to comply with the Government agenda or something like that. Honestly, Peter was thankful. With Ned moving to San Francisco for college, things could get a little lonely.

Bar the odd self-conscious squirm, it went as any other meet-up went. They stuffed themselves silly with food in the penthouse and messed around with tech and prank-called Steve and by the end of the night, Peter had almost forgotten about his tattoo.

The twitchy, nervous fear that Tony would somehow turn around and demand to know why he had his name tattooed on his ass eventually faded, and life resumed as it had before he’d gotten the ink.

Which, of course, is exactly when things had to go wrong.

Really, Peter should have expected it. His luck ran in a pattern, and he should have walked on egg-shells the moment he realised things were relaxed and easy and his tattoo was still a secret.

It had been about a month since the tattoo. When he was alone, Peter couldn’t help but stare at it, running his finger over the shiny, black skin. Tony’s name, emblazoned like a brand across his ass.

It became the focal point of more fantasies than his ass could keep up with, lazing floppy and exhausted and lube-covered on his bed, his mind reeling.

He imagined Tony tracing the letters with his tongue. Imagined Tony pinning him down and tattooing it himself. Imagined a different world where the branding was deliberate. A mark of ownership. Or a surprise. The look on Tony’s face when Peter would bend over, revealing his name.

And, as predicted, hiding it was no trouble at all. Peter had his own room in Tony’s penthouse, so if he needed to shower or sleep there, he had complete privacy. It helped that the Iron Spider and that Tony’s Mark II for the fabric Spiderman suit fit over his regular clothing now, so he didn’t even have to strip to do his thing.

The one thing he didn’t factor in, was a disastrous inventory day combined with the decision to wear white boxers. There’d been a raid on a medical facility kidnapping people to experiment on and most of the equipment and tech had been turned over to Tony for examination, classification and destruction. Peter was there to help, sleepy-eyed and not quite as focused as he ought to be.

He didn’t check the lid on the canister was tight before picking it up.

He didn’t see the drop of oil on the floor where Dum-E had been trundling around, moving things.

He slipped with a whelp, still clutching the container as he slid and twisted, bumping canister first into the edge of the table. He was vaguely aware of Tony shouting as his vision filled with pink dust that stung his eyes and seemed to cling to his clothes.

“Peter! Jesus H - Get in the med-shower, now! I turned away for five seconds kiddo, how did you -” Tony’s frantic muttering stops and starts as he grabbed onto Peter’s arm, dragging him across the workshop to the tiny little emergency shower stall in the corner.

Peter could do nothing but stagger along, blinking frantically to clear his eyes of dust and pink.

It doesn’t even fully register he’s inside the stall until the first blast of water rained down on him, cold like ice before immediately coming something akin to tepid. He spluttered, trying to flatten himself back against the wall as his hair fell down into his eyes and the water streamed down his mouth, his hair, his back.

He gasped as the water trickled down his thighs, soaking through the cotton of his sweatpants and making them heavy. His shirt clung to his torso like plastic wrap and stuck-peeled uncomfortably with each heaving, shuddering breath.

“Yeah, sorry. This thing acts for burns too, so. Gotta keep it cool,” Tony murmured from outside the stall, head tilting sympathetically even as Peter scowled at him from under the battering stream. “Take your clothes off,” Tony instructed, turning to look over his shoulder.

“What?” Peter squeaked, eyes widening as he wrapped his arms around himself protectively. Tony glanced back at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Relax, munchkin. My moves are smoother than that. It was a powder. Its likely it got inside your clothes, too,” he pointed out. Peter wanted to argue. Wanted to say if he just stood here long enough the risk was over, but.

“Turn around,” he huffed adamantly, scowling harder at Tony’s snort. But the genius complied, turning away and folding his arms as he observed the settling dust cloud. Peter counted to ten slowly, teeth chattering under the cold spray before he peeled off his shirt.

The water on his skin was even more unbearable and he gave a whine of protest as he begun to work at the strings of his sweats, letting them fall with a disgusting, heavy slop.

“I was naked in front of you before,” Tony pointed out conversationally and Peter spat out water, shaking his head before pushing his hair from his eyes.

“That doesn’t count. The armour ripped your clothing off in beta deployment,” he pointed out, though he couldn’t help softening at the memory, snickering as he turned his back to Tony, scrubbing at his body.

It had been hilarious. The actual deployment had gone fine, it was just when Tony had deactivated it that the armour had shrunk in on itself, taking his beaten old tank top and ratty workshop jeans with it.

“Both were an accident. Both involved one of us witnessing the other in a state of undress. Although my back has been dutifully turned since you commanded it, by the way. And both were equally hilarious in that my own armour undressed me, and you essentially became a - What is that?”

Peter jolted, having sunk into a daydream state of listening to Tony talk as he wiped himself down. He looked over his shoulder to find Tony staring straight at him, expression delighted and curious. Or, rather, straight at his ass.

Oh.

Oh no.

“Nothing!” he yelped, twisting to flatten his back against the wall. He’d left his boxers on for the sake of not trusting that Tony wouldn’t forget his vow of not looking, and had completely forgotten they were white.

Which also meant that his dick was now flat out bared to his mentor. With a howl of frustration he twisted so he was side-on to Tony, curling up and glowering with all the muted rage he could muster.

“Its a logo. On my boxers,” he ground out.

“I think not,” Tony shot back gleefully, leaning on the protective railing with an absolutely manic glint to his eye. Peter almost groaned aloud, head falling back under the spray. It was too late. He was doomed. His heart begun to pound and the air he was sucking in felt like it wasn’t enough.

“You have a tattoo. On your ass. Right there,” Tony pointed out, as though Peter didn’t know it. Peter tried to glare but it came out feeble, weak. Fuck. He was screwed. So screwed!

“What is it? Who’s name is it? Its clearly a name,” Tony continued, pestering for the information.

“Go away!” Peter barked lightly, shifting restlessly under the cool stream. Tony just shrugged easily at him and leaned through the gap, hitting the OFF button for the water. He seemed unfazed at Peter’s shuffling or his attempted aggression, smiling at him sweetly.

“You can tell me, or I can ask JARVIS. JARVIS is nice, he’ll tell me.”

And Peter’s blood runs cold, because there’s no doubt that JARVIS will. Peter never swore him to secrecy, and Mr. Stark’s name on his ass isn’t anything concerning to the AI.

“Its nothing! Oh my god, its just a tattoo!” he complained, making a shooing motion at his mentor as he side-stepped his sodden clothing. “Go get me a towel. And clean clothes. Please,” he huffed, fingers digging into his sides where he’d wrapped his arms around himself. Tony gave him a devilish grin, then gestured upwards.

“J?”

“It appears to be your name in your own handwriting, Sir,” JARVIS dutifully responded, his voice ringing like church bells through the room. The silence that followed was deafening and panic seeped like ice through Peter’s veins as Tony’s childish, gleeful look faded into complete, lax shock.

This is it. Everything he’s done, the last two years, the friendships and the Internship and Spiderman being Iron Man’s little tagalong… All gone. He’ll never eat day-old pizza with Clint again. He’ll never have Dum-E running over his foot again. The terror and panic bubbled up before he could stop it.

“Oh my god. Mr. Stark - You can’t - I’m so sorry. I swear, I wouldn’t have gotten it and especially not there but I just - I never thought you’d see it and -”

“Turn around,” Tony cut him off mildly, but his tone was firm. It was enough to snap Peter’s jaw shut as he stared, nails digging into his ribs as he blinked under the droplets that fell from his lashes. He sucked in a breath, staring in confusion.

“…What?” he breathed, pressing back against the shower wall as Tony advanced, unlocking the cubicle door to lean against the frame, eyeing him like a prime cut of steak.

“I said turn around,” Tony repeated patiently, raising one hand to make a little spinning gesture with his finger, as if Peter was a trick dog. Peter shook his head, horror quickly dawning as he realised not only what Tony was asking, but also the fact that if his boxers were that see-through…Facing the man directly was probably not the best idea.

He shuffled to the side as much as he could without baring either delicate matter. Tony’s lips quirked in amusement at this and he hummed softly as Peter shook his head.

“Mr. Stark, its not - Its just your name, I swear. You sign it like every day, you don’t need to look,” he pleaded, shivering in the cool temperature of the workshop as the water begun to dry on his skin, running down in rivulets.

“I don’t sign it on your ass every day,” Tony pointed out, stepping closer. Peter wanted to stall, to argue that technically Tony hadn’t actually signed his ass, except his mentor was moving closer, reaching out slowly as though he might spook if he moved too fast.

He was so close Peter could see the flakes of gold in his eyes, could smell the minty-motor-oil combination.

The first brush of Tony’s fingertips had his skin jumping like a colts, the touch so gentle it almost tickled. It was on the arch of his hips, skating the waistband of his sodden boxers before pressing just slightly to encourage him to turn. Tony’s gaze was tipped down, dark on his own.

“You can say no,” Tony reminded him softy, the hungry look in his eyes fading for a brief moment, replaced by something tender and careful. Peter sucked in a breath but didn’t resist as he was spun slowly on the spot, hands coming up to brace on the tiles.

“How long?” Tony asked after a moment, thumbs pressing into the backs of his hips, breath hot across his shoulder.

“A month,” he managed to whisper, pressing his forehead to the wall as Tony’s thumbs slid along the waistband teasingly, catching and pulling but never dipping it more than an inch.

Peter shuddered under the gentle touches, lips parting when Tony finally begun to slide the sodden material down his hips, over the large swell of his ass.

“You should have told me,” Tony rumbled, head ducking to mouth a lazy, open kiss to his bare shoulder, his stubble scratching just slightly. Peter shuddered as he felt the fabric slip to under his asscheeks, tight in the groove where it met his thigh but not overly uncomfortable. “Should have shown me sooner” Tony murmured into his skin.

And then the warmth of his breath was gone as he leaned back, and Peter could hear the gravelly, husked fuck that he uttered as he looked down, palm sliding around Peter’s flank so he could swipe his thumb across the dark sheen of the ink.

Peter held his breath, tensing at the touch, though it didn’t hurt. Tony’s hand left his side to slide down between his shoulders soothingly.

“My name. On that perfect, juicy ass. Branded on there forever,” Tony was murmured, voice lethal and rasped as he stroked over it slowly, reverently. “Does that make you feel good, sweetheart? Knowing my claim is on you? In such an intimate place, too? Did you choose this?” Tony hummed, breath ghosting down Peter’s spine as he sank slowly to his knees.

Peter wasn’t about to let Tony know that actually, stamping it on his ass had been MJ’s idea. Especially not when Tony pressed a gentle, scratchy kiss over the tattoo.

Especially not when he licked over the letters slowly, palms falling down to cup Peter’s asscheeks firmly. It was all he could do to whine, high and pathetic as he trembled under Tony’s hold.

Tony continued to mouth at the tattoo, lavishing it with nips and sloppy kisses as he kneaded at Peter’s asscheeks, almost distracting him enough to spread them with his thumbs, the kisses slowly travelling right until hot air right over there made Peter jolt, eyes snapping open.

“Mr. Star - Ahhhh-Ohhh,” his yelp faded into a gasp, which trickled into a breathless moan as Tony planted a firm kiss to the swirl of muscle between his thighs, sucking ever so slightly before promptly laving his tongue in a fat, wet stripe upwards.

“No idea what it does to me, kiddo. Seeing my name there. Marked on you forever. Marking you as mine,” Tony spoke against him, licking and kissing thoroughly between his words as Peter scrabbled at the tiles, desperately trying to keep himself from rocking back against Tony’s tongue.

One of Tony’s hands left his ass to stroke across his flank, delicate in its search before wrapping around his cock with a surprising firmness. Peter’s hips immediately jumping forwards into the grip and his moan was staggered as Tony paired it with a thrust of his tongue.

He mewled, embarrassingly high and and desperate as he threw one hand back, sliding his fingers gently into Tony’s hair. It was soft, far more silken than he had expected for something that stuck up in odd places when not professionally attacked by a stylist.

Tony gave a soft sound of encouragement, nipping at him and sliding his hand up to stroke at the tip of his flushed cock.

“Mr. Stark, please,” he gasped, fingers twisting lightly in the soft, dark locks and hips stuttering minutely between Tony’s hot, wet tongue and his firm, slow grip. He wasn’t going to last; not with Tony Stark finally touching him. Not with the scrape of his stubble and the husk of his voice.

Tony chuckled against him, the vibrations making Peter shudder before he rose slowly, kissing a wet path from the small of Peter’s back to his shoulders, never stopping in stroking him slowly, firmly.

“So eager, sweetheart. So precious,” Tony breathed against his skin, his hand leaving Peter’s hip to fumbled between them, knuckles brushing the round meat of his ass as he tugged his belt free of its buckle.

The slap of cold metal made Peter jolt, hips bucking in Tony’s grip and wrenching a whine from his throat as Tony squeezed him lightly, dipping his thumb into the tip and pushing at the bead of pre-cum that oozed there.

“Steady, darling,” Tony huffed into his ear, the smirk audible in his voice. Peter opened his mouth to reply, but then there was the sudden feel of a thick, long cock resting in the line of his asscheeks, heavy and hot and he could do nothing but groan weakly.

“Hush, sweetheart. I’m not gonna take you apart yet. Not here. When I do that, you’ll be on my bed, spread out and sloppy for me,” Tony soothed, jerking him off in steady, tight strokes as he rocked his hips, dragging his cock between Peter’s asscheeks with a soft hiss of pleasure.

Tony flattened against his back, careless of the fact that Peter was still dripping water as he nuzzled into his neck, one hand roaming from Peter’s asscheek to his own cock and back, petting and stroking.

Peter could feel the slow, hot build of an orgasm coiling in his gut, could feel his thighs shaking with the effort of keeping still as he let his head fall back onto Tony’s shoulder with a feeble gasp.

Tony pressed open-mouthed kisses to his temple, training down to his neck where he nipped softly as he thrust against him, a seemingly never-ending, thick drag of heavy cock that Peter instantly wished was buried deep within him.

Tony’s moans were deep, slow things, soft in his ear as he pushed his hips back, arching his spine to give Tony a better, tighter angle.

“Fuck, sweetheart. So good for me. That’s it,” Tony purred, one hand dropping to briefly pinch over his tattoo, speeding up his hand and his thrusts as they moved together. It was Tony’s cock catching on his rim that did it, pressing there briefly as though he was slide right in, paired with the ragged gasp the older man gave at the sensation.

Peter’s hips stuttered forwards and his high moan pitched into a yelp as Tony gave him a rough down-stroke, his cock jumping in his grip before painting the tiles in milky splashes. Peter shook in Tony’s hold, eyes squeezed shut and chest heaving as Tony worked him through it, continued to chase his own pleasure.

“My sweet boy. All branded as mine, coming on my cock and my touch. Look at you, baby. So good. So good, Peter. Fuck. Seeing my name, my writing on your ass… I’m gonna ruin you later,” Tony promised, voice ragged, hand falling from Peter’s cock to squeeze his ass, thumb sliding over the signature as he chased his own orgasm. Peter fell breathless against the cool tile, rocking back against the firm, heavy slide of Tony’s cock.

“Please, Tony. Fuck me. Mark me. Take me,” he rambled, breath hitching as Tony pulled back with a groan, nails digging into his ass.

The older man looked down, managing to pull his hips back and angle his cock in just enough time to paint thick ropes of cum right over his tattoo, the thick, creamy liquid sliding over the ink wetly. Peter let out another mewl, his cock twitching feebly at the thought as Tony panted behind him.

There was a fumble, the rustle of fabric, and Peter opened his eyes, looking over his shoulder in time to see Tony snap a photo of it. His cheeks burned with arousal and humiliation, but Tony dived forwards, capturing his mouth in a firm, wet kiss.

Peter was breathless by the time Tony pulled back, the corners of his mouth tingling with stubble burn.

“Marked as mine. Twice,” Tony murmured into his cheek, pressing another soft kiss there.

850 notes · View notes

maine-writes · 3 years

Text

Vonvon's Time Vacation: Part III, Winter Wonderland

Every travel brochure that features a beautiful hotel in the midst of an idyllic alpine paradise always like to emphasize the majesty of the great outdoors, the serenity of being far away from the chaos of metropolis, but all without leaving behind the conveniences and modernizations of today. Imagine taking a vacation in a tropical paradise, ostensibly to live the "island way", but with high-speed internet, cable, and a nearby familiar fast-food joint or coffee shop.

But always seem to fail to mention very obvious limitations and risks.

Such as weather.

Or the ever so rare "Trapped in a the middle of nowhere with a madman" situation that only really applies to hotels in the middle of nowhere and Airbnb.

Vonvon hurriedly scurried down a twisting hallway, flanked by storage cages made of slats of wood, locked by simply latches and a padlock. Their shoes squeaked on the cold concrete floors as they clumsily ran, occasionally glancing back down toward the other end of the hall. The grey lights of the hall flickered and buzzed, some dying entirely.

"Oh, Vonvoooonnn..." hissed a low, raspy voice. "Where are youuu?"

The child ducked around a corner, their back against the wood, clasping their mouth shut with their hand as they struggled to catch their breath. In their eyes, the dim glimmer of absolute fear.

As they peeked around the corner, peering down the hall, they saw a form slither out from the edge of the far turn.

It was a googly-eyed sock puppet, a demented smile scribbled on with red marker.

"I see you Vonnie," said the puppet, "You can't hide from me. I can hear your breath. I can smell your fear."

Vonvon scrambled to get away, running deeper into the darkest bowels of the basement. But how did they end up in this situation? How did a crazed killer get into the hotel?

It was around three in the afternoon, everyone had returned to a banquet room adjacent to the ballroom, where a staff of servers worked tirelessly to deliver their meals to them. Tonight, they were served a plate of beef bourguignon on top of garlic mashed potatoes. For dessert, they had an eggy flan with a topping of sweet, sticky caramel. Interestingly, the staff were rather short, a squat team of mostly identical looking oddballs who all seemed to be a bit dim. One notable server wore an eyepatch.

Vonvon looked around at all the empty tables, realizing that their party were the only guests in that evening. A troubling revelation when vacation.

They were just about halfway through their dessert when the lights suddenly died, only the dim afternoon light from the windows illuminating the room.

"I'm sorry, ladies and gentlemen." Said the tall front desk agent as she walked through the door. "It seems the storm has knocked out our electricity. We have a backup generator on standby, but until main power is back online, we will have to limit electrical use."

With a groan, Vonvon's party dragged their feet back to their rooms.

Vonvon flipped through the channels in their room's television set, all with the same program: static.

"Von, they said we need to limit electric use." Connie said, turning off the TV. "I'd rather not lose power to the lights early. Or heat."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Vonvon groaned. "Some vacation this is turning out to be."

"I'm sure they'll get the power back on soon."

Then there was a knock at the door. It was Sour Cream, peeking his head in.

"Hey, you guys seen my brother?"

Another instance of Onion wandering off to stave off the boredom. Another problem to add onto the load. To help in the search, Buck, Sadie, Jenny, and Lars joined him, and now to see if either Connie or Vonvon were up for it.

"We'll stay with Steven." Connie said, "Where is he?"

"He's in his room." Jenny replied, "I think he's a bit down."

"Ok, good luck guys."

As the group went down the hall, ready for the arduous task of searching for Onion, Connie and Vonvon gathered some blankets and pillows to take to Steven's room.

"You really think a pillow fort will cheer him up?" Vonvon inquired, a stack of pillows in hand.

"Are you kidding?" Connie laughed, "He'll love it!"

"Anything to get his mind off of it, huh?"

But as Connie raised her hand to knock, the door slowly creaked open, revealing a darkness within, illuminated by the flickering light of the TV set.

"Steven?" Connie said, finding no sign of him anywhere. "We brought pillows and blankets, thought we'd make a fort."

But the only thing in the room was a sock puppet, googly-eyes glued on, lying in front of the TV.

"Ok, this is weird." Vonvon said.

"Yeah, you stay here. I'll go find him."

Vonvon was now alone in a cold, dark room, accompanied only by a sock puppet. Nothing good can come of this.

Creeped out by the noise of the static, they turned off the TV and reached for the light switch. But when the lights flipped on, they were not greeted by a warm glow, but by sinister, blood-red light. They looked around the room in horror as they saw the mad rabblings of a crazed psychopath scribbed on the walls, revealed by the crimson glow.

No play makes a boy bored.

Written again and again and again and again and again and again on every surface, on the mirror, on the painting, on the mattress, and spiraling on the ceiling.

As Vonvon recoiled in horror, they looked at the TV, realizing that the sock puppet that was once there, was there no longer.

"Vonvon..." hissed a voice in the walls. "Want to play a game?"

And that's how they ended up in the basement, running for their life.

"Ok, obviously Dad is stressed out." Vonvon said to themself, "Maybe he just needs a hug."

"Vonnie..." said the sinister sock. "I plan to get under your skin..."

"No hug, no hug!"

Then they came upon a fork in the hall, one leading to darkness, the other to a doorway. They chose to risk it with the door.

As they slammed the door behind them, they turned to find themself trapped in the laundry room. On the far wall, there were large machines, baskets of linen and uniforms, and a cart of cleaning supplies. Above it were a series of windows, but too small for them to crawl through.

"Vonnieeeeee..."

Vonvon pressed their ear against the wooden door, listening as heavy footsteps drifted away. A sigh of relief escaped their lungs.

Then came a loud bang against the door, shaking its hinges, and Vonvon's sigh turned into a scream.

Then came another, and another, with each strike, the child screamed in fear.

"This door's pretty solid." panted the madman, gasping for air.

"I think it's oak." Vonvon sobbed.

"Then I guess I'll just have to huff and puff on this one then."

Vonvon could hear their pursuer take a step back, winding up for a mighty swing. They withdrew from the door as an axehead chopped through the wood, screaming in terror.

Peering in through the door was the puppet, an axe beside it.

"HERE'S COOKY!"

The child backed up toward the washing machines, pulling down tables and throwing baskets of clothes and fabrics on the floor in a vain attempt to make some sort of barrier or obstruction.

They then looked up at the windows, seeing the Garnet lookalike talking on a cellphone.

"Garnet!" Vonvon screamed, "Help me! Help me!"

But all she did, seeing the child waving their arms in distress, was wave back with a smile and return to her call.

Then Vonvon remembered that they had a cellphone.

"Right, stupid scared brain!"

They quickly went through their contacts, finding Pearl's cellphone number and called.

"Pearl's phone, Garnet speaking." responded a familiar voice.

"Garnet!" Vonvon screamed, "Get down here! Your disguises suck and Dad's gone berserk! Why'd you build a whole fountain with badly disguised statues?!"

"We're in the Caribbean." Garnet stated to Vonvon's disbelief. "We thought since you guys are on vacation, we should go on one too. Amethyst rode a shark."

Vonvon looked up through the window, watching the Garnet lookalike finish up her call before walking off.

"Tell Steven we said hi." Said Garnet, Lapis and Peridot laughing loudly in the background. "And don't forget, little kids shouldn't play in laundry rooms. There are exactly 47 ways to die in those rooms."

"Yeah, and I'm in Number 47!" Vonvon yelled into the phone, "Killed by crazed Dad!"

"Vonvon, don't be silly." Garnet said. "47 is Killed by Angry Ghost. Crazed Dad is number 4."

Then she hung up.

Out of options and out of luck, Vonvon threw their phone aside, brandishing a nearby brush as a weapon.

"Back off!" Vonvon yelled, failing to be intimidating, "I have a deadly brush!"

With one final push, the door came crashing down, splintering as it hit the concrete floor. Standing in the doorway was Vonvon's relentless pursuer; Onion, the sock puppet in hand.

"ONION!!!"

"He's such a handful sometimes, isn't he?" Jenny said. "Wandering off like that."

"Sour Cream thought he went to the maze out there and got lost." Buck added, pointing at a shivering Sour Cream wrapped in bundles of blankets, his feet soaking in a bucket of warm water. "Took hours for us to find him."

"Why didn't you come to the pool?" Steven asked, "One of the staff came by after you left and said they were going to keep it heated for us if we wanted to use it."

"Hey, I want to go to the pool." Sadie said.

"That sounds like a fun time." Lars agreed, "I think we can get bathing suits through my head if Lion's with the Gems."

Vonvon was tired. They sipped quietly at a juicebox, reflecting on the traumatic events that transpired. To think, this is what Onion was like as a child. The mild mannered young man they know in the future is the exact opposite of this strange boy.

"So Vonvon," Connie began, "What do you want to do now?"

The child thought about it, not for long though. There was one thing on their mind since the time they thought they were going to die.

"Think the kitchen can make me a burger?"

@artsycooky13

#the end of our strange story #steven universe #vonvon #fanfiction

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atiny-exol · 4 years

Text

His lady

Au- Mafia au (plays around the 1920)

Warnings: some mature content, it's a mafia story so blood, abuse, strong language, guns and all of that (if you don't like it don't read it)

Pair: Mafia! Yunho x Singer! Reader

_____________

Her gaze wanders around the shabby bar she has to perform in tonight. The voice inside her head was giving her a speech about why she should not do, but in the end, the only thing that matters isn't her unease but the fact that she needed the money to live more than just the next week.

Another time her gaze went around the room and she stopped at a certain old man, Lee was his name, the man who is feared in this area, the man who controlled the whole country and owns more than three-quarters of the country, including the area she lives and performs in. It wasn't usual that he is seen at a place like that. Normally he wouldn't place one feet in here, because it is way to low for him and his standards.

While she thinks about that, her eyebrows curled in confusion and after she looked beside Lee, she looked directly into a pair of dark brown eyes, staring in her direction, eye-fucking her in any way what's possible for now.

He was handsome, dangerously handsome how he sits there, his cigarette between his lips and a devilish smirk laying on his face.

Of course, he was handsome, her type, but if he sits that near beside Lee he has to be a member of the mafia and even if she is smart and knows how to get everyone with a cute smile and some polite words, she doesn't want a man like that. A man with hands covered in blood and money.

,,Y/N you are next! Hey don't daydream now! " an annoyed, harsh and very unfriendly voice reminded her about her new appointment.

A polite smile is shot in the direction of the unkind person.

,,Of course, Mr. Don I'm sorry." her body lifts down into a bow, and then she turned around, leaving him and walking up to the stage, preparing mentally for the looks she will receive now. She is eye candy, her voice is smooth like honey, and with her smile, she gets everything she wants.

She sang the first song with ease and to her disappointment the man on the piano didn't make one mistake, he has to know its instrument more than just well.

Y/N loved the music, loved musicians and their way to think, she always wanted to be more than just a girl singing for criminals and murderers, but she wasn't talented enough.

When she was younger, at the start of her career she dreamed about getting married to a musician, becoming famous with him, and giving birth to beautiful and talented kids, but everyone she met was the same. All of them just interested in her look and her played character, the character she had to play so no one sees her real face, her weakness, her fear, and disgust.

To her deplore the song ends very soon, and she now had to play an act beside her smile now.

Clapping is heard and some of the males in the crowd are whistling.

The young singer looked around and her gaze stopped another time in this evening on a person looking at her, the man still looked at her while he blew the smoke of his cigarette in the air before he pushed his hat a bit up, to have a better view at her.

His gaze completely fixed at her, she gulped but knew that she has to act as normal as ever.

The young girl looked at the person sitting beside the staring man and smiled brightly, holding her hand out in a friendly manner.

,,Such a lovely crowd today. I would like to take the opportunity now to personally thank Mr. Lee for honoring me with his presence and tolerating my cat-screeching I like to call singing."

The crowd bursts out in clapping again and a smile formed on the face of the male as he waves in agreement.

Forcing back the vomit and physically battling with herself to keep the smile on her face she blew a kiss in the direction of the old man, who killed so many people whether they are guilty or innocent.

A new song started and she sang not full-hearted this time, the thought that she has to leave this town run around her head the whole time and as she looked in the crowd, her eyes stopped at the handsome male again.

He looked at her, his eyes narrowing and his cigarette now killing between his fingers, he looked intimidating, no more than that, but she tried to focus on her song, on her performance.

As soon as she finished the song, she waved lovely as a goodbye and then left the stage, talking with the next musicians on her way to the dressing room, these guys are nice, complimenting her voice and not her appearance for once.

She closed the door and changed her clothing.

,, Still some good guys out there." she thought and closed her eyes, before she looked in the mirror in front of herself.

Too much makeup, that's what she was thinking as a deep sigh left her mouth. She doesn't hate to wear makeup, no she likes to apply some of it once in a while, but this heavy rouge, heavy blue eyeshadow and red lips were just too much.

But this is exactly what the club owners wanted, this is what the men in her audience wanted.

The girl cleaned her face with water and tried to get all the makeup down very quickly. She just wanted to leave this bar, to go home and fall into her bed, but of course, this isn't what happened.

Heavy footsteps are heard and as she turned to the site, she saw him. The perfect, good looking man who stared at her the whole time, his significant smirk laying on his face.

Fear rushed over her and she bites down on her lips, taking one step backward and lifting her hand up in front of her face. There was only one reason why a man would appear in the lady's restroom at such a time, she heard stories from other female singers and right now she wished she didn't know them and she could think that this was just someone who wants to compliment her. She backed away from the stranger and a deep, rough and annoyed sigh is heard before he walked towards her, his heavy footsteps echoing through the room.

,, N... No" the young girl whispered and looked down at his feet, still taking one step away when he comes closer.

Thoughts other thoughts run through her mind and as she looked up to the tall man hovering over her pity figure, she finds the courage to say something.

,,Look, M.. Mister I don't want any trouble-", but she abruptly stopped when she saw that he placed one hand in the inside of his jacket.

//he isn't going to rape me\\ she said on her mind and her eyes went to the double of the original size. //He is going to kill me\\

He pulled something out and a high pitched scream escaped her pretty lips as she closed her eyes and prepared herself for pain, but nothing like that happened. No, the male chuckled at this, at her cute face and scream as he pulled out another cigar

,,Don't like smokers doll face? " he asked her as he leaned down and places his cigar away. ,,I understand it's a nasty habit." the male said and chuckled another time. ,,I'm sorry for entering the lady's restroom in such an inappropriate manner doll face. It wasn't my attention to scare you. I'm just here to solve the problem we have."

Problem? What Problem? They didn't have a problem, she doesn't even knew him.

,,See, I saw you staring at me.".

So that's why he is doing this. He must have been insulted that she was staring at him, it was a bad behavior at all.

She doesn't know anything of him. However, she offered him her best smile, not wanting to insult him more.

She hoped with every fiber of her being that she could talk to him calmy, wothoit being hurt.

,,Listen, I'm really sorry about-"

,,Course I was staring first."

He interrupted her and walked closer, her back now against the wall.

,,And I like what I see."

The fear of being raped appeared in her mind again and her eyes widden again.

,,So tell me doll face-" he looked down at her with hungry eyes, licking over his lips and staring right in her eyes. ,,Do you like what you see? "

The question was nothing y/n expected to hear and immediately her mind gave her plenty of reasons why she doesnt like what she sees.

He was clearly some kind of big-shot criminal, who had no problem with killing and hanging up with murderers. He flaunted with his wealth and smelled like gun powder and blood.

So when the girl opened her mouth she only said one word.

,, No. "

She didn't mean to say it, she really didn't want to say it, she wasn't stupid but it slipped out.

Without missing a beat his gaze darkens and he grabbed her roughly at her arms, pushing her against the wall and growling dangerously, his hat now throwing a shadow on his face.

The music in the background faded away and was replaced with her heavy breathing and loud heartbeat as she looked up to the terrifying man.

Of course he knew that she was terrified that she was scared, but just like her father always told her. If cou show your weakness on this city it eats you alive.

The young girl glared up to the tall guy, not wanting to show him more fear than she already did.

Y/N looked up at him and saw an amused little smile, before his grip loses a bit around her arm, but just the second she thought he is backing away he pushed her harder again the wall.

,,You don't like what you see? Well aren't you an insulting little thing." he whispered darkly and leaned down, his body completely covering hers.

At first she couldn't believe that he was really insulted about the fact that she doesn't like what she saw, but in the end he is an mafia member, of course no one ever rejected him. Every woman would be attacked by his handsome appearance, every woman would fall for the charm of the male.

But not her, as soon as she realized that he was insulted because his ego is hurt, her fear disappeared and she knew what she had to do.

To give him what he wants.

If he wouldn't have used the word insulting to describe her, she would have done it, tell him what he wants to hear. Of course she would have hate herself for that, but she knows that there are time to be mouthy and times to be smart. Certainly right now there is the time to be smart.

But he did use the word insulting and she couldn't let her mind think clear.

He was insulted? Why would he be insulted after he stared at her, after he walked into the woman's restroom and approached her in such an inappropriate manner, but of course she is the rude one.

//I bet he is insulted because he is used to the fact that women are falling all over themself because of his money and wealth\\ she thought and bites down on her lips.

Y/N knew a lot of women who used her charms and looks to attract high-class criminals, at the end this was one of the easiest way to survive in this world.

And while the young girl didn't judge, she swore that she would never be like one of them, them who tolerate a murder for a good life.

And this bastard is going to have a reality check if he thinks that some sweet words and showing of his expensive suit and his gold was going to have her running into his arms.

Forget being smart, she was going for self-respect.

Would he make her regret? Yes, yes he would.

Was she worried that he might kill her? There was a tiny part of her what was, the other part was still raging over his arrogant behavior.

In a way it was kinda funny. She honestly thought she had trained herself over who she can snap at and who she had to endure.

Guess not. She was going for her high-price self-respect tonight.

#ateez #ateez yunho #ateez mafia au #mafia ateez #Yunho mafia au #Mafia yunho #ateez fanfic #ateez ff #ateez scenarios

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weeklyfangirl · 4 years

Text

Frat Boy Pt. 20

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19

Happy New Year!!!!!! Here’s a party and a hot guy loving on you - and you don’t even have to leave your home ;)

I haven’t been to many therapist offices after I started high school. This one was free, on student-life. Reproduced images of the sea were comforting enough, but it was the dreary stained carpet that reminded me where I was.

“Do you think they’re related to the night you were assaulted?”

“Yes. But I don’t know how to get rid of them. I lose sleep and then when I do sleep, I have these nightmares and I wake up more restless than if I’d just stayed up all night.”

“Hm. And how do you feel about Harry?”

“Harry?”

She nodded. “Yes, the boy in your dreams.” Her French manicured nails squeezed the top of her clipboard.

“That’s not an easy question.”

“Try.”

I sighed. “Okay…” The painted seagull in her office looked like an on-clearance print at TJ Maxx, and suddenly I wished I’d called my mother for her own version of therapy instead. Bargain shopping. “I think I hate him. But then I know I don’t. But then… I don’t necessarily like him either.”

“Do you love him?”

I laughed. “No, I don’t love him.”

“Why do you laugh?”

“I said I almost hated him and you ask me if I love him!” But my voice was a little too loud. The question stayed with me, stirring in my mind. “I think I’d know if I loved him.”

“Love looks different to different people. Finding a healthy version of love for yourself and your partner is where things can go awry. Or right.”

I remembered Harry and I talking at Alta about Madame Bovary, and how I’d told him that people love to the best of their abilities, from what they’ve learnt by their circumstances. Silence weighed in the room, and I knew she was waiting for me to elaborate on my feelings. Bleh.

“I don’t know,” I finally said. “But if this is what love looks like to him… We’re not even technically dating so this question doesn’t even apply!” I laughed again. “But then… even if we were, then... it’s not enough.”

“And what would be enough for you?”

“Stability.”

“And do you think this is possible with him?”

“Umm…” Zayn’s voice popped in my head - Harry was a magnet for infamy - and I laughed. I laughed, and I laughed...“No.”

“And why is that?”

“Because he self-sabotages. And he says things he doesn’t mean.”

“Such as...?”

A puff of breath left my lips. “Like last night, he said I didn’t have a life. And then he was comparing me to another girl. Viv. She’s like his… sister, basically. She grew up with him. But… he got really defensive and said at least she fucks me. But the fact that he said I don’t have a life?? A LIFE?? I mean shit, it’s not my fault he’s infiltrated my dreams is it?”

She shook her head. “It’s very important for you not to blame yourself. Show yourself the same kindness you’d show your friends. Renny, for example.”

Be kind to yourself.

I nodded. Those were the words my mother would say whenever I’d critique myself. Just like all those times before, the words registered, but it didn’t change anything about the frustration I felt. I was the one dumb enough to let him in. I’d let myself be dragged into him, even with every red flag hitting me in the face. I was collecting them for a meme bouquet at this point!

“Do you believe him?” she asked.

It took me a minute to hear her.

“The words he said to you,” she said. “That you don’t have a life.”

A timer beeped on her phone. She muted it. “I’d like you to write out what you want in your life for next time. Not what anybody else wants. But what Y/N wants. When you see it written out, no matter how silly it seems, having concrete answers might help.”

--------------

I was staring at my notes page, trying to think of what I wanted. I didn’t exactly have the chance to ask her what she meant by that. Did she mean career goals? Education goals? Relationship goals? What did this have to do with ending my nightmares?

A text at the top of my phone distracted me from the blank page.

Kiki: “Don’t worry, we didn’t forget about you. Get your hands on the special airhead pills from Harry’s and bring them to the DG Pretty Please Party next week. On the DL obvi.”

Viv chimed in on the group chat. “Congrats bitch! It’ll be fun for all of us.” She included the devil emoji.

This is what I got for stalling up until the last minute to walk into work. The practice was now a blatant reminder that Harry was out of my life and it didn’t help whenever I saw Lionel. It felt weird that I was seeing his dad more than him. Wrong, even.

Voices carried through the lot along with the clicking of heels. I turned my head.

Boss Lady Samantha was headed towards the elevator.

Shit, Y/N. Shit shit shit.

I got out, quietly closing the door. Better to walk with my boss than walk in late after her, right? Her red hair was let down today, ringlet curls in full effect. I could meet her at the elevator before it arrived.

But right when I was about to shout out hold the elevator Lionel walked right behind her. And I mean RIGHT behind her - there was hardly room for a Bible between them.

I hid behind my car, unsure if I was supposed to be seeing this.

Their voices were too low to hear, but his arm lingered at her lower back before the elevator opened. She got in. Alone. Lionel looked over his shoulder and I ducked further.

Through Grandpa’s windows, I saw the elevator door close. Lionel waved goodbye to Samantha and he pressed the button again.

Before chickening out, my shoulders straightened. I shouldn’t have to be the one hiding. I jogged to make it. His brows shot up in surprise as he held the elevator for me. The kindness I’d gotten used to seeing in his eyes looked hesitant this time.

“A little late today?” he asked, as soon as I’d made it in.

I avoided his eyes, nodded. It was a quiet elevator ride.

------------

My family’s house was a ten minute drive from the practice. Enough drive time to sit on what I’d seen outside Coast Shores Medicine. It could’ve been friendly. I didn’t have to do anything about this. But in my bones, I knew that friendly isn’t what I’d seen. Lionel avoided me the rest of the day, assigning me to print out billing statements. I hadn’t seen them make out or anything, but there was a certain intimacy I couldn’t write off right away. Did Mrs. de Saude know about his close work relationships? Did Harry?

The sickening uneasiness dissipated when I heard my parent’s Home Improvement HGTV hour. Dad was already passed out on the couch, snoring at a whopping 8 PM when I walked through the door. Ignoring Mom’s tutting of “they keep you too late,” we went to my bedroom.

“Pick the nude ones,” Mom said, adjusting the spectacles she only pulled out on rare occasions (magazine reading and shoe selections). “It makes your legs look longer.” It looked like there was something more she wanted to say.

I adjusted them in the mirror, wearing the blush dress I’d bought for my aunt’s beach wedding almost a year prior. It’d never been worn. Her Spanish fiancé she’d met three months prior stole her TV set and ran off with his gay lover a week before. As I stood, the dress just barely touched the floor. Simple, really, but the way the thin straps exposed my chest rendered it elegant. I felt like I needed a long cigarette and fur coat to make it complete.

Without context, Mother suddenly burst into an annoyed huff.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Hm?” Her lashes fluttered as if she hadn’t realized she’d made a noise. “Oh, yes. I’m fine. Your father just took another one of those sleeping pills. You should never get too dependent on medication, Y/N. Drink warm milk or something.”

“Mom.”

“I’m serious!” Her stony face certainly wasn’t comical.

“I know.”

She looked me over in the dress again and caught herself, pulling me in for a rushed hug. “I’m sorry,” she breathed. She rocked me a little. “It’s just been a little rough this week.” She squeezed me tighter, then let me go. All negative energy shoved into a box that’d spring open when we all least expected it. “Have a good night tonight. Say hello to Harry for me!”

When I walked to the car she threw out, “And tell him next time he can ask you with a Cartier ring! HA! I’m joking!! ... Kind of!!!”

I smiled, waving to her at the gate as I got into my Grandpa mobile. I didn’t have the heart to tell her Golden Boy wasn’t my date.

---------

There were two cops for every solo cup I could see littered on the ground. They patrolled the streets, but the frat house seemed unphased and restored to its former glory as I walked with Andre. Club music pounded beyond the doors, practically shaking the windows. Girls huddled up outside, holding each other’s hair back and trying to block anyone’s view from the bile, as the guys snickered over their shoulders and some pretended not to see. But the cops weren’t here to reprimand for underage drinking and public intoxication tonight. They were on watch. Stationed around the perimeter of the house and on either end of the street.

They were waiting for something else. For somebody else.

Andre seemed oblivious, practically skipping past them he was so excited. I, on the other hand, was already limping from the nude pumps.

“Wanna switch shoes?” he called back.

“Don’t make a deal you aren’t willing to keep,” I smiled, quirking a brow. “The nude would actually match your navy suit…”

He’d already walked on, fist bumping the bouncer who raised up a professional-grade camera and snapped a photo of us. When my eyes recovered from the flash, I spotted Officer Ramirez from the uniforms just beyond the frat’s ramshackle fence. He was already watching me. He raised two fingers above his brow and I nodded, curtly, even though I wanted to shrink inside myself. I hadn’t had the time to think about what I would say if he contacted me again, or if I should be the one to reach out to him.

Andre led me inside, and for once, I was glad I couldn’t hear my own thoughts. It raised ten degrees just from stepping inside. The boys were in Bond suits, but most had abandoned their jackets wherever they could - on the banister, the couch beneath the staircase, or the entrance hall. The girls had dressed up, too. This was the most covered up I think I’d seen some of them, though others still opted for above-the-knee slips.

“Oi, where’s your drink?!” Niall’s familiar voice shouted above the bass.

He pulled Andre into a side hug before we reached the dancefloor. When he saw me, Niall practically fell over.

“Y/N! What’re you doing here?” He spluttered, whiskey in his breath. The knot of his tie was already to his chest, but he loosened it even more. He looked over his shoulder, then back to me. “Renny’s just gone to the bathroom.”

“She’s my date,” Andre stepped in, placing an arm around my shoulder. It was completely platonic but Niall’s face went to stone.

Suddenly it cracked, and he laughed, running a hand over his stubbly chin. “Oh, shit.” He laughed again. “Shit!”

Andre smiled, unaware of anything else besides the fact that Niall must be proud he showed up with a date. He patted Niall’s shoulder. “We’re going to see the big bro, I’ll find you later.” Andre nodded his head for me to follow, leaving Niall cackling to himself in the entranceway.

“Niall’s THE. MAN,” he put his hands up for emphasis. “He’s my favorite in the house besides my big. We gotta say hi, then you can run off. Oh, Renny’s here too!” He squeezed my shoulders as if to excite me, as if she’d be the reason I’d stay. Loved the girl, but I knew she’d be back on top of Niall five minutes after she was out. I just didn’t want to have to watch.

I wrung my hands together, growing nervous. I knew the reason Niall had reacted that way was because Harry was going to be here. I knew this coming into it. But I’d been expecting him to ignore me the entire night. With Niall’s reaction, I wasn’t so sure anymore. What had Harry told Niall?

Someone sloshed their beer on me as I passed, and I turned sour, rolling my eyes as Andre pushed us forward. I picked up the pace before he could notice I’d stopped and wiped the glare off my face. Or, tried. I probably just looked constipated now.

WHY WAS HIDING EMOTION SO HARD??

I felt bad feeling so annoyed. Andre was excited. I should be excited, right? Sloshed beer and sweaty bodies came with the territory. Though I’d forgotten how humid it got in here. Hell and Florida were probably cooler. I picked up the ends of my dress, hoping for some sort of ventilation to reach parts of me that were on the verge of overheating.

The coffee tables and couches had been moved from the center of the living room to the fringes beneath the stairwell to make designated smoking and dancing sections. I could’ve stayed on the outside of the dance crowd. Hell, I could’ve joined the spaced-out smokers on the couch. But I didn’t. I followed Andre to the middle of the dance floor. I could barely see above the tops of people’s heads until we reached a bit of a clearing. And by clearing, I meant the sweaty dancers in front of us who made a break for freedom and gave us about ten seconds of space before other bodies rushed to fill it.

I felt him before I saw him. A tiny prick of consciousness that directed my gaze. And Andre’s finger.

“AYYYY!!!!!” Andre pointed to the DJ booth, waving his hands as he hollered.

Even with the rocking vibration of the bass that chattered my teeth, each nerve in my body went alert. Harry stood, flashing a white smile to the crowd before downing the rest of whatever potion was in his cup. I hated how my stomach clenched just by seeing him. He saw Andre and his smile grew, grabbing the mic. I was still unnoticed, hidden by dim lighting and nameless peers.

“Who’s ready for us to win tomorrow!?” His voice was low, demanding. It was a question for the crowd, but he was looking at Andre. I could sense the intensity even there, and it was then I realized it couldn’t be just me who feels so vulnerable around Harry. Each person he traps in his gaze stays there, until he lets them go.

The house erupted in cheers, but I was locked in place. The suit he was wearing looked similar to the one from the Halloween gala, and every bit of him looked just as stunning. His beautiful body swayed on the makeshift stage.

“Then let’s see you jump in-” His hand held up 5, 4, 3, 2… He spun another song and the crowd sprung from the floor before crashing back down. They jumped to the beat he made. A modern-day puppet master.

Andre wrapped an arm around me as he jumped. So I did, too.

“That’s my big!!” he yelled, mid-air.

“WHAT??”

He pointed to the DJ booth, but there was no one there besides Harry.

“.... HARRY??! HARRY’S YOUR- your…” I stopped jumping the same second Harry saw us together. It’s funny. It takes only a second to flip a dime on its head. His party boy mask dropped in an instant. The low lighting turned his eyes black, but they couldn’t conceal the daggers he shot straight at me.

“I have to use the bathroom,” I muttered.

Andre nodded. “S’UP THE STAIRS!” He found a friend nearby and latched on to him instead.

The small (okay, medium) part of me filled with nothing but Petty™ wanted Harry to see me with his little. But another part of me couldn’t handle his judgmental glare. Somehow, I was embarrassed. I didn’t want him to think I’d come here tonight to make him jealous. That I was so obsessed with him I’d found another in to the frat. I didn’t want him to think he controlled any part of my heart. What did it say that I ran away at first sight, though?

I’d already done it. It didn’t matter. Either way, I didn’t win.

I raced upstairs, weaving my way between couples sitting on the stairs, hoping that the line for the restroom was really long and Renny hadn’t already left. It was, and she was next in line.

“Oh my God, what are you doing here?!” she screeched, arms out and eyes squinted until I could no longer see her pupil.

“Why do people keep asking me that.”

She pulled me into an extra-long, extra-tight Renny hug. “Love yousoooomuch,” she rushed. Her breath smelled like Niall as she pulled away. She lifted the cup to my lips and I shook my head. She frowned.

“I talked with Niall,” she said. “He says Harry’s just going” - she hiccupped - “through a lot right now. S’best to leave him alone.”

The other girls in line perked up at the mention of his name, subconsciously leaning closer. I huffed. “Trust me. I am.”

When three girls stumbled out of the only bathroom stall, Renny rushed in. “Thank God I was about to pee on the carpet.” She tried tugging me in with her, but my eye was on the end of the hall. And the stupid DG pretty please.

“I’ll be back,” I muttered, squeezing her hand.

“Nooooo,” she drawled.

I squished her cheeks, checked her pupils. She didn’t need me to hold her hair back this time. I gave her cheek a lil slap.

“I’ll go with you next time you have to go. Which will be in like... twenty minutes. You broke the seal rookie!” I teased.

I didn’t even bother looking over the railing at the party below to see if he was watching me. I still had my DG task and a nonrefundable deposit to think about. I didn’t think I’d get many chances to be in this house again unless I swindled Andre or Niall into letting me in. But that would require an explanation, and I wasn’t sure I could tell them that.

Forget explanations. I needed to do it now. Lots of noise. Tons of distractions. I’d just think of it as… borrowing?

His door was locked and I groaned, kicking it and leaving a smudge beside all the others. I reached for a bobby pin in my purse and put it to work. I’d done it before in his bedroom, I could do it again here. The curve of the hallway protected me from onlookers waiting in line in the bathroom. Downstairs was a mixed bag. People could probably see through the railings running along the top floor.

Not that they’d think to look.

My knees were starting to hurt by the time I heard it click. I crept in, and for some reason, I expected his room to look different. But it was still the same. Dusty desk across from a queen-sized bed. Only one photograph atop his bedside mantle. And it didn’t smell like sweaty soccer clothes, but clean. With hints of a woodland spice and books. It felt like eons had passed since I was first here, undressing him like the drunken baby he’d been. As an act of betrayal, my body rushed at the thought of how his fingers had looped around my belt loops, tugging me closer. I swallowed, the image of his tightened pants expanding in my head. He’d almost been hard, then.

It was then, at that moment, that I decided that the one sip of alcohol I’d had must have been spiked with SOMETHING because I would NOT be that girl. I would NOT. I reFUSED TO LET MYSELF-

Seconds later, my fingertips grazed his soft gray sheets. He’d been sprawled out right about here, and the rush of seeing unseen skin on Harry had been too intoxicating an offer to refuse. The ghost of that rush flowed through me again as my memory played it over like a movie. Close-ups and panning shots - Down his toned chest to tattoos speckled along tan skin, tattoos that had been seemingly doodles, but now held much more meaning now that I knew of his history with the ocean. For his sister. My body leant down before I knew what I was doing, and I inhaled. The lingering aroma of his body chemistry altering his cologne: musky, a little spice, and warmth.

Even if every ounce of me wanted to dislike him, the legitimate biology behind my body responded to a chemistry I couldn’t control.

“What are you doing?”

He caught me on my knees, with one hand clutched in the sheets.

Fuckity FUCK-

He could whip out PSYCHO magazine informing people of highly-dangerous murderers with my mugshot plastered across the cover - and I’d believe him in that moment. Oh my gosh. Omgomgomg. He didn’t say what I expected him to say when he swayed in, though.

“Andre. Really?” He laughed to himself, but it was cold. “Fucking” - he stumbled, leaning on the desk chair to catch himself- “really?”

It wasn’t the alcohol that’d put him on edge. I’d seen him handle liquor before, but this time he looked… different. I stood up, realizing his eyes were racking down my dress. I crept towards him, hoping to make it past the door. Not because I was scared of him. But because I was mortified. I’d just looked like an absolute fucking psychopath AND I’d snuck into his bedroom. Maybe I could distract him. Maybe he was too drunk to ask me-

“What’re you doing here?”

“What are we… all doing here? At parties?”

“…in my room,” he clarified.

Welp. My philosophical question fell flat. Wouldn’t be the first time.

I waltzed past him, tight-lipped. In defense of my dignity, I still didn’t owe him anything. Not after how he’d treated me.

“Hey,” his arm jutted out, blocking my way. His brows crossed as he turned to a petulant boy. “S’rude to not answer.”

My blood boiled. “You are not about to give me a lesson on how bad it is to ignore people right now. Nor on being rude.”

“Can give you another one.”

He reached for me, but I stepped back, somewhat living in the hurt that flashed in his eyes at my rejection.

“You’re not leaving.” But his demand sounded like a plead.

“Thought you didn’t want me around you,” I scoffed, tearing past him. “Just because you’re drunk or high or whatever the fuck it is you are right now, doesn’t mean you can just… get a free pass! For a week! A whole week of awful-” I turned quickly, too frustrated to find the words. I took a step towards the door but-

“Y/N.” He was right behind me. His breath warmed the nape of my neck, the delicate hairs standing on end. No matter how much of an absolute mess he was, my body didn’t know better. I could practically feel him behind me, his presence radiating an alarm that blared through my veins. I wanted him. Badly. He trailed a finger down my arm, and his hand brushed against my own against my side. “I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

His fingers gingerly interlaced with mine, turning me around.

Something wet was on my cheek. I touched it, quickly rubbing it away in horror. Why were tears running down my face?! What unfair cruelty was this!? He saw my tears and leant down, suddenly defeated, pulling my body with him.

“Why did’ya ever want me hm?” His nose went along my jaw. Full lips pressed against the base turned my legs weak. There was an underlying desperation to his words though, a prayer in his kiss. But my thoughts were turning anything but holy.

“Who says I did…” I wanted to pull away, ask him why he’d used past tense or why he’d completely ignored me this past week, but I was frozen by the softness of his hands. Self-respect was surely slipping away each moment I lingered. I could literally see Jane Austen parting the heavens and sticking her angelic head through Harry’s room to shame me with a glare. I do all this mental work to try and figure this guy out and… for what? I should be waltzing out that door, declaring I’d never talk to him again. I should give up messy and confused and pursue my own sanity. But the air only ever turned electric with him, in all his messiness, in all this confusion… and each time the spark appeared, it pushed us closer together until he was here, like this, soft hands gently running along my lower back, skilled fingertips feeling the dress fall slightly inwards at my waist, tracing a map of uncharted waters…

“You’re not thinking straight,” I breathed. And that went for both of us.

“Au contraire, I’m thinking clearer than I ever ‘ave.” There was a swirling madness shining through, but he bat his eyes and it was veiled again, vanished beneath the dark surface. He tilted his head, appraising my body, noticing my legs were no longer tensed to run, but in apprehension for another reason completely. A smirk settled in. “Why do you still want me?” he demanded, pulling me against him towards the bed.

“Arrogant ass,” I sniped, but I landed on him anyway. His fingers tightened around my waist, a hand snaking up behind to entwine with my hair. I felt him harden beneath me as he pulled my head to the side, just the right amount of rough. But he stalled over vulnerable skin, lips ghosting featherlight up to my ear. He let out a soft breath and I clenched in anticipation. For once, I had no thoughts. “You should be with me,” he breathed. “Should be mine.” His voice grew frustrated and he practically growled, lips kissing my neck, steady, before they started to suck in a rhythm. The shock of the sensation masked the shock from his words and my back arched, a spider’s shiver crawling down my spine. He stopped suddenly, shooting back like he’d been shocked. His grip softened ‘round the nape of my neck, and he looked so… confused. “Can’t mark you again,” he noted, despondent. But then the corners of his lips twitched up in a smirk. “Least where it’s visible.” My breath caught. His black ink eyes showed the slightest ring of green. I don’t remember lifting my hand, but fingers trailed along dark circles. These were a new development. I shook my head lightly. Something was wrong. This was wrong. I leant in, resting my head against his. “Harry-” but his lips cut me off before I could mention it.

I felt like I’d been feeling his lips everywhere but my own. They were eager, but kept pace, switching it up just when I was getting comfortable, slowing to make me feel the soft fullness of raspberry-pink lips. They were pillows, and clouds, and everything else soft and wonderful that I’d want to feel forever. He slipped in his tongue, deepening the kiss, and I ground my body against him, using his shoulders as leverage.

This wasn’t me. But I didn’t care enough to think about ‘who I was’ anymore. What did I want?

I felt him pulse between my legs.

“Harry,” I bit my lip, and I knew then. I’ve been wanting more, I’ll always want more. I was more aware than ever of an emptiness he could fill.

“Been hard ever since I saw you bouncing in that dress,” he said gruffly. “With fucking Andr- ahh...fuck.” I rocked my hips against him in spite, putting a hand over his mouth to shut him up.

But his head jutted back and came forward again. He looked at me through hooded eyes, and just like that I was sedated by his gaze, my body pausing. He looked like he was about to scold me. “Do it again.” His voice was low. I stalled, looking at the way his lips barely parted. “Don’t be shy now, Y/N.” My hips replied on command, but rebelliously, slowly, feeling the length of him run between the thin underwear that’d cocooned itself against my ridges and folds. I ran my hips back down against his thigh. “Fu-uhck-” He jutted his hips up, turning something wicked when I moaned. The friction from the dress and pressure from my own body rocking against Harry built a tightly coiled knot I wanted desperately to release. And then we were kissing again. Fervent. Eager. A skilled tongue slipping in to dance with my own. He was rock hard against me. I could feel the full outline pressed tight against his slacks now, creating my own mental map. My hands wrapped in his hair, and I pulled, relaxing our pace, rutting myself up with purpose to rotate in a circle at his clothed tip. The noise from his throat wasn’t human, and I felt heavy and light all at the same time when his thumb dug into my chin just under my lower lip.

“Wanna help you,” he rumbled. “Will you let me? Won’t you do that for me?”

I nodded, wordlessly, and with both hands tight on my hips, he tugged us further back until he was against the pillows, and me, repositioned above him. He pulled us down and we built a rhythm against his thigh, the determination in his stitched brow as he did half the work making it even sexier. He was almost needier than me. There was an urgency to his strong hands as they hiked up my dress, fingertips dancing around and just beneath the band of my underwear. He didn’t pull it off, just gently pushed my hips up and down, then harder, faster, to the damp patch already on his slacks. I was buzzing, every inch of me, the wound coil growing bigger, tighter, the build of release making my heart race. He stared at me as we moved together.

“Tha’s it. So good at this,” he mumbled. “So beautiful.”

My breath caught, and his wide eyes watched wondrously as I moved frenzied above him. His chest rose, bits of tattoo spilling past the white button-down collar. My hand clutched his shirt as I felt myself begin to peak. This was as intimate as I’ve been with someone, and the pressure of being seen through his eyes like this was a lot of pressure. I didn’t want to think about how many other girls had been in this position before. What he spoke to them, how they looked, what they’ve done, or how recently they’d done it. His hand cupped my face and brought me down, lips claiming me to the point of bruising and silencing voiceless thoughts. The pull of his lips, and the sturdiness of his thigh made me whimper. My swollen bud hit his clothed cock with each surge upwards, his hands guiding me, making sure my breath hitched each time. And each time, I’d feel him tense. Again, and again, just knowing his thick hard cock was against me, right against me, almost…

“Almost… Harry…”

“Y/N,” he rasped. I felt his hot gaze as I shuddered above him. He kissed me, slow, swallowing another whimper as a current of electricity ran from the crown of my head to my toes. His hands helped me ride out my high, slowly coming to a halt.

He opened his arms, letting me cuddle up against his chest. Silence stretched on over quiet breathing. “Been waiting a long time for that,” he finally mumbled. I quirked an eye open, realizing he’d been watching me. I almost didn’t recognize his eyes. For once, they seemed sated. Unhaunted. The clouds had seemed, for a moment, to have parted. “To see you cummm.” He hummed the last word, leaning down and nuzzling the nook of my neck. Still nuzzling, he quirked half his face to look at me. We shared a long kiss, then a shorter one to my forehead. “You’re magnificent.”

Though I hadn’t removed a stitch of clothing, I hadn’t felt more naked. And for all the times I’d felt embarrassed around Harry, at least in this moment, he made me feel comfortable about what we’d just done. We lay there, my scent now mingling with the rest of his in the room. I still felt him hard beneath my legs that were strewn across his lap, and I wondered if it was … painful. He stirred, placing one hand behind his head, the other wrapped around me.

I traced shapes into his chest. He hummed, smiling softly. It was his boyish smile. The one I’d hardly seen, the one that you want to wrap up and cuddle and protect from the world to keep this one second of pure happiness intact. I pecked the corner of his mouth and his smile broke, squeezing my side. “Thank you,” he mumbled. I checked to make sure his eyes were still closed when I looked down at the black slacks. Since I finished, he should, too. I swallowed nervously as my fingers traced lower, down the button down as I tried to remember the porn Renny and I had watched together one late summer night. His eyelashes fluttered open, and he watched me, curiously, darkly, until I stopped at the tip of his pants. I slipped my fingers beneath the belt, just barely feeling the coarseness of hair before he took my wrist in his hand. He practically hissed and I stilled, not noticing I was holding my breath. I couldn’t possibly be doing this wrong…

His index finger stroked the top of my hand, and I relaxed.

He looked at me gently. “Tonight was for you. S’all I wanted.” His touch was just as gentle, and he placed his thumb between my lips, running over them gently. I didn’t want him to see me as some pure untouched thing he should be scared to do anything with. My lips parted as seductively as I could make them appear, and I moved to let his finger in my mouth, but he cheekily closed my lips instead.

He stroked my cheek, almost giggling at my attempt. “This just isn’t how I picture it happening.”

The way his eyes were memorizing my lips told me he’d thought about this before, but I didn’t miss that he said how, and not where. Muffled EDC music vibrated his door, and faraway voices travelled through his open window from the yard below. The cops were waiting there, too. Was that the situation he was referring to?

“You deserve a lot, Y/N.”

I heard the hesitancy in his voice, some unforeseen disappointment he wouldn’t just spell out for me. “What’re you saying.”

“Just that there’s few things I want t’be sober for these days.”

The thought hit my stomach like the sharpened blade of a knife, and it hurt worse than any wound from my nightmares. “Why would you say something like that?” I demanded.

“Because it’s true.” His eyes searched mine, and I saw the sadness pulling him in. Like the tumultuous water of the middle of the ocean spirally inwards into itself. A treacherous water hole that’d carry you into its deepest abyss.

I shook my head as if to find a way out, as if that would clear away what I was seeing. “I never… know what’s going on with you,” I admitted. I thought to the interaction with Lionel and Samantha. “Is home life really that bad?”

“What home?” He huffed when I looked at him. “M’serious. I feel more alone when I walk in there than I do when I’m here. And nobody even fucking knows me here.”

“Everyone knows you.”

“You’re smarter than that, Y/N.”

“What’d you take tonight, hm?” I cooed. My hand traced the dark circles under his eyes, and he leant against my touch before looking to the window, still allowing me to touch him. No doubt from whatever stimulant or depressant he’d taken, his words had been more candid than ever before.

“A cocktail of sorts. Will fucking regret it in the mornin’. Probably.”

He looked back to me, and I didn’t have time to wipe the concern from my face. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. It’s okay. It doesn’t matter,” he stated.

He really believed it when he said it, and the way there didn’t seem to be enough energy left in him made me settle back in his arms with a frown. Because it did matter. It mattered a lot. A few moments later, he squeezed my sides. “You didn’t answer my question,” he mumbled.

“What question?”

He waited until I looked up at him, and even then he was hesitant. His voice was quiet when he spoke, intimate, so if even if someone was standing at the foot of the bed they couldn’t hear what he was about to ask.

“Why do you want me, Y/N?”

The vulnerable question hung in the air. And though it was presumptuous of him to ask, he wasn’t wrong. His eyes read me like a book he’d read a hundred times over. He saw me. I swallowed, my brain and heart at an all-out war. Unfortunately for me, they captured my tongue in a stale-mate. “I don’t know what I want.”

And it was true. The dilemma was the following:

The only thing my body wanted was him.

But my brain didn’t know if that’s what I should be wanting anymore.

And my heart was left in the middle of them both, not sure what it was feeling.

I felt him shrug. “I get it. I have so many opinions shouting at me in my head right now. About soccer, my fucked family, about” - he threw his hands between us.

After Niall had greeted me at the door, I was sure Harry had talked about us in some capacity. But how many people had opinions on our relationship? “Let me guess. Viv shares her opinion about us.”

“I don’t listen to hers.”

“But hey, at least she fucks you right.”

He sucked in a breath, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean that.”

“But it’s true, right? So no need to apologize.”

The room froze over. Just the thought of her whispering in his ear was enough to trigger an entire week’s worth of pent-up animosity.

“So maybe people are confused why Viv and I aren’t together but I couldn’t give a fuck about what they think. I fucking hate that we’re even talking about her right now.”

“What do they say?”

He rolled his eyes, hurriedly slanting his voice, “Viv’s gorgeous mate, she clearly wants you. What the fuck are you doing now?”

I flinched. He noticed. “Look, I seriously hate talking about this. Can we talk about the fact that I didn’t invite anyone tonight?”

“Aw, was Viv busy?”

“Alright, stop.”

A chill shot down my spine at the rejection. As much as I wanted to appreciate the fact he didn’t invite anyone, it didn’t help. This wasn’t helping at all. “I’m sorry if I want to talk about your relationships that directly affect me,” I said, rolling out of his arms.

“Y/N, please. It’s not like that.” His voice was tired, pleading, coaxing me to forget.

“But why are you like this? Why did you just say what you did to me?”

“You asked me-”

“It was very belittling.” I changed my voice to a dopey British accent, “Viv’s gorgeous what the fuck are you doing with Y/N?” I ignored his scowl. “Really, thanks for the best compliment of the night.” I pushed against his chest, annoyed. “And why are you being like this now? All cuddly and-”

“It’s not one-sided.”

I felt my cheeks heat. “Not tonight. But it’s one-sided any other time.”

“S’that what you really think of me?” He pulled me closer, and I fought the urge to twist away. His forehead pressed into my hair. “Firstly, you’re fucking beautiful Y/N. You have to know this. And you have to know you’re important to me. And secondly…”

“Thirdly,” I corrected.

His eyes turned somber. “They’re watching,” he mumbled, pleading. “This is hard for me, too.”

The gang, the cops, both, whichever it was, it didn’t matter. The effect was the same. No matter how special he claimed I was to him, we always went in circles. Maybe he had gotten it right. Maybe it was better for both of us if we weren’t together. “Why is it so hard then?” I whispered.

“Nothing good comes easy.”

I remained silent. It was a cop-out response.

He ran a hand down his face and sat up. “Because I’m fucked! I’m fucked, Y/N and there’s only so many people I can hide from. And you aren’t one of them.”

It was the most candid he’d ever been with me, without revealing anything at all.

A knock sounded at the door.

I went to move, but he kept me against him, covering my ears as he shouted-

“FUCK OFF!!”

But even with his hands over my ears, it wasn’t very muted. The knock grew louder, more obnoxious.

“Sorry,” he grumbled, moving to open the door. When it opened, a boy wearing a snapback around the same height as Harry leant against the doorframe.

“Wassup, man-” Snapback almost burst in.

Harry’s back went stiff as the stranger’s snapback practically poked Harry in the eye. If their overcompensating confidence and too-familiar smile told me anything – freshmen. At least Snapback’s friend wore a Bond-inspired bow-tie t-shirt.

Harry put a hand to Snapback’s chest, backing him back out of the room. They watched me walk up behind him.

“Hey, relax man, we just wanted to get some zombies,” Bowtie bargained.

“You’ve got some fucking balls,” he snarled.

My ears pricked. He was looking for the same thing, then. From Harry. My heart sunk to the lowest part of my belly after remembering why I’d come here in the first place. The sliver of hope I’d had was that maybe what Zayn had witnessed was just Harry’s past. A summer blunder. A summer fling with an illegal hobby. You know, some kids did drugs, some kids sold drugs... It was a ridiculously stupid comparison now that I thought about it. But still, I had hope. Now my undeniable denial was being shred up right in front of me.

The cops, the gang, the drugs circulating campus…

Harry had made his bed, and I was lying in it.

I squeezed past him.

“Wait, are you leaving?” He still blocked his doorway.

I ignored the pang of guilt I felt at his boyish disappointment. He looked at me, body still intimidatingly rigid, but his eyes, impossibly soft. Snapback tried to move past him again and Harry whipped his head back with a growl. “Get the fuck out of here.”

“Excuse me?” Bowtie came closer, puffing out his muscled chest. Testosterone, angst and alcohol were never the best combination. I grew nervous at the tension, looking from my escape at the end of the hall, back to Harry.

“C’mon, we have the cash. We’ll pay double!” Snapback whined, cornering him.

The words made me nauseous, conjuring the image of Viv sliding Harry the cash. I didn’t want to see this again. I didn’t want to see anything again.

“I don’t do that shit anymore.” He strode through their barricade, determined, but Bowtie tugged him back. His nostrils flared and I could tell he was trying to keep his cool. He could ruin these guys if he wanted to. I don’t know why he was letting them keep him. But I also didn’t know why I didn’t run away. It was like watching a train wreck seconds before it happened.

I stood alone, in the center of the hall, the only person on Harry’s horizon. A lighthouse hoping to steer the sailor home.

“C’mon, please man, everyone’s talking about them. We just need one,” Snapback exhorted. He put up his hands, pleading. “We’ll split one. We’ll seriously cut it in half.”

Even from here, I could see the muscles in his neck tense. I tried doing to him what he did to everyone else. I trapped him, wide-eyed, anchoring him to me. He didn’t break our stare.

As if each word scraped against his skull, “I said I don’t do that shit.”

“That’s a fucking joke. Mark got some last week,” Bowtie barked.

I saw the moment I lost him. In what world I thought I could be enough to harbor him, I had no idea. Harry snapped, kicking the steroid-pumped kid so hard in the knee, it knocked him down. It wasn’t a broken bone, but it’d leave one hell of a bruise.

“Dude, are you crazy?!” Snapback cried.

Harry raised his fist, bringing it flying. I gasped and hid my face. But I didn’t hear an impact. I faced them again.

Harry’s fist froze inches before his cheek. Facing what would have been a badly broken nose, Bowtie shook on the floor. Slowly, ever so slowly, Harry relaxed his hovering fist and folded his arms, squatting next to the quivering guy. “You’re fucking welcome I was in a good mood ‘fore you came, otherwise I wouldn’t be acting so polite.”

The squeak of a floorboard shook Harry back to Earth. He caught me walking away and his whole body straightened, once again hyper-focused on me, trying to tune in and trap me exactly where I stood. Taking advantage of his distraction, Snapback and Bowtie ran for it. Bowtie limped, running into me and knocking me off-balance as he passed.

In a second, it was just us.

“Y/N,” he began, walking towards me cautiously.

“No.”

He stopped in his tracks. He was tall, but his shoulders hung in despondent defeat.

“You were right, Harry.”

I could see how tired he was. I could see the broken pieces fitting into something beautiful. He looked so sad and regretful, I already felt guilty for saying,

“You can’t hide anymore.” And with one last look at the broken boy before me, “You are fucked.”

Suddenly, the beer on the floor was just stale and sticky. The couches were filthy from strangers’ mistakes. And the air would never be clear. Harry had been right. This entire house was filled with people who didn’t care and if they did, they were trying to forget; a place more empty than if it were vacant. It was a mess just like the boy living in it. And just like the grand house, impressive at first glance, not all of his parts were beautiful.

I ignored the way his broken pieces seemed to shatter as soon as I said it and the way it hurt me ten-fold. I ignored him calling out my name as I maneuvered through the blur of bodies, until I lost his voice on the dance floor. I could breathe better outside and I walked past the cops without acknowledging them.

From complete chaos to relative quiet, my ears rung, filling the new silence.

Maybe this was the last time we’d speak. Maybe this was how it all should’ve ended that first day in September. Because in that house, that wasn’t the Harry I thought I’d knew. That was a boy far-gone, confused, and I was falling down with him. I was ANGRY. I PITIED him. And I was angry for feeling something else I should never have felt for him.

Somehow, in this fuzzy ringing world buzzing with heated thoughts and cop lights that blurred my vision, I heard a notepad scribble as soon as I passed a squad car.

Lucky for me, Momma always said I had selective hearing.

part 21

426 notes · View notes

heresathreebee · 4 years

Text

Garrote part 9

[Starz Power Diego Jimenez x Jazmine Mann (Black!OC)]

Word count: 3k words

Warning(s): Explicit (+18) | sibling angst, mention of past drug use, roleplay sex!, UNPROTECTED sex (wrap your willy before you get silly), clothed sex, dirty talk, oh uh minor voyeurism. Previous Masterlist Next

AN: No beta, all mistakes are my own. Why is it so goddamn difficult to apply gifs to a post. I promise I’ll sort the masterlist tonight! Also tags will be moved to the bottom under the cut. Let me know if you’d like to be added

Gif creator @padfootwantsatummyrub thank you!

Alicia agreed to meet him that same night, and he tried to be presentable, and though he couldn't hide the alcohol on his breath, he was miraculously clean. That was thanks to the girls, of course, he hadn't had a second to snort coke with all their attention and literal begging. His sister was out on a job– Healy had given them the name of the low level thug who stole Porsche. Kennedy belonged to Jason Micic's organization, but Alicia discovered the boy usually did his own jobs. Diego met her just a few miles from his place and watched her work. His presence seemed to make Jason's Right Hand man nervous.

"Look miss," he had been calling her 'lady' sarcastically before he noticed Diego lurking around in the shadows, "I hear what you're saying and I promise we're gonna fix it. By this time tomorrow, nobody's ever gonna know that kid's name."

"Good." Alicia took a drag from her cigarette and held out a hand. The man reached out to shake it, but she snatched his wrist and put the cherry out on his forearm. He screamed, lurching his arm out of her grasp and gaining a few claw marks in the process. "Make sure it never happens again, claro?"

They left him cradling his arm and stalked over to the alleyway of a greasy midnight diner. Diego held the door open for her, instructing her guard with a look to wait outside (his guard did the same). Alicia picked a booth in the back and ordered whiskey and fries– the very mention of which made Diego's stomach growl.

"What do you want, Diego?" Alicia was stoic, already a note of disappointment fell from her voice as if she expected something childish.

He took a deep breath to collect himself.

"I'm sorry, sister," he said. She raised an eyebrow, but he continued, "I've been reckless and stupid and I almost got us caught because of it. You said those fucking pigs wouldn't have had anything on us except for my gun, and I can't let that happen again. So until we cross the border… no more coke."

Alicia was, understandably, surprised. "No more coke? You think you can handle that, Diego?"

His eyes were hard as stone– determined. "For us? Yes."

His sister relaxed into the red cushions of the booth. Her eyes searched his– for mockery, for tricks, for falsehoods– until her jaw tightened and some raw expression flashed that Diego didn't know how to read.

"On our mother's grave," he vowed. The trust Alicia was giving him now could not be squandered. It filled him with determination and a desire to be redeemed in her head. On our mother's grave.

She hugged him. After sitting in perfect, tense silence while he ate all the fries and took a sip of her whiskey, as they were walking back out the door, she hugged him. He felt like a kid again. He felt like he had when their mother had passed away. Those were the only times she had hugged her brother, and it left him feeling raw and exposed like a nerve ending. His head drifted as he drove home and he swiped a tear from his cheek.

I can do this, he decided. For us.

It was nearly dawn by the time he got back to the penthouse. The cityscape was always bright at night, but there were a few precious hours in the evening and the morning when enough lights went out that made the city feel truly peaceful. Diego slipped into bed, barely managing to kick off his shoes before falling asleep watching the flurries of driven snow fly past his window.

Someone was jiggling the doorknob. Diego had just enough strength to turn his head and look at the clock to read the time was 5:40 AM. The door to his bedroom opened violently as someone fell in. He lifted his head groggily and recognized the pretty kitten heels hanging from the brown arm with a death grip on the door knob. Jazmine pulled herself up with great difficulty, swaying on her feet like a drunk and slowly maneuvering the door to close behind her. Her half lidded eyes landed on Diego and she smiled.

"Hey." She sounded hoarse and slurred. "I didn't think you'd actually be here…"

Diego groaned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, trying to sit up just a bit. "You asked me to be here. What do you want?"

Something like sickness flashed over her face but only for a second. Her brow smoothed with determination and she sauntered with purpose to the side of his bed. Jazmine pulled his hair lightly and elicited a grunt from him.

"I saw Haagen last night," she sighed. "When I left, I got a cab and got drunk and… well, here I am."

Diego had a hard time focusing on her words, what with the gentle petting of his hair causing distraction, but he understood the unspoken story hidden between the lines. He rested a hand on top of her thigh and felt her twitch under his touch but not away from it.

"If you're not too tired…" Her soft hand slid down, down, down. Stroking over the side of his neck and the open collar of his shirt, caressing his chest and pressing into the plain of his stomach until it mirrored his own touch on her thigh. She even gave him a squeeze which caused him to twitch as she had. "I could use a nice massage."

Diego felt himself smirk involuntarily. She had his blood pumping now and pushing out the grogginess of a near sleepless night. He squeezed her back in answer but made no move to sit up or do anything else.

On Jazmine's part, she couldn't take her eyes off of the man. There was something about the calmness and the plain white shirt that made him seem altogether a different man. He didn't look like a drug lord right now– he looked like somebody's husband. Maybe even somebody's dad. She could put that thought to good use…

"You like roleplaying, Diego?" His eyes had drifted shut but one opened curiously. "I can start."

"Every girl likes doctor and nurse," he mumbled almost to himself.

Jazmine shook her head. "I've got something else in mind."

She stood up and tossed her shoes to the side. Only as she was taking it off did Diego notice she was wearing a t-shirt over her dress (in his defense, they were the same color). What she wore beneath was modest, something she could pass off in a church, which was a far cry from the little number she had worn to the club. Jazmine started her story by removing his belt with an agonizingly slow pace.

"You," she said, tapping the buckle, "are a 9 to 5 office jockey who loves his parents and makes a decent living wage."

"So sexy," he drawled sarcastically.

"And I–" she ripped the belt from the loops of his pants eagerly and in one motion, "– am your wife."

Diego's voice dropped. "Keep going."

"I take care of the kids and our three story suburban house." She unbuttoned his pants with one hand, struggling and constantly bumping into his junk just to drive him crazy. "And we're so busy with everything we haven't had time to ourselves since our second kid. But guess what?"

The button finally popping forced air out of Diego's lung, and he pulled his pants down himself as he became impatient. Jazmine was intent on keeping control and straddled his hips with force. His hands found their way up her skirt with ease and he fingered the strap of her panties as he waited for the other shoe to drop. "It's their first day of kindergarten."

Diego's lust addled brain took a second to catch up. It was harder to do with her warm core putting pressure on his hardening cock, but he managed, and when he did he cocked an eyebrow at her. "Are you saying we haven't had sex in five years?"

Jazmine hummed. She ground down on his hips, and he couldn't help but buck into her, feeling rock hard and ready. The woman slipped into her role like she was born to it, donning a face of longing with just a pouting lip.

"I've missed you so much, baby..."

God, he could not wait to get naked– this would just have to do. Diego sat up until he was chest to chest with 'his wife' and slipped his hands into his boxers to free his cock from its confines. Jazmine wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held onto him for dear life as he pushed her panties to the side and slipped a finger in.

"So wet, baby," he groaned, "estas listo?"

American girls loved hearing his Spanish and Jazmine was no different judging by the way she shuddered. He had to do everything by feeling since she refused to let go of him. She slid onto his cock like she belonged there, and although it was truthfully the first time, it felt like the first in a long time.

Jazmine gasped when he finally bottomed out. Without a condom, she could feel every single vein and ridge of his thick length wedged into her pussy, and just the slightest movement caused the greatest sensations. Diego's warm breath fanned over her chest and she wished she could reach the zipper on the back of the dress to offer her nipples to him. He was content, it seemed, to try and taste them from the outside, and she squeezed his cock as a reward.

"Oh fuck me."

It wasn't meant as a request but Diego obliged her nonetheless. He gripped the soft curves between her hips and her waist and used them to bounce her in his lap, not too fast and not too deep, limited by the position but also like he wanted to keep her close to him. His watering mouth soaked through her dress and her lacy bra and when he pulled away to attack the other it left the last cold.

The sweet burn of Diego's ministrations allowed Haagen's to wash away like footprints on a sandy beach. All that mattered now was Diego, and the unexpectedly tender way he fucked her like she really was the mother of his children. It made her ache where it shouldn't have, deep in her chest, but she didn't fight it and soon the tightening coil in her core won over her attention.

Diego moaned with his mouth still on her and Jazmine keened in response, wrapping her fingers in his hair and dragging his head up to look at her. His pupils were blown wide but the light from the window still illuminated the deep brown ring of his eyes in a way that was so hypnotic she couldn't look away.

His lip curled (of course) and the unhinged mischief of his former self shone through. "Want another..."

She couldn't tell if it was a question for her or a statement from him. He kept her bouncing on his cock as his eyes drifted down to her mouth and back up again. Every time she came down it was harder and deeper than before as she let her whole weight crash into him. "Put another baby in you, huh, muñeca? Make it three…"

That should not have been as hot as it was. Jazmine whined involuntarily and put both of her hands on his chest to push him onto his back, stalling their impeccable rhythm for a second as she basked in how deep his dick really went.

He could do it. For real– his cock was naked in her pussy and he had the length to do it better than most. Oh fuck, it's curved, she thought, wishing she was fucking him the other way around. Can't stop now. Can't wait.

Jazmine began to ride Diego and listened to all the filthy things that fell from his lips. No wonder I married you.

"Yeah, querida? You like this dick? Want me to cum inside and paint a pretty picture?"

"Yesss," she hissed. "Oh god. Fuck…"

"That's it, mama, keep fucking yourself. Don't need my help, do you? Got it all figured out. Put a baby in you and watch you grow again…"

Jazmine gasped, she was so close, hanging right on the edge. "Fuck, daddy…"

She didn't even know she'd said the magic word, but the pair came together, and hard. Diego's grip on her waist was bruising and merciless, he filled her up with all he had and then some, and just to make it extraordinary, he made her hips grind into him for good measure. Jazmine's mouth dropped low and saliva dribbled out and dripped into his shirt, her hands tearing a button off as her pussy clenched down on his pulsating cock for a true flood. She was seeing stars when the torrent of endorphins finally drew back, and she collapsed onto his chest, boneless and gasping for air.

When their breathing had finally slowed down, Jazmine moved just enough of her weight to make them both comfortable without adding distance– for her sake as much as his. There was sweat cooling in the small of her back, Diego’s chest rose and fell beneath her head, and the memory of Haagen faded away like static on a television set.

“So,” Diego hummed, “I take it that was a bit of a fantasy of yours, eh?”

Jazmine’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? Three kids, a house, and a spouse?” She thought about it for a moment and shrugged, “doesn’t everyone, in their own way?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

"I will admit it was probably most definitely brought on by this," she plucked at his white shirt, smirking with pride at the missing button and pocketing it in her drenched bra. "You look like… well I don't know exactly but this shirt screams normal and I figured you couldn't possibly own something like that."

Diego hummed but offered no explanation for the unusual attire. He could probably go incognito through a crowd and never be seen with that thing. Now uncomfortable, Jazmine sat up and flung off her dress, admiring the red handprints on her sides. She lay back down into his embrace and chuckled.

"What?"

She started drawing circles on his chest with a finger. “I wasn’t sure you could get off without, you know, an audience.”

Diego shrugged his shoulders (jostling her head in the process) and she could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “of course I can come without an audience. It’s a preference, not a medical condition.”

“Oh right, sure. Sure.” The warm hand on her back began to slide, tracing up her sides and just short of cupping her face, she felt his fingers graze her earlobe. A groan of irritation ripped through her throat. “I guess you did get an audience after all.”

“What’s that supposed to mean exactly?”

Jazmine took her sweet time answering him as she rolled up and over top of him to get to the other side of the bed and to touch the room light remote on the nightstand. Now brighter in the slick black design of Diego’s bedroom, she leaned over him on her elbow and pointed.

Directly at her fake hearing aid.

Diego stared for a moment before his cheeks puffed and he blew a raspberry trying to hold his laugh. It exploded from his chest like a bark and his entire body curled into it, which in turn warmed Jazmine to join in. For as cool and unbothered as Agent Healy portrayed himself, there was no way he could have been able to ignore the sounds on the other end of the listening device by the sheer volume of the activities on the receiver.

Ever the exhibitionist, Jazmine was not surprised to find Diego’s hand pressing into the back of her neck to draw her closer. She rolled her eyes when he leaned forward to speak directly into the microphone, “like what you heard, Healy?”

The answer came in an instant. Just as Jazmine was debating whether to settle back into the bed or to get up, Diego’s phone rang. The man was having far too much fun as he pushed her under him and reached for the nightstand even though she was closer. His knee fell between her sensitive thighs as he checked the screen. Despite everything, he still looks at her with disbelief as Healy’s contact glares back at him.

Healy’s voice sounded somehow right coming from a speaker. It matched the sometimes robotic way he delivered them lines about his purpose or his plan. “Yes, Mr. Jimenez, I am always on the edge of my seat when you make a pass at my informant.”

The expression only flashes for a second across his face, but for a moment Diego looked as uncomfortable as Jazmine felt. It was strange, knowing the name and the face of the person who was surveilling you. Knowing they hear everything all of the time and forgetting, only to remember and wonder if you’ve done something to warrant the shame and embarrassment that floods through you upon recollection. Jazmine was more often than not completely unaware of the thing until it beeped its death notes. She would have to remember to set a schedule for charging it every night, as Healy had suggested before.

“It’s fascinating the things people get up to when they think they’re alone,” Healy continued, “but if it is any consolation to you, Miss. Mann, I am accustomed to turning a blind eye– or ear, I suppose– to your nonessential activities.”

Well at least that was something. Diego hung up (or Healy did, she wasn’t paying attention), then turned to look her in the eye with a mischievous glint.

“What?”

“Jazz Mann.”

“Shut the– I’m going to fucking strangle you.”

~~~~~

Alrighty, I think this was pretty successful! But know that it’s all downhill from here (OK, mostly downhill from here).

@1zashreena1 @kid-from-new-zealand @nicke0115 @girlpornparadise @mental-bycatch

#Diego Jimenez #Diego Jimenez imagine #Starz Power #Diego Jimenez x OC #three bees writing #🐝🐝🐝✒#Garrote

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airi-p4 · 4 years

Text

Tanabata - Lukagami fic

My first Lukagami fic for the Lukagami July 2020 Day 7: Tanabata

I don’t really ship them but I think they are cute together.

Thanks to @livrever for check and corrections!

Ao3

___________________________________________

7th of July. Tanabata.

According to the legend, the only day of the year the lovers Orihime and Hikoboshi can see each other. A dramatic couple separated for a year until they can meet once again for one day only. And that’s, of course, reason enough for the Japanese people to throw a unique event as a celebration.

Writing wishes on long narrow colourful papers and hang them up on bamboo trees was one of the activities Kagami always looked forward to the most. Growing up with strict parents didn't give her much freedom or fun, but she was glad respecting traditions was one of her family's motto since she could enjoy every year the tanabata festival. And that was the most fun she would get each year: her favorite festival.

The last few years she was in France she had missed it, which made her a little sad - even if she still wrote her wish and hung it up next to her window every year, there was no festival, no fireworks, not the traditional Japanese event fun she loved.

But this year was different. She was in Japan again for Tanabata, and she was going to enjoy the fun of the festival at its fullest. Her whole set had been ready since the previous day to be used at the afternoon: yukata, obi (sash), geta (sandals), inner yukata, hair pin and accessories, cloth bag matching the yukata, money and her smartphone (to take photos). She was anxious for the time to pass faster so she could get ready and go enjoy the fun.

Every 5 minutes she kept checking for the time, even while she was practicing either kendo or archery.

"Kagami. What do you think you are doing? Take it seriously, don't keep disappointing me any farther. Focus" Tomoe Tsurugi was seated behind her daughter, supervising her training.

"Yes, mother" Kagami answered, but inside her heart she could only giggle in expectation for the festival.

"You need to focus and lose sight of all your distractions. Remember how your efficiency has decreased lately. That's why we came back to Japan in the first place. Don't waste all your efforts until now for some useless thoughts. Many people have high expectations of you. Don't let your sponsors down"

"Yes, mother" Kagami replied.

She knew her mother was right. She couldn't focus at all in anything she did. Her head had been somewhere else for a while. To be precise, since the day she figured out her love for a certain blue-haired musician. Who was also the same boy that had once been in love with her best friend (and maybe he still was). Luka snuck somehow inside Kagami's heart in a totally unexpected way - he scolded her for going under the rain without the proper equipment and lend her an umbrella. 'What a silly reason to fall in love with someone' she thought, denying her feelings at first, remembering how Marinette had told her how she fell in love with Adrien in a similar way. But the more time the Japanese lady spent with the guitarist, the clearer and stronger her love for him became.

Kagami didn't know what was so good about Luka Couffaine to make her fall in love with him. Kind-hearted, handsome, mature, responsible, talented, quiet… yes, great, but nothing she didn't have on her own. Then why? His patience, maybe? His rebellious looks? The way he cares for his loved ones? Even after 3 months, it still remained a mystery for Kagami. And she loved mysteries. Could it be it? Maybe. She wasn't sure. She was supposedly mysterious herself too.

What was for sure is she was in love with him and, after two months without seeing each other, she missed deeply their time together. Good thing she was going to meet with him again today. On Tanabata. Just like the lovers of the story, the two stars shining on the firmament across the Milky Way. And that made Kagami excitement over the sun, even if her expression remained impassible as always in front of her relatives, her heart was ecstatic.

Their meeting was set at 4pm. He had a concert last night for Jagged Stone’s tour - which her mother didn't let her attend, of course. So today was the only day they could meet. How can it get more romantic than that?

After having lunch, Kagami excused herself to get ready for the festival, hiding the fact she was also going on a date. Or at least she wished it was.

After brushing her teeth, she proceeded to get dressed. It usually takes a lot of time for newbies to put a yukata on, but Kagami was almost a professional when it came to wearing traditional Japanese clothing, and it took her only 5 minutes. After applying some light make-up, brushing her hair and decorating it with her hair accessories, her look for the festival was ready.

She looked glamorous, elegant and beautiful, and she was well aware of it. In front of the mirror, the girl kept posing and practicing how to smile for more than 40 minutes, waiting for the time to go to arrive and thinking of the activities she wanted to try out there -as well as the boy she was meeting in a matter of minutes.

Finally the time arrived and she took her leave.

The festival took place in a shopping district on a city nearby the Tsurugi's residential state. It was decorated with Tanabata themed garlands, flowers, paper lanterns and statues and, of course, decorated bamboo trees. The view was even prettier than the last time she had been there many years ago.

While she was waiting for Luka, Kagami took a paper guide for the event, checking the performances and the shops available, as well as their distribution. She was checking and confirming her plan and route to follow to make it perfectly on time to each one of the performances she was interested to attend.

She was so caught up in thinking she didn't notice someone standing in front of her. After looking the upper part of the guide, she could take a glance at a men's yukata in front of her. Too close for her liking.

"If you plan to try anything funny with me I'll make you regret it" she said, without looking up.

"Not my plan, but I wouldn't dare to, knowing your strength"

Kagami's eyes met Luka's in surprise. He was standing in front of her, pretty close, wearing a dark blue yukata that looked unbelievably good on him. Luka's soft smile reflected on Kagami's face, mimicking it without noticing. Her face was glowing.

"You came early" she said.

"So did you. You look beautiful" responded Luka.

"Thank you. You look great too. I didn't expect you to wear a yukata"

"Yeah, I noticed" he giggled at his own comment, stealing another smile from the Japanese lady. "How have you been?"

"I've been ok. The training got harder since now I take archery classes daily too, but I've been improving. But I miss Paris. And my friends. And you" Kagami looked genuinely lonely, but changed the subject fast enough to not be questioned about it. "How about you? How is the tour going?" She asked.

"Oh, it's amazing. Jagged Stone is really an international star. Wherever he goes gets the tickets sold out in a flash and the audience is totally committed to his performance. Being able to perform with Jagged in front of so many people is such a privilege. I'm very lucky"

"Why do you cut yourself low? I've watched some fancams of your most recent lives and I know you've been performing some of your songs during intermissions. I've seen how the crowd lost it every time. Some of the comments said they liked your performance the most too. You're a star. Be proud"

"Wow, you've been following my tour and performances? Thank you. It makes me very happy" he thanked her sincerely, slightly blushing for her words.

"Shall we go? There's a shamisen live performance in 5 minutes I really want to attend to. This way"

Kagami didn't even wait for Luka's response to start walking, making the boy run some steps to catch her.

"So… you've thought of a plan?" Luka asked her, trying not to lose sight of her.

"Leave it to me" she only said, never stopping walking.

______

Kagami's plan was perfectly timed. The 30 minutes between performances were used to eat and play typically festival food and games: takoyaki, yakisoba, kakigori, crepes, water yo-yo catching, goldfish catching (which sadly had been returned to the owner), cork guns, etc. They took lots of photos in the process -especially Luka took them with Kagami's phone because she wanted a photo of everything. Some selfies together were taken too, mostly from Kagami when Luka wasn't looking. Sometimes he had noticed and posed to the camera to take a front shot together, a wide grin on his face, matching Kagami's.

The activities and performances were very fun and interesting. It was a first for Luka, but the whole atmosphere and Kagami's silent excitement made it extremely enjoyable for him. He was having a lot of fun (way more than he expected). Spending time with a Kagami with such a bright smile on her face was new for him too, and he couldn't help it but be taken over by her enthusiasm.

As the time for fireworks was approaching, Kagami decided it was time to move to the wish writing area, where the bamboo trees were already filled with colorful papers. But just before reaching there, a sign in front of a shop picked Kagami's attention. She stood in front of it checking the prices and the products. Luka stood by her side staring at her and looking at the shop from time to time, unable to read anything of what was written or figure out what kind of products they had to offer. He waited until she decided step in, entering shop after her.

Luka and Kagami were amazed by the shop’s interior. There were many different sets for many different themes - from schools to historical setting, cafeterias, rock stages… even a tennis court setting was available. Luka wondered why Kagami decided to check this shop. But Kagami spoke before he could ask.

"It's a cosplay studio. You can rent a cosplay and take photos in the different settings for the amount of hours you pay for. I'll try to bribe them to let me take the cosplays outside to wear for a while before the fireworks start. Look at which one you want to wear meanwhile. There's a catalog with photos at that counter".

After Kagami's explanation, she started talking to the shop attendant and Luka followed her instructions, checking the costumes available.

The truth is Luka knew nothing about costumes or cosplay. Most of ones on the list were anime or videogames related, like a Pikachu cosplay or high school uniforms. Samurai costumes piqued his attention, but seemed hard to move in. He couldn't decide at all.

"Have you decided yet?" Asked Kagami.

"No, I'm really lost. I have no idea what to choose. Have you decided yet?" He asked

"Of course. I've always wanted to try one on, but it's difficult with my family's strictness. I'm taking this chance. Oh, and I'll decide yours. We can't afford to waste more time than needed. I need to write my wish before the fireworks start" she said, leaving again to speak with the attendant.

Luka was always amazed by Kagami's determination. 'I never hesitate'. That was her motto. One of the reasons he admired her, along with her talent in sports, her delicate manners, her honesty, her beauty, and her rare sincere smile that made him melt in softness. She gave him the calm he could only accomplish with meditation otherwise. A calm sometimes broken by his heart’s beats, every time he was blessed by her affection and curiosity looks for him in her eyes.

He liked her. He liked her very much. Probably even loved her. He realized how important Kagami was for him a few days before she returned to Japan. And it was still surprising for Luka to see how a girl so different from Marinette could captivate his heart in such explosive way: unexpectedly, accurately and fiercely as a storm.

She was the Furinkazan in all its phrases.

Fast as the wind

Silent as the forest

Raiding and plundering as the fire

Immobile as a mountain

The old strategy used to win battles during Japan’s Sengoku Era. A phrase capable to be used in many different fields- even love. Luka was sure it worked on him.

The Japanese girl was strong, stronger than him in all aspects, but that was partially a facade. She was actually fragile on the inside and Luka could tell how hurt she sometimes was by her loneliness every time he stared at the windows to her soul. He usually patted her head or squeezed her hand or her shoulder when he noticed the look and, with doing so, her face immediately regained her shy honest smile, looking genuinely happy. Luka loved that smile, and was more than flattered to be the one it was directed to.

While reorganizing his feelings for her, Luka waited for Kagami's return. And there she was, two minutes later some clothes on her hands.

"Here. Wear this. I'm sure it will look great on you" Kagami said, stretching her hand to give him some clothing.

"Ok" Luka grabbed the costume and scanned it. The clothes given by Kagami consisted in Japanese traditional-looking clothing, white with gold, blue and purple details. Something similar to a Temple apprentice, maybe? He didn't know much about Japanese traditional clothing, but it looked pretty.

"The boys changing room is there. Ask the male attendant if you need help. I'll be in that changing room. Wait for me if you finish earlier than me" said Kagami, while Luka nodded and she moved to enter the changing room with the female attendant.

_____

The clothes chosen by Kagami fitted Luka perfectly. Luka was surprised at how unexpectedly comfortable they were. According to the list, it seemed to be some figure skater cosplay. He knew he looked great on it when the female attendant let out a 'kya' and fangirled a little at him, making him giggle at her exaggerated reaction.

Three minutes later Kagami came out of the changing room. She was wearing a black and red female ninja costume that looked as if it had been made just for her. She looked amazing. Beautiful, yet stronger than ever. Damn, she even threatened to throw him a shuriken (ninja stars) if he didn't start moving out and stop wasting their time. He thought he wouldn't have minded being attacked by her. In truth, Kagami just wanted the boy to stop staring at her since it was becoming embarrassing.

______

As soon as they went out of the shop, they inevitably became the center of all the gazes. A young woman recognized Luka from yesterday's Jagged concert and started to fangirl over him along with her girl friends. Kagami tried to fight to protect Luka, but he dismissed her help and encouraged her to go write her wish instead.

Kagami's eyebrows frowned in anger but left to the bamboo wish writing stand alone. She could see Luka gazing at her from time to time while he gave signatures and selfies to his fans. Kagami couldn't hide her jealousy and anger and was tempted to write as her wish for all Luka's fans to disappear. But looking at him making his dreams come true, his bright smile and energy on his concerts… she knew he couldn't be a star without fans, so she discarded the idea.

When she looked at him in a lonely apologetic look, Luka winked at her, asking for her to wait a minute until the signatures and selfies were finished. She loved him even then, posing at the cameras with a grin on his face surrounded by fangirls. 'How silly' she thought.

Kagami decided to stop looking at him and started to write her wish on the paper -the one she had originally play to write. It was a good thing Luka was occupied, because she didn't want him to see what she had written. Moments after finishing, Luka came back to her.

"Sorry for that. Fans can get crazy sometimes" he apologized. "This outfit didn't help either. Blue hair and Japan's number one figure skater cosplay is a terrific combination to stay out of people's looks. It's obvious I would stand out..." Luka concluded.

"The price of fame. I understand. I'm getting some of those too, sometimes" she smiled reassuringly at him, making him relieved. "I'm happy your dreams are taking form, even if I have to go through that sometimes," she said, squeezing his hand a little while hiding her wish paper from him.

Luka squeezed back at her hand. "Thank you, Kagami. It makes me happy to hear that" said as he smiled.

A few long seconds passed with them still holding hands, eyes closed, Kagami's head on Luka's upper arm and Luka's head on Kagami's, her hair brushing his cheek.

Luka and Kagami never once hid their feelings for each other. They knew there was some kind of attraction and deep affection, but neither ever mentioned it. They just enjoyed each other's company, silently, and tried not to force anything. They liked what they had and didn't want it to change. They meant too much to each other and didn't want to lose it. Or at least they didn't before.

Kagami had changed her mind after these two months they were apart and had committed to the idea to confess her love to him after giving it some thought: she hated the idea of him getting snatched by Marinette or any other girl while she was away. And so, even if she didn't know if her feelings were reciprocated or otherwise, he still had feelings for her best friend, she decided she had to give it a try.

Kagami knew Luka's feelings for Marinette were strong, maybe impossible to ever erase completely, even. But she also knew he was the boy of the second chances, reason enough for her to take the gamble and see if he had one chance left for her, now that Paris superheroes were already retired.

And with this resolve, Kagami had written her wish down to a pink paper, in Japanese. It could be read as: 'Luka-kun no koibito ni naritai. Kagami', which translates as: 'I want to be Luka's lover (girlfriend). (Signed) Kagami'.

Kagami really wanted her wish to come true. And she would know if it could become reality or not in about an hour, around the time the fireworks ended and she had confessed her feelings. She hoped for the two lovers of the legend to make a miracle happen for her. That's why she wanted to tie here wish in the upper-most stem of the bamboo, the closest as possible to the stars and off of Luka's view.

Luka's voices interfered in Kagami's thoughts "Have you written your wish yet?" He smiled at her.

"Yes. It's written. But don't ask me to show you because I won't". She smirked a little.

"Is it that embarrassing? What did you wish for? World peace? To be rich and famous? I don't think you would wish for anything this cliche" he teased her.

"It's my wish and it stays a secret. Too bad your teasing won't work on me" she stuck her tongue at him, teasing back. "Why don't you write yours already?"

"You're right. I'll write one too." Luka grabbed one paper and pen from the table and got ready to write, but Kagami staring at the blank paper, expecting it to be filled, made him unable to move. "Stop looking. Aren't wishes supposed to be secret?"

"Oh, that's not it. They're not supposed to be secret. I just don't want mine to be seen" Kagami said.

"Oh, I see. Let me write it first then, without you peeking. I'll show it to you later. Go over there, meanwhile" he said.

"Ok. But do it fast! I want to read it!" Kagami moved some feet away and started looking up for the tallest bamboo branch.

"Yeah, yeah…"

Luka was giving his back to Kagami as the ink impregnated the paper with the words of his wish. "Done" he said after some minutes. When turning to look at Kagami she was looking up at the bamboo branches. "What are you looking at?"

"This one is the tallest branch. I want to tie my wish at the top of it" she explained.

"Why? And how? It's too tall even for me…" he wondered, looked at her short stature.

"I'll use your help. I'm using your body as a ladder to reach there. The tallest the wish, the most probable for it to come true. That’s only my assumption, anyway"

"That's what am I to you? A ladder? You can't set this on your own, you have to ask first" he scolded her.

"You're my friend. And you care about me. So I know you won't have any inconvenience to help and lift me up to tie the bamboo. Please?"

Luka sighed. "Fine… but remember the correct ordered next time. And be careful"

"Of course! You won't let me fall, I know" she smiles. "But first… let me see your wish!"

Kagami tried to snap Luka's wish paper, but he was fast enough to dodge her and lift up his hand at his maximum level. After some of Kagami's attempts to steal the paper from Luka, the musician stood on his toes to tie it the highest he could. Kagami was still short after the years, so she couldn't reach it.

"So unfair! You promised! Liar!"

"I'll show you if you can catch it. But let's tie up your wish first. Fireworks time is approaching and we still have to return our costumes" Luka's mature voice mentioned.

"Ok. It's that bamboo, the branch on the farthest left. Duck so I can climb over you" Like made a 'tch tch' sound while his index finger moved to right to left and to left to right in repeat, in negation, asking for a missing needed word. Kagami frowned her eyebrows in disgust and finally added said word. "Please..."

Pleased, Luka kneeled down to let Kagami sit on his shoulders and stood up. The girl was lighter than he thought. He secured her ankles with his hands and watched how she stretched her hands to tie the paper at the top of the tree. Luka wondered what her wish would be, but Kagami signaled him to get her down before any idea came to his mind.

As soon as Kagami's feet were back on the floor, she took the advantage of Luka being down to run and jump as high as she could to catch Luka's wish from the bamboo tree. She remembered perfectly the paper. It wasn't difficult for her to reach with the run impulse used to jump

She then turned her body to look at Luka, how was approaching walking towards her. "I've got it! Did you think you had won? Don't underestimate me" she grinned in victory, while Luka just smiled softly at her determination, unaffected from his wish being exposed soon. His reaction made the Japanese girl's curiosity increase, so she started reading the paper.

She was first surprised that the wish was written in Japanese with a messy handwriting, signed in capital letters of the roman alphabet. But the contains of the wish left her stunned, frozen at place, unable to move with her heartbeat intensifying every second. The contents were so unbelievable she re-read those letters one time after another, considering there could be a mistake due to Luka's unfamiliarity with her mother language. But nothing. The contents were perfectly written… .

"So, do you think my wish can become true?"

Luka was standing in front of Kagami, who had been with her head down reading until she had heard his voice. Her face then looked up. She wanted to see his expression. She wanted to see if he was serious or just joking. She needed to know if she should stop her uncontrollable smile to go wider and change it for tears instead. Kagami's face was lighting in love and hope while studying the boy in front of her.

And Luka's face told her everything she wanted to know: he meant every word written on that yellow paper.

"Yes. It can become true now or whenever you want" Kagami happily cried, jumping into Luka's welcoming arms.

"I'm glad…" said Luka, hugging Kagami tightly. "I love you, Kagami. Be my girlfriend?"

"Yes! I love you too. You've just made my wish come true too" she hugged even more tightly to him.

"Don't tell me…?" he asked, surprised.

"Yeah, I've written the same wish. Different words, but same meaning. I wanted to confess after the fireworks. Take a second chance from you. Now I think I can enjoy them at their fullest. I don't need the fright or nervousness to confess anymore"

"There's no way I would reject you, Kagami. You're gorgeous, strong, confident… and you like to lead, while I prefer to be lead. A perfect match, I believe. You mean the world to me"

"Shut up and kiss me"

Luka didn't say anything. He lowered his back and face meet his girlfriend's lips and seal a soft kiss on them. After they broke the kiss, Kagami hugged him again, covering her blushing face, Luka hugging her back.

"Let's return the costumes. The fireworks are starting soon and it seems I have a confession to listen to when they finish" giggled Luka.

"Don't get used to it. You know we Japanese people are very reserved. We expect love to be told with acts, not words" she warned him, seriously.

"I can do that" then he became thoughtful. "Wait. Music counts as an act, right? I'm screwed if it doesn't" he slightly panicked in joke.

"Rest assured, it does. But there's more to be done, so don't let your guard down" she giggled.

Luka took the chance to kiss her again. "I love your smile…" he said, while Kagami, red as ladybug's suit, locked his hand with hers and started walking towards the costume shop, pulling Luka. The musician couldn't stop his grin for forming on his face at her unusual embarrassed reaction.

After returning the costumes, the couple watched the fireworks together, hand in hand, colorful flowers and shapes forming up the sky. It was beautiful and they had the best possible company with them.

They didn't know where that new journey of love would take them, or when they would be able to me again after Tanabata. But they knew they had two lovers watching over them from the Milky Way - the same pair that allowed a miracle to happen during Kagami's favorite Tanabata festival.

The end

#lukagami #lukagami fic #lukagami july 2020 #lukagami july #my fic #my art #airipyon #airip4

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