#Suspend more belief please | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

simpxxstan · 1 year ago

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Nobody Else (part 1)

pairing: chaebol!wonwoo x chaebol!fem.reader

genre: enemies with benefits to lovers, smut (minors do not interact please), mild angst

summary: the girl who was proud about making her own destiny, the boy she swore to never interact with. sometimes it takes a lifetime to know someone, even yourself. because who would've seen any of this coming?

chapter word count: 13k

warnings: honestly, way too much smut. cockwarming, oral sex (m. receiving, f. receiving), usage of sex toys, orgasm denial, gagging, overstimulation, dom-sub dynamics, public sex (i don't even know if it's feasible, please suspend your beliefs about reality while reading aah), unprotected sex (please do not do this irl), breast play, spanking, use of spit during sex, usage of petnames (darling, babe, sweetheart for female), usage of word slut (for female), usage of sir and daddy (for male), sir kink, daddy kink, office sex, use of profanities, lots of bickering. let me know if i missed something out!

a/n: and we're back. (or are we?) honestly, i write when i get the time. and i don't know when i'll get my schedule to clear up again </3 hopefully within a few months my life will be back on track.

hope you enjoy this!!! posting this in two parts because it's way too long otherwise. do leave your thoughts, i swear reading them makes me so happy. open to hearing criticism too so pls my inbox is right there for you to rant. have a nice day!

You’ve known Jeon Wonwoo since the age of eleven, but you’d never thought you’d end up like this. Being in the same social circles as you and your family, the young Jeon heir had never really been your friend. However, that did not mean you didn’t meet him. In fact, you met him quite often. He went to the same school as you, he was always there at the parties you went to, and everyone around you kept talking about him. No matter what the season or the age, everyone was infatuated with Jeon Wonwoo.

Objectively speaking, no.

Subjectively speaking, not at all.

You could never understand why one would find a man with no beauties to his personality, nothing to his merit except a pair of thick-rimmed glasses and those never-changing black clothes, attractive. Apart from that, he never exchanged a friendly conversation with you. Never a moment of warmth. And you reciprocated the feeling absolutely. You had no desire to seek his favour. He simply never left the periphery of your life, and it annoyed you. But not enough to bother you. You’d grown used to the sight of the tall boy, who never spoke to anyone except his tight-knit group of absolute losers. And he should have remained in your periphery, never in your focus. You wanted nothing to do with the cold, arrogant nerd.

So naturally, you’d never, in your wildest imaginations, thought that you’d be here, sucking his dick off under his desk while he engaged himself in a meeting on his desktop. You had been in that position for hours, your mouth lolling over the wetness surrounding his penis, both from your saliva and the slow trickle of his pre-cum. While he has switched from meeting to meeting, both with corporates in Korea and internationally, his suit impeccable and the glasses sitting neatly on his nose, you’d cockwarmed him. That would’ve still been fine, had you not enjoyed it so thoroughly that it had become a routine for you both over the months.

After a solid two hours (and a few more minutes), he’d allowed himself to push back the chair a bit, pull his pants down further, spread his legs wide enough to meet the annoying temptation that had been bugging him for so long, and thread his hands into your hair, indicating you to step out of the haze you’d fallen into and get on with the job. And oh boy, you’d obeyed. At this point, it was a reflex for you. Feeling the way his hands caved your jaws and neck, you leaned into his touch, all while keeping your eyes on the little twitches he made on his face. Perhaps it was his need to be dominant, or perhaps it was just his arrogance, but he never slipped during sex. Even when you were giving him the most mind-blowing blowjob, like right now, using techniques you’d picked up over time, slipping your tongue under his cock to feel his veins throb around your tongue, gently nipping the foreskin to make the red tip burn harder, and taking him into your throat completely without a moment of a gag reflex. He’d never show you how much he liked it, never praised you, never revealed that he wanted it as much as you did.

It was all a part of the act, you knew that.

It was designed to make you more eager to perform well, more eager to earn his praise, more eager to put your all into this.

Jeon Wonwoo, with his signature cold stares and the arrogant tilt of his smirk, would break you every time, and you’d come back for it, again and again, addicted mindlessly, like a drug.

Eventually, his cum would flow down your throat, and you’d feel his body relax against yours, as he let you lay your head on his thighs for a few moments to recuperate.

But never enough.

“Up, sweetheart. I thought you had a party to attend.”

He helps you stand up, smirking at the pool of your cum on the floor where you’d been sitting, with the bullet vibrator parked deep into your pussy, which had given you endless orgasms and sent you into heaven, all while you’d felt the weight of Wonwoo’s warmth on your tongue.

His words bring you back to reality, as you limp towards the washroom to clean yourself, slowly breaking your daze. “I do. When are you going to change?”

“I don’t want to. I’ll look good even if I don’t doll up.” With a snicker he goes back to his desktop, and you roll your eyes at the implication of his words.

“I still don’t understand why you’d ask them to deliver the dress here.”

“It is pretty late. Imagine if I’d have to go back home, change, and then leave for the venue. Too much hassle. I would have to leave an hour back. Your place is much closer to the venue.”

“And so you chose to make my bedroom your vanity room?

From Wonwoo’s vantage point in the study, he has a direct view into the master bedroom, where you’re settling yourself into a fresh pair of lingerie and the jumpsuit, which had been designed exclusively for you, for this occasion. The jumpsuit was perfect, made to look professional and yet classy, just as the event demanded, and in midnight blue, your favourite shade. You smiled while wearing it, your secretary had truly learnt your style well and ordered the perfect outfit for you.

“I’ll be out in ten.” You can feel his eyes on your figure, even from the distance.

You’re too engrossed in fixing the zip on your back to notice Wonwoo leaning against the doorframe, his eyes fixated on you.

“Do you need help?”

You give him a look. There’s that semi-permanent smirk lingering on his face, he knows he’s pushing your buttons. Outside of sex, you would never ask for help. In fact, you wouldn’t ask Wonwoo for anything. What could he do for you that you couldn’t do yourself?

He doesn’t say anything else, he quietly steps in and takes grip of the zip. After pulling it up, he doesn’t say a word, carefully watching you wear your scanty makeup. It could be a little creepy, but you surprisingly don’t mind. Or perhaps you just don’t care.

“Ah fuck. I forgot to bring the lip gloss.”

“But you just wore lipstick?”

“No,” you turn around and outside of Wonwoo’s periphery. Slipping your feet into your heels and putting on the earrings that had also been sent by your secretary, you told him, “The lip-plumping one. It makes my lips look nice. Well, nicer. They’re already quite pretty, as I’ve been told.” You hear Wonwoo scoff behind you, and you turn around to face him.

“Well, how do I look?”

His hands are in his pockets, his shirt buttons are halfway opened and his hair is messy, but he still looks better than you do after all this effort.

“They’ll love you.”

You smile. That’s more than enough feedback from Jeon Wonwoo. He doesn’t have to praise you outside sex if he can’t do it while fucking.

“They always do.”

And they do. The photographers, the journalists, the social elites, the ministers, their wives, their mistresses, the chaebols, their heirs, and their bastards. Everyone loves you. How could they not? You’re perfect in every way possible. At twenty six, you’re at the height of your life- young, charming and intelligent, everybody wants you. Ever since you took your father’s already prospering business to new heights four years ago, straight out of grad school, by introducing Korea to the world of AI like they’d never seen before. The industry had not just been disrupted by your introduction of AI to the field of healthcare and diagnosis, but also awed by the sheer magnanimity of your creations. You hadn’t spent years perfecting your ideas in vain.

Everyone wants a little bit of your time, a little word with you, slipping in a plea and a pickup line in the same tone, and you love the attention they throw at you. Honestly, this is where you were born to be. The spotlight is where you deserve to belong.

But eventually, the crowd dissipates, leaving you walking towards the bar looking for a martini, arm looped into the arm of your sister. “Y/N-ah, I tell you, let’s go to Jeju this weekend! The weather is perfect now- not too hot, not too cold. The forecast also recommends visiting now!” She tugs at your arm playfully, and you smile fondly. She knows your answer, but she never stops trying. “And what about your husband?” “I need a break from him, please. He’s getting on my nerves!” “Darling, it’s your hormones.” She slaps your wrist. “No! Stop saying that. Kyungmin says the exact same thing, in the exact same tone! It’s so annoying. Stop ganging up against me! Anyway it’s not my fault I’m pregnant. The least he can do is take care of me. If he can’t take care of me now, how is he going to be trained to become a father? Huh? How will he take care of our daught-” “You don’t even know that.” “I do. I have a feeling.” “You can just say you want a girl, you know. There’s nothing called ‘a feeling’.” “Damn it. Just because you have a trash sixth sense doesn’t mean you can dismiss mine, my intuition never goes wrong!”

And you’ve reached the bar, and the bartender serves you your drinks- just a virgin mojito for your sister though. “The canapes are great.” “Hmm… But I’m craving oranges! That’s why we should go to Jeju, yah!” “Unnie, you’ve gotta stop. Don’t excite yourself more than you need to. Do you want orange juice?” “No, eww. Not this artificial flavour.” “If you really want to go to Jeju, take Kyungmin Oppa and go. Don’t ask for me- I’ll never be able to keep up with your tantrums.” “Hmm. That is true. Now that you mention him, I suddenly miss him. For all my complaints, I still love him though-” You giggle at the sudden sappy tone of your sister, tuning out parts of her endless chatter, while your eyes search for someone in the crowds.

Jeon Wonwoo stands out, so he’s easy to find.

He’s wearing the same suit he’d worn earlier, not changed like he had told you. He looks tired and yet, good. Before you realise it, he’s looking back at you, and walking towards where the two of you are standing.

“Oh! Wonwoo-yah! How have you been?” Your sister asks, ever friendly. She’s the only one in the family who doesn’t show that the Jeon and Y/L/N families are rivals in business and hence, avoid speaking to each other. That norm wasn’t broken by you. To be fair, even the nights you spent together had very little conversation. No orgasm-induced dopamine could break through the wall of your egos to encourage you to be friendly with each other. Hell, outside of the bedroom, Wonwoo isn’t even attractive enough to catch your eye.

“Hmm, I’m good, Noona. I see your baby is growing fast. How many weeks left?” His tone is courteous, formal, and sweet. Makes you want to laugh at how different he sounds from the usual voice you hear him speak in.

“About eleven weeks to go. This trimester has been killing me, I swear. I’ve told Kyungmin I don’t want any more kids. Ever. I don’t think I can go through this again, and I haven’t even gotten to the pain of delivery yet. I don’t even know if I can go back to skating after this.”

You scoff. “As if. First get over your never-ending honeymoon period. Then talk about not having any more kids.”

“I support Y/N here. The company will need an heir, and I don’t see anyone else providing any.”

You sigh. There he goes. You roll your eyes at him, “An heir doesn’t have to be through blood relation. Merit exists. But then how can I explain this to someone whose existence is owed to nepotism.”

“Rich of you to say so.”

You take a step closer to Wonwoo, too riled up by the calm way he’s speaking. “I’ve built my world from the ground. From level zero. I haven’t just sat on a throne that was presented to me.”

“Forever the brat, huh? Running your mouth even in public, begging me to shut it?” You notice that Wonwoo has also come closer to you, and you can smell the cologne off him. He’s a solid four inches taller than you, even when you’re wearing heels. But you stare right back into his eyes, yours angry and his cold and superior, as usual. You wonder for the n-th time if his blood even runs warm. You’re tempted to retort back, disgusted by the below-the-belt remark, going off-topic, but your sister’s gently pulling your arm, reminding you that you’re in public. “Back off. Don’t make a scene, guys. Let’s not ruin the evening?” She puts on her best smile to calm you down, and you step away, seething in vain. Wonwoo’s smirk never leaves his face as you two bow and walk away. The way he’s looking at you reminds you of other memories.

You suddenly wonder if your sister had heard the comment or not. Considering her though, probably not. Thank god it was her and not someone else.

The rest of the party flows seamlessly. You’re spiralling slightly in your head though- overthinking can’t be avoided. The way Wonwoo was successful in riling you up has shocked you, to say the least. There have been a thousand such instances, but you don’t remember losing your temper to this extent in any of the situations. But somehow, Wonwoo talking about you not being interested to have children vexed you so much? It just didn’t add up.

It’s the first time you’re doubting your current situation. You’d been absolutely convinced that settlement between the two of you was more to your benefit than his. It wasn’t like you had a dearth of men wanting to fuck you. It was quite the opposite. But a few scandals and rumours had taught you that keeping your private life discreet was the optimal choice. Especially if you were a woman and people simply assumed you’d sucked someone’s dick to get ahead in life.

But the arrangement with Wonwoo was so perfect. He wanted discretion, so did you. He didn’t want to get involved with a random hookup who could get pregnant, you didn’t want a random hookup to get you pregnant. He wanted someone to match his wavelength, and you needed a vent for your stress. Now that you consider the drastic improvement in your energy and efforts, in retrospection, becoming Jeon Wonwoo’s submissive had been the best decision of your life.

It had begun quite suddenly. At your sister’s engagement party. Everyone was delighted with the new couple, especially you. Your sister had never shown any desire to join the company, satisfied with following her passion of ice skating. And now she was getting married to her boyfriend of five years, the love of her life, and everyone was left fondly jealous of the pure happiness on her face, even you.

Perhaps it was because of this jealousy that you’d decided to flirt with Wonwoo at the after-party. Against your better judgement, you’d drifted towards him by the end of the night, until your knees were touching on the barstools, and he was leaning back looking over your figure again and again. I was wondering which spot would be ideal for me to bite first- your collarbones, your cleavage, your thighs or your belly button, he would tell you later. God knows why you’d suddenly decided to find him attractive after fifteen years of knowing each other, but that was it. You’d ended up in a hotel bed that night, fucked until tears ran down your cheeks, begging him to go harder and faster whenever he slowed down to look at the mascara dripping down your face, leaving hickeys all over the soft skin of your breasts, not letting you rest of a second of the night, going at it till dawn.

“Wonwoo… I can’t…” you’d begged, your words muffled through your panties stuffed into your own mouth, the overstimulation hitting you hard as you squirmed against his tongue fucking his cum back into your pussy. “You can, sweetheart, give me another one… hmm? Do you want to be a good girl?”

And you had let loose. Given yourself up to him, to make or break you, as he wanted, and then put you together one by one as the sun rose up in the sky as you’d drifted to sleep. The next afternoon, you’d woken up feeling like a new person, and decided it was the best night of your life. The man in question was nowhere to be seen, but you didn’t care. The bliss ran too deep.

Sadly, not deep enough. The overthinking kicked in a few hours later, and you cussed yourself for becoming so easy for an undeserving man like Wonwoo. Just because he’d made you cum and given you a good time didn’t mean you’d go against your rational thoughts. In a way, he was no better than your best dildo. Except you liked your dildo. You simply did not like Jeon Wonwoo. The arrogant brat had been the type of man you’d avoided all of your life. You hadn’t seen him work hard in school, and now that he had inherited his father’s company, you didn’t see him work any harder either. Sure, Jeon Estates was doing better than ever, but that was only because the economy was booming and the housing market was doing well. He had done nothing extra. Unlike you, who had built your world yourself. You’d never taken your father’s prosperity as complacency, and strived to make a name for yourself. And now people knew of Y/L/N Corporation as synonymous to both your father’s name and your name.

And you had, like a silly stupid girl, gone and slept with this very man.

And you had liked it.

That was the worst bit. An accidental hookup would have been fine. But no, you wanted to sleep with him every night, if it meant he’d treat you to the same feast you’d blissed out on last night. There was a certain happiness in giving up to him, letting go of the constant worries that burdened you down, and allowing him to take control, but god knows how you ended up trusting him so much in bed.

Anyway, you reconciled with yourself, it’s just a one-time thing. It’s not like it’s going to happen again.

You were wrong. Jeon Wonwoo had picked you up that evening and taken you directly to his house.

“What did you want to talk about that you couldn’t do in your car?”

“The chauffeur was there.”

“It’s not a big deal, Jeon. You can just say that you regret last night, cause honestly, same. Don’t want to dwell on it.” You were in a rush to leave, because you didn’t want to think about the memories in this same house the night ago.

“Are you sure?”

His question had taken you aback, as he watched you with his hawk eyes, licking his lips.

“Y/N, I … couldn’t tell you in my car that I didn’t regret it. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

You’re speechless, waiting for him to continue, as he took another step forward.

“Wonwoo, I… you know this is a bad idea.”

“I do,” he chuckles darkly. “You look like a bad idea, as I’ve known for years now. But when I see you wearing that hideous turtleneck to hide the hickeys and that tiny skirt that leaves nothing to the imagination, I keep remembering the way you submitted to me last night. For all your big talk and your attitude, you obey pretty easily, huh?”

You stand up, indignant. “Wonwoo, you can’t use that against me. Listen I know we’re not friends-”

“Be my submissive. I want, no fuck, I need you. You’re perfect.” He’s standing an inch away from you, bending his neck gently to look into your eyes. His mask slips for a second. A million emotions flit through your brain, and you’re deliriously begging for your intelligence to kick in, but there’s something about the subtly layered desperation in Wonwoo’s voice that makes you curious.

“What are your terms?”

You look at Wonwoo across the dining table. He looks as put-together as ever, not a hair out of place, as he converses with the middle aged-men sitting next to him while eating dinner. He quickly notes your glance and looks back, and you turn your eyes away before he catches the blush along your cheeks.

No, there’s nothing wrong with the arrangement. It works perfectly in your favour. As long as nobody knows.

You’re wrapping up a meeting with the board members of the company, when you get a call on your phone. It’s Wonwoo. Excusing yourself from the meeting, you pick up the call while walking back to your office.

“Hello?”

“Are you going to the Paris Conclave?”

The invitation for the event had arrived just that evening, the first time they were inviting your company. It had made you gush with excitement, happy that you’d been able to take your company to this prestigious conclave. Moreover, this would be the first time you’d be visiting Paris, one of the few dream destinations of your life. Due to a packed professional schedule, you had hardly been able to travel for the past few years, and the thought of going to Paris made you naturally happy.

“Yes, of course. Getting fomo? I can get a croissant back home for you.”

“I can get my own. See you there.”

He cuts the call.

What was that? He’s going to the conclave as well? That’s impossible. Jeon Estates had never been invited before this-

“Jisung-ah.” You call for your secretary, who appears at your side quickly. “Has the Jeon Estates been invited to the conclave?”

“Ma’am, I- why, yes. I hadn’t checked the list for their name.” His voice drops as he speaks, mirroring the disappointment rising in you too. So, it wasn’t only you who had been invited for the first time.

Fucking Jeon Wonwoo. Even had to call you to rub it in, the nerve.

“Well, we’ll just have to outshine them there. I’m sure we shall. Please organise a meeting with the team leaders and managers today so that we can get the presentations perfected.”

Your secretary bows to you and leaves you alone in your office.

Paris comes sooner than you had thought, and you’re bursting with excitement. Nervousness too, a little bit. But your confidence isn’t so easy to rattle. You’ve picked out your choicest outfits for the trip, hellbent on making it memorable. You’ve even kept a few days extra in hand to allow you free time to travel the city.

You had asked your sister if she’d wanted to come along, but she had said that her doctor hadn’t deemed it safe for her to travel by airplane now. “I’m so jealous! But there’s nothing to be done.” “Go with your husband and your baby afterwards.” You’d kissed her forehead when bidding the final goodbyes before leaving for Paris.

There was just one little worry worming through your brain. Not even a worry, just an irk. Jeon Wonwoo would also be there. You’d have to compete again for the spotlight. As if the jerk deserved to be there.

“Ma’am, do you want to go through your speech once more?” Jisung asked you from the seat next to you. You smiled, the younger man was definitely nervous by the look on his face. “Why, are you scared I’ll forget? You know I take vitamins every day to strengthen my memory.” “I do, but-” “Don’t worry. Don’t let anxiety deter you from forming the memories of the fun times you’ll be enjoying there!”

Fun.

As if. Jisung knew well enough that you rarely had time for fun, and consequently, neither did he. He saw you overwork yourself every day, staying at the office till late, obsessed with perfection, ensuring no loose ends were visible. Even if you tried your best to send him home when his work time ended, he wanted to stay back out of compassion for you. He was truly the best secretary you could’ve asked for. He was godsent- he’d learnt your habits and your thinking process within days, and soon he produced documents and answers before you asked for them, pre-empting your thoughts. After working with you for three years, he was good enough to be your clone- that’s why you sent him to many events and meetings as your representative if you couldn’t make it. You knew he’d handle it as well as you would, and report all the key details to you at the end of the day.

“Yes, Ma’am. I hope it all passes well. We’ve all worked hard.”

“And hard work always pays off, you know that Jisung-ah. Now, sleep quickly so that we’re not tired due to jet lag once we land there.”

They’ve assigned Wonwoo a seat next to you at the conference table. As if seeing his face here wasn’t bad enough.

“Will you never leave me alone?”

He scoffs, “Me? You’ve been at my tail since you were a kid.”

“Oh shut up. Inside school, outside school, at parties, at funerals, at my graduation, at my sister’s wedding, you’re always fucking there. And now you’re here, to steal the spotlight. Not that you can anyway. Don’t try too hard Jeon, you’ll just look pathetic.”

“It’s funny how vain you are. You think I have any desire to steal your spotlight? Go ahead, be the talk of the party, by all means.”

“And I will! I don’t need your permission for it.”

“Hmm-”

The rest of his words get tuned out as the convenor of the conference begins their speech. You turn your eyes towards them, but you can feel Wonwoo’s eyes burning on you.

“What did you say?” You whisper to him.

“Never mind. Do you want to go out tonight?”

“Go out?” You turn your head towards him, leaning in, incredulous.

“For dinner.”

You almost burst out laughing. “And pray, why would I go with you?”

He scrunches his nose and pushes up his glasses. “You’re going to miss out on seeing the Eiffel Tower?”

“No. In fact, I have plans on going today myself. But you didn’t tell me why I’d-”

“Come with me.” He turns his face away from you, his expression cold and unreadable.

“Hell nah. We don’t know each other, okay? Just because we’re both newcomers here does not mean we have to maintain solidarity or any of that shit.��

“You’ll regret it, sweetie.”

“I regret nothing.”

“We’ll see.”

“Jisung-ah! You were scared for nothing. That presentation was flawless.”

“Yes Ma’am. I know our team always works hard, but the nerves never stop,” the young man looks much fresher after the conference wraps up for the day, his tie undone slightly. You can easily understand how his mood changes reflect in his facial expressions and attitude after the long hours you spend with each other on a daily basis.

“Are you still up for going to the Eiffel Tower tonight? I’m planning on skipping the post-conference dinner. But if you want to stay, I won’t force you to come with me.”

“No Ma’am, I was thinking…” he hesitates, but you raise your eyebrows to urge him to continue. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to visit the Eiffel Tower again, so I do want to go with you … but after that I’d like to go to one of the clubs in the nightlife zones? I’ve heard from friends that the Paris nightlife is crazy.”

“Ooh!” You pat him on the back, “Yes please Jisung, finally you’ve started to act your age. Go, be young and wild, I’ll cheer for you!”

“You won’t come along?”

“Oh no. I’m way too old for that. Plus I never was into the club scene. And for real, you should go out and enjoy without me sometimes. People will start thinking I’m your girlfriend.”

Jisung opens his mouth to say something, but ends up just smiling shyly. “Okay Ma’am. Then should we leave for the Eiffel at 7 pm?”

“Yes. Pick me up from my suite then.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Sorry Ma’am, the Eiffel Tower has been booked out for the evening. It’s been a really sudden booking, and we’re sorry for the inconvenience, but it’s just been booked out completely by a private party and no external visitors are allowed.”

You’re wearing your best white silk Gucci dress, the one you spent your entire salary on as soon as it was released at last year’s Fashion week, and a stunning Cartier necklace, ready to spend the best evening of your life atop the Eiffel Tower, savouring life at its finest… but no. Some jerk just had to book it for this evening.

You slide up to the lady at the front desk, whose bored expression does nothing to calm your nerves down. Jisung has tried his level best to convince her, but it’s failed. So you try the one thing you know always works.

“Ruth-” you see her name from her name tag pinned on her chest. “I can outbid the private party.”

“I’m sorry Ma’am, I didn’t get you.”

You laugh, a careful measured laugh, to hide your irritation at having to say it again. “I said, I can pay you more than whatever the private party’s booked it at. I just want ten minutes. Isn’t it a win-win situation for all of us? Ten minutes for me, and your private client can enjoy it for the rest of the night.”

Ruth smiles, pitifully. Wretched woman, she’s clearly not affected by your offer. This is what seeing too many rich people in a day does to a person, it immunes them to bribe, you think. Well, it’s her loss.

“I’m sorry Ma’am, but we really cannot accept your offer. It’s against our rules-”

“Let me speak to your manager, Ruth. Trust me, when they hear my name, they’ll let me in,” you smile again, attempting to remain amicable instead of bursting out into the wildest Korean slang.

Ruth smiles again, “You are, currently, speaking to the Manager here, Ma’am. We simply cannot allow any external visitors tonight. Can we book a slot for you tomorrow? If you’d like to visit again, in the morning or later.”

Jisung tries to interject, but he sounds resigned. He seems intimidated by Ruth, and frankly speaking, you get it. He’s just twenty four and spends over thirteen hours in a day with you, so he’s not used to snarky women. Well, apart from you, and you’re never snarky to him.

“Ruth, my dear. I’m Y/N Y/L/N, I’m here at the Paris Conclave.” You say your name solemnly, expecting it to have the same effect it has in Korea, but alas, the woman remains untouched as ever. “I’m dreadfully sorry Ma’am- wait, did you say Y/N Y/L/N?” Your smile becomes wider. Oh so it does have the intended effect. “So you finally will let me in, huh? You do know who I am.”

Suddenly Ruth’s demeanour changes and she’s smiling pleasantly. “Oh Ma’am, the private client has specially informed us to allow you in. Only you.” “I’m sorry, what? Why would they suddenly ask for me-” “Mr. Jeon told us that you would be here. I’m so sorry for the miscommunication, Ms. Y/L/N-”

“Mr. Jeon?!” You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, you bitch. Aloud you say, “Mr. Wonwoo Jeon?” “Yes Ma’am. He’s booked the entire place for the evening. He has been waiting for you too,” Ruth smiles graciously, doing nothing to relieve your confusion. “There has been a mistake. I don’t think he meant me. We’ll leave now-” “Ma’am, I’m sure there’s no confusion now. Mr. Jeon asked us to bring you up as soon as you arrived. We’re sorry to keep you standing here on your date night.” “Date night? This is ridiculous. Wonwoo and I are not-” Jisung whispers into your ears right at moment, noticing your bloodshot wide eyes, “Ma’am, I think there’s no point fighting with them on this,” he says in Korean. “This lady seems adamant, and you shouldn’t miss out on an opportunity to visit the Eiffel Tower when it’s lit up so prettily. Even if it is with Mr. Jeon,” you wince at his suggestion, and he smiles apologetically. He’s right, you realise.

“Okay, but Jisung comes with me.”

“I’m sorry Ma’am.” Oh I’ve had enough of your sorries. “No one except you are to be allowed up.”

“Wow. First you say no external visitors. Now suddenly I’m allowed and Jisung is not-”

“Ms. Y/L/N, these are simply instructions from my client.”

Jisung bites his lip and says, “Well I guess it’s not written in my fate then. Ma’am, don’t miss out on my account. Please enjoy. I’ll just go downtown and waste the night away. I’ll see you tomorrow then? Please make sure to eat dinner!” You’re seconds away from whining and pulling another tantrum, but Jisung whispers fighting to you in his soft indulgent tone that he uses on you whenever you’re being a brat and he needs to take care of you. And then he’s gone, and you have no option but to face Ruth. That bloody woman. “Welcome to the Eiffel Tower, Ma’am. Please accompany me as we take you to the top.”

At the top, Jeon Wonwoo stands with a glass of champagne in his left hand and his mobile phone in his right.

“If you’re going to work on your phone and not enjoy the view, why the fuck did you book this place out?”

You walk towards the man standing in the open air viewing area, and he smiles at you. The annoyingly handsome smile, where his eyes crinkle up, and his perfectly white teeth are revealed in a rare display.

“You came. I knew you’d come.”

“How so?” A server appears from nowhere and offers you champagne too, which you accept. You’ll soon switch to whisky though, to calm your nerves down.

“You’re easily predictable. You act like any other average tourist, although you pretend to be such a princess.”

“Everyone comes to visit Eiffel Tower on their first day in Paris, Wonwoo, there’s nothing weird about this-”

“Exactly. Average. Me? I personally prefer to see it from the window of my hotel, so that I can see it in its glory without experiencing this slight dizziness and bling of the night view.”

“You’re stupid. That’s why you have such stupid preferences. This night view? Priceless.”

“Let me inform you, darling, it cost me a hell lot to book this. So not priceless.”

You laugh, looking at Wonwoo, who’s leaning against the railing facing you, and then back at the gorgeous night view. The Champs Elysees looks glorious with the lights. You can sense Wonwoo leaning in closer. His cologne and perfume mix to create a dark, musky smell that’s new. You’ve never smelled this on him before. “Why did you book it? That’s what I've been asking since forever.”

“I want to fuck you against this railing.”

You choke on the champagne, before catching your breath and turning back to face him.

“What?”

“You heard me the first time.” He maintains eye contact, but in that cold, nonchalant way of his, like he didn’t just propose the most scandalous thing you’ve ever heard.

“Aren’t there cameras?”

“Will pay for them to be turned off.”

“That’s probably illegal.”

“I don’t care. I’ll pay enough. Plus, I’ve already located the blind spots.”

You take a deep breath. As ashamed as you are to admit this, it does turn you on. A lot. If Wonwoo would touch you under your dress, he’d find evidence of the same. Sex like this- in public, definitely the most outrageous thing you’ve done. But Wonwoo suggesting it? The fact that he booked this place out on a probability that you’d come and a hope that you’d agree to it? The more you think about it, the hotter your body feels. You can feel your nipples straining against your dress in the cold air, and your face turning red with imagination.

“If you don’t want it, we can just eat dinner and leave.” Wonwoo’s eyes have become impossibly gentler but also darker, like he’s seconds away from losing his control. His sight betrays his words as he keeps looking at your lips. Thank god I applied the lip plumper tonight, you think. But then his eyes go to your breasts, like the pervert he is, and he smirks at the sight of the two nubs pressing hard against the soft silk.

You shake your head.

“Say it.”

“I want it too.”

“Atta girl,” his smirk widens, before he leans in to capture your lips. It’s a rough kiss, nothing romantic like one would expect atop the Eiffel Tower, but it sets the right mood for the night. You realise that all servers have disappeared, and you’re perfectly alone, as his lips move down towards your neck, leaving beautiful hickeys along the way. “It was torture and heaven waiting for you. Knowing you’d come, but fearing you wouldn’t.” His hands take away your champagne glasses and place them on a table nearby, before bending you backwards on the railing, making your head zoom more with pleasure. What if I fall off? What if someone catches us like this? What if he takes a picture of me like this in front of the view, with my tits out and my lipstick ruined?

“No bra, huh? You’re so sexy in this dress, I want to fuck you in it. You mind that?” You’re panting as he keeps kissing you in between his words, tongue dominating yours right away. It’s like a switch flipped inside you. Just minutes ago, you were so against sharing the Eiffel Tower view with Wonwoo, and now you’re letting him fuck you here. It drives you crazy.

“Wonwoo just- I don’t care, I need you now.” He bites all over your shoulder, slipping down the straps to grope your breasts in the rough-handed manner you like, sure to leave bruises with the way he kneads them while leaving open-mouthed kisses on your collarbone.

“Just because we’re out in the open doesn’t mean you forget your bedroom manners.” He bites down on your nipple, surely missing his favourite clamps back home, and you squirm in his iron grip.

“Sir please!”

“That’s better, sweetheart. But what do you want?”

“C-Co-” he alternates his bites with little kitten licks, looking up at you. “Articulation, baby. Speak up.” “Want your cock, in my m- mouth, Sir!” He pulls away from you, leaving the cold air to tease your bruised nipples, and laughs. Fucking laughs, but it turns you on again. “If you insist.”

He takes off his belt and ties your hands behind your back, and then pushes your shoulder down and you fall to your knees, and he stands back, tall. “Oh, what a pretty sight,” he sighs, taking in the night sky view, and then looks down at you, but makes no move to open his pants. You assume you’ll have to take care of it yourself, so you attempt to open the zipper with your teeth. It’s not particularly difficult, but in the process you get some drool over Wonwoo’s cock over his pants. “Tch. Dirty girl, drooling everywhere,” he wipes away the drool from the edge of your lips, before you slot your mouth against his erection, now free from his underwear and pants which have slid down his legs. It’s not as hard as it gets during sex, but that’s what you’re here for. Nothing but a slut for him to use. Your ankles burn against your heels in this position, but it’s okay. You’re losing your mind as you swallow his sheath inch-by-inch, until you feel his skin against your nose, and you stay like that for a second, easing out your gag reflex. But before you can move, Wonwoo thrusts deep into your throat, eyes not leaving yours. It makes you roll your eyes, the pleasure of the surprise way more than the pain, and makes you crave for more. He slowly wraps his hands around your head, a strong broad support for you to rest in, and continues to ram his dick inside your mouth. Your body becomes limp as you slowly surrender to his actions, your mind blank, except a crazy wanton desire to please him and make him cum. You’re too sex-crazed right now to reason out why only Wonwoo elicits this reaction from you.

But then his dick gets rock hard, and right when its weight becomes the best and warmest around your throat, wet with saliva and pre-cum, he pulls out. You can’t frame words instantly, but you whine. “Ah, Wo- I- pl- co- please…” He laughs cockily at your state, and you blush with shame at the way you’re acting. “Get up,” he walks away from you, leaving you to your own devices to stand up in those heels.

It strikes you yet again, just how open this all is. Anyone can walk in. The security guard may be jerking off watching this on the security cameras, and you won’t lie, it’s hot as fuck. The thought of Wonwoo and your activities being porn for someone else- oh fuck.

Wonwoo sits on a couch meant for visitors on the balcony. “Come baby,” he beckons, and you sit on his lap. His cock is still hard, leaking pre-cum, and you’re tempted to lick it off, but you won’t make a move until he tells you to. You can’t disobey him now- if he spanks you in punishment, you won’t be able to walk to the conference tomorrow.

“Spit on it.” And you do. Wonwoo likes your spit, for some reason, and you wordlessly obey. Then he pulls out something from his pocket, and you realise- “No Sir! Please, not the paddle today!” It’s a folded paddle, the pocket-friendly one you can buy at cheap sex stores. “I need to walk tomorrow, I can’t if you spank me-” “But you’ve been so naughty. Begging for my cock in a public place like the little slut you are. Not accepting my invitation to come up here and making me wait for so long. Turning my offer for dinner down at the conference this morning,” You try to protest, but he simply inserts his thumb into your mouth, and you instinctively start sucking on it. “Now be pretty, and let Sir show you your place.” While you’re still distractedly sucking the thumb, you don’t even realise when he’s lifted the back of your dress and the paddle hits the ass flesh exposed by your thong. “Count.” “One,” you whimper out, not wanting his thumb to slip out of your mouth. The spanks continue, alternating on ass. He can alternate between asses and keep the same pressure just by one hand, the other holding up your dress, his hands big enough to cover your entire ass cheek. The spanks burn more after the moment’s relief due to the cold air, and by the time you reach twenty, your knees have given up, and you’re drooling on Wonwoo’s shoulder.

“Don’t make a mess. Sit up straight.” As you do so, he asks you, putting away the paddle and tucking your hair behind your ears. “Have you learnt how to behave? Or do you need another reminder?” You fervently shake your head, but he whispers in his insanely sexy tone, “Words.” It makes you shiver, and you respond, “Yes Sir. I’ll not misbehave, Sir.” He smirks, and leans back. “Now ride me like you mean your words, darling.”

You don’t need another command. You sit down on his dick quickly, ready to take the burn without any prep, because you’re already leaking down your thighs. He grips your hips with one hand, steadying you, and cards his other hand through your hair. As you begin bouncing down on him, he shudders and releases low grunts, but nothing breaks his composure. He never once whispers Good Girl, as you cum once, but you still keep riding him to ensure he reaches his climax. Somewhere after your orgasm, he starts thrusting up from below to meet your efforts, and it brings him closer to his orgasm as he scrunches his nose and closes his eyes. When he does spurt inside you, he whispers softly enough that you almost miss it, “Fucking gorgeous.”

That’s enough praise for the night, you think to yourself, as you fall limply against his chest, nearly passed out from the strain, his cock still spasming inside of you. He soothes your hair, and you fall asleep.

“Ma’am? Ma’am? Please wake up! We’re running late. Ma’am? Ms. Y/L/N?” You open your eyes blearily to see Jisung shaking you lightly. Slowly you come to your senses, and you can hear his voice louder, and see the desperation in his face clearly.

Fuck.

What have you done?

“How late am I?”

“Not too bad, Ma’am,” Jisung scrunches his nose as he looks at the clock on your bedside table. “We have twenty minutes to go.”

“Fuck!” You scramble out of bed, not even bothering to check if you’re clothed, and make your way to the washroom. There’s a pain growing in your head, and it’s only when you see yourself in the mirror that you realise that you’re wearing a t-shirt and shorts. What even happened last night? The last thing you remember, as you try to recollect while quickly brushing your teeth, washing your hair and hopping into the shower all at the same time, is that you had passed out on Wonwoo’s shoulder. Then the world had gone blank. Fucked into oblivion, truly. He must have brought you into your room. Oh fucking hell, he owed you at least that much.

By the time you wrapped your bathing suit around you and walked back into your bedroom, Jisung was gone, but your outfit and shoes were laid out on the bed and there was a note, I’ll pack some breakfast for you, Ma’am. Please come down directly to the conference hall. Thank god for Jisung, that was one prayer you said everyday. He’d been partying too last night, hadn’t he? And yet, he had responsibly made it on time and woken you up as well. You were getting too irresponsible, too lax. Your discipline was gone and you mentally bashed yourself for it. All because of that stupid Wonwoo.

After that, it doesn’t take much time for you to get dressed. Jisung must’ve noticed the hickeys on your neck, and brought you a jacket with lapels and a collar high enough to hide most of the marks. You quickly tied a scarf around your neck, making it look fashionable by adding colour to the otherwise beige monotone outfit, and praised yourself mentally for looking this good even without makeup. Dabbing on some lip balm in the elevator, you quickly reached the conference hall, finding yourself a minute late. Again, thank god for Jisung, the boy had reserved your seat, made excuses on your behalf and kept a croissant and coffee ready at your seat, so that everyone greeted you with kind smiles.

Except Wonwoo, who had that unreadable expression again.

Must be pathetic, living like him. What worth was a face like that if it couldn’t express anything?

Four days later, you land in Incheon amidst the wildest of storms the country has faced in the year. You won’t admit it, but you’re glad you travelled in your private jet, where you can close all windows down and wrap yourself up in a blanket burrito to drown out all signs of the storm. You wish storms didn’t exist, and you wish no one would have to see you in this weak state. Not Wonwoo for sure.

After that first day in Paris, the two of you had barely interacted. Primarily, you were too ashamed to speak to him. How could you smile and talk normally to someone after getting railed by them on the Eiffel Tower, especially when that same someone was annoying as fuck in reality? Sure, eye contact had been made several times, over dinners, over the conference tables, when you’d been on the stage presenting, and when running into each other in the corridor. But words? You possibly couldn’t. It’d be too much for the fragile self-respect you’d been holding on to.

You really want to avoid him once you’re back in Seoul as well. The workload seems to have tripled in the few days you were away, with endless tiny emergencies and approvals pending to be resolved. You’re again thankful for Jisung, but there’s only so much the poor boy can do. You make it a point to send him home soon after his scheduled timing every day, but you can’t say the same for yourself.

It’s the fifth night of you eating ramen from a cup noodles pack and sipping on apple juice from a 1 litre tetra pack, that you finally give up on the abstention. It’s a hard decision, but somehow, your overworked brain and sleep-deprived body leads you to one craving, and one craving only.

Thirty minutes later, Jeon Wonwoo arrives at your office. He’s been to your office only rarely, as you both prefer to meet up outside professional areas, but in the darkness of the empty office, he can easily recognise your brightly-lit room. He’s dressed in formals too, as if he’s just got off work himself, and you think he may be in the same boat as you. But definitely not as much as you- you’re a perfectionist who looks over everything yourself, Wonwoo doesn’t even come close for sure.

“It’s one of those nights, huh?”

He gently opens the door and walks in. Everything about him seems to be delicate today: perhaps it’s because his shirt is damp from the rain he’s surely walked in, his hair is wet and falling over his eyes, and his tie is gone. His jacket is soon gone too, dropped off on the couch, and he takes off his shoes. They’re leaving slightly muddy footprints, and you wonder if Wonwoo even drove and came or just ran like a peasant.

“How’s work treating you?”

“Stop wolfing down that ramen, it’s not healthy. Not as bad as you, as I see. I finished up hours ago,” his eyes don’t meet yours, and you know it’s a lie. It’s one of the signs of lying, as you’ve picked up over the years. Wonwoo rarely breaks eye contact while speaking, always honest, and his lie is really odd to you right now. Why would he lie to you about this?

“I was wondering, if…” you stand up from your desk, taking in the figure of the man sitting on your couch now, manspreading and head leaning back. He’s tired, why did he lie about getting off early?

“Come here, princess.”

That’s all it takes, and you sit on his lap and wait for his lips to meet yours. He indulges you in your wish, and immediately the tension in your body eases out. Along with the stress of work, you’d been even more worried that he’d bring up your last night together, and you’d get too ashamed to remain turned on. But he doesn’t, and you’re glad. You let your lips be bitten by him, but then he soothes over the burns with his tongue. He tastes like candy, and you tell him the same.

“Hmm, low sugar.”

Then he picks you up and gently walks over to your desk, holding you in the same bridal pose without even a muscle flinching. With one hand, he clears the laptop sitting atop your desk to the coffee table, and swipes the rest of the clutter on the floor. It would’ve made you angry otherwise, but you’re already entering subzone with the way he’s handling you. Lips still locked on yours, holding you in that pose with just one hand as you hold on to his shoulders for dear life, it’s a crazy show of strength and you’re getting incredibly turned on by it. You let yourself go, giving it up to this person, who seems to be so reliable, so strong, so manly.

As he lays you down on the desk, he takes off your trousers and underwear in one go, and sits down on the chair you usually sit on.

“You’re so wet, so dirty. Did you touch yourself after texting me to come over?” Your pussy is at his eye level, and you’re looking down at him, his eyes menacing and beautiful at the same time. His question makes you squirm, as you reply, “Of course not.” Then there’s a slap across your cunt, and you whine. “Manners?” “Of course not, Sir.” “Liar,” he smirks, and dives headfirst into your cunt.

It’s a treat he rarely gives you. Only when he’s very happy with you- like after you’ve taken thirty spanks, or you’ve eaten dinner with him while having a vibrator stuffed up your cunt, or you’ve let him wash you in the shower (for some reason, Wonwoo likes that a lot. He ties you up to these poles he’s attached in his bathroom, and plays with your body by applying as much oil and soap he wants, making sure not to touch your pussy for hours, denying every release to you even as it builds up just from the oversensitivity of having your nipples and ass played with).

You wonder why he’s so happy.

But you can’t care enough, now that his tongue is working so hard against your clit. The sensation makes you lose all rational thought, as you lean back against the desk, mind empty, and just moaning his name. You remember the first few times he’d fucked you with your mouth gagged, but then he’d told you he likes your sounds way too much, so you’d stopped controlling them too. He gets what he wants. After all, only he can fuck you so well.

“Wonwoo, please-” He moves his head up, licking his lips which are glistening with your slick. “How do you address me baby?” “S-sorry! Sir, please I-” “Hmm?” He leans back in, humming against your clit. His tongue now moves to your hole, nose brushing against your clit. “Can I come? Like this? May I? Please?” When he moves away again for breath, he removes his hands from your thighs, and you see the red marks he’s left there just by how tight he was gripping them. It’s a wild sight, and your climax hits you right then, coming before he could answer. “So impatient, coming all over my face even when I’ve told you not to come without my permission.” But even his scolding sounds gentle tonight, softly chiding rather than his usual harsh coldness. In your post-orgasm clarity, you wonder again what’s gotten into him.

He licks away your cum, and it makes you burn with overstimulation. “Uhhhhh, please-please Sir!” “Stay still.” His hands are back at your thighs, spreading them apart, and he seems hellbent on getting another orgasm from you. Your screams are louder this time, and you’re growing even more desperate to get something bigger to fill you up. You wrap your hands in his hair, and tug unconsciously while he keeps licking at your pussy. His entire face is hazy with your slick, thank god he’d taken off his glasses earlier, but he doesn’t care. He keeps diving in.

“Sir, please, I’m going- uhhhh,” he pulls away instantly and smacks your cunt hard. “No coming until I allow you to. Let Sir have his treat.” “Please Sir I’ll be so good, I promise, I- please let me, just this once.” Another smack, and you’re screaming. Thank heavens the office is empty.

“Do you not understand my words? Should I retrain you?”

“No! I’m sorry. I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Hmm, you better be,” and this time he doesn’t just lick your pussy, but also starts entering two fingers alongside his tongue, hitting your g-spot almost instantly. You’re whining yet again, losing your breath, but everytime you’re about to come, he pulls away. You can’t figure out how he realises, but soon two hours pass by, and you’re still being edged. Your legs are shaking, and you can’t think straight. You just want more of his fingers, you want his cock, inside your mouth, your cunt, hell, you just want to orgasm once.

“Girl, stop moving. You’re so filthy, dripping like this. What would your boytoy think if he saw you like this? Should I call him to clean this mess on your desk?” He’s curling his finger inside you, and it’s really hard forming words when you’re seeing stars like this.

“Sir, I-” “What’s his name? Jieun?” “Ji- Jisung. Aaah, please-” “Look at you begging. So pathetic. No wonder your secretary is so pathetic. He really likes you, you know?” Your eyes go wide, trying to register his words. “Why- why are you- how do you–” “Hush. I want to know, is he jerking off to you now? Thinking of how slutty you looked in those grey trousers, how perfect your ass looked? Bet you show off in front of him on purpose.” You’re squirming harder, not wanting to think about Jisung right now. “But- but daddy, I on- only want you!”

He laughs, then he leans in to whisper into your ear, “Daddy? That’s a first. Say it again.”

“Daddy, please! I only want your cock.”

“Really? So demanding, like a wife. But you’re just a slut. You’d do this to Jisung as well, won’t you?” “No! I swear- please. Daddy, just, it’s just you.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, I swear!” You nod feverishly, the sensation building up inside you again.

“Okay baby girl. Come for me. Come for daddy. Then I’ll take you home and fuck you good. This desk is too small.” You don’t need to be told twice. You gush all over his hands and some of your come ends up on your desk and his pants too, but he only chuckles. Licking off the come on his hands, he smiles. “You taste like sugar, sweetheart.”

The sheets you wake up in smell overwhelmingly like Wonwoo. The man is nowhere to be seen, but the blankets next to you are shuffled and the pillow has a dent, and you remember being caved by his warmth at night when the storm had hit Seoul again and you’d woken up for a second before falling asleep to the steady rise and fall of the chest wrapped around you.

You wake up slowly, adjusting your eyes to the sunlight. This isn’t the first time you’ve been in Wonwoo’s bedroom, but this is the first time you’ve slept over. Usually you leave, no matter how late it is. But it feels good. It feels oddly intimate.

Your legs burn when you walk, but you try to look for your clothes.

Your shirt is ripped again.

You strut out of the room after wearing your panties and bra, which is barely holding on to one hook remaining, and find the man standing in the open kitchen, wearing a tank top and sweatpants. He’s drinking coffee, and a book is in his hands.

“Wonwoo, you’ve torn my clothes again. How am I supposed to go home like this?”

He turns to face you, smiling and fixing his glasses, and standing up. He looks so good in the warmth of the sunlight falling on his golden skin. “You’re up.”

“Do you think I can keep buying new clothes?”

“Yes. Now, calm down. Do you-”

“Wonwoo!”

“For god’s sake, I can’t take your shit this early in the morning. You want to fight, please do. Not now. It’s too early. You just always find something up your ass and have to pick on me for nothing, huh?”

His smile has faded, and the warmth in your body seeps away. About time, though. You don’t want to start feeling safe in Wonwoo’s private space. It’s too intimate- waking up in his bed, seeing him walk around in sweatpants, drinking coffee he’s making for you. It’s too much.

“This has to stop, Wonwoo.”

“Okay, fine! I’ll not rip your shirts. Take my card and buy something-”

“This arrangement has to stop.”

He turns away from the coffee machine for a second, and stares at you. You walk towards him, and he looks even better up close. His tank top shows off his arms, and they look soft yet really firm. You want to touch-

“Why? Have I made you uncomfortable?”

“No, it’s not-”

“Do you want to date someone? You can, you know. I don’t care-”

“Wonwoo-”

“Did I hurt you? Was I too much last night?” he steps closer to you, furrowing his eyebrows in evident confusion, and you suddenly can’t breathe. His expression is very much readable and it only reads as one emotion- concern.

“Wonwoo, please.” You take a step back, hugging yourself with your arms.

“Does it hurt? I am sorry if it does-”

“It’s not your fault. It’s a me thing, I swear.”

His eyes become clouded by even more confusion, and you quietly walk away and sit down on the kitchen counter.

“This is becoming too much for me. I- I got into this arrangement thinking that it would be a good way to vent stress. But it’s toxic now- I can’t think of any other way to deal with stress except this. Don’t you notice how our meetings have become more frequent now, especially initiated from my end? In the last three months, I’ve initiated sex fifteen times, and you’ve only six times. You see? This has become my only solution now.”

Wonwoo doesn’t look at you, but he keeps wincing at your words as if he’s being hit physically. Then he responds, when you’re done, “That does sound like a you problem, like why-”

You slide off the counter with a huff, muttering Fucking jerk under your breath, but he catches your wrist before you can walk further away.

“Don’t touch me if you’re going to react like that. I fucking knew it, why did I even talk to you? I can just walk away, I didn’t even need to expose my weaknesses to you.”

He yanks you closer using your wrist. “This isn’t a war, Y/N. I don’t get off on knowing about your weaknesses, for fuck’s sake. Can you stop being paranoid?”

You sigh. You know you’re always paranoid around him- funny, because he’s seen you in more compromising positions than anyone else. If he wanted to blackmail you, or hurt you, by hitting your weaknesses, he would, you realise. Is that why you’ve learnt to feel so safe around him?

“I’m sorry I reacted like that, Y/N. Talk to me, let’s work this out together. Let’s set up a system to slow our meetings down if you like?”

You bite your lip, and look up at him. “How?”

“Umm, how about you start to find other sources for it? Like hanging out with friends? Developing hobbies?”

You huff again, twisting your hand out of his grip. “Wonwoo, if I had other sources, would I not use them?”

“Darl-”

“Don’t call me that! We’re not having sex right now.”

“Y/N. Take your time to find other sources, then. If I’m your only means of relieving stress, it is extremely toxic. You’ll become dependent on me, and-” his pupils shake, looking away from you, “you’ll find it tough to date and all. Been there. Done that. That’s why I can tell you this.”

You’re about to reply something, when your phone rings out in a shrill tone. Surprisingly, Wonwoo’s phone rings out at the same time too.

You jog into the bedroom to find your phone and pick it up. It’s your sister.

“Y/N-ie! You’re not at home?”

“No. Why? Are you coming over?”

“No, I just made Kyungmin drive us to your place to see your place is empty. Where are you?”

“Never mind where I am. Why did you come over?”

“Mum and Dad want us to have lunch with the Jeons,” you can hear her giggle. But you’re stunned. “With the Jeons? Now? Today? For what joy? Are we buying their company?” She giggles again, leaving you more frustrated. “You’ll find out. I’ll send you an address then, come over directly!” And she promptly ends the call, leaving you blank and confused. Your phone pings- there’s the address of a restaurant, and a message asking you to be there within an hour. You realise only now how late you’ve woken up, and you’re glad it’s a Sunday.

“Why am I eating lunch with your parents?” Wonwoo walks into the bedroom, that confused look on his face again. “I could literally ask you the same damn thing. What’s going on?” “Does it look like I’ve got a single clue, babe?” He smirks at your cluelessness, and walks into his ensuite bathroom, leaving you speechless. Did he just call me babe? You wonder, but then your mind flits back to the issue at hand.

“Wonwoo!” You scream at him from outside the bathroom. You’re sure he can hear you, so you don’t wait for a reply. “Yah! What am I supposed to wear? You’ve torn my clothes, you fucker!” Your stress levels are rising again. You’re going to have to go back home to wear something appropriate. You realise that you haven’t even brought your car. You’ll have to ask Wonwoo to drive you back. But fuck, what if your sister is still at your place? Then she’ll see you both coming together, and undoubtedly she’ll prod and poke you. Then you won’t be able to have the upper hand at lunch when Wonwoo signs his company over to you. But there’s no other option as well. Well, there is- you can always stop at a boutique or a shop to buy something and wear it on the go. But that’d mean you’d have to go out in this hideously ripped blouse of yours. Oh!

“Wonwoo! You dumbass! I hate you! What have you done now? Why are we going for this lunch? For god’s sake.”

“Stop screaming, woman.” The door suddenly opens, and a half-naked Wonwoo steps out, engulfed in the steam from what was definitely a very hot shower. You have to stop yourself from moaning out at the sight. It reminds you of the three times you’ve showered together, and you can’t help but think back to the vivid memories of those sessions.

“How can I stop screaming? I don’t even know what’s going on. You knew about this, didn’t you? Why are you so calm?” Wonwoo takes another step towards you, and he runs his hands along your arms. You shiver under his touch, realising you’re still wearing just your underwear. “Calm down. This isn’t a big deal, you’ve dealt with more serious issues. It’s just lunch.” “But it’s lunch with your family. I don’t even know why.” He presses a hand along your cheek, and you’re feeling even more conscious and nervous. Why? This is really unusual, because Wonwoo is right. You’ve been in worse emergencies. Why is this getting on your nerves? Probably because your periods are due this week. These are just your hormones.

“Just enjoy the food. You’re anyway good at ignoring me in public places, and you can do the same to my family too.”

You bite your lip, and shake your head. “I need fresh clothes.”

“Yeah okay. Get into the shower and clean yourself up. I’ll ask my secretary to send something over.” “What? How-” “I think she’s the same dimensions as you.” “Oh.” You step away from him, swallowing whatever words you had to say. “I’ll go into the shower then.”

Thirty-five minutes and a very nice warm shower later, you’re standing in the bedroom and there’s a very pretty black dress on the bed. There’s also a new pair of lingerie next to it, complete with red roses sewn into black lace. Wow, that’s what Wonwoo asked his secretary to buy, huh. He definitely knows her dimensions very well. And the clothes fit, almost perfectly as if tailor-made. The dress is of unknown brand but the feel of the satin on your skin feels nice enough for you to forget about its origin.

“Done?” Wonwoo steps into the room. “Jeez, can you knock? Scared me.” You’re applying Wonwoo’s sunscreen (frankly shocked to see him owning it, but then, his skin is pretty nice). You’ve also applied the same perfume as his, and combed your hair in a million different ways, to make up for the lack of make-up or your usual products.

“Knock when I’ve seen you naked in this very room a hundred times? No thanks. Let’s go, we’re late.”

“Hmm,” you slip your feet into your shoes and pick up your bag. “I’m ready.” So is Wonwoo, you notice, who’s dressed in a grey sweater and jeans. The softness of his clothes contrast the sharpness of his features, and it… looks nice.

It takes you two twenty minutes to reach the restaurant, the ride passed in silence as you catch up on work mails from your phone.

“I’ll go first, and you come ten minutes later, okay?” “Yeah. And Y/N, don’t tell them you were with me, okay?” “Of course not. I’m not a dumb nut like you.” And you shut the door of the car with unnecessary force as you walk out of the car. You swear you can hear Wonwoo curse behind you, but you give no fucks.

“Oh! Y/N-ie! Welcome!” You walk straight into the arms of your mother, who’s dressed in a gaudy dress that does not suit her figure. “Eomma! How many times have I asked you not to wear these dresses?” “Oh shush! I bought this last weekend. Don’t tell me it looks bad, I’m in a good mood now.” You grimace and walk towards the table where your sister, her husband, and your father are waiting for you, smiling from ear to ear. Mr and Mrs Jeon, and Wonwoo’s younger brother are sitting on the other side of the table, also smiling from ear to ear. The excessive smiles are disturbing you, you’ve positively never seen Mrs. Jeon smile that wide.

“Oh, you look so good! Did you lose weight, Y/N-ie?” Mrs Jeon beckons you to sit next to her, and she takes your hand in hers. You force a smile on your face, still clueless about what’s going on. You can only hope they start talking about it when Wonwoo comes.

Speaking of the devil, he does come way earlier than you asked him too. You’re suddenly nervous, as the families start smiling again. “Aigoo, our handsome boy is here. Sit here, sit here.” Your sister welcomes him and he sits wedged between her and his mother.

“Eomma, what’s going on?” he asks.

“Aah, straight to the point. Forget about that, tell us, did you both come together?” You spill out the drink from your mouth, almost choking. “Us? Together? Hahaha. No, of course not! Why would you think that Mrs Jeon? Hahaha.” “Hmm…” your sister exchanges looks with your mother and Mrs Jeon, before finally giving you that stupidly bright smile again. “Is there something you both want to tell us? We’ll give you a chance before-” Wonwoo interrupts, “Appa, what’s this nonsense? Just tell us without this suspense.”

Mr Jeon, who’d quietly been busy on his phone for so long, looks up and stares a little blankly. His wife nudges him, and then he seems to remember. “Oh, so, Wonwoo. You know you both can tell us what you want.” Your father pipes in, “Yes, same goes for you, Y/N.” Wonwoo and you exchange confused looks before you speak up, “Okay, but really. What’s this suspense for?”

“We know you’re dating.” Your sister blurts out, and there’s a sudden silence at the table.

You think your eyes may burst out from the shock, and the way in which your palms instantly become sweaty is a dead giveaway of your nervousness. “What?! Unnie, are you out of your mind? What the fuck?”

“Language, Y/n-ah.” Your mother says, “You think we don’t know what you both are doing, huh?” And then she giggles. The damn audacity.

“I think there’s some grave misunderstanding, Mrs Y/L/N. Y/N and I are… certainly, not dating.” Wonwoo’s mother grasps his hand across the table, and says, “Oh my son. My dutiful son. You don’t have to pretend about this. Just because Jeon Estates is rivals with Y/N’s company, doesn’t mean you both have to be secretive about dating!” There’s a little cough from both fathers, and Kyungmin and Wonbin, Wonwoo’s brother, burst out laughing.

“Eomma, we’re not hiding anything. It’s a fact, we aren’t-”

“Explain these then. Booking out Eiffel Tower for a dinner date, huh?”

“Eomma, how do you know? Are you spying on me?”

“No! Of course not! We just looked at your credit card bill, accidentally. Then I spoke to Bora, your secretary, and she confirmed that you’d been spending a lot of time with Y/N. Not only that, there’s more-”

“Yes, indeed. Y/N-ie, why didn’t you ever tell us?”

You gasp, feeling lightheaded. “Did Jisung…? That trai-”

“Not Jisung. Jisung wouldn’t open his mouth. So I spoke to your chauffeur. He tells me he regularly picks you up from Wonwoo’s place?”

That’s it. This is it. It doesn’t get worse than this. This is your end. Oh, earth, swallow me up.

“Darling,” Mrs Jeon rubs your back, “Please don’t feel so shy. We know that our husbands haven’t left a great friendship for you two heirs. But you need not worry about all this rivalry.”

Your sister joins, “Yes. I’ve convinced Appa, and our lovely Aunt Jiwoo has convinced Mr Jeon too. Oh you both are so silly, hiding a precious thing like this from us.”

Wonwoo and you glare at each other. You realise there’s no point in explaining things to these people sitting in front of you. If they’ve reached the point where your sister is calling Wonwoo’s mother as aunt, then they must have discussed this extensively before calling you two to this lunch. An ambush, that’s what this is, you think in despair.

“So what we’re saying is, instead of keeping it hidden like this, why don’t the two of you get married? Wonwoo-ah? You’re turning thirty next year, aren’t you? I want to see my grandchildren too,” Mrs Jeon says, and everything falls in place. This is blackmail. Your mother’s been asking you to get married ever since you took over the company, claiming that having a man at your side would help your life be perfect and free of any troubles, and even forcing you on some arranged dates. Wonwoo must be going through the same kind of thing, with him being three years older to you also. It fixes the nail in the coffin, and you stand up from your seat.

“That’s not happening. Mrs Jeon, Mr Jeon, Wonbin-ah, I’m sorry if this disappoints you, and the same goes for my family too. Wonwoo and I are grown adults. What we do is none of your business.”

“But if you are dating, what’s the issue with getting married? And from what I hear, it’s not even a recent fling. All this has been going on for a year now!” Your mother cries out loudly. Although you’re sitting in a secluded corner, the restaurant isn’t quite empty.

“We’re not… dating. That’s what we’ve been trying to tell you all along.”

“Well, then are you guys enemies having movie sleepovers?” your sister adds, and it’s too annoying. “And why did you come over in Wonwoo’s car?” How the fuck? But then you realise, nothing is beyond these women. They may be keeping tabs on your and his car GPS for all you know.

Wonwoo stands up, looming over your figure. “That’s quite enough. Like Y/N said, what we do is not your business. Thank you for your concern, and enjoy your meal. Eomma, since you’ve taken access to my credit card already, might as well use it to treat yourselves with this meal.” He steps out of the chair, and walks over to where you’re standing. He swiftly grabs your wrist, and pulls you away, “Let’s go. This is a waste of time.” And just like that, the two of you walk away.

Six days later, a wedding invite stands ready in front of you, held out in Jisung’s pale hands. “Does it look good, Ma’am? I’ll send it for printing then.”

You sigh, and nod your yes.

part 2 is now out!

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sargebarnesx · 15 days ago

Text

Long Distance ✈️

Pairing: Bob Floyd x female reader

Rating: 18+ ONLY, NSFW, MDNI

Warnings: Once again, smut with plot. Solo masturbation, mutual masturbation, FaceTime Sex, language. Bob has a filthy mouth.

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Bob Floyd is in a long distance relationship and can’t stand it. One night, something snaps.

Author's Note: Just a little something I wrote and edited today. Also, I know next to nothing about the inner workings of the military/Navy so please suspend your beliefs for a bit here 😂 Hope y'all enjoy! (Banner photos are from Pinterest)

FaceTime was a lifesaver when it came to long-distance relationships.

Bob Floyd had always told himself he would never do long distance - he didn’t think he could handle it. He wasn’t clingy, necessarily, but he preferred to see his girl multiple times a week (okay, okay, every day if possible).

Long distance just didn’t appeal to him. But when he fell for a fellow aviator, he knew it would be inevitable.

Their romance was a whirlwind. Shy at first, but once he finally kissed her, they didn’t hold back. She was at his apartment more often than her own. Sneaking around wasn’t ideal (not that they had to, they just wanted to keep things private), but that was the last thing on his mind when she was curled against him on his couch after a long day. He had never realized how nice it would be to have someone to come home to - someone who understood the weight of the responsibilities the mission carried - until he was with her.

She was one hell of a pilot: sharp as a tack and quick on her feet, a force to be reckoned with. But what really impressed Bob was the person she was outside of work. They quickly became a duo, a team - a picture of domesticity. She felt like home to him.

But, like clockwork, she was reassigned once their mission was complete, along with a handful of their other colleagues.

Two different coasts. Two different time zones. One couple slowly turning into two completely different people.

She was stationed in Pensacola while he stayed in San Diego, his orders extended rather than changed completely. They were beautiful areas with perfect beaches, and the Navy roots ran deep. But neither could quite sow seeds without the other.

Bob knew she was adjusting well after the move. She loved Florida - but she hated the time difference. Two hours might not seem like much to most people, but to them, it was challenging. She’d already been at work for several hours by the time he was waking up, which meant no good morning chats. He was usually able to catch her in the evening, when he was eating dinner and she was in the middle of her nighttime routine. But Bob didn’t always want to say goodnight at 7:30 p.m.

He wouldn’t admit it to her, but he was struggling.

He hadn’t seen her in months. Hadn’t kissed her. Hadn’t felt her skin beneath his hands. He was going crazy.

Sure, he had photos of her - videos, too - but nothing compared to the real thing. Waking up wrapped around her pillow instead of her left him disappointed every morning. And he didn’t even want to begin to try to compare her hands to his.

Around noon that day, just as he sat down with a sandwich for lunch, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Baby ✈️🩵

Unexpected day off tomorrow. FaceTime tonight?

Bob stared at his phone screen. An unexpected day off meant she could stay up later with him. She was usually very disciplined during the week, which he respected, but he hated the quiet of the night after they ended their call and she went to bed. At this point, though, he’d take what he could get.

He typed back a quick of course, baby before turning back to his lunch.

**********

That evening, when Bob trudged into his apartment, he was extremely tense. A lot of things had gone wrong for him today, which was unusual. He couldn’t concentrate on the tasks at hand - he was tripping over his own feet. He was so wired, it felt like he had jet fuel pumping through his veins.

He knew why he was like this. And he knew there was nothing he could do about it - at least, not yet.

She was all he’d been able to think about. He kept daydreaming about her, imagining seeing her in the hangar, her hair flowing free and her flight suit half unzipped.

It didn’t help his current state that, in his daydream, she was wearing absolutely nothing under her flight suit - and she ripped the zipper open as soon as she saw him.

He’d fantasized about bending her over, right then and there, and railing her like they had no other cares in the world. About how good her perfect pussy (one he hadn’t had in months) would feel wrapped around him. He was going insane.

After he washed up in the shower, he stared at the row of products she’d left behind when she shipped out: shampoo, conditioner, cream body wash, face wash, a body scrub. He grabbed the bottle of body wash and squeezed a dollop into his palm. He lathered it up, closed his eyes, and held his hands up to his nose.

It was like she was there with him - the overwhelming scent of coconut and vanilla enveloping him, affecting all of his senses. He could see her standing under the spray of water, her hair plastered to her body as soap streamed down her curves.

He wrapped his soapy hand around his cock, dragging it from base to tip over and over, his eyes scrunched so tightly shut he saw stars. Just as he was about to cum, his phone rang on the counter and snapped him out of his daze.

It had to be her. How long had he even been in here, wasting their time together? He quickly rinsed off and wrapped a towel around himself before reaching for his phone.

Her name lit up the screen - Missed FaceTime Call. He tapped her name to call back. The phone rang only once before she picked up.

“Hi,” she called out.

His phone was still facing the ceiling as he dried off. “Hi, baby. Sorry, I was in the shower. Let me pull on some shorts real quick.”

Bob hung up his towel and pulled on a pair of soft sweat shorts. He grabbed his phone and settled onto his bed, forgoing his glasses on the nightstand.

She was also on her bed, dressed in a light gray cropped tank and matching shorts. Her hair was damp, like she’d just finished a shower too. The sight of her made his chest ache.

She smiled when she saw him. “Hi,” she said again, laying back on her pillows. From this angle, he could see a flash of her stomach. He wanted nothing more than to have his hands on her.

“Hey, baby. You look cozy,” he replied, propping his phone against a pillow.

She nodded, leaning onto her fist. “Just wish you were here.”

Bob sighed. He didn’t mean to sound so dissatisfied. Just knowing they both longed to be together… he couldn’t wait until things were easier. He stretched an arm behind his head, his bicep flexing.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he admitted.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his through the screen. “Yeah?” she asked. “What about?”

He pressed his lips together, debating whether to tell her about his daydreams—his fantasies.

“Just all the things I miss about you. Having you in my bed. Seeing you on base. Coming home to you…” He paused. “And God, baby, I miss that perfect body underneath me.”

She watched him, then adjusted her phone again. His breath hitched when he noticed her hard nipples pressing against her thin tank top. He stretched his right hand down and palmed himself over his shorts.

“What would you do if I was there right now?” she asked, her fingers ghosting over her breast. “Please tell me.”

Bob groaned as he gripped his half-hard cock through his shorts. “Well, first,” he began, “I’d have my hands all over you. Gripping that ass. Pinching your nipples.” His hips bucked against his hand.

She nodded, and he could see her chest rising and falling as he spoke. “What else?” she asked.

“I’d kiss you. All over. I’d start with your lips, then your neck, then your chest. Then I’d suck on your nipples - I know how much you love that, baby. I’d kiss down your stomach, all the way down to-” He squeezed his cock, stifling a groan. “Fuck, I’d have my mouth on that pretty pussy so fast.”

“I’ve missed your mouth,” she whispered, her hand trailing down her body and out of frame.

“Are you about to touch yourself, baby?” Bob asked.

“Aren’t you?” she countered. Bob smirked.

“I am. Wanna see?”

She nodded, and he pushed his shorts down his legs, tossing them to the side. His dick was practically begging for her, and he fisted it before turning the camera around. He watched her face as she bit her lip, her own arm moving rhythmically.

“Fuck, Bobby. I need you. I miss the way you fill me up. Wish you could feel how wet you’ve made me.”

He stroked himself for her, slowly. She let out a soft moan, her eyes never leaving the screen.

“Take off your clothes, baby. Please,” Bob begged, his heart pounding.

She sat up, propping her phone against the headboard. When she came back into frame, he could see her whole body. She peeled her tank top off slowly, and he couldn’t help the whimper that escaped his throat when her tits were finally on display. She squeezed her breasts, groaning as she pinched and pulled at her nipples.

“Feels so much better when it’s your hands,” she whined. He stroked himself faster at that. She got on all fours before turning her back to the camera. Then she pushed her shorts down, arching her back as her glistening pussy filled his screen.

“Oh my-fucking…” His voice sounded strangled as he gripped his cock. He was a mess - moaning, whimpering, whining. But he couldn’t help it. He wanted her so bad.

She turned back around to face the camera, spreading her legs so he had a full view. Her fingers found her clit, pressing circles into it with one hand as she pinched her nipple with the other.

“Bobby, I miss you. Miss that cock. I can’t wait until you can fill me up again.” She plunged her fingers into her soaking wet hole. Bob could see just how wet she was - her slick pussy glistening in the low light of her bedroom.

“Next time I see you, I’m gonna be inside you before we even leave the airport.” Bob was fucking his hand now, his hips snapping up. “Gonna have you dripping for me again by the time we make it home. Then I’m gonna spend all night with my cock buried inside you… fucking made for me.”

His hips stuttered, and every sound she made sent a jolt of electricity through him. She adjusted her position, lying back so he could see her fully spread, her back arching off the bed. All for him.

“I’ve thought about you like this so many times,” she murmured, glancing over to watch him as she touched herself. “Thought about your cock in my hands, in my mouth… God, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve touched myself thinking about you fucking me, baby. Nothing compares to you.”

He could tell she was close by the way her thighs tensed. He clenched his fist around his length, gasping at the thought of her pussy squeezing him as he brought her to her orgasm.

“Just a little bit longer, baby,” he begged with a groan. “I’m so close - please, let’s cum together.”

He watched her eyes roll back as she adjusted her pressure. “I’m not sure how much longer I can-fuck!” She threw her head back with the most desperate whine Bob had ever heard.

“Oh, baby,” he panted. “I’m about to… I’m about to cum, baby. All for you, all for you, all for you.”

His hips continued to buck up into his fist as he shot his load all over his stomach. She was fully watching him now, biting her lip like she was remembering the last time she got to taste him - the last time she made him come undone like that.

Both of their chests were heaving, and for a while, the only sounds they could hear were deep, shallow breaths.

“I needed that,” he murmured finally. “God, I needed that.”

“Me too,” she agreed softly. “Definitely made a big mess, though.” When she picked up her phone, he could see the wet spot where she’d been before.

He chuckled, looking down at his own body. “We both did. Let’s get cleaned up.”

They did so in silence. Bob pulled on a clean pair of shorts, and he noticed she had changed into an oversized T-shirt - one of his. Once they were both back in their beds, Bob sighed.

“I miss you so much,” he said.

“I miss you too,” she replied. “And I love you. So much.”

Bob nodded, that familiar ache spreading in his chest. “I love you too.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I hope we can see each other soon.”

She was silent for a while. He just watched her - how she snuggled into her pillows under her plush comforter. “We will,” she reassured him. He wasn’t sure that was true, but he stayed silent anyway.

“Wanna stay on until we fall asleep?” she asked. Bob nodded, rolling onto his side. Her breathing had evened out - deep, slow, soft. His eyes felt heavy.

“Sweet dreams, Bobby,” was the last thing he heard before he drifted off to sleep.

#bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #robert floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun x reader #top gun maverick #lewis pullman #lewis pullman fanfic

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kquil · 5 months ago

Text

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER EIGHT

08 : PASTRIES

CHPT. SUM. : Alpahard comes for a visit and you help the Belbys run their shop while Damocles focuses on the wolfsbane potion. Everything appears to be going as planned.

LENGTH : 9.7k

TAGS : OG Walburga is a scheming bitch ; Orion is an absent and neglectful father ; Alphard is a good uncle who loves his nephews ; Reader just girl bossing it ; Ruth and Damocles are couple goals ; Reggie finally being happy and very baby

CONTENT WARNING : talks of divorce

A/N : I'm posting this now to give it a week before I post the 9th chapter on February 1st -- you'll have to excuse me if I'm a little late on that update though because I'm currently out of commission from the most horrible cold/flu I've ever had (╥﹏╥) -- please send your thoughts and prayers because I haven't had a peaceful night's sleep the last two days and I swear this impromptu post is also a part of the delirium I'm experiencing

← PREV. 07 : INVESTIGATIONS | SERIES M.LIST

14th September 1971 | 12 Grimmauld Place

Walburga throws a fit, trapped in the abyss of your mind. She’s furious, seething from your menacing intrusions upon her life and secrets. It was frustrating and annoying beyond belief! The intricate web she had just begun to create was unravelling before her very eyes, and she could do nothing but watch! She had meant to secure a different future with her forming web; impervious to the imminent cycle of life she had witnessed that fateful day months ago. She had made one fatal mistake in all of her meticulous planning and preparation, labouring over an ancient ritual that would guarantee full obedience from her two boys. And, rather than force her mind and ideals over the thoughts and actions of her two sons before their fates began to set permanently, she was being made to fall under the thoughts and actions of another individual, you.

Being forced to watch you take over her shoes has been Walburga’s own personal hell. It’s far more painful knowing that she has no say over what you do. She’s limited to only watching, watching and agonising over her perfect plans being torn to shreds. The love and kindness you were showing her sons was unbecoming, going completely against her values on the way a mother should parent. It’s clear that you know nothing about how to raise two young boys born into the most ancient and noble house.

Walburga’s resentment grows and grows by the day. As a prisoner forced to share her identity and existence with someone who goes against her beliefs, it is unbelievably torturous. She screams ‘NO!’ and ‘STOP!’ at every offending action you take, all of which seem to be the exact opposite of her true self. Openly showing affection? Her sons will only grow clingy and burdensome. Being open to conversations? Growing boys should only speak when spoken to and not dare question the things being told to them for their own good. Cooking without magic? (Cooking at all!) There’s a house elf to fulfil that role. Thinking about your foreign behaviour has anger quickly bubbling up from her stomach. You’re so foolish!

But there was hope…

After every major fainting spell Walburga has induced, your unconscious body has left your thoughts and mind completely silent and open to her reclaim. Dwelling in the dark depths when all is silent, Walburga can feel a ticklish sensation from afar. And it only grows ever palpable after every major blackout. A wicked smirk touches her lips as she reaches forward and feels the wisps of connection between the floating space she was suspended in and the tangibility of the physical world.

One powerful, familiar thought moves her fingers a centimetre. It was small but a big step forward. The solid material she registers at the edges of her nerves -–the feeling of bedsheets atop a solid mattress— was alien in its distance and bizarre for its unfamiliar yet known sensation. It was like returning to something and your brain had yet to recognise the perception as one that was formally commonplace.

However, just as Walburga was wrapping her mind around that singular, grounding feeling, it was suddenly ripped away. Once again, she was surrounded by an empty coldness, suspended in an unfeeling space. Despite the frustration that quickly mounted inside her, it was accompanied by a resolve that plastered itself solidly in her chest, a determination to bide her time and remain patient. She will wreck terror and havoc when times are right and after she’s deteriorated your hold, she’ll regain full control once more.

It will only be a matter of time…

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

You wake up to a familiar scene and sigh sadly. The ringing in your head is a powerful one, an annoyance that makes the sun rays falling through the gaps of the curtains feel like a knife to your eyes. Reaching for your wand, a silent swish fills the gaps, shutting away the sun and reducing the sting in your eyes to something you can easily blink away. The curtains act like a filter for the light outside, partially bringing a soft, green radiance into the room.

At the sight of your youngest curled up against you once again, you lean down and affectionately kiss his crown, “I’m sorry, little love,” although you kept your voice to a quiet whisper, it’s enough to raise Regulus from the warm abyss of slumber. Your little prince sits up and rubs his eyes as you admire his adorable image.

“Good morning, my darling,” you comb his hair back from his tired eyes and lean close with a lowered, soft voice; an intimate moment between mother and son, “did I worry you again?” Regulus nods silently and launches himself into your arms as you apologise over and over.

The night before, Kreacher had been open about another blackout you’d experienced. And, although Regulus was grateful, he was anxious all night long. It never fails to make his heart jump to his throat. He remembers your still—far too still—body laying in bed, in a room entirely separate from his father’s. You look at peace but it wasn’t a comfort; you didn’t appear to simply be asleep, rather, you looked more deathly… he dreads to even think back on such thoughts. He’s only comforted by the sound of your steady heartbeat and soft breaths so he wastes no time in reaching for his blanket and sleeping beside you, close enough to hear the rhythm of your heart and the melody of your breathing.

“A-are you feeling sick?” that wasn’t the real question he wanted to ask, you can see the truth in his pleading, sweet eyes. Are you afflicted by some sort of incurable disease that cannot be stopped?

Regulus closes his eyes to savour the kiss you press into his forehead, “I’m perfectly healthy, my little love. Please don’t worry too much,” you pull away to cup his face tenderly in your hands and thumb over the softness of his cheeks.

“You promise?”

“I promise,” you nuzzle his nose with your own and the tense, fretful atmosphere is washed away by your shared giggles.

Kreacher soon appears with a tray of breakfast and another phial of magenta liquid. You eye the offending potion for a hard second but before you can groan, Kreacher is already lecturing you.

“Mistress must drink! Must must must!” he insists with beseeching eyes, urging the phial into your hands.

“Let me, at least, have some breakfast first, Kreacher,” you try to set aside the phial and reach for the breakfast tray instead while Regulus suppresses a laugh at the scene. He couldn’t believe his mother felt the same way about healing potions as wizarding children and newly appointed witches and wizards did. It was amusing to see a reflection of childishness in his mother, who had always been so cold and unfeeling.

“No!” Kreacher pulls the breakfast tray away from you, insistent on having you drink the potion before any food, “Potion first, Mistress!”

“FILTHY ELF! DISOBEYING COMMANDS! I TAUGHT HIM BETTER THAN THIS– LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO MY SERVANT!” Walburga’s shriek makes you wince, and Kreacher takes it as the sign to draw back and apologise for his loudness while Regulus balances comforting you and the spiralling house elf.

“Kreacher is deeply sorry, Mistress…” Kreacher suppresses his guilty thoughts in favour of his mistress’ well-being. Going into another one of his many anxious episodes won’t be helpful to you. “Please drink,” he cups his hands around your own to fold over the phial once more. His large, watery eyes, silently plead for you and lift in relief when you finally agree and down its disgusting contents.

“Thank you, Kreacher,” you smile at the elf who finally sets the breakfast tray on your lap above the covers.

“Mistress is w-w-welcome…” he stretches out the syllables of the unfamiliar word, appearing unsure over its usage but his tense shoulders immediately sag in relief as soon as he sees yours and Regulus’ kind smiles. You had been urging him to use the word for quite some time and are happy to see that he was finally confident enough to begin trying it. Hopefully, after this first try, he’ll be more confident in using it in the future. Sending you a thankful smile, Kreacher handles the empty phial and disappears after wishing you and his young master Regulus a good morning.

“Kreacher looks happy,” Regulus comments absentmindedly before taking a bite of toast. Once again, the two of you are sharing breakfast in bed and you lovingly wipe away stray crumbs from the corners of his smiling lips, “I like him even more when he’s like this!”

Melting from his sweet words and the brightness in his eyes, you nod in agreement, “Me too,”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Finally out of bed and roaming the house, you notice Orion’s missing jacket from the hallway coat rack and call for Kreacher.

“Master Orion asked for his healing potion, Mistress,” Kreacher shuffles his feet and wrings the hem of his shabby clothing between his hands. It appears that he too is uncomfortable with Orion’s reappearance, although, you suppose your husband had suffered long enough. Calculating the time in your head, you resist the urge to sigh sadly. Three days. The poor fool. You hoped he would have lasted longer than that but you suppose it was fun to see him suffer while it lasted. It was karma working its best under the hand of a spiteful wife.

“I see…” you patiently search for the house elf’s eyes before asking the important question, ”Did he say ‘please’?”

After a pause, Kreacher finally nods, “Eventually, yes, Mistress,” Kreacher looks unsure, probably remembering the tense exchange he had with the patriarch, however, it’s soon swept away by your smile and gentle pat against his bald and wrinkled head.

“Well done, Kreacher,” the house elf’s ears wiggle in glee and you see a shy smile creeping up from under his long nose.

18th September 1971 | Muggle London

“You’re excited,” you giggle at the sight of your youngest practically skipping along beside you.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen Uncle Alphard. Sirius and I always love it when he comes over,” you smile at his response, happy to know that there was an adult figure he and Sirius felt safe around; Walburga and Orion were definitely not a safe place for themdespite being their parents. “I’m happy you two aren’t fighting anymore,” although Regulus beams up at you, you couldn’t muster an equally bright smile in return. What did that mean? You were positive that Alphard only got into a serious fight with Walburga when he supported Sirius running away at 16. Perhaps this was a lead-up to that?

“Me too, dear…” For the moment, you keep your questions to yourself. The books and movies kept the relationship between the Black family rather vague so you’ll pick up the clues along the way. For now, it’s better to focus on your darling son and the precious memories you’ll make despite the modest outing to the French bakery. “What do you think we should have for afternoon tea with your uncle? Hm? I’m thinking of English breakfast,”

“That sounds great, mother!”

“And for snacks? What would you like to have on the menu?”

“Butter scones with clotted cream and strawberry jam,”

“Of course, a classic. Anything else?”

“Chouquettes, Macarons, Eclairs, Madeleines, Mille Feuille, Profiteroles!” all French baked goods.

“Goodness,” you exaggerate your reaction and smile at the light giggles it draws from Regulus, “All of our teeth will be falling out by the end. How about we include some finger sandwiches too? We can buy fresh bread and assemble them at home,”

“No crusts?” Regulus asks without hesitation and your heart warms; you love knowing he feels safe and secure enough with you to speak freely.

“It’s the only time crusts are not allowed,” you wink and silently awe at how his beaming smile seems to get even wider. Many depictions of Regulus made him a stoic and cold character but seeing his bright disposition and childish mannerisms was a delight. You prefer him like this. And you want to keep him this way forever, such a motherly sentiment. All you have to do is make sure he doesn't feel forced to abide by the toxic pureblood family rules and beliefs. Instead, you will gently nurture his interests, gently guide him whenever he feels lost and make sure he always feels supported. And you will do the same for Sirius.

Happy and content, the two of you walk into a lovely French bakery with high spirits. The warm atmosphere and welcoming fragrance of freshly baked goods leave you both enraptured and salivating at the mouth – it was hard to resist not getting a bit of everything. Together, you pick out the best-looking pastries to box up before selecting a loaf to be pre-cut and packaged for your convenience. The bakery staff were very helpful and were more than happy to oblige with every request. They also lovingly cooed over Regulus, who partially hid behind your long skirt, though this only seemed to make them all the more awed by him. His softly spoken gratitude was what had pushed them over the edge, and you could only laugh as they offered an extra macaron for him. Regulus was a very sweet boy and looked very much like a prince, so you didn’t blame them for their swooning.

“They liked me, Mother,” Regulus shyly addresses as you make your way home. He holds the wrapped-up, pre-cut loaf under one arm as his other holds onto your spare. As a gentleman, he insisted on carrying both the boxed pastries and loaf but you argued against it, insisting on wanting to hold his hand; the equally shared burden was your compromise. You think it was the best option, really — the best of both worlds.

“As they should, my baby has all the irresistible charms,” your open praise makes him shy into the folds of your skirt once more and you suppress an adoring coo.

“You really think so, Mother?”

“I know so, little love. I’m confident in this for your brother too,” you fake an exasperated sigh, “I’m going to have my hands full in the future. You two are going to be such heartbreakers, I’ll have girls constantly knocking on my door with tears in their eyes,”

Regulus giggles as he looks up from your waist, eyes sparkling from your playful antics, “I won’t do that to you Mother, I promise,”

“But it’s not about intention, you see,” you eye him with a kind smile, “when someone falls in love, they fall in love, there’s no saying ‘no’ to it. And with two very handsome, exceptional sons, well…” you let his thoughts silently complete the rest of your sentence and resist reacting to the adorable pout that forms on his lips.

“I’m very sorry, in advance, Mother,” his sincerity draws out a laugh but you’re filled with pride, regardless. Honesty is a great trait to have.

“That’s very sweet of you, thank you, darling,”

In anticipation of Alphard’s arrival, you and Regulus help Kreacher make finger sandwiches and brew the tea. The closer the time ticks to two in the afternoon, you ask Regulus to help you prep the tiered dish rack while Kreacher dresses the teapot with a tea cosy. By the time Alphard arrives via floo network, the reception room is already well prepared, clean and proudly displaying a delicious tea spread.

“Uncle Alphard!” Regulus cheers and launches himself at the square-jawed man who steps out of the green blaze, exiting your fireplace. He is smartly dressed in a black three-piece suit and polished oxford shoes. His hair is gelled back in a flattering style of frame for his handsome face — straight nose, shapely lips, piercing eyes and level brows. It makes you wonder if he was dressed in his work attire or not. Tea should be a comfortable occasion, especially when hosted by family, for family. What did he even work as?... You hardly know anything about the man, so you have to keep yourself alert to any potential hiccups you may accidentally let slip. You’re supposed to be his elder sister, after all, you should know more about him than his name.

“Good afternoon, Regulus,” Alphard grins at his nephew after visibly shaking off his shock. Never before had he seen his youngest nephew so high-spirited. Their greetings were also usually much more formal than this, distant and dispassionate. This type of behaviour was strongly discouraged by his sister, so the sudden change was rather suspicious. Alphard, however, wanted to believe in Regulus’ sincerity for the sake of such a sweet boy. He instinctively looks around for Sirius but remembers all too quickly that the eleven-year-old was in Hogwarts for his first year, hence the primary topic of his arrival.

“Welcome, younger brother,” you smile warmly at him, ignoring the look of surprise that he doesn’t attempt to cover up. At least he manages to dip his head in a hesitant nod of acknowledgement, “Let's head to the reception then shall we? Orion won’t be joining us, I’m afraid,” you don’t see it but Alphard releases a muted sigh of relief, easily veiling his real emotions by smiling warmly at Regulus, who walks close beside him.

All furniture that occupies the reception room stylistically matches one another. They’re all made of dark walnut wood, embellished with elegant silver accents and dark green leather. The central table has a dark leather sofa on one side and two grandfather chairs with swirling arms on the other. There’s a decorative fireplace on one side of the room with a drab oil painting hanging above the mantle and the only light source is from the open window, occupying the far right wall upon entering.

“Can I sit next to Uncle, Mother?” Regulus politely asks, not wanting to separate from his uncle but also not wanting to make you feel excluded.

“You can sit wherever you wish, little love,” you smile softly, sitting in an armchair and watching as Regulus eagerly pulls Alphard to sit on the sofa with him. Your youngest is already chatting his uncle’s ear off about the snacks featured on the tiered dish rack. This then led him to talk about your morning visit to the bakery, where he had charmed the staff to offer an extra macaron.

They ‘really liked him’ and now his ‘mother is very worried’, why? Because he’ll ‘become a heartbreaker one day’. Alphard listened intently, still shocked but eager to listen to his nephew who he had never seen so bright and secure. Every few seconds, however, Alphard would look towards you for signs of any rising anger or frustration, compounding into an explosive outburst. He was familiar with that. He was familiar with your disapproval. However, there wasn’t a single trace of any negative emotion on your countenance. Rather, your eyes were full of affection and warmth, directed at Regulus while sipping your tea, silently listening to their exchange. Never before had he seen his eldest sister look so… content.

Pausing for breath, Regulus finally remembers the occasion and flushes adorably. His face is much rounder, healthier looking, Alphard notices and is shocked when you allow him to have a small plate to pile on his share of the delicious selection of goodies on the tiered dish. The majority of which were rather sweet to taste. He didn’t know his sister to be one who encouraged the regular consumption of sugar because you would only allow it for special occasions such as Yule and birthdays. Not wanting to startle his nephew, however, Alphard bites his tongue and distracts his racing thoughts by pouring his tea.

“Milk and sugar?” Alphard asks, bewildered at the options freely offered on the coffee table. You had long forbidden milk and sugar to be part of afternoon tea after finding how his tastes had affected your two sons’ preferences.

“Of course,” you voice as if he had been crazy to question you, “everyone is free to make their tea however they wish,”

Alphard follows Regulus’ lead and freely makes his tea… just the way he likes it. With lots of sugar and lots of milk. If you were going to test him, he was going to test you right back and readily anticipate your outward, shrieking protests. However, there were no shrill screeches or ear-splitting lectures over how muted, milky and sugary he liked to have his tea. Rather, Alphard, heard you giggle. His older sister. Giggling? The world must be coming to a terrifying end! Slack-jawed he looks up and stares wide-eyed at your cheerful smile.

“I see you and Regulus have similar preferences in tea,” Alphard shares a sheepish look with his nephew, “How refreshing. It makes me wonder how good it must taste for the both of you to enjoy tea the way you do,” another giggle.

Regulus happily offers his cup, “You can try some of mine if you want, Mother,” Smiling at his nephew’s kindness, Alphard is even more awed by your drastic change in behaviour.

“That’s very sweet of you, little love, thank you. But, how’s about I finish my cup first and I’ll see about having a sip of yours if you have any left?”

“Alright!”

The happy atmosphere wasn’t something Alphard was used to, especially not from his older sister. However, he was grateful for his nephew’s happy disposition. His sister’s strict education and harsh manner of child-rearing left plenty of room for worry but, no matter what seems to have changed, provided that his nephews stay happy and safe, Alphard would happily keep his many questions to himself. Perhaps this was maternal instincts finally taking over. He dare not interrupt by drawing attention to it.

When there’s a lull in the conversation and everyone takes a sip of their tea or a bite of their selected treat, you begin to investigate the relationship between the original Walburga and Alphard. You weren’t impervious to Alphard’s shocked expressions in your periphery; admittedly, it was admirable of him not to make a scene out of his staggering surprise at your ‘odd’ behaviour. It’s fair for him to believe you’re still his original, bigoted sister. You can only speculate that he wasn’t drawing attention for Regulus’ sake and you admire him for that.

“Alphard,” he hums in acknowledgement, setting down his cup and reaching for a madeleine, “how is your work?” your question makes him visibly freeze up but the moment he realises Regulus is watching, he smoothly eases back into normal, less robotic motions.

“It’s been well,” you can tell he wants to leave it at that, satisfied to leave the topic there. However, you were not and kept silent, quietly pushing him into answering further, “...the office has been operating normally. My client is dealing with a relatively common case of discrimination based on pregnancy at the workplace,” he’s a solicitor then. And practising mostly in employment law, it seems. “And before you say anything about women needing to better plan their pregnancies and how a woman needs to be at home with her husband rather than working, I want to remind you of the company,” his voice is firm and he’s plainly referring to Regulus being present, therefore dubbing the subject matter sensitive. However, his insinuations on the original Walburga’s dogmatist beliefs make you visibly disgusted and it pulls on his interest. Never had he seen his sister look so abhorrent to the views he knew she supported.

“I wasn’t going to say anything of the sort. I appreciate that you’re doing good work for the people who need it—”

“Even for a half Veela?”

“Everyone deserves to be fairly represented in a court of law, dear brother. And please don’t interrupt me again, Regulus should find quality, male influence in his uncle, please demonstrate the appropriate, good manners for him,” Alphard is surprised by your sharp eyes and firm demand. You had always been demanding but never to this degree, never to such a reasonable degree, and never without raising your voice. Yet, your voice has remained level, only adjusting for firmness.

How odd… Alphard doesn’t know whether to laugh mockingly at your hypocrisy or dare to feel hope for the positive change he’s beginning to see in his sister.

“...I apologise,” Alphard nods to you before turning to Regulus, “I didn’t set a good example Reg, I’m sorry,”

“It’s okay Uncle,” Regulus beams up at him, happy to be referred to by the affectionate nickname his uncle hadn’t been able to call him in many months.

“Why not ‘Reggie’?”

“I’m sorry?” Alphard looks genuinely perplexed by the change in behaviour. You had always strongly reprimanded him for daring to call your sons by any affectionate nicknames as you wanted your boys to stay faithful to their full birth name — it was a source of pride, after all. To be named after the stars and be in the most ancient and noble house, their names were sacred and it was a mockery to shorten despite it being done with affection. But now you were supporting it?

“‘Reggie’ is a cuter nickname,”

“Reg is good— cute enough, it’s short and sweet,”

“But Reggie is cuter than Reg,”

“Both are cute,”

“...Reggie is cuter, though,”

“Let’s agree to disagree. I will keep calling him Reg and you call him Reggie,” the boy in question was a healthy shade of red now. For a lighthearted argument to centre around him like this wasn’t what he anticipated happening but he was happy to see his mother and uncle getting along harmoniously. Not once have they raised their voices or forced the other to leave the room in a huff. This was nice… Sirius would have really liked this. Maybe Regulus should send another letter, even if his brother has yet to reply to his previous one.

“What nickname do you call Sirius?” you ask, voice soft and eager to continue the topic of your sons. This was another new side Alphard was seeing to you, his usually cold and unfeeling sister had never been one to perpetuate gossip surrounding her sons, and yet, now you were so eager to— and on a topic that is so innocuous and unproductive. But it was a good change, one that he’s sure will be a good influence on his beloved nephews.

“Siri,”

“That’s perfect,” you smile into the lip of your teacup and sip, “we can agree on that front,” Alphard actually manages to chuckle and nod along. He had prepared himself for a harsh and loud argument, not this but he dare not complain; this was a very pleasant surprise. He even dares to feel confident in re-addressing a long taboo topic.

“...You feel I do good work as an employment lawyer?” he begins, hesitant, his hands beginning to shake. The suddenly nervous man opts to set his cup down and wipe the sweat from his hands along his trouser-covered thighs.

“Of course,” you wonder where the conversation is going.

“And what of my extracurriculars too?” he avoids your eyes and your mind flashes with a memory of a young Alphard nervously standing before his elder sister, his small hands curled into fists on his knee-length shorts. This man is your younger brother now. However, you can’t help but think that Walburga cared deeply for him despite their strained relationship, judging from the fond memory that had flashed behind your blinking eyelids. In the depths of your mind, you imagine she still likens him to his much younger, toddler self, an endearing but common trait in an older sister.

“Extracurriculars?”

“My voluntary work with the less fortunate, typically with other magical beings,”

You frown when you finally realise what had caused the strain between brother and sister. Walburga had belittled and strongly protested against a man who only did good. A man of justice. This was the man who favoured Sirius in the original timeline because they shared the same sense of justice and the need to rebel against their bigoted family.

“I’m sorry Alphard,” you look into his eyes with such sincerity that Alphard feels as though he could cry. He had grown up admiring his sister but the instant he had begun to think for himself and see the unfairness of her skewed views, he swears he had felt his first ever heartbreak. His sister, who he had loved and admired so much, who he thought of as an amazing person was not who he thought she was and the revelation was earth-shattering. It broke his heart all the more when he saw his younger brother Cygnus follow in her footsteps. “I’m sorry for all the past unsavoury comments I said to you about your profession, and on what you have chosen to do with your life and beliefs. I was wrong, the way I thought of the world was wrong. I’m truly sorry for who I was before. And I want to assure you that I am no longer that person. I think what you’re doing is truly wonderful and this world needs more people like you in it. My boys need a good uncle like you to help raise them with good values and sense for the world,”

Alphard looks at Regulus, eyes wide with shock, his mind reeling and needing something to ground him, to confirm that the shock he was feeling was reasonable, but to hope for the best and to trust in his sister’s words again was feeling too much at that moment. All he needed was Regulus’ reassuring smile, and that was exactly what his young nephew faced him with, as if to say ‘It’s alright uncle, you can rest assured now,’.

“Why….” Alphard slowly turns his attention back to you, “why did you change your mind?”

You smile to yourself, “For my sons, of course. They deserve the world, the least I can do is be a good mother to them,

“You’re the best mother in the world!” Regulus protests as your eyes humbly close.

“Let’s not lie to ourselves and completely forget what has happened. I have hurt many people with the way I used to act, for believing in the things I used to believe. What’s worse is that I have hurt those most dear to me and those who I should have taken better care of… I’m very sorry Alphard, I don’t think I’ll be able to express how truly apologetic I am. It wasn’t right of me to hurt you that way,”

Blinking back tears, Alphard musters a crooked smile, his voice slightly shaky but his heart light and chest warm, “Apology accepted, dear sister,”

“You said you wanted to talk about something important, little brother?” you wanted to move on from the topic, but Alphard no longer knew if he had the right to express his worry. After witnessing your change in demeanour first-hand, the weight on his shoulders was finally lifted, and his chest didn’t feel so heavy.

“...after the sorting ceremony, I was worried about Sirius and Regulus – they are my nephews, after all. I wasn’t confident in their safe treatment at home,” Regulus looks to his uncle with an appreciative smile, earning an affectionate ruffle of his hair.

Smiling softly, you take his implicit criticism with grace. It wasn’t even your doing but you move forward with it anyway, “thank you for worrying about them but, as I said, I am a changed woman,”

Alphard smiles into his teacup and hums in contentment, “I can see that… I’m glad – you’re also no longer against my profession and my extracurriculars. The moment you accepted my request to come over for tea, I was somewhat relieved but getting to see your change myself was even more of a relief,”

“I’m sorry again, for the past. I don’t know what on earth was the matter with me,” your slight jab at the original Walburga has the witch throwing a muted tantrum in the back of your mind. It’s quite hard to resist smiling wickedly at how easy it is to rile her up.

“No matter…the past is in the past,” Regulus nods and readily agrees.

“I’m really happy Sirius got into Gryffindor. In his letters, he says how happy and at home he feels there,” Regulus’ eyes shine with such pride, it was easy to smile with him. Alphard is comforted by the thought of his eldest nephew having a good start away from home and, atop that, being supported by his mother and brother. He holds no hope for Orion however, many of those in the family have heard of his inappropriate behaviour at Hogwarts. It was unbecoming from the patriarch of the most ancient and noble house. That was why many assumed why he had not made any public appearances at the Wizengamot for a few days, using sickness as an excuse in his letters to the office.

“Which Hogwarts house would you like to join, Reg?” Alphard asks, curious. Judging from your displays of changed temperament and child-rearing, he assumes and hopes his youngest nephew no longer admires the idea of going to Slytherin as he’s known his sister and Orion to have ceaselessly enforced onto the two.

Growing shy, Regulus looks to his lap and picks at his fingernails nervously, “I don’t know… as long as I’m happy and feel at home, that’s all that matters, right, Mother?” Regulus looks to you for assurance and smiles when you nod with fondness in your eyes. A slight tension leaves Regulus’ small shoulders immediately and he settles back into the sofa with a silent sigh of repose, Alphard following closely behind his nephew. What a relief.

The interactions and conversations with you have been quite a shock but in the most pleasant sense. Alphard no longer felt his fingers tensing at the thought of writing a letter to his eldest nephew. They had already exchanged some letters and Alphard was concerned that the assurance within Sirius’ written words was nothing but something to cover up the tensions at home from his sorting ceremony. What a relief to know that it was all true. Sirius did feel happy, he did feel supported and he did miss home. If Alphard’s own mother acted the way you did, with soft affection, fond eyes and a warm touch, he would miss home too.

Light conversation and the peaceful atmosphere continued until Regulus had to do his scheduled piano practice. Regulus politely excused himself while Alphard stared in wide-eyed confusion and awe as another miracle played out before him: you showing open affection for your son by kissing his forehead in front of company before he promptly left for his piano. A silence draws out as you wait for the distant sounds of piano playing to continue your conversation. This time, however, you aim to finally put your central plan into action, one that you were finally seeing the answers to when Alphard revealed his profession.

“What do you specialise in as a solicitor again?” you begin.

“Employment law, sometimes corporate and civil law too,” Alphard states nonchalantly, closely examining your face, his heart beating faster at the implications of your lack of a strong reaction. He supported the change in you but you can tell that he has yet to fully believe in the dream world that was playing out before him.

At the sudden look of worry on your features, Alphard leans forward with concern, “What’s wrong?"

Sighing heavily, you set down your teacup and lean back, "Do you know anyone working in Family law?”

“Naturally…” he answers, his silence carrying a question as he stares at you with a raised brow.

“I want a marital separation from Orion… and I want to take the kids – it’s not safe for them here with him around,”

Alphard nods and immediately begins to hatch a plan. It was a natural mode of work he had refined throughout his years as a solicitor, “I don’t blame you for wanting to leave…and I think I may know of someone who you can talk to. They’re a half-blood specialising in family law, who actively pushes for similar laws being passed for muggles to be transitioned into the wizarding world,”

That sounded like the perfect lawyer for you, “I would really appreciate that Al, thank you,” you say the nickname without thinking and are ready to rush out an apology but stop in surprise when you see the warm smile on Alphard’s face.

“You haven’t called me Al in years… you must really want to leave your husband,” he teases, trying to distract from his choked-up voice and tear-filled eyes. You laugh airily and nod as he joins, the happy atmosphere contagious between you. This was the type of relationship Alphard had always wanted with his sister. It was a shame that it only came about now when you’re actively experiencing rough times at home with Orion.

Before leaving, Alphard goes to Regulus, momentarily interrupting his piano practice to say goodbye. His youngest nephew insists on escorting him to the fireplace with you to properly wave him off and he doesn’t protest. That was the first time Regulus had ever seen his mother and uncle wave goodbye happily, sharing a warm smile and promising to see each other again soon.

This would definitely be worth writing another letter to Sirius.

6th October 1971 | Belby’s Potions and Ingredients

“Thank you again for helping out my husband and me,” Ruth smiles softly at you, setting aside her embroidery momentarily, not wanting to draw too much attention to her weak, shaking hands.

“It’s not a problem at all,” you look over to where Regulus’ legs were sticking out from where he sat examining some bottled potions, unable to help your smile as you and Ruth sat behind the counter together, “I’m only sorry I couldn’t come sooner. I’m afraid I can’t trust Regulus to be home alone even with his tutor Peony as a deterrent,” Ruth’s brows furrow at the implication of your words and reaches for your hand as a silent comfort. It isn’t the right time to pry into your home life, Regulus was such a happy child and she knows it’s all because of you; you’re doing your best to protect him as a mother should and that was good enough to you it seemed. In the meantime, she’s satisfied with offering a quiet consolation.

“You’re doing more than enough,” the two of you share a small, knowing smile and you thank the gods for Ruth’s kind and gentle disposition. It’s been rather lonely despite you having the best sons to look after. You’ve often found yourself aching for a friendship and you’re confident you’ve found one in Ruth.

“Thank you, Ruth,”The shop bell rings as a customer strolls in and greets you at the counter, “Good afternoon, do you happen to have any dried nettles?” you greet the man kindly and readily offer your help.

“You can find them in the second aisle down and can have your pick between whole leaves or the powdered sort,” you helpfully offer your guidance while Ruth returns to her embroidery.

The man thinks to himself for a moment, “Which would be more effective for umm…curing boils?” he looks rather bashful at the confession but you provide no judgment. Thinking for a moment and giving Damocles’ simplified shop notes a look through, you finally give the anxious man his answer.

“Both are equally effective. Only the crushed nettles mean for a quicker brewing time as they will turn the potion green much quicker,” the man nods along to your suggestions, eyes slightly shifty, probably eager to brew his boil curing potion at home, “Or you can purchase the potion itself, and save yourself the trouble,” a relieved laugh escapes the man.

“I’ll go for that then!”

“You’ll find the potion on the back wall, it should be blue,” he nods eagerly and thanks you before rushing to the back wall of the shop.

“Goodness, you’re a natural potions shopkeeper,” Ruth giggles beside you, her eyes tired but full of life.

“Why thank you, madam,” you bow at the waist exaggeratedly and grin, “I’ve actually been reading up on some potion books so that I can be of some help for Damocles,” Ruth tucks her chin in and bashfully avoids your eyes.

“It’s so very kind of you to help someone like me,”

“None of that,” you tut and hold her hand in the same comforting way she had held yours mere moments ago, “You are not allowed to refer to yourself in such a way, you hear?” Ruth is hesitant but nods anyway. You guess it’s her attempt at not causing a fuss but you’ll accept it.

The man returns with the boil curing potion at hand and the purchase is done smoothly. You have to hand it to the glamour you placed on yourself; without it, you’re sure many customers would leave without so much as taking more than two steps in the door — you wouldn’t have been any help to the Belbys at all. Wanting to protect Regulus’ identity as well, you’ve also fixed him with a glamour too and ensured you still look like mother and son.

“I see that you’re looking rather well despite it being only one day after the full moon,” you comment, brightening Ruth’s expression with a smile.

“Damocles is incredible!” her eyes sparkle as she talks proudly of her husband’s achievements, “The recent changes he’s made to the potion have made it so that I don’t feel as anxious during my time under so I don’t feel as mentally exhausted atop being physically drained. I think he said something about a stone. A wishing stone?”

You hum and nod in understanding, “the moonstone then,” she confirms with a soft gasp of remembrance, “That’s wonderful news, Damocles must be really happy,”

“Yes, but he is not yet satisfied…” she huffs and scowls, however, her delicate features don’t make the emotion appear quite as menacing on her face; she makes it look rather sweet actually, “I swear that man adores being sleep deprived and overworked. It’s worrying…”

“Maybe that’s his real aim,” you wink at her perplexed appearance, “I’m sure it’s healing to the soul for a man to experience his beautiful wife’s sincere worries for his well being,”

Ruth blushes a deep red and looks away, but you still manage to see the smile playing on her lips, “oh you!” The two of you giggle together as Regulus comes bounding over with a grin on his face, holding up a small sprig of dried lavender that’s tied together at the stems with a rough string.

“Mother, this smells lovely, you should smell it too,” he holds up the lavender and watches eagerly as you lean on the counter to smell it.

“You’re right, it smells very soothing,”

“I want our house to smell like it,”

“Oh? That’s easily done,” you turn to Ruth with a smile, “would it be okay to purchase your entire stock?”

Ruth’s jaw drops, “You want our entire stock? B-But that’s so costly!” if Ruth’s jaw could have dropped any lower, it would have dropped to the floor when you merely shrugged your shoulders. As if buying an entire stock of one ingredient didn’t put a dent on your finances.

“We have a rather big house and Reggie wants our whole house to smell like lavender, so we need everything you have,”

Regulus smiles as you both turn to him, “It really is a very nice smell,” Ruth can’t say no to you both and smiles gratefully. She knows your hidden motive. You were already helping the couple so much but you couldn’t just stop there, you also had to purchase from them too.

“May I, at least, offer a family friend discount?” Ruth barters and watches as you turn to Regulus to ask for his opinion.

“Should we accept, Reggie?” you tilt your head thoughtfully, “Should we accept paying less for this hard-working couple’s labour?” Regulus shakes his head ‘no’.

“That wouldn’t be fair Mother, nor polite,”

“Spoken like a true gentleman,” Regulus beams up at you and Ruth awes at the young boy’s innocence, “How is my son so well mannered?” it was supposed to be a teasing remark but Regulus, accustomed to your teasing now, is quick to reciprocate with his own.

“It's because I have you, Mother!”

“Oh!” you heat up at the cheeks, “I think I’ve taught you some bad habits, Reggie,” Regulus doesn’t deny the statement and laughs with Ruth at your flustered expression.

Once Damocles finally decides to take a break from brewing in the back room and analysing his previous notes, he sits beside Ruth and leans his head against her shoulder. But not before softly kissing her cheek. It was a timely break as no customers came to purchase anything and there was a quiet lull in the shop’s activities. Wanting to give the couple some privacy, you take the time to go on a small mission with Regulus, similar to the bakery run you did for his uncle Alphard. This time, however, those baked goodies will be for Ruth and Damocles. They both deserve some good tea and snacks. You try not to take too long and opt for only a small collection of pastries, some sweet and some savoury as you don’t know their preferences.

“I hear you’re purchasing our entire stock of lavender without our prestigious family-friend discount,” Damocles presses as soon as you and Regulus return, avoiding the temptation of the pastries you had brought back.

“The lavender smells really nice,” Regulus explains, “and I thought it would be good for the house to smell like it,”

“Precisely, Damocles,” you grin when you see the potioneer’s eyes soften at your youngest’s beaming smile. “I only want to fulfil my Reggie’s wishes. And I also agree that the lavender smells lovely,”

“A-at least let us offer the discounted price,“ he’s almost pleading.

“Nonsense,” you huff and cross your arms with slightly narrowed eyes, though not too threatening, “are you saying I can’t afford to pay full price?”

“O-of course not, Lady—”

“Then I’m paying full price and that's final.”

Damocles falls back into the chair you had once occupied as Ruth comfortingly rubs his shoulder, “I told you it was no use arguing, dear,”

“I suppose not…” Damocles looks at you with searching eyes before huffing a laugh and shaking his head. “Alright then, since you’re so insistent,”

“Wonderful! Now, you two need to eat, I’ll brew some tea in the back. Do you like French Earl Grey?” you ask, moving to the backdoor as Damocles lifts Regulus onto the counter.

“We don’t have french earl grey?”

“I bought you some while I was out,” the couple shake their heads in disbelief once more before Regulus pulls away their attention by running through the collection of goodies you’d both purchased. The French early grey you had brewed was a new taste to the couple, but it wasn’t an unpleasant one.

“Is that rose?” Ruth asks with wondrous eyes as Damocles smiles beside her, lovingly admiring her sweet expression.

“Yes, french early grey adds rose petals to the blend. Do you like it?”

“Very much,” Ruth beams and takes another long, savouring sip while Damocles leans over and whispers that it’s one of her favourite essences to have in anything palatable.

“And she loves Turkish delight,”

You can tell that Damocles didn’t want to take a break for too long, his eyes often drifting to his backroom door and his fingers twitching uneasily on his lap. If it weren’t for Ruth, you don’t think he would have allowed himself to finish his tea or his pastry. But thanks to his loving wife, he was willing to reach for a second and third pastry. The entire time, Damocles was drawn all the more to her, often checking her likeness for the pastries she wanted to try in the small spread, even offering her several bites of his own. He also worried often for her health and well being, always being the first to jump in making her feel more comfortable, either by fetching a blanket to keep her fragile frame warm or pillows to keep her posture upright. They’re truly a match made in heaven, you’ve never seen a more compatible pair. And you’re happy Regulus was a witness to it all. Seeing their close bond and equally loving dynamic would help enforce in his mind what healthy relationships look like.

“When you finish your break and before you return to brewing, may I have a word in private with you, Damocles?” you ask, partway through your pleasant tea break.

“Of course,”

As you step aside with Damocles, he’s already launching into an oration of gratitude. There’s clear appreciation in his eyes and stance as well as his words. “I’ve been able to get a hold of ingredients I couldn’t even dream of working with. I can’t even begin to express how life-changing your help is to both me and Ruth, thank you. I actually have some hope that I can manage to pull this off,” he laughs to himself humbly, in disbelief of his own words.

“I have full faith in you, Damocles. I know you can do it, the boundless love you have for your wife will ensure that you succeed,” he blushes slightly at your words but doesn’t deny anything.

“I haven’t been able to send you the updated reports yet, would you like to take the duplicate notes from my lab?”

“I’d appreciate that but I have something I want to talk to you about first,” Damocles nods, reminded of your earlier request and the reasoning behind it, “I just wanted to ask what you plan on doing after you’re successful with the potion,”

His voice goes quiet but his smile is beaming, “You really have that much faith in me?”

“Yes, I do,” your voice is stern as the potioneer’s eyes grow slightly distant, looking over your shoulder where Ruth is happily chatting with Regulus, who remains seated atop the counter still in his glamours, “You’re the only other person who’s believed in me so strongly other than my wife– not even my own family…”

You pat his shoulder comfortingly, “You’re an incredible potioneer and you adore your wife, I know you’ll go through the ends of the earth for her alone, you can make this potion work for her,”

Damocles nods with a grateful smile and finally answers your earlier question, “In all honesty, I haven’t given it much thought… the natural direction I’d go with the potion would be to present my findings to the ministry so that it may be mass-produced and given to werewolves in need of it,”

You’re shaking your head in disagreement before he could even finish his thoughts, “I strongly argue against that,” your words strike confusion in the potioneer. He’s sure his findings would prove helpful to many werewolves and you can see the belief in his eyes but do your best to convince him otherwise. It’s important that he knows where you stand in all this so that you bring him to the same level and see eye to eye on the matter.

“Do you know about the werewolf code of conduct?”

“Yes, of course,”

“It requires registering as a werewolf to the ministry and vowing to never bite any innocents and locking yourself away during every transformation,” you begin to explain, gauging where his knowledge stands.

“I know that,”

“And do you know anyone who happily registered as a werewolf to the ministry?” Damocles can’t answer confidently, rather, he stays silent. “Did Ruth register? Would you like her to?”

“…N-no…” Damocles hated that he couldn’t trust in the ministry but they‘ve proven nothing when it comes to the protection and fair treatment of other magical creatures, especially werewolves.

“I know the plan I want to carry out will only further perpetuate the stigma against werewolves and lycanthropy but the ministry has already proven that they cannot be trusted or relied upon in the matters of lycanthropes. I am, at least, confident in providing some help, do you trust me?”

“I trust you,” his voice doesn’t waver and you smile.

“You’ll be sacrificing a great reward, I’m afraid,”

“How so?”

“Surely discovering a treatment for lycanthropy will grant you an Order of Merlin as a reward…”

“I don’t care, so long as my wife is safe and happy and as long as we can actually help people like her, I’m willing to follow your plan,” as before, his voice doesn’t waver and you’re confident in his words. He’s a good man.

“Then it shall be!” you share a firm handshake. If only Harry had met an adult as capable and reliable as Damocles… you’re sure he wouldn’t require such dependence in the future, however, not in the future you’ll be creating, at least. And you’ll make sure of the same for his parents and all their friends —- all characters you love and wish only the best for. And it’ll all start with your two beautiful sons.

9th October 1971 | 12 Grimmauld Place

Tucked away in your home office, you look over the notes you’ve made on your current plans, avoiding the pages you’ve filled with notes on the secret parlour only for the Black family ladies’ use. You know it’s something you’ll need to confront very soon, in the meantime, however, you were perfectly occupied by current projects you were hard at work on.

Damocles sent you the report he duplicated from his most recent findings and Ruth’s improved condition following the full moon. Not only was he a loving and dedicated man with a passion for potion making, but he was also brilliant in his report writing. He kept his notes concise and easy to read by providing clear categories of the specific things he wanted to track. From your side of the research, reading up on potions from the Black family library, you had written him a letter back with suggestions on how to make the potion more potent. One such suggestion was his use of the Mandragora, Mandrakes. Rather than mandrake leaves, you encouraged him to use the body of a mandrake instead. It’s a little pricier than just the leaves, but it was nothing you couldn’t afford. The dragon blood was something you were having trouble with, however. It wasn’t cheap, and, having to look ahead at the wolfsbane potion’s mass production, dragon’s blood would be an annoying ingredient to include financially. So you promised to look for alternatives that might be able to give the same effect. You were even willing to look into ‘muggle’ books for a potential alternative.

After securing Damocles’ opinion following the future success of his wolfsbane potion and having some back and forth with Alphard on the family lawyer, he had been easing into setting up a meeting with you; you’ve started looking at properties all over the UK. You have a good idea of what you want to look for. However, the primary, most important criteria for these properties to have were that they don’t belong to the Black family. And so, you neglect the wizarding properties completely and look into muggle properties instead. The price wouldn’t matter, although you wanted to secure a separate line of income first so that Orion remains unsuspecting of your efforts to escape him; you don’t want any additional tensions happening at home, especially with Regulus still here. As soon as Regulus begins to attend Hogwarts, however, you’ll finally put things into action. Until then, you have a little under a year, which you hope will be good enough.

A squeaky pop shifts the air to your right, and Kreacher appears with a tray of tea and biscuits, “Mistress’ tea is ready,” he presents with a smile, wordlessly making the arrangement float up and make a home for itself atop an unoccupied portion of your desk. Smiling at the house elf, you nod in thanks and express your gratitude. Wanting to appease you further, he gestures to his big ears and informs you of an owl that sounds to be arriving very soon. With a nod and a soft word of gratitude, you walk to your window and open it up in anticipation of the delivery.

Sirius’ owl was the first to arrive and you figure it’s a response to one of Regulus’ many letters. Seeing your eldest son’s familiar handwriting addressing the letter to his little brother makes you smile, and urges you to write him one soon as well. Thanking the sweet barn owl, you offer her a perch and kindly ask Kreacher to fetch it some feed as a reward. The second owl that arrives is much smaller and carries a package as well as a letter. The parcel is only small and its wrappings are a buff brown, held together with some twine. The letter is addressed to you and you have a pretty good idea of what it may be.

You give the letter a quick read-through and smile with a nod before opening the small package to reveal a golden band. Its inner face is engraved with runes, and it easily fits onto your pointer finger. Before returning to your desk, you give the small owl a bowl of feed as a reward, too. Seated back at your desk, you pour yourself some tea and take a generous drink with the ring still on your pointer finger.

“Mmmm~” you hum in satisfaction, “tastes like strawberries,” It’s been a few weeks and those two have already made such amazing progress. You expect nothing less from the same two people who were able to enchant Sirius’ protection pin. Unfortunately, you weren’t able to rope in the goblins to craft this ring. It’s only a simple design because it’s the prototype but you plan on making a more decorative line of these to sell. For now, you have yet to test it against an actual potion but you dread to think about waiting for another blackout to do so. With a thoughtful hum, you return to your office and place the letter at the centre of your desk, planning to write a response later on. For now, you’ll deliver Sirius’ letter to Regulus —you’re sure he and Peony won’t mind the interruption and that he’ll be happy to receive Sirius’ response.

NAVI. | SERIES M.LIST | NEXT. 09 : REPUTATION →

A/N : I'm so sorry, my darlings, for taking so long to update this series (ó﹏ò。) I know I promised monthly updates but with Christmas and then New Year straight after, I was pretty occupied (⸝⸝๑﹏๑⸝⸝) Nevertheless, I hope you lovelies enjoyed this chapter!ヾ(。✪ω✪。)ｼ I promise there will be more of Sirius in the next chapter since we hardly had any of our baby in this one

#sirius black #regulus black #alphard black #walburga black #orion black #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fix it fic #marauder era #reader insert #mother reader #isekai au #divorcing orion black series #the black family #the black brothers #sirius and regulus

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dragonshoardofworks · 4 months ago

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Reincarnation Everlasting Trio Part 2 (DPxDC)

(The flu is kicking my ass, so I decided to fight back by publishing this! (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧ ...At least I'm at home and not at work? Small victories... And please don't hate me...!)

Part 1 | Part 2 (you're here) | Part 3 | Part 4

Gotham's second third best kept secret after the locations (and their related secrets) of the BatCave and Danny's resting place is the Stolon.

In the most hidden crypt under the corpse of the oldest greenhouse ever built in the gothic city, there's a thick net of roots and vines that cover every inch of the marmored chamber. Like a protective shell or a vegetal Fort Knox, the crypt enshrines Undergrowth’s (the Ancient of the Flora) most precious gift to the Green (their living offspring): the Gynaeceum, a cocoon-like structure capable of generating either an offspring or an avatar for the Green to inhabit and walk on Earth.

But since Professor Pamela Isley is an excellent avatar for them already, the Green doesn’t feel the need for a body at the moment, buuuut… conveniently their Parent loaned them a soul to look after recently and Poison Ivy deserved a reward and, let’s say, an incentive to keep pursuing her beloved Harleen Quinzel…

So, why not incubate the loaned soul with the DNA of both Pamela and Harley in the Gynaeceum? It’d be a huge success for everyone!

The soul, however, wasn't agreeing very much with the idea (like the rebellious goth child that she still is) and had to be coaxed through the stages until proper development, let's say until puberty begins to kick in for a standard human body, so around 8-13 years old, so the body had to stay in the cocoon until that age.

So after a “natural” test tube pregnancy of 10 years, Antheia was born as a pre-teen, right before the newly wed Pam and Harley, who were called there by the Green.

The two Sirens were taken aback by (but not averse of) the gift after the shock settled and they got an explanation as to why and how all of this happened.

(The only reason they didn't go apeshit on the Green for basically doing the same thing Lex Luthor did with Superman to make Connor was that Pam knows that the Green doesn't have the same set of morality and values that humans do, plus they don't even think in the same way, so she understood even if at the beginning she was a bit miffed for not being asked. Harley, since she trusts her wife, suspended her judgement until Pam explained the Green's reasoning and way of thinking. If she also can't hate the child because she somewhat feels familiar, it's another thing that she doesn't voice to anyone… And… she's so disappointed for having missed so much of her new baby's life! They could have visited during the gestation and human contact could have made the soul more cooperative and so have it latch earlier on their new body and so get birthed earlier!)

Antheia was mentally on the level of a newborn, but catches on quickly and in just 2 years or so she’s already behaving like (and with the knowledge of) her physical age.

Pam and Harley absolutely love her to pieces and don’t-call-me-by-my-full-name Thea shares the sentiment. Both women have different connections with their daughter, tho: Ivy through Green’s powers and shared beliefs on nature and Harley by being fiercely protective of what they consider their own, not accepting (anymore) abuse by anyone.

[After failing to “cure” the Joker and falling into his clutches/partial insanity in her origin story, Quinn did kill people, but only criminals, as inexplicably something always stopped her from harming civilians and innocents. And while the Joker did punish these lacks, he still considered her useful, so he used her only where she was able to act. When and why did Harley finally manage to renounce everything about him, then? During the nth escape from Arkham, on a whim she went and checked her mail kept in the asylum deposit during the years. An enthusiastic letter from a girl in Illinois struck so many chords in her that made Harley say to herself: “Wtf am I even doing with my life?? This isn’t what I wanted to be!” And so proceeded to go and beat the everliving shit out of the Joker as he was starting to do the same with the newest and second Robin in one of Gotham warehouses, where the latter had been lured to. Having called Bruce (since she had figured out his identity a while ago because of knowing each other in med school), he rushed Jason to the ICU (remember the kinder timeline I mentioned in the previous post?) and managed to save him in time and the Joker got back to Arkham for a while longer than usual…]

The attitude that Thea inherited from her mothers (once 12) leads her to at first trying to sneak out and follow them in their night time activities of “anti-heroes”, but thanks to the Green, she always gets caught. After one too many times of that, the Sirens cave in and decide that it will be better to teach her the ropes and make her their sidekick, since it’s safer than letting her go solo and they can’t really stop her (much like Bruce does with all his Robins, tbh. (≧∇≦) )

During one of these escapades/missions, it was inevitable that the latest (the fourth, since it's been a while since Harley saved Jason) Robin and Thea (codename: Blossom) meet… and pick on each other like cat and dog.

The rest of the BatFam places so many bets on them, with Steph and Dick comparing them to Bruce and Selina, but with violence as a love language. Jason and Tim just hope that they won't tear each other out (since they got the burnt of Damian's hostility back when he came at the Wayne Manor, but without the canonical murder attempts, since Jason is still in rehabilitation and Tim had openly stated from the beginning that he was subbing in for the Robin role until the former got better to get back on the street if he wanted).

(Tim, in this, prefers to be the tech guy much more, with only some brawl in the mix, like Oracle’s assistant that does what Babs cannot anymore. The timeline is still kinder, since, while Babs won't recover the 100% of her functionality, she can still walk with a cane.)

Then it all changes when Phantom, or better, Danny joins in the mix. He and Damian!Tucker have so much to catch up with that they're practically joined to the hip and that leads to not meeting Blossom while they’re on patrol since they take different routes than usual.

Hearing the rumor of a new meta vigilante and the sightings of him only with Robin, absolutely doesn’t stir any jealousy in Thea (note the sarcasm) and so to set things straight with her rival, Blossom calls a favor with her mom to arrange a meeting with Batman and Robin. Harley is super amused by the whole thing, so she accepts only on the condition of chaperoning the whole thing (plus B wouldn’t come “just for Blossom”, she has to be there as well!)

In order to keep things civil (as a contingency plan agreed by both B and Harley), they meet on the roof of a Batburger (the highest one where no one could overhear them and it’s away from the plants), only the four of them. (They get Alfred distract Danny by asking him to do chores with him since “he’s getting old” *cough*BS*cough* and our boi is so eager to help/people-please.)

Blossom and Harley are already there when the Bats arrive and the former is already glaring at the boy.

“So? Where did you leave your new pet?” Blossom demands, looking around.

“He’s not my pet!” Robin snaps, hackles raised.

“Then how come he’s following you around like a puppy, uh? Bet he’s at your beck and call”

“Don’t talk about him like he’s a thing! His parents already did that enough back when they were alive, so don’t you dare, allochthonous species!” Blossom gasps in outrage, since it’s an (ecology) insult he learned from her.

“So this is just a crusade to fix the new stray while forgetting your duty? Where were you when we busted that exotic animal smuggling ring? You abandoned us!”

Hit hard by the guilt trip, Robin is quick to recover, though. “You managed just fine, didn’t you? I couldn’t leave him, as there’s no one other than me who’s able to deal with his breakdowns!” He snaps, then centers himself and frowns at her. “What’s your deal, by the way, dudette? You didn’t act like this when I collaborated lengthily with Superboy Jr.”

Getting the whiplash from the unfamiliar slang mixed with formal language, Blossom recoils, as a wave of vertigo hits her. Wtf was that?? She focuses back on the topic, steeling herself. “That ‘Supersons’ thing was nowhere near what’s happening here. You changed so much that I can barely recognize you. So don’t feed me this BS! What happened that made you leave me behind?”

Oh. That’s the crux of the matter, isn’t it? Before Danny’s return and the subsequent recovery of his memories as Tucker, Robin and Blossom had been vigilante partners whenever they teamed up, sometimes even more in sync than with Batman. But how to lay out gently that she’s partially right but he hasn’t meant to? It’s then that Tucker Foley’s famous nonexistent mouth-filter strikes, subverting anything Damian Wayne has ever learned about tact. “Hey, it’s not my fault! You would change too if the guy you like kissed you out of the blue!” He blurts.

(In the background Batman facepalms, hard, Harley gasps and the BatFam cackles in the comms, as Oracle is making them eavesdrop.)

“...So that’s how it is.” A pause, then rage. “You led me on!”

“Wha- Never!” The Tucker in him is still on the reins. “Circumstances changed and I swear I didn’t mean to stop thinking of you! It was a blast from the past, literally, that I had no idea it was available to me!”

“Oh so now it's because of your tragic backstory that you're dumping me? I thought we were partners in crime!”

“We still are, it doesn't have to be mutually exclusi-” Damian!Tucker begins, hotly, only to be interrupted by an alarm going off in the comms.

Everybody tenses as Oracle starts to interject. «Arkham just noticed that the Joker has escaped, they have a hole of two hours in the security tapes!»

«I’m tracking his goons as we speak, it seems that they gathered so much C4 that they could celebrate the Fourth of July!» Hiereus (priest in Greek, helper of the Oracle, new name I choose for Tim instead of Red Robin) informs them, sound of the keyboard being smashed in the background.

“Where are the bombs?” B demands, tense, ready to grapple at a moment's notice, while the other three get ready too.

«Still searching, still searching… here! All the Batburgers’ roofs.» There's a pause of appropriate horror, before they all register the sentence. «B get out of ther-»

You know what they say about any kinder timeline?

The more you have to lose (the taller they stand)...

BOOOOOOM!

…The harder you (they) fall.

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gingerteawrites · 5 months ago

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Bad hair days and other mishaps - JJK Headcannons

A/N: I almost had a bad hair day today before TWO important meetings/appointments, and I need comfort lol. So here are some headcannons of my jjk faves and them helping out/playing with reader's hair.

Content: Written with black reader in mind/reader with very curly hair. Nanami, Gojo, Geto, established relationship, fluff.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nanami Kento

One of the things Nanami loved the most about you was how put together you always tried to be. The level of care and attention to details in your styles always elicited a quiet sense of fascination in the man, and your hair was certainly not an exception.

Nanami was nothing if not an astute observer, and through your time together, he learned to pick up on small indicators of your moods. Today, it was a less subtle one than usual; a loud groan coming from the bathroom.

He immediately perks up, leaving the comfort of the window-side armchair where he was thumbing through a book and headed in the direction of the displeased sound.

"Are you alright, darling?" He walks in, pulling his glasses from the bridge of his nose.

Your shoulder droop as you rest a wide toothed comb on the counter, looking down.

"'m okay, Ken," you sigh. "Just a bad hair day,"

His eyes fleet to the top of your head, taking in the messy strands of hair you were attempting to shape into a new style discovered during your nightly Pinterest scroll. He moved closer and brought a comforting hand to your back, his fingers pressing warmth into you.

"Need help?" He offers in a low rumble, and you turn to him, eyes betraying a hint of hesitation. "Only if you're comfortable with it, of course" He adds.

You jut your lips out, immediately feeling bad for the reluctance you felt, however brief. Ever the gentle soul, Kento was entirely trustworthy when it came to taking care of you. Your moment of hesitation had only been because of the unfamiliarity of the suggestion.

"I would appreciate it, yeah," You rest a hand on his chest, and he offers you a smile so soft it makes you want to squish him.

This is how you end up in the living room, sitting on a cushion on the floor, sectioning your hair and providing gentle guidance as Nanami worked through your strands.

"Like this?" "Please let me know if it hurts" "Your hair is so soft". When he's not asking for instructions or somehow praising you, the man works in quiet concentration, strong hands gentle as they massaged the products through your hair and detangled with care.

And while it took way longer than when you did your hair yourself, the session left you feeling thoroughly relaxed, Completely devoid of the earlier frustration that plagued you. And the style ended up looking pretty decent! Nanami's fingers worked magic, no matter where he touched.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gojo Satoru

"Sweetheart are you trying something new with your hair?" Gojo's brows were raised in surprise when he watches you exit the bedroom with your hair in an... interesting style.

"Don't start, Satoru," you groan, irritated beyond belief. You had tried one of those heatless curls methods that were all the rage, but had unfortunately not accounted for your hair texture.

How stupid

You thought you had learned your lesson from the times you almost fried your hair in the name of straightening it as a teen. The wavy look you were aiming for resulted in something more like ringlets, suspended in the air in a ridiculous display of gravity defiance.

"That'll teach me a lesson," you mumble to yourself, headed for your snacks cabinet. Your arms were tired, you were hungry, and irritated. Phenomenal combination.

Noticing your sour mood, Satoru immediately seeks you out, leaning against the counter beside you. "You don't look bad, though," his voice softens, and you throw him a look beyond skeptical. Causing him to hold his hands up defensively in front of him.

"It's not your best either," you sigh, your annoyed expression turning defeated. "But I'm sure we can work this out!" He adds quickly, "Let me take a look at the tutorial."

"I already canceled the appointment I was going to anyway, it's fine," you look down at your phone, the picture of silky waves on the model's hair bright and bold on your screen.

Ignoring your words, his fingers slip through yours and grab your phone before you can even formulate another retort. He hums for a second, concentrating on the picture before announcing boldly.

"I can do this!"

It has been about 30 minutes of tentatively pulling, combing and wrapping, your hair looked somehow... worse. You don't even know why you allowed Satoru to try, cackling loudly when the man hesitantly hands you the mirror.

"It's hard, okay? One of the few things I don't have a natural talent for," he sighed dramatically, and another laugh escapes you.

"At least you did not rip my hair off," you say after you are finally able to calm down a bit.

Satoru watches you with a fond smile. At least the frustration had melted away, and you were back to your cheery self. He leans in and kisses your cheek.

"At least you look less like you're about to rip my hair off," he quips and you return the smile.

"Thank you for cheering me up," you place your hand on his cheek, earnest. "But this is the last time I'm letting you do this."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Geto Suguru

Suguru had decided today was a spa-at-home kind of day. Your week had been deeply tormenting, and you welcomed the initiative with wide open arms. Your shared home was bathed in the soothing scents he had laid out, and you were wrapped in a cozy bathrobe, enjoying the back massage that his nimble fingers pressed into your skin.

His hands leave your skin and you are tempted to protest, looking up from the bed with a frown at the smiling man.

"Now your hair," he announces, leaning down so his face is closer to yours. You sit up, readjusting the robe around your shoulders with a small frown.

"Um, I don't know if that is going to work, baby," you press your lips together. In all honestly, your hair was still in a bit of a disarray from the week's manipulations, and you did not want to overwhelm your lover.

"But you play with my hair all the time," he retorts, now sitting on the bed and holding your hands.

"Your hair is a lot more manageable for me, Sugu," you chuckle, absently bringing a hand to push away a strand of his ebony locks from his face.

"It's fine, love, really," he emphasizes, bringing one of your hands to his lips. "I looked up a few of those hair ASMR videos for your hair texture, I promise I'll be gentle."

Long story short, you are easily persuaded to let Geto give you a scalp massage. He whips out Castor oil and cocoa butter from your stash, applying it to your hair with an expertise that almost shocks you.

"I love how your products smell," he comments while applying the honey-scented leave-in through your stands.

You hum absently, on the verge of sleep. Not a single muscle in your body is left holding any sort of tension.

He helps you up, giving you a quick kiss before handing you a mirror, and you almost gasp at how shiny and moisturized your curls look. Suguru's smile is almost smug when you turn your head from side to side to admire his work.

"Like it?" he asks, standing to stretch.

"More than like!" You finally placed the mirror down. "You shouldn't have done this. Now you'll have to be my personal hairstylist forever." The seriousness of your tone pulled a laugh out of him.

"Anytime, baby."

This was so much fun to write, I hope you enjoyed it!

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated (❁´◡`❁)

#gingerteawrites #jjk #jujustu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk x black reader #nanami kento #nanami x black!reader #gojo saturo #gojo x black reader #geto suguru #geto x black reader #nanami x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader

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dyinglikenarcissus · 9 months ago

Text

Kitten

7k words

Warnings: 18+ only! This is pure smut. A little dubcon. Your brother’s alpha besties want you but they’ve been so good for so long. What happens when a group trip turns into a one bed situation? Also reader is Sam’s long lost sister or something. Suspend your belief 😂 (I had to include some kind of Sam for our shared birthday)

Enjoy 😊

Please do not copy or repost my work

This really wasn’t supposed to happen.

They’re your brother’s friends. How did you end up like this?

They were supposed to be going on a boys fishing trip to celebrate your brother’s new job but he suddenly came down with something and wasn’t feeling up to it and, as his roommate and baby sister, they insisted you take his place. You didn’t know the first thing about fishing! But when it came to his two alpha buddies you got all tongue tied and your omega came spilling out like an over boiling pot. They were just so handsome and big and imposing and charismatic. They have great jobs and fancy cars and penthouse apartments. The ideal alphas.

It also didn’t help that you were a couple weeks away from your heat. It just makes their sway over you more powerful. They didn’t mean any harm. They were just used to being surrounded by other alphas. They didn’t know how to reign it in. Normally your brother was around as a buffer. You were rarely ever alone with them…

The two hour car ride was the longest you’d ever spent with just the two of them. They went on and on about baseball and beer and guns and other things you had absolutely no knowledge about so you just sat quietly in the back seat with your phone and your switch and prayed you were almost there.

But it would be fine! It was supposed to be a huge family suite with a bunch of rooms and a full kitchen and everything. You’d have your own space to retreat to if they became…too much for you.

But being there gave you absolutely no relief.

“I’m sorry!” The hotel front desk manager started after looking up your stay. “We accidentally overbooked and had to give away your room. We can rectify it tomorrow but tonight all we have is a single king.”

They readily agreed, not paying any attention to your protest. They said it would be fun. Like camping.

You never liked camping.

So now you stand between the rock that is Steve Rogers and the hard place that is Bucky Barnes.

“We’ll just take the floor, kitten,” Bucky smiles using the nickname they’ve called you since you were children. “I prefer it anyway. Better for my back.”

“Yeah. You get comfortable. Don’t worry about us,” Steve assures you. You just nod while the boys call down for extra pillows and blankets and food while you clean up from the long drive. It wasn’t super late but it was late enough that you weren’t going to do anything else tonight. The boys wanted to get up early. Apparently that’s when the fish are most active? The most you knew about fishing was from Animal Crossing and if any of that was true, they should be waiting for it to rain. Which reminds you that you that you need to water your flowers in your little digital town. You’ll do it as soon as you’re out of the shower…

Well, ain’t this some shit.

You didn’t exactly pack to share close quarters.

The only PJs you brought were mini shorts and cropped tank tops that were pretty much transparent in the right light. You should have brought a comfy sweater or something to cover up in but you wanted to pack light. You didn’t want to look like ‘that girl’ with a suitcase for every night. But at least you’d have a sleeping sweater…

You roll your eyes at your idiotic lack of foresight and choose the least see through ones and hope they don’t look too closely.

So much for that.

The second you walk back into the main room, two sets of blue eyes are on you. They suddenly forget all about their baseball, their beer, and their guns at the vision in front of them. Your soft curves are clearly visible through your lack of clothes: a sight they’ve only seen when the group goes swimming. They can barely keep it together with you prancing around in tiny fabric triangles that barely cover your wet and obviously cold body. But normally your brother was there to keep them at bay.

No older brother in sight. Just you left alone for the two of them. All. Weekend. Long.

Steve is the first one clear his throat and avert his gaze. “We ordered some pizzas. Is that okay with you?”

“Y-yeah! Pizza’s great,” you smile nervously. “I’m done in the bathroom if either of you want a turn.”

Bucky doesn’t even spare Steve a glance as he makes his way to the bathroom. “Age before beauty,” he snarks at the blond leaving the two of you alone.

You just smile at the tall blond sitting on the edge of the bed before rifling through your luggage for your Switch unknowingly giving Steve the perfect view of your peach ass through your tiny shorts.

“Shit,” Steve breathes, tilting his head slightly to see what else you’re hiding under there.

“What was that?” You ask pulling yourself out from your duffle.

“Oh, nothing,” the blond says quickly snapping his head back to the TV. “Just the game. Crazy play…” he trails.

“Oh?” You smile and nod already knowing you won’t understand what’s going on so you don’t bother asking. You snuggle up against the pillows to play your game and ignore whatever sports ball game is on.

“What are you playing?” His voice doesn’t initially reach you as you shake your head and focus on the alpha watching you. When did Steve’s eyes get so pretty? They’re like kaleidoscopes of green and blue. Hmmmm…

Wait. He said something, didn’t he?

“I’m sorry?”

“What are you playing?” He asks again leaning back to see the screen of your handheld console.

“Animal Crossing,” you whisper. He’s so close you can feel the body heat radiating off of him. He’s never been this close…

“That game’s super popular lately, huh? Never tried it. I used to just play Halo and GTA when I was as your age.”

“GTA is pretty fun,” you smile.

“What’s an innocent little thing like you know about GTA?”

“I get on my brother’s PlayStation every once in a while,” you admit. “I’m not that innocent,” you giggle singing the song.

“I feel like we’ll be learning all kinds of things about you this weekend,” Steve laughs as his hand finds your ankle, stroking the smooth skin gently. You practically leap from your skin. He can’t do that! Can he? He can’t do it again…

And then he does, his rough fingers tracing the inside of your ankle, and a wave arousal spills from you like clockwork. His fresh rain and smoke scent washes over you heavily and a soft whimper escapes your lips.

You can’t do this! Not for a whole weekend!

A knock at the door has you leaping away from him, tugging your feet away quickly.

“Someone’s jumpy,” Steve laughs before getting the door. Saved by the bell. A hotel employee brings a stack of pillows, blankets, and towels before rolling in a cart with two pizza boxes and two pitchers of beer.”

“We figured you wouldn’t eat much,” Steve laughs grabbing a chilled glass and plate before leaning next to you on the bed.

“Food’s here?” Bucky grins stepping out of the bathroom in a pair of low hanging grey sweats. Just a pair of low hanging grey sweats…

So many muscles…so much outline…

You’re going to die here.

His hair was still wet and messy as he mimicked Steve; grabbing food and finding a spot on the other side of you on the bed.

“What’s up, kitten? You gonna eat?” He asks before taking a bite.

“Uh, yeah,” you whisper and slide out from between the two giant men. When did it get so hot? You’re suddenly glad for your lack of clothing.

There’s no chairs or a table in this room. It really is the barebones. It’s hard to believe that this is the same hotel with three bedroom suites.

You sit on the edge of the bed, taking Steve’s spot and nibbling on your food quietly.

“Kitten, you know we love you but you’re blocking the TV,” Bucky groans. “Come back up here.” No. No no no no. Not back there between those two big imposing men.

“Your spots still nice and warm for you,” Steve sighs patting the spot in between them. You didn’t need warmth. Warmth was the last thing you needed. But you slide your plate across the bed and scoot back between them.

“Ain’t this nice?” Bucky asks.

“You don’t want a drink, kitten?” Steve wonders.

“Oh no,” you smile. “Beer isn’t really my thing.”

“Shit! We should’ve ordered something for you. We should know you better by now,” Steve sighs.

“Rosé, huh, kitten?” Bucky asks guiltily.

“Yeah, a rosé would be nice but I’m fine,” you insist and shake your bottle of water before taking a sip.

“That’s no fun kitten. We want you to drink with us. I’ll call down and get a bottle.” A whole bottle? Oh no! You attempt to stop the brunet alpha but he’s already on the phone ordering their best bottle.

“Don’t worry about it, kitten. We’ll pay for it,” Steve laughs. That’s not the problem! You almost shout at him but then he uses that alpha influence on you. “Sit back and relax. Please.”

“O-okay,” you whisper and settle back into the pillows.

“Who knew you could be so obedient?” Bucky laughs hanging up the phone. “You never listen to your brother like that?”

These two are not your brother.

“Did you see that play?” Steve shouts.

“He’s going! He going! He’s going!”

“Come on, Evans! Fuck yeah! You’re going to owe me a fortune at the end of the season,” Steve laughs.

“My bracket’s going to turn around. Just you wait, punk.”

“Whatever, jerk.” You smile at their antics. You’ve heard it your entire life but it never stopped being adorable.

“You two are cute.” The words slip from your mouth before you get a chance to stop yourself. Their blue gazes are back on you in an instant.

“Cute, huh?” Bucky smirks, biting his bottom lip slightly. Oh no.

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” Steve grins leaning slightly closer to you. No no no no! You almost claw your way out from between them when there’s another knock at the door. Thank God!

You move to get up but Bucky presses your thigh back down. “Sit. I got it.” He returns only to hand you a glass of wine. “Drink up. You have a whole bottle to get through.”

“There’s no way I’ll finish that, Bucky,” you laugh taking the glass with both hands.

“You won’t know until you try, kitten,” Steve smirks poking your nose with his index finger.

These two are going to kill you.

You’re soon giggling at Bucky’s jokes and leaning into Steve’s touch after your third glass of wine.

“You should’ve seen him. He was puking over the railing. Those poor fish!” Bucky laughs at the man behind you’s expense. Steve attempts to fight off his own laughter, gripping your waist and pulling you closer against him as you laugh at Bucky’s story.

“Whatever. You keep talking shit. I’m going to take a shower,” Steve chuckles and pulls away from you.

“So, kitten, tell me about your first date?”

“What?” You laugh, taking a sip of your wine.

“We told you about ours. I wanna hear about yours,” Bucky smiles running his hand up your thigh.

“Oh, it really isn’t all that interesting. It was just this guy in high school. We went to the movies. I think we saw Superbad or one of those Michael Cera movies. He tried to kiss me before my mom could come get me up but I wasn’t feeling it.”

“You wouldn’t kiss a guy after one of Michael Cera’s attempts at acting?”

“No,” you giggle. “He’s a fine actor. I just wasn’t feeling it,” you shrug.

“Alright, tell me about your first kiss then.”

“My first…?” You ask scrunching your brows up at the alpha. “Umm, well…”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never been kissed,” Bucky laughs leaning a little closer. His hand hitches a little higher on your hip, gripping what’s exposed of your ass. Any other time you would have been running as far away from him as possible but right now his sandalwood and lavender scent is going to send you straight into an early heat.

“Promise not to laugh?” You ask looking up at him through your lashes.

“I won’t. Scouts honor.”

“Like you were ever a scout,” you smile in disbelief. “Well, I didn’t have it until college.”

“Late bloomer, huh?”

You nod. “I went to my first ever college party and got really wasted and I was dancing with this guy.”

“Recipe for disaster,” Bucky grins, pulling you a little closer. You happily curl into him, slotting your leg between his. Your hand comes to rest on his lower stomach. You’ve never felt such strong abs before. You can’t help but feel a little bit. You hope he doesn’t mind.

“I told you not to laugh!” You smile.

“You’re telling the story so dramatically I can’t help it.”

You groan softly and continue your story. “So I was dancing with this guy and my friends were ready to leave so we left and he came with us. Walked with us all the way across campus, it had to have been a couple of miles and he lived close to where the party was.”

“He was trying to get some,” Bucky laughs spanking you softly.

“He was! And he wasn’t subtle about it at all! We were plotting how to ditch him the entire walk. So my friend, Milly, said just make out with him and we’ll have the automatic doors at the dorm lock him out. She didn’t know I’d never kissed a guy so I was just dreading it. Like, why do I care how this guy thinks I kiss but we made it to the dorm. They’re looking at me expectantly, waiting to slam the auto doors on this poor kids face. I just copied what I’d seen on TV, lured him right into the doorway and I just went for it. I literally puffed out my cheeks and pressed my lips against his and he tried to stick his tongue in my mouth and it was horrible! It scared me so much, I stepped back before the girls said go but Milly was on the wrestling team so she has lightning fast reflexes and she slammed the door right on his tongue.” You can’t help the laughter that spills from you and Bucky’s soon follows. “You said you wouldn’t laugh!” You cry pressing your hand against his chest.

“How could you expect me not to laugh at that?” He chuckles. “Poor fucker. Didn’t know what he was getting into with a feisty little omega like you.”

“Feisty? Me?” You laugh.

“Yes, you,” Steve laughs from behind you, sliding back into the bed freshly washed and in only a thin pair of boxers and a tank top. “What’d you do, kitten?” His strong arms wrap around your waist pulling you slightly from Bucky’s grip. One hand splays across you stomach and the other rest a little too high on your ribs to be friendly.

“She was telling me about her first kiss. She’s an evil little thing.”

“Oh, not our kitten. She’s an angel,” Steve admits nuzzling his face in your neck. It feels so good. To be wrapped in two pairs of strong arms. Both their scents settle over you so comfortably. You wish you could drown in it. You practically purr at their touch. In fact…

“Kitten,” Bucky laughs. “Are you purring?”

“No!” You deny quickly pressing away from them. “We should really get ready for bed-”

“Aw, come on, kitten,” Bucky sighs pulling you back down into his embrace. “Hang out with us.” Hang out? The last thing these two were doing was hanging out but you fall back into his arms anyway. “Was your second kiss any better?” Bucky asks distracting you from Steve’s touch.

“W-well, yeah. They were all much better after that.”

“So, you’re a pretty good kisser, huh?” Steve asks pressing his lips against your neck then licking at the sensitive skin there just above your scent gland. “Do you kiss as good as you taste?”

“Wha-! No! Steve!” You whine squirming under his touch.

“Kitten, really. I wish you’d relax for us,” Bucky sighs. “You haven’t slammed anymore tongues into doors?”

You shake your head no while Bucky’s hand grips your ass, pulling you into him and right into something more stiff than his abs but they don’t even give you a chance to react to that.

“Can you show me, kitten? How you kiss?” Steve asks softly, his hand snaking under your tiny shirt and pressing you down onto your back.

“Stevie, Bucky, w-we really shouldn’t be doing this,” you whine looking up into Steve’s ocean eyes. He really does have beautiful eyes.

“Why shouldn’t we?” Bucky asks pressing kisses to your bare shoulder. “You trust us, don’t you?”

“We’d never hurt you, kitten. You have no idea how long we’ve waited to get you away from your brother.”

“Practically since you presented.”

“That long?” You whisper, attempting to look at Bucky.

“You developed all these tantalizing curves, kitten. How could we resist?” There are hands all over your body. You can’t tell which ones belong to who. All you know is that you don’t want them to stop.

“We know you want us,” Steve sighs pressing your tiny shirt up over your breasts. “Your scent is fucking intoxicating.”

“And it spikes like crazy when we’re around. Just let us make you feel good, kitten. If you hate it, we’ll leave you alone,” Bucky promises.

“But we know you’ll love it.” Steve presses down your body and nips at your breast. You whine, spreading your legs to accommodate his large body.

“See? You already love it,” Bucky chuckles. He finally presses his lips to yours and it practically takes your breath away.

“Bucky,” you whimper against his lips as his scents spikes for you.

“Fuck,” Steve groans against your nipples. “Open up for us. Good girl, kitten.” You whine as your core clenches around nothing. You need them. You’ve never needed anyone more in your life. A set of fingers find your clothed core and you arch off the bed dramatically. “Warm her up for me, Buck?”

“You got it, pal,” Bucky chuckles around your lips. So many of your senses were firing at once. You didn’t know what to focus on. Steve’s tongue on your nipples and Bucky’s fingers at your clit. Fuck. It was all too much.

“Please,” you whisper not knowing what you wanted but you needed it.

“Please?” Steve chuckles. “Whatever you want, kitten. We’ll give it to you.”

“But you gotta tell us,” Bucky mutters. His fingers clear your tiny shorts and make contact with your naked pussy. You gasp at the feeling making them both chuckle softly.

“What can we do for you?” Steve asks.

“I-I wanna-I wanna-“

“You wanna what, kitten?” Steve’s mouth sucks at your sensitive nipples and Bucky’s fingers press against your quivering clit.

“Wanna cum!” You whine sharply.

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky chuckles and pulls away from you along with Steve.

“Wai-! Where are you going?” You pant as they sit back to watch you.

“We need to get rid of all these clothes first,” Steve explains and presses your legs together to pull off your shorts while Bucky tugs your tiny top over your head. Then they work on themselves. Your eyes widen as you watch them peel off their bottoms, revealing their hard red leaking cocks.

“What’s wrong, kitten? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Bucky smirks as he tosses away his sweats and grips his heavy erection, a steady stream leaking from it’s tip and making his scent so much more heady.

“You’re alright. Just relax,” Steve’s scent permeates beyond Bucky’s settling over you like a weighted blanket as he strips revealing his own giant cock. Precum bubbles out of his tip in thick globs making you gulp.

“Y-you’re both so big,” you whisper.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Steve laughs. “We’ll get you nice and warmed up. You’ll barely feel us.” Barely!? You want to run away but you’re paralyzed under their gaze. “Now, let me get a real taste of you.” Steve tugs your legs up over his shoulders until you’re dangling with the top of your head on his lap and staring blankly at a now upside down Bucky. You don’t even have time to think about it before his tongue licks a strip up your core and you’re left screaming for him.

“Told you we’d make you feel good,” Bucky chuckles. “Now look at you. In the perfect position to fill up that cute little hole.”

“Wh-“ But you’re cut off by Bucky tapping his tip against your bottom lips. “That’s not gonna fit!” You protest but it’s on deaf ears as he presses past your lips into your hot, wet mouth.

“See? We know what we’re doing, kitten. Trust us,” Bucky sighs as he strokes himself against your lips. A hand wraps around one of yours and guides it around his thick member, showing you how hard to squeeze. “There you go, kitten. Good girl. Just like that. Fuck. How long do you think she can stay like this, Stevie?”

Steve pulls away long enough to mutter, “Until she cums,” before diving back into your hot pussy.

You whine around your oral burden feeling the blood simultaneously rush to your head and your core until you feel like you’ll pass out from the pressure. Your whimpers get more frantic and your attention on Bucky’s cocks gets more spotty until you’re legs are clamped around Steve’s head for dear life. You get so close as everything gets so dark and fuzzy around the edges. You can’t hold on anymore. Your eyes flutter shut just as sparkles burst behind your lids and you cum flooding into Steve’s awaiting mouth.

Fuck…

Fuck!

Your eyes wretch open at the impossible stretch inside your core. “Ah! Ahhh! Stevie! Bucky!” You cry out softly as the walls of flesh around you start to console you.

“Hey! Hey, kitten. You’re okay. Calm down,” Steve instructs, his scent starting to lull you into a sense of security as his fingers stroke your cheek gently.

“We told you you’d barely feel it,” Bucky laughs from behind you.

You feel it now! He feels impossibly large and how is he fucking you twice?

You glance down to see between your and Steve’s bodies.

No. No no no no! You let out a strangled scream as the pain of having two monster cocks inside of you starts register.

“Hey! Relax!” Bucky barks. “It feels good, doesn’t it? Being this full of us?”

“Just imagine being full of our babies,” Steve grunts.

“Fuck, you’d look so beautiful. All round with huge, leaking tits,” Bucky chuckles as his fingers dance across your hard nipples.

“You aren’t on birth control, are you?”

“N-no,” you whisper, smothering your face is Steve’s shoulder.

“Good,” they both reply at once. Not good. You weren’t ready for babies. You didn’t even have a mate…

“Stop,” Bucky calls to his partner sensing your distress first. “What wrong, kitten?”

“Tell us. Let us fix it,” Steve seconds as they both still inside of you.

You can barely think straight with them stretching you like this let alone reply.

“Can’t-can’t have a baby,” you strain.

“Why not?” Steve asks, stroking your braids from your face before cupping your face.

“I-we-we’re not-“

“Out with it, kitten,” Bucky groans smacking the side of your ass.

“Bucky,” Steve reprimands. “Talk to us, kitten.”

“We’re not mated!” You finally moan into Steve’s shoulder.

“Oh?” Steve laughs.

“Is that all?” Bucky chuckles. “Don’t worry about that.”

“You’ll have marks all over you by Sunday. No one will ever question who you belong to,” Steve smirks before gripping your hips and beginning to thrust into you anew. Bucky follows suit and you wonder just how much the human body can take before it splits in half. It’s too much. Far too much. They’re too big! They take up too much space in your little body. Just when you think you’ll pass out again Steve grumbles that he’s going to cum and Bucky mimics his notion shortly afterwards.

“Please, please, please,” you chant, slurring your speech with how close your own release is.

Then one of them hits that spot just right and you’re screaming for them, clinching around them enough that they cum spilling inside of you. And then you’re left screaming again as their knots pop into place keeping all that essence bottle up inside you as they continue to spew their seed.

You gasp as you feel your belly bloat with all of it, bowing outward against Steve’s strong abs.

“Too much!” You whine at the feeling. Too full. Too tight. Too heavy. Far too much.

“Hey! I know. I know. It’s a lot. Hang in there for us,” Bucky attempts to soothe but you immediately feel another round of hot cum paint your insides and ballooning your stomach even more.

“Can’t!” You cry but both men rub your arms and your face, attempting to calm you just enough to get you on your side. Bucky’s hand finds your bloated stomach and rubs soft circles into it while Steve whispers sweet praises in your ear.

“You were so good for us, kitten. The best girl we could ask for. You gonna hold on to all that hot cum and make us a bunch of babies?” You can only nod slightly as you attempt to get comfortable. Your quickened breaths eventually get heavier as you start to doze off. “There you go, kitten. Get some rest. You deserve it.”

“She’s tight as a drum, Stevie,” Bucky sighs as his fingers find your navel. It’s straining against the need to pop to give the cum inside you a little extra room.

“We might have over done it,” Steve chuckles until he feels his partner starting to strain against his knot. “The fuck are you doing?

“She’s just so hot like this. I can’t help it,” Bucky groans as he humps into their little partner.

“Fuck, Buck!” Steve hisses trying to ignore the friction against his own cock. “You’re gonna make me cum!” But Bucky just ignores him thrusting shallowly into you while you sleep.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fu-“ Bucky sighs cumming into you once more and pulling Steve closely behind with him. You whimper softly in your sleep as your tummy bows out even more.

“Fuck, Buck! No more. She can’t handle it,” Steve says with an air of authority as he holds you against him protectively.

“I’m exhausted anyway,” the brunet yawns and cups your breast and your stomach as he follows you into sleep.

You wake up far more bloated than you remember when you fell asleep but at least both your alphas knots had gone down.

Your alphas…

It was interesting to think of them like that after so long of them being your brother’s friends. Your alphas sounds…nice.

You scramble from between the two sleeping giants and rush to the bathroom to release the load they deposited in you. You watch your bloated stomach deflate and wonder what pregnancy would be like.

You quickly shake your head of the thought. No babies without mating! You don’t care how much your omega instincts want to take over, that was never going to happen!

You return to the main room and find Bucky and Steve had turned into more comfortable positions without being knotted inside of you. You still crawl in between them and curl over Bucky’s chest in exhaustion.

“Hey? You alright?” He yawns feeling your weight as you nuzzle into him. You just nod and attempt to snuggle further into his chest. “Hang on. I want my pick of spots. Sit up for a second.” You sleepily obey, sitting on your heels before him while he scrutinizes you. He tilts your head to the left and bares his fangs into your shoulder right above your scent gland. Your eyes widen at how simple it is. No posturing. No rituals. Just a mark and you already feel more drawn to him. “There. All mine,” Bucky smiles proudly. “Punk! Wake up and claim her!” You can’t help but giggle at the two before you slide into Steve’s arms. You hold up your head on the opposite side of Bucky’s for him and that’s it. He’s marked you for life. You feel his pull start to tug you in as well as you press a kiss to his lips. You crawl from his arms and attempt to curl back in between them.

“You are far too active for a pregnant woman,” Steve mutters turning over to face you. “It obviously didn’t take and we need to try again.”

“I agree,” Bucky laughs only for you to protest and use the sheets as a shield against them.

“We have all weekend, right? You two can destroy me again tomorrow?”

Bucky smirks at you knowingly before averting his gaze to Steve. “Only if that’s a promise, ‘mega.” Your eyes widen at your brunet alpha.

“Goodnight, kitten,” Steve wishes and presses a kiss to your temple. “Get some rest. You’re gonna need it.”

You were suddenly very awake.

“Kitten? Rise and shine, my beautiful little omega.” You curl further into the sheets after hearing your name.

“Too early,” you mumble.

“What happened to you being ours today? You promised.” You whine softly and peek from the pillows to see Bucky watching you expectantly. He’s already dressed for the day and so is Steve as he rubs your back from behind you. So sore. You wiggle your hips hoping to alleviate the pain but it doesn’t help.

“We should let her sleep in,” Steve sighs pulling you closer to him.

“She’s fine,” Bucky insists. “Get up and get dressed.” You stretch against Steve’s body, the sheets falling away from you and instantly reminding you that you’re completely naked. You let out a soft gasp and cover your chest out of instinct completely forgetting about last night’s activities.

“Shy all of the sudden?” Steve laughs and kisses your cheek. “You don’t have to hide from us. Come on. Get up.” You roll from the bed and stumble into the bathroom as the events from the previous evening start to flood your mind. You’re mated now. To your brother’s best friends...

He’s going to kill them.

Your eyes widen at the thought before you catch yourself in your reflection. Your braids are a tangled mess but under them you see two sets of semi circular marks on either side of your neck. You really are theirs now.

A shutter runs through your body and ends right at your core.

Theirs.

Your alphas.

This is kind of a lot to spring on someone after one night. You laugh at the situation. You never in a million years thought you’d be mated to Steve and Bucky. Sure you fantasized about it but it was never something you thought would become your reality.

You emerge from the bathroom freshly dressed in a short sun dress. “There she is,” Bucky smiles and pulls you into his arms. “You look so cute all dolled up for us.” You stand on your toes and press a kiss to his lips. He hums positively and pulls you back for more.

Steve chuckles from behind you. “Let her go so we can get some food. Gotta keep our little omega fed.”

You giggle and grab Steve’s hand as he leads you down to the hotel restaurant.

Your first time in public as a mated omega is interesting. All the attention you’re used to getting is gone? Well, not really gone. Alphas still look but they notice the marks you proudly bare on your neck and quickly glance away. It also didn’t help that your alphas were constantly all over you: making your plate, feeding you, making sure you got exactly what you wanted.

“Grab a jacket and something to keep you entertained,” Bucky instructs when you head back to the room.

“Am I going fishing with you guys?” You ask, stretching and yawning. You just wanted to go back to sleep. Steve gives you a positive hum while he gathers his things. “I can just hang out here. Get a massage or something,” you suggest. “Maybe a bigger room will be ready and I can move our stuff…”

“Nah, you can’t do that by yourself,” Bucky denies. “And we want you with us, kitten. It’ll be fun. Better than this stuffy hotel.”

“If you insist,” you sigh and follow them out to the truck. It’s a short drive to their fishing spot, maybe a little over half an hour. They’re quiet as the set up their gear so you set up a folding chair out of their way and work on your town.

“Kitten, you didn’t think you’d sit over there with your game all day, did you?” Bucky laughs calling you over. He grips your thigh under your dress and places a kiss on your hand.

“Is this fishing? Sitting around in the sun by the water?” You ask seeing their set up: a case of beers and a baseball game streaming on one of their iPads. How were they even getting a signal out here?

“Basically,” Steve smirks up at you, those beautiful eyes squinting in the sun. “I’m glad you wore a dress today. Less to work around.”

“Huh?” You question dumbly.

“Kitten, you remember how you promised to make us a baby this weekend?” Bucky asks pulling you closer by your leg.

“Right now?” You blanch looking around the forested landscape.

“Yes, right now. We have plenty of time.”

“What if someone sees?” You ask quietly.

“They’d get a beautiful show,” Steve sighs as Bucky’s hand snakes further up your leg to find your panties. He repositions you between his thighs before tugging the little piece of fabric down your legs. Bucky presses a kiss to your stomach just before his fingers find your slit.“Bucky,” you whisper, your face heating in embarrassment.

“Open up for me, kitten.” He kicks your feet apart and you fall into him, gripping his shoulders to keep your balance. His fingers tuck into your core, making a beaconing motion and immediately finding that spot he abused the night before. You let out a soft shriek as you grip his strong shoulders. Bucky lets out a satisfied hum and kisses your cleavage. “You’re so perfect for us. So glad we have you.”

“My alphas,” you breathe.

“Our perfect little omega,” Steve sighs stepping behind you hiking up your skirt over your ass. “With the best ass on the planet,” you hear the smile in his voice right before he smacks your ass roughly. “Open her up a little more for me, Buck.”

Bucky grips your ass and pulls your knees over his thighs on his folding chair. “Shit. Hold on,” Bucky grunts and stands with your legs around his waist. “Jacket, Stevie?”

Steve lays his jacket down for you to rest your knees on.

“Thank you, Stevie,” you smile.

“Anything for you, kitten.” Steve kisses you but you chase after his lips wanting more, both of their scents calming your nerves a little.

“Is this the same omega who was worried about being caught?” Bucky laughs gripping your bare ass.

“Bucky,” you giggle squirming in his grip.

“Calm down. We’re going to fuck you no matter what,” Steve jokes and kisses you once more. Bucky sits back down with your legs spread open for Steve, you can already feel your juices slipping from your core for them.

“There’s still some cum in you, kitten,” Steve sighs, swiping his fingers through your folds.

“I-it’s your fault,” you whimper.

Steve hums back, the sound of it runs straight down to your core. “My fault? It seems like I have a little kitten who needs to learn to clean up her messes.”

You drop your face into the bend of Bucky’s neck and inhale his scent. It’s so potent and heady you can barely think straight.

“Someone’s getting a little hazy,” Bucky sighs. “Your heat starting, kitten?”

“N-no!” You quickly deny and pull away from him.

“It’s okay. Come back.” He pulls you back into his embrace. “It’s okay if you can’t control it. That’s why we’re here.”

“Let us take care of that pesky heat,” Steve sighs. “You just be our sweet little omega.”

“Speaking of being our sweet little omega, do you wanna mark us, kitten?” Bucky asks pressing his lips to the mark Steve left on your shoulder.

“Y-you want me to…?” You question, your lids starting to feel heavy from the hormones suddenly overtaking your system.

Bucky gives you an affirmative hum, his lips never leaving your skin.

The thought never crossed your mind. You always assumed you’d belong to your alpha. Not the other way around.

It didn’t seem normal. Or, at least, no one ever talked about it.

“You’re sure you want me?” You whisper, trying to fight back the heat for a moment. It was coming no matter what at this point. It’s just a matter of letting it come.

“Kitten, we told you last night. We’ve wanted you for years,” Steve sighs, tilting your head back so you can see him.

“But you’re like a skittish little cat. You run at the first sign of danger. So we had to corner you,” Bucky adds trailing his fingers along your exposed cleavage.

“Get you alone, away from that protective brother of yours,” Steve smirks and kisses your forehead before releasing you.

“We want you, kitten. We have rooms made for you at our homes. Our kitchens are stocked with your favorite foods on the off chance you might come by. We just need you to submit.”

“B-both of you?” You breathe, glancing between the two of them.

“We’re a package deal, sweetheart,” Steve chuckles.

You watch Bucky’s chest for a moment, your fingers gripping his Henley lightly. You glance up at his blue eyes before shifting your gaze to his scent gland.

You nod slightly before leaning down to meet his skin. You kiss the area, trailing kisses until you find the perfect spot for your mark. Then you bite down hard and Bucky’s scent explodes for you. A fresh wave a slick coats your core and you almost feel faint.

“…so good,” you sigh out, mostly to yourself.

“If you like that, just wait for my rut,” Bucky grunts in your ear making your face heat. Everything suddenly feels so hot and your skin is so sensitive.

“My turn?” Steve asks, picking you up to cradle you against his chest. You nod and wrap your arms around his shoulders. You nuzzle against his neck, finding the perfect spot on him as well. Your lips explore his skin before you finally bite down. A whine escapes you as Steve’s scent overwhelms your senses. You grip his shoulders as a cramp runs through your body.

“Fuck, kitten, I felt that,” Steve groans.

“You need someone to scratch that itch?” Bucky asks.

“It’s more than an itch, Buck. She needs to get fucked,” Steve laughs and places you back in his lap.

“Is that right, kitten? You need to get fucked?” A soft whine escapes your lips as you squirm in Bucky’s lap.

You nod weakly. There’s no use in hiding it now. They know you carnally. They feel everything you feel and they definitely feel the slick dripping down your thighs.

“Good girl,” Steve sighs. Steve spreads your lips with his fingers and thrusts in so slowly you feel every ridge and vein adorning his cock. The moan that escapes your lips is feral. You need this. You need them.

Steve completely buries himself in you and your jaw falls open dumbly.

“Fuck,” Steve groans. “You feels amazing, kitten.”

You feel your core clinch around him so tightly it’s almost painful.

Bucky lifts you up while you’re still impaled on Steve’s cock. He unzips his own pants and spreads your cheeks. His fingers wipe up the slick seeping out of your core before fingering your puckered hole.

“Deep breath kitten,” he sighs as he massages your insides, spreading the slick until you’re nice and slippery. “Keep breathing for me.”

Then you feel him. His thick head starting to breech that hole where it definitely shouldn’t.

“Too big,” you whine and struggle between them but before you know it, Bucky is fully sheathed within you.

Part of starts to panic as your heart and breaths race.

“Calm down, little omega. We’re gonna take care of you,” Steve coos.

“Very good care of you,” Bucky agrees.

You return to the hotel and the woman at the front desks apologizes again and hands Steve the keycards to the room he initially booked. The three of you look at each other before Steve speaks. “Actually, do you have any king suites available?”

You let your alphas carry your luggage to your new room. There were much more amenities than the last one. A kitchenette, a jacuzzi, a separate living room and bedroom.

“This a little better kitten?” Bucky asks wrapping his arms around your waist.

You nod and accept a kiss. Your phone vibrates on the table and a picture of your brother pops up on the screen. You pull away from Bucky’s grip and press a kiss to his lips before answering your phone.

“Hey, Sammy! How you feeling?”

“Way better! So I drove out to meet you guys. I knew you didn’t want to be left alone with those jokers for too long.” Your eyes widen and meet Bucky’s gaze like a deer in a set of headlights.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks throwing himself on the bed after he finishes unpacking again.

“Um, S-Sam…Sam is-Sam is…”

Bucky plucks the phone from your fingers. “Hello?” Bucky asks all concern but his face quickly lights up. “Hey! Yeah! Come on up. Room 532.” He hangs up your phone and places it back in your hands. “Sammy’s here,” he tells Steve as if it’s completely normal.

“Cool! I’m glad he’s feeling better.”

“The couch pulls out. I’m not moving rooms again,” Bucky sighs and pulls you to the bed.

“Wait!” You cry. “He-he’s gonna know. He’s gonna kill us!”

“I’d like to see him try,” Bucky laughs rubbing your stomach comfortably. “What are we doing for dinner?”

“I was just looking…there’s a steak house in town, twenty minutes away.”

“Steak sounds good. Anything for our kitten there?”

“They have salmon, shrimp risotto, oh! Lobster ravioli! You love lobster ravioli.” You do love lobster ravioli but your brother is about to see that his two best friends obviously fucked his little sister and you were all about to be on his shit list.

How can they be so calm about this?

There’s a knock at the door all too soon before you could even start to process a defense for the situation.

Steve gets up to answer the door and you hear the two best friends greet each other. Sam sounds so happy.

Too happy!

You start to panic when Bucky’s hand finds yours.

“Hey, relax. We’ll handle this. That’s what alphas are for.”

“Where my baby sister?” You hear Sam call and you pull away from Bucky and stumble from the bedroom. Steve brushes your lower back as you step up to Sam. You look up into his brown eyes and he instantly knows something is off.

He inhales your scent and sets a glare on Steve. “You fucked my little sister.” It wasn’t a question.

“Can you blame us, Sam? We’ve wanted her for far too long. We weren’t going to pass this up.”

“We? Both of you?” His gaze falls back on you. “Are you okay?”

You cock your head to the side. Are you okay? You let out a laugh and fall into a fit of giggles. “Surprisingly, I survived,” you breathe out through your laughter.

“Are you okay with this?” Sam asks once you sober.

You glance between the two men on either side of you. “I’m really happy, actually. They’re perfect,” you smile and grip Steve’s hand.

Sam glances between the three of you. “As long as you’re happy.”

“Anyway, we were thinking steak for dinner. You hungry?” Bucky asks and grabs Sam’s bag off of his shoulder.

“Starving,” Sam sighs. “Traffic was horrible.”

“Right? Poor kitten’s switch died and she was stuck just listening to us. She’s a fucking saint for that.” You giggle falling into Bucky’s chest.

“I think I fell asleep at some point,” you smile.

“And the room situation has been a nightmare. You don’t mind sleeping on the pull out?” Steve asks leading your brother into the room.

“Let me guess, they were out of three bedrooms and it was the one bed situation and now I have to watch my sister and my two best friends act like mates?”

“Yeah! That’s exactly it, actually,” Steve laughs.

“And we did mate her. You’re pretty good at this, Samuel,” Bucky smirks.

Sam looks between the three of you absolutely dumbfounded. “Alright,” he lets out a shaky exhale. “Give me a few days to adjust to this. Please.”

Bucky grins cheekily. “Should we start calling you brother, yet?”

“What about ‘a few of days’ aren’t you getting, Buck?”

“Your sister’s anything but quiet so you’re gonna hear about it all night,” Steve smirks.

“You know what, I’m just going to get my own room. I don’t wanna hear it.” You giggle softly at your brother’s comment. “Just don’t hurt my sister and you three can do whatever you want.”

“You know we could never, Sammy,” Steve grins.

“At least not in a way she wouldn’t beg for,” Bucky smirks.

“Stop! I told you I don’t wanna hear it. I’m not listening,” Sam calls before grabbing his bag and heading back downstairs.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if the only room left was the one next door?” Steve hums, pulling you closer and resting his chin on your head.

“Or the one we just left,” Bucky muses.

“Fine! I’ll get a different hotel!” Sam groans making you laugh again.

“Be nice, boys. We’ll behave.”

“You have to behave first, kitten,” Steve mutters before pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Definitely staying in a different hotel,” Sam sighs.

“Yeah, whatever,” Bucky smirks. “Like you’ll leave her alone with us for another night. Let’s go get some food.”

Master List

#alpha!steve rogers #alpha!bucky barnes #alpha!stucky #alpha!stucky x reader #black!reader #alpha!steve roger x reader x alpha!bucky Barnes #omega!reader

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1d1195 · 10 months ago

Text

Most VI

Read Most here | ~4.3k words

From me: I think you guys don't give me enough credit for NOT putting cliffhangers in some of these (jk, I'm the worst lol) This part is a little shorter than the most recent parts --I was going to combine it with the last part, but decided to keep it self-contained because it seemed better that way. One more part to go! :)

Warnings: Lauren, angst, and a house fire. Please suspend your belief.

Summary: Harry finally figures out why she left. He just hopes it's not too late.

Harry was buzzing. His shift went by so fast knowing she was at the end of it.

Harry stopped to get her coffee. It was two in the afternoon when he finally left work, went home to shower, then make his way back toward her place. There were a lot of things that changed, but he hoped some hadn’t. Such that she would be getting up from her nap and would want a coffee.

“Hey, Lo,” Harry said as he entered the shop with a wave. Lauren was waiting on others in front of him, so he stood in line analyzing the menu wondering if she liked something different now. He couldn’t stop smiling, he could feel his cheeks nearly bursting. “What do y’think the chances are that she likes the same drink?” Harry asked as he approached the register.

It took a minute for Harry to notice that Lauren didn’t answer. He looked down from the menu and was totally confused by the expression on Lauren’s face. “You really love her? After she broke your heart?”

He stared at her. Unsure of where the question came from. Especially from her. Harry still didn’t know Lauren extensively, but it was an odd question to ask anyone and even odder for her to broach it.

But Harry would answer it any day. “Of course I do, Lauren. Why wouldn’t I?”

She shook her head. “You deserve so much more than her,” Lauren’s eyes filled with tears and her voice cracked.

Harry’s brain worked slowly. Those words were familiar. Too familiar. The way she said them. The emphasis. His breathing felt erratic, and he realized too late that he was in flight-or-fight mode. The way his body started to shake. None of the puzzle pieces were fitting together but at the same time they were. All of them. Like he knew what happened the day she left as if they were said to him himself. “What... Lo... what did y’say?” It sounded like something she had said to him no less than eighteen hours ago. Her reasoning for that day.

Lauren covered her mouth, squeezed her eyes shut. Then, when she spoke, her words were caught on a choked sob. “She wasn’t supposed to come back! You weren’t supposed to wait for her!”

Harry took a step back. The coffee shop was too small suddenly and he was way too close to her. “Lauren,” his voice was low. His heart was aching; like it already knew what happened but unable to fully believe it. “What did y’do?” He whispered. But now, in the few seconds he had to reminisce where it went wrong. Harry thought back on it, he thought about the way Lauren’s grip had felt around his neck when he helped carry her to bed.

All that time...

It’s not fair.

Harry shook his head of the memory trying to focus on how he felt now. “Lauren,” he repeated. “What did y’say t’her?”

“I just thought that if she was gone you would see there was more than her for you.”

He backed up again, like she had slapped him. He bumped into the display behind him knocking a few bags of coffee grinds to the floor. “How could you?” He shook his head, it felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. There wasn’t enough air. All that time just gone because of someone’s rotten jealousy. “You’re supposed to be her friend!”

“I–I… I don’t know… I just thought–”

“Did y’even message her all that time? Did y’even try?” He shouted. There was only a half dozen people in the coffee shop, but they all stared at Harry’s outburst.

“Oh... oh, my goodness,” someone whispered. Someone who very clearly knew what happened between her and Harry three years ago and how Lauren, if she was anyone’s friend, would have done anything to help them. But she didn’t. She let Harry suffer and watched him order countless coffees and asked if she had heard anything from her.

“Harry—”

“How could you?!” He shouted. It was pure silence this time. Lauren covered her mouth again and sobbed. “Three years, Lauren! Three years I have been half alive without her. How could y’do that t’her? How?”

“I-I—”

“Eleven hundred days, Lauren! Eleven. Hundred. One thousand, one hundred, twenty-seven days. Six birthdays, three Christmases, three anniversaries, that we’ll never get back because of you.”

Harry might have felt bad had Lauren tried to get him to leave all those years ago instead of her. Because if Harry had left, he would have been the stupidest person alive and he would have deserved to feel broken and terrible for three years. But it wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know why Lauren said it. She didn’t know how Lauren’s hand had felt on the back of his neck. Lauren preyed upon the sweet girl’s insecurities and extorted the kindness she possessed.

Lauren betrayed her friend. She broke both their hearts because she was jealous. So, Harry didn’t feel bad. Not even a little.

He shook his head, his anger and frustration reaching a boiling point and he needed to get out of there and punch a tree before he did something stupid. Without another word, without another thought of Lauren and what she did, he started for the exit quickly.

However, when his hand touched the door there was one last thing he needed to say. Hopefully, it was going to be the last thing he ever said to her. “Don’t ever speak t’her again, Lauren. She’s too kind t‘say it and I don’t want her t’know. So, I’ll say it on her behalf: Don’t. Ever. Speak to her. Again.”

Harry sped much too fast in his car the entire way to her apartment building. His mind was racing. Trying to figure out what happened in the three years and how it could have gotten so far away from him… away from her.

Why didn’t he press more that night? Why didn’t he go visit her after a year—no, a week? An hour. Why didn’t he try?

Harry was so wrapped up in his thoughts he didn’t even realize there were sirens in the distant background. He didn’t realize people were pointing in the direction he was headed. For the first time since he decided he wanted to help his community and he was going to be a firefighter, Harry didn’t see the smoke.

When he parked off to the side because he knew the trucks would be coming, he searched for the car he saw in the middle of traffic just a couple short weeks ago. He prayed it wouldn’t be there. But it was. “Fuck,” he whispered to himself. He saw a new storage pod outside, but it was locked shut—she wasn’t outside. He dialed her phone number. Praying he was unblocked. He hadn’t texted or called her in the time she had been back. He had deleted her contact info but and her messages fell to the bottom of the list with disuse—it was far easier to type her number than scroll looking for it. The idea he was going to scare her away again far outweighed his desire to have communication with her—seeing her in person was more than sufficient. It was, in a way, slow and old-fashioned, he had bargained to see her by accident.

But now that seemed like the stupidest idea he had ever had.

It had been ages since he dialed her number, but the ten digits were imprinted on his mind like the melody of his favorite song or a tattoo on his arm. He tapped his screen as quickly as he could. Paced in front of the burning door, watching the flames float up curtains and walls swiftly.

He listened to it ring. Which was a miracle.

But there was no answer.

His stomach churned.

He dialed again.

No answer.

Harry started to sweat. He ran a hand through his hair. “Everyone is out,” someone shouted.

But Harry didn’t believe that. Pressed his thumb on her number again.

No answer.

Harry stared at the building. It was supposed to be a saving grace, this building. She was home. But right then, he hated it. With intense passion. Hated it more than anything.

“C’mon,” he murmured to himself.

There was a pause in the ringing. “Mmm… Hi Harry,” she whispered sleepily. For the briefest second Harry forgot the reason for his call. “Is your shift over? Are you coming to me or do you want me to come to your place?” She murmured. God, Harry loved her so much. Even in a dangerous situation, he was so happy to hear his name on her lips. Right when she woke up. It was only seconds between her answer and his sentence but after she had been gone all of time felt slower, he had to fill it with more. He thought of all the mornings he lost with her. All the weekends he would have spent in her dorm waking up on a mattress that was too small for two people, but it wouldn’t have mattered because he could never be close enough to her. He didn’t get to hear her say Hi Harry in a sleepy voice and relish it.

He couldn’t do that now.

“Baby, please tell me you’re not home,” he begged, but he was already pulling his jacket from his car. He would have put his whole suit on if he had it with him, but obviously he didn’t. The jacket wasn’t station-issued but it was flame resistant and it would have to do. It seemed so counterintuitive to cover up more when he was already sweating with anxiety and from the hot summer sun. Next came gloves that he had from helping Gemma cut down trees in her yard. Again, not fire station approved, but they would have to work.

His eyes stayed glued to the building watching her balcony. This was a nightmare. Worse than any one that Harry ever had of her. He would take another three years apart over this.

“I just... woke up from a nap,” she yawned, stretched. God, he would have paid thousands of dollars just to see it. One brain cell was happy her nap time hadn’t changed.

But this wasn’t the time to worry about her nap. “At... Eleanor’s?” He hoped, squeezing his eyes shut.

She coughed, unaware. “No,” she coughed again. “I’m at my apartment, why?”

He opened his eyes and saw the smoke and fire crawling up to the third floor. The slew of people around him crying and watching as the building went up in flames. Memories lost and trinkets gone. He closed his eyes tight. “Kitten,” he whispered. “I need you t’listen very carefully t’me. Y’need t’stay calm. Can y’do that?”

“Harry, what’s wrong?” He heard her shuffle.

“Baby, m’here. I promise. M’not gonna let anything happen t’you,” he assured her.

“What are you talking about? What’s—it’s,” she coughed again. “Ugh,” she sighed. “It’s super hot in here and the AC isn’t working—I think I have to have the super look at—”

“Kitten,” he rubbed his forehead, terrified of her reaction. “M’outside your building. It’s on fire and you need to get out.”

There was a pause. “No...” she shook her head. Coughed. “No, the smoke detectors didn’t go off.”

It was his worst fear. Her sleeping like the dead terrified him. He always worried something horrible like this would happen. Thank God he called her. But if the detectors didn’t even go off... she didn’t have a chance.

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Baby, y’need t’go,” he could see the fourth floor, right below hers—the windows began seeping with thick smoke. She gasped and shuffled back.

“Oh... oh no,” she whispered. “Harry, the hallway...” her voice cracked. “Harry, what do I do?”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and held the phone tighter in his hand. He wished he could teleport up there. He heard water running. Probably a towel or blanket she was soaking while she still could. Good girl. “Baby, y’need t’come to the balcony.”

It was the reason an astronaut wasn’t feasible after all their training that one week. It was why she would never have a kiss on a Ferris Wheel or why she would never reach the top of a mountain hike. Anything higher than two stories was too tall and too scary.

Now more than ever.

She shook her head, Harry couldn’t see her, but he knew it. “I can’t do that... I... I...”

“I know, baby, I know it’s high. But you have to,” he wanted to scream but he had to be calm for her.

She couldn’t even bring herself to the window to look down. Harry was so scared as he thought of how much smoke she was inhaling whether there was a wet blanket around her head or not. “I can’t,” she croaked. “It’s too high.”

“Kitten, I know,” he agreed. “I know,” he squeezed his eyes shut. “But I need you to get out,” he clutched the phone tighter. “Like right now.”

The sound of firetruck doors slammed from behind him. “Styles! What are you doing here?”

“Someone’s in there,” he shouted back.

“We’ve been told everyone’s been accounted for!”

He turned and glared toward the voice that said it. “Where’s the fucking ladder truck!?”

But Harry already knew that the building was taller than any of the ones in town. Even if it was here, it would only reach the third floor.

“They’re coming from the town over… Who’s still in there—”

She coughed. It was muffled by her shirt, the wet towel she surely had over her head. “I can’t, Harry. I’m sorry,” she sniffled. “I’m too scared and it’s,” she was broken up by a cough again.

“S’not an option, baby,” he shook his head. She wasn’t giving up. He wasn’t allowing her to give up. He was stepping closer to the house prepared to run up the stairs from the first floor, through the flames, and five flights of stairs. Where the fuck was the ladder truck?!

“Styles, it’s unstable. You’re not to enter—that’s an order. It’s not safe!” The voice of the fire chief shouted from behind him.

He was going to get fired—but a chance of reaching her? It was well worth it. He would take third degree burns over every inch of his body in trade for her safety. It didn't matter what he needed to do. “Baby, you still with me?”

“I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m really scared, Harry.”

He winced, feeling so much agony over her fear. His brain wasn’t moving fast enough. “Where’s the goddamn truck!?” He shouted behind him, his voice quieting on the phone. The rest of the squad was hooking up hoses to fire hydrants and looking for a point of entry to determine the safety of the building. Talking with the manager of the building.

Then his voice softened, even though he was desperate and broken. “I know, baby. I know. S’okay. M’gonna get you out,” he promised.

“Harry,” she sniffled. It felt worse than third degree burns. It felt worse than not knowing if she ate breakfast or got a good night’s sleep. Nothing felt as bad as her sniffling; sad and scared. Harry wanted to hold her and assure her it would be okay; but he was too far away.

“M’here, baby. M’here,” he promised.

“Harry—”

“Kitten, I just need t’think for one second and I’ll get y’out—”

“Harry, baby—”

“—I promise. I would never—”

“Harry, I really, really love you,” she croaked. Silencing any thought Harry had. “I always have. I didn’t stop loving you. Not even for a second. I think I love you more if that’s even possible.”

It felt like the last three years never existed. She was never gone. The hole in his heart was filled. His lungs didn’t feel short of breath, and his muscles stopped aching. She loved him. He thought of Gemma saying she would never do something that would hurt both of them.

But Harry was sick of her goodbyes. He didn’t like that they came without warning. They never said goodbye or goodnight. It was always implied she would see him tomorrow.

Harry dropped his phone without responding. He didn’t think; didn’t think logically at all. His training was gone. He relied on his instinct and the strength training he had thrown himself into at the gym.

He marched up to the first first-floor patio railing and stood on it as the rest of his coworkers shouted. He had seen moments of incredible strength and determination from every day people choosing to be heroes. Harry would never tout himself as such, but he was going to be heroic for her.

The distinct voice of his chief started to shout after him as well, but it was too late. He had to be quick for a hundred reasons, but if they stopped him, something bad would happen to her. Then he would die--that he was sure of. The railing was a good jumping point. Heat poured from the building. People shouted at him. Shouted into the walkies to get the ladder truck there ASAP. He was so fired. But it didn’t matter.

He jumped up from the railing and grabbed for the balusters the second floor balcony. He yanked himself up in a chin-up that his friends and coworkers would be proud of if they had a moment to admire it. Once on the second balcony, he remained perched for a moment. Gathering his nerve, and resetting his muscles before he launched up to the next floor in the same way as the second. Then he did it for the fourth and fifth balconies as well. He didn’t think about how high up he was. How a free fall would definitely break his spine or very much something worse. He wasn’t the one afraid of heights after all.

She was more important. Always. He was not going to let her say I love you on the phone to him after three years of nothing, make him whole again, and then just leave permanently.

Once on her balcony, his muscles screamed. He pulled on the slider but it was locked. He pressed his face to the glass and searched for her but couldn’t see her through the smoke.

“Goddammit!” He shouted, slamming his fist on the slider. But she probably couldn’t hear it over the sound of the room separating her, the sirens, and probably the sound of her own coughing. Harry pressed his gloved hands to his face and pressed his hands to his pockets searching for anything that could be useful.

Then his saving grace was a planter in the corner of the balcony. Time seemed to be moving so slowly, he could have cried. He yanked the stand surely straining a muscle in his back but that didn't matter either. The plant tumbled to her patio floor and in the same motion, he smashed the heavy holder it into the slider. He turned his head away to avoid the glass and the heat bloomed from inside.

“Kitten, if y’can hear me. I need you t'come t’my voice,” he shouted. The floor creaked under the weight of his foot. It made his training kick in, he couldn’t keep going. It was useless if he fell through the floor and couldn’t keep her safe.

It killed a piece of him, but he stayed where he was. Through the smoke, he searched for her. “Kitten, please,” he begged.

Holding onto the frame of the door he stepped into the room, shirt over his mouth, his foot feeling for a support beam that hadn’t been broken by the flames or something.

“Goddammit,” he croaked. “Where are you?” His eyes burned from the smoke and heat but he tried anyway because he had to find her.

“I’m here,” she called weakly.

He closed his eyes, his heart aching as he breathed out inside his shirt. “Good. Good, baby. Come here,” his eyes were watering from the smoke or heat. He thought. Or maybe it was just pure relief flooding his vision. In actuality, they were just tears. “Baby, you have t’come here now.” He ordered.

The floor creaked and he didn’t know where she was and it killed him. He couldn’t see through the smoke.

He prayed none of her possessions were lost. Her phone probably had pictures on it that she loved, or words jotted into her notes app that never made it to a notebook. Who bought her notebooks and pens now? Was there anyone that knew her like he did? He was going to get her a notebook and pen right after he got her out of here. There was the distinct sound of the ladder setting up behind him.

“Harry,” she croaked. “I didn’t—”

“Kitten, just come here,” he begged. “I don’t care. Just…”

“I thought you…” God he needed to see her. Needed to hold her. Her voice sounded like she didn’t know he was coming for her—like he would ever let her die in a fire and let I love you be the last thing she ever said to him.

“Carefully, baby,” he reminded her, wishing more than anything he could run across the room and grab her as fast as he could. Praying that she knew he would never let anything happen to her.

“Harry, it’s cracking,” she whimpered.

“Kitten,” his heart was racing worse than any other time in his life. “You have to,” he was telling her, but it sounded like he was begging. “Please,” he wasn’t against begging—not if it would get her out. “If I come t’you, I’ll fall through, I don’t think you’ll want that,” he didn’t want to sound self-important he, just wanted her out. He was so stressed by this predicament, he worried he was going to have a heart attack at the ripe age of twenty-three right in front of her. He took another cautious step toward where he thought her voice came from. The wood groaned under the pressure. “Kitten, please,” he pleaded.

Her cough was closer. The creaking was nearer.

Then through the plume of smoke, he saw her--just barely. The collar of her T-shirt over her mouth, a wet towel around her head. The muscles of his back released ever so slightly. “Good girl,” he encouraged. “Nice and slow,” he crouched to the same level as she crawled below the smoke. He brushed the floor in front of him with his gloves. “Just a little more, baby,” he whispered. “M’here,” he promised. “There’s a lot of glass—please be careful,” he begged. But he would pluck out every piece himself if it meant she was alive for him to do it.

Once she was within grabbing range--near enough to the balcony that he wouldn't need to step on the crumbling floor, he yanked her to him. Pulling her to stand and clutching her to him as if their lives were dependent on it. For a moment, he held her, kissed the side of her face as she coughed and he felt along her ribs as if she wasn't real and holding her was all in his head.

It was no longer than three seconds, but it could have been hours or days that he held her. The sound of everything falling apart below them didn’t matter. The creaking, the wood breaking, the integrity of the building melting. All of it didn’t matter. “C’mon,” he ushered her further out on the balcony. The ladder was greeting him. Finally.

He sighed with relief. “Kitten,” his voice was soft, a bit hoarse with anxiety and smoke coating his esophagus. “Close your eyes and don’t open ‘em until I say so, yeah?”

“Please don’t fall,” she mumbled and tucked her face against his jacket. He knew it was a protective layer, but he wished with everything in him it was softer for her delicate face.

“Never, baby,” he promised, dragging a gloved hand across her cheek wishing it was also his hand and not the rough material.

“I was talking to myself,” the smallest of smiles graced her pretty lips.

Harry buried his nose in her hair. The skin between his eyebrows pinched together. Without full control of his emotions, he released a quiet chuckle and his eyes continued to water from the smoke (they was definitely just tears). His laugh was barely loud enough for her to hear. “I won’t let that happen, kitten,” he promised anyway. He hauled himself over the railing and onto the ladder. He held his hand out. “C’mere, kitten. M’here.” She tentatively stepped forward. “Hold your hand out,” he whispered. As she did, he grabbed it immediately. “Good girl,” he encouraged. “I’m going to lift you now, okay?”

“Harry,” she whispered, her voice full of worry. “It’s–”

“Baby, s’not an option,” he repeated.

“But—”

He yanked her closer, watching the smoke billow out of her slider door. The flames crept closer and the only thing that kept him from losing his grip on reality was that she was holding his hand and not victim to the flames behind them. Without hearing her protest, he lifted her. As if she weighed nothing but a bag of groceries. He cradled her as he had been taught in the academy and practiced regularly with his coworkers. But he thought of the wedding he always had dreamed about. How he would be cheesy, and he wanted nothing more than to carry her over the threshold of wherever they resided.

It wasn’t soft or pretty that way, but holding her then...

Well, it was better than any threshold he could have dreamed of.

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissitnhekitchen @kittenhere @stylesfever @indierockgirrl @michellekstyles

@just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows @hannah9921

@fangirl7060 @triski73 @vikiii07 @prettygurl-2009 @madstyles3204

@angeldavis777 @tchlamqtsgf @lizsogolden

most: @harryspirate

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

#harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #harry styles #most #best friend!harry #second chance romance!harry

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spaztastic-headcannons · 8 months ago

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Suspended Belief

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60211249 Ganondorf (TOTK) x F! Reader

Notes: No y/n used. She/her used throughout. Shibari, suspended shibari.

MDNI

Settling into his seat, Ganondorf sipped a cool drink as he took in the sight before him.

Strong ropes hung from the hooks embedded in the ceiling, looping down to the vulnerable form of his lover.

Blindfolded and bound, she hung, face up, at the perfect height for his eyes to run over every part of her that he loved to tease. Ruby ropes wrapped around her limbs highlighting the best parts of her. Her ankles were tied to her thighs, looped around and keeping her legs spread. Her arms were secured wrist to wrist, behind her back. Ropes wrapped and rolled around her body, pinching and cradling her breasts and circling her cunt. Fibers were dark with the wetness leaking from her and sweat from the long session of teasing and torment.

More ropes were wrapped around her to keep her body suspended in the air than to decorate her skin, but no matter what she looked magnificent.

Ganon eyed her flushed skin and panting chest, following the curve of her body and the flow of the ropes to where he had been toying with her, fingers busy working between her slick lips and around her clit.

It was a rare indulgence to have her like this and he was set to enjoy it.

Ganon waited for her to calm down from his last bit of teasing. She’d gotten close this time, nearly cumming on his fingers and tongue before he pulled away. Her cry at being denied yet again rang in the air of their bedroom. Curtains and carpets dulled the noise, leaving it for their ears only. Each of her cries, moans, and pitiful pleas for mercy were freely given and well earned from his efforts.

Taking another sip of his drink, thoughts of whether to continue edging her or to work to the finale that they both craved crossed his mind.

She panted in her restraints, words and breath stolen from her and barely recovering while he sat to the side. His cock hung heavy between his legs, firm but too thick to stand even then. Precum has been dripping from the tip for a while now, at least three denied orgasms ago. Sitting on the chair, his cock resting on his leg and precum leaking against his skin, the decision was becoming clear.

A final swallow, drops running down his beard, he stood. She heard the glass clatter against a nearby table and tensed before purposefully relaxing. Whatever he had in mind for her next she’d take, and take, and take, and take. The pleasure was always mind-numbing, leaving her cock-drunk and more than willing for the next time. This would be no different, she thought to the best of her ability when she was denied so many releases.

Ganon could read each twitch of her muscles. Her anticipation and desperation. The muscles in her thighs pressed together best they could, tightening the ropes around her body. He smirked, eyes narrowing on her core that twitched with her body, just as anticipatory for something she so desperately needed as he did.

“Little lamb, are you ready for me?” He asked, gripping the rope that supported her legs, swinging her closer to him. He could see her breath catching, and the swallow she took before answering.

“Please? Please take me, I’m ready for you, so ready.” Her voice was a croak, cracking when she tried to speak above a whisper.

Ganon hummed, fingers running down her sternum, over ropes and down her stomach to her core.

“We’ll see, little lamb. Patience is something valued after all, isn’t it?” His other hand came up to hold another rope, bringing her body closer to his and letting his cock taste the wet kiss of her entrance.

Pulling her to grind against him, letting her soak his cock in preparation. Listening to her soft mewls with each grind he drifted a hand down to his own cock.

Letting her hang there, just far enough to feel his warm but not his skin, he gripped his dick and stroked it briefly before pressing the tip against her slit. With a half step forward, and a pull of the ropes the head popped in through the ring of her entrance. Once through the first barrier she hiccupped at the stretch but each clench of her pussy sucked more of him in.

Each thick, inescapable inch pressed into her, bulging her pussy around him and crafting her body to his. Her slick coated his cock, and with each slow thrust, strings of it would pulled between his pelvis and her thighs. Just as every time before her body welcomed his, stretching around each inch until he was flush against her. His balls stuck to the skin of her buttocks, his pubes rubbing against her sensitive clit savagely.

Every movement was pleasure, leaving her cock-drunk for him and him alone. Her slick ran down his cock and balls, drenching their thighs between them with her arousal. Even just a soft thrust in her left his balls stuck to her, separating with a smleck before slapping against her skin again.

Taking just a moment to savor her velvety warmth around his member before he began to move with earnestness.

His hands slid down the ropes to her waist, using both the momentum of the swing and the power in his hips to thrust against her. His thickness ensured sensation of every nerve, causing her to cry out with each thrust in and clench when he pulled out. Being suspended and tied up left her little room to reciprocate his motions, eyes rolling back and body twitching.

Like this he could not whisper all the nasty things he had planned in her ear, but he could watch her face contort in pleasure and hear her cries echo in the room. Her brow furrowed, and the muscles in her stomach twitched when his cock would hit deep. Like this he could view her whole body, control it, and take as he pleased from it. His hips and thighs could feel the ropes rubbing against his skin with each thrust, sharing in the marks they’d both have when he was finished with her.

He grunted, sweat beading down his body as he swung her body back into his, throwing his head back when she squeezed down on his cock.

“That’s it Little Lamb, squeeze me, take me,” he panted, voice low and hoarse.

“P-please! My king, please!” she begged, unsure if she was begging for reprieve or for more. Her whole body was a mess of nerves due to the ropes. His pubic hair rubbed so well against her clit and her cunt dripped with each thrust. A creamy ring formed around the base of his cock, making his hair look almost pinkish.

“Please what, pet? Tell me, what do you need from me?” Ganon’s head turned back to her, to watch as she came apart in his hands.

“Mmmmmake me cum! Please!” She cried, her lower stomach burning, fire coiling right where his cock hit in her deepest depths.

“Then cum,” he ordered, “cum on my cock like a good girl.”

He leaned over some, grinding against her both reaching as deeply as he could and rubbing against her clit. The fire in her stomach became a bomb, spreading out to the rest of her body. Her mouth opened in a silent scream. Each muscle tensed up as she came, back arching as much as it could in the ropes and his hands, her pussy clamping down and milking his length. He fought to keep thrusting, prolonging her pleasure as long as he could.

Lightening ran up her body as he chased his high, all of her nerves sparking with each thrust and touch. It felt like her orgasm kept going until she gasped, breathing again as waves of pleasure and pain from oversensitivity took over. Her toes curled and her hands clenched into fists.

Ganon new he could force another orgasm from her. Push that sensitivity past the pain and back into pure pleasure. Alas, the previous teasing and waiting meant he couldn’t push himself to last quite that long.

Already his balls were drawing up, his abs tensing with each thrust. He was grunting and growling, sweat dripping down his body.

Al it took was just a…bit..more…

A harsh clench of her walls around him and he was seeing light flash behind his eyelids. Cock spurting out cum, coating her insides and leaking down to froth at his base. He couldn’t stop thrusting, filling her up with all that he had, pressing it as deep as he could get it.

She moaned, long and low, as he came to a grinding stop.

Taking just an extra moment to savor the feeling and keep his cum as deep in her as he could, he started to pull away.

Once he pulled out his cum quickly followed, dripping to the floor. He took one extra second to enjoy the sight before moving to release her from her ties. Each pull was quick and efficient and before long she was in his lap on the chair nearby. His big hands were rubbing at her joints and each indent from the ropes.

She sat there, warm and comfortable, knowing any rope burn and bruises would be tended to with care, allowing her to settle into the afterglow.

#Legend of Zelda #Tears of the Kingdom #Ganondorf #Ganondorf x reader #F!Reader #Shibari #Suspended Shibari #Being tied up #Unprotected sex #Smut fic #Smutty smut smut #ganondorf totk #Fanfic

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thesnarkmaidstale · 3 days ago

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Pulled together more of my rambling train station of thoughts RE: the THT/Nick matter (as so many of us are still trying to do in order to make sense of the trainwreck that THT ended up being in the end🥂)

You know, I want to start by saying...I've DEEPLY disliked characters before, but never once have I felt compelled to track down their fans just to preach about how morally superior I am for misreading the plight or arc of those said fictional characters. That kind of self-important grandstanding (usually built on vibes and not receipts - imo) just screams "projection."

And that crash landing ending? (lol didn't intend the pun but certainly keeping it) - that wasn't nuanced critique or character work; it was a loud, lazy display of “performative political solidarity” that read well to people who didn't/don't/won't engage with the work beyond a superficial "what happens next week" basis.

Meanwhile, detail-obsessed fans were left blinking in confusion while watching Nick Blaine, a canonically subversive character, get rewritten into a narrative scapegoat. And this all coming from the Hollywood bubble, wrapped either in moral absolutism or in Dianetics/LRH’s bottled sweat/imaginary alien overlords (I mean…I guess ¿porque no los dos?).

But none of it touched the reality of how real-world resistance actually works.. successful resistance efforts rarely include heroic bull-in-a-china-shop suspend-your-belief-in-logic singular action moments. Success is yielded from teamwork, working together in perhaps a few big ways but many more small ways towards reaching the common goal of true equality. This last season also did no favors as it pertains to increasing the awareness about current human rights atrocities nor in increasing the awareness about the slippery slope that the US was beginning to find itself in even at the time that Season 6 began filming (FDT hadn't "won" yet but the writing was clearly on the wall.)

All it was was glass mansions. With a megaphone. Expecting applause.

(And btw, record yourselves applauding please!)

The accusation that us as fans “just didn’t understand” is exquisitely rich, because it became painfully obvious once the existing source material ran out around the end of Season 2, that the creatives themselves didn't even understand the show they were making.

Season 3 was my early warning sound off (wish I’d trusted it), and by the start of Season 5, it was crystal clear- this team was wildly underqualified to develop an original narrative that could even begin to touch what Atwood set them up with.

I voluntarily relinquished my "loyal-AF-viewer-tuning-in-right-at-11pm-cst-on-Monday-night" membership card around the start of Season 5, Episode 1- as Game of Thrones had given me trust issues..and I didn't even care half as much about those characters as I did for most of the characters in the HMT.

Something inside me felt really ick about the wedding ring reveal of Season 4, without a character to even go along with the ring.. it was haphazard and the explanations for it made no sense. I hate to say my instincts were right to begin pulling away immediately... but of course I always held out hope that someone competent would find a way to land the thing, and I figured I'd just go back and catch up once it was all over.

But I digress...

When you have even the actors (hey Max Minghella) side-eying their characters' choices and wondering if there perhaps were darker sides to them that over a span of six seasons/8-9 years, that they were never told about..or in retrospect now perhaps feel a little insecure about, like they magically should've diduced that darkness from nothingness..?

Well, in that case, we're no longer talking about art, and instead discussing the glaring slow-mo narrative malpractice that's been taking place since Season 3.

This series ending/"landing" really could have been their (writers/showrunners) big shot at successful critical longevity. Instead, they turned an open-book test into a public implosion. The bones of Atwood’s world were right there, mapped out and ready, but instead of following them, the writers/showrunners/actors-turned-directors misunderstood and eventually betrayed them.

Honestly, in retrospect, The Testaments feels like a deliberate course correction. A softspoken “no, actually” from Atwood herself, reaffirming where the moral core of this story lies. And yes, that includes Nick. The show had the source material in addition to the reinforced narrative/additional insights provided by Atwood in The Testaments (released in September 2019, shortly after the television adaptation began airing its third season.)

And when the backlash from the final season hit shortly after the "betrayal," they deflected by calling loyal fans/viewers love-blind, shallow, or naive (especially women) for caring about a character who dared to represent subtle resistance (apparently you need to be on-the-nose and in-your-face defiantly obvious about your intentions or you too could be called a Nazi twice in the last season of a show based on a literary narrative that you've been a character/major part of in since the 1980s).

In their defense, they love to mention OC characters like Lawrence as if he's the beacon of proof of their creative genius, but here's the truth- Lawrence worked exceedingly well in spite of the writing, not because of it. That was thanks to Bradley Whitford’s interpretation and creative latitude. Same with Nick.. except Minghella had far less input, because Nick was/IS Atwood’s creation. Ultimately, both characters (one canonical, one not) succeeded because the actors did the heavy lifting when the scripts couldn’t.

The writers should not misinterpret this as a flex, because it more appropriately should be ready as a red flag warning at the beach, ultimately showing the dangers of what happens when performers understand the source material more deeply than the people that were paid to adapt it, and when writers confuse praise for their original characters as being praise for their writing vs it just being masterful performance by the actor themselves that makes the character work.

.. dangers such as, for instance, now you've got a nonsensical last season, and not to mention, a ticked off loyal fanbase, who started with the show back in 2017, absolutely refusing to even consider watching TT.

They are so smart you guys, like you don't even know.

In the end, they confused moral ambiguity with moral incoherence, flattened complexity into cliché, and mistook erasure for subversion.

I'll end it here although I could keep going: Nick didn’t need a redemption arc, he already had one published in 1985, and then Atwood doubled down on it in her 2019 Handmaid's "sequel," The Testaments, but sadly, neither he (Nick) nor Minghella were backed by writers, showrunners, or actors-turned-directors brave enough to commit to it.

#the handmaid's tale #nick blaine #nick x june #june x nick #tht #osblaine #max minghella #handmaid's tale #hulu #fictional characters #character analysis #writing critique #fandom #margaret atwood #dystopian fiction #the testaments #screenwriting #bradley whitford

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lie-lacdreams · 7 months ago

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Some headcanons in Thermo & Turmoil so far (for Curly and the reader)

Because I just inserted hella headcanons into the plot and feel an urge to explain all of them and then some more lol

(Before I begin I would like to start off by mentioning that I'm a bit clueless when it comes to using Tumblr so please forgive me let me be incompetent and ignorant in peace)

In this story, reader is in her mid to late twenties, like 26-28 years old. Curly is in his early to mid thirties (33-35), which means he joined Pony Express likely fresh out of college or trade school

Reader is a chemical engineering graduate student, specializing in green synthesis and catalysis. What this all means is that she has a particular interest in sustainability and organic chemistry

The way her morals and ethics left her body after getting accepted to work at Pony Express, a shady company with not the best green practices (she was desperate to find a job, okay?)

one last related thing - the timeline of when things happen in the game vs. in this story aren't very well-aligned. I'm going off of my own timeline for plot reasons

Okay, now on to more fun and general headcanons I have for Curly ~

I subscribe to the common belief that Curly is a big romantic. How could he not be??? He tried to seek out relationships throughout his twenties but remained unsuccessful to find someone who would stay with him through the crazy structure of his occupation. Imagine being in a relationship with someone who you couldn't see or communicate with for months to a year at a time. I absolutely get it

It all makes sense because he's absolutely married to his work. He's kind of come to terms that he can't have a long-term romantic relationship and a career as a freighter ship captain. Those two things simply don't go together well

At this age, Curly has reached the peak of his career - and when he comes back from another successful trip, he has quite a bit of monetary compensation waiting for him in his paycheck

Single and childless, he's financially comfortable - he has his savings but he also will pay the bill for his friends and family 8/10 times (would he fight for the bill? Of course not, he gave his card to the waiter halfway through the meal to pay)

He doesn't feel bitter about his lifestyle. He chose it, after all. Sure, he sometimes wishes that he had stability on Earth and a family of his own to go back to, but he loves living vicariously through his friends and that to him is enough for now. Every wedding, baby shower, friend's child's birthday party - if he's off the clock, he will absolutely be there and having the time of his life

Speaking of children, he would love to have some of his own someday, but as a single man who spends most of his time in a big metal box suspended in zero gravity, he doesn't know how to interact with them and is kind of awkward

He's very open minded to different cultures and new experiences.

Curly has been to a few Indian weddings where his friends would drag him out to the dance floor and make him learn Bhangra. He's jumping along like the rest of them, moving his arms animatedly to the beat of the music

like okay this white boy can dance! The crowd is so entertained

he's not a picky eater and would eat nearly anything. When he visited Thailand, the locals tricked him into trying balut (fertilized duck egg) and when he didn't react and mentioned that he didn't mind the texture that much, it left them confused and a little pleased

he sleeps warm and can't tolerate humid weather. Going to Thailand nearly ended him

He's so community-minded. This is why I could envision him with so many 1st/2nd gen immigrant friends. Man just gets it

This is also why the Chinese restaurant near where he lives loves him. The owner loves to use him as a role model for his son

You know that one family friend growing up that was stacked with accolades that your parents would compare you to? (or maybe that's just my own experience...) That is Curly for this poor little boy.

He's actually such a people pleaser, but hides it so well under being such a confident authority figure, so it just comes off as helpful and supportive instead

He loves when people go to him for advice. He may or may not have the experience to give the advice, but regardless he will try his best to come up with a solution

#headcanons #mouthwashing #curly x reader #Thermo & Turmo #mouthwashing x reader #curly mouthwashing #captain curly x reader

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onas-batlle · 1 year ago

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sacred new beginnings

pairing: lucy bronze x ona batlle

warnings: none

synopsis: after finding out that ona hasn’t gone on a proper date in years, lucy offers to take her out on a couple of purely platonic dates. just to get the anxiety out of the way, of course. why else?

a/n: i know people voted for this fic to remain an x reader, but i couldn’t bring myself to not make this about lucy & ona, so I edited it a bit! unsure if i will publish an x reader version of this because i’m not really bothered, but we shall see 😊 i also have no idea if there is a lake for fishing in barcelona, so suspend your belief for a bit please!

Ao3 Link

———

There’s no time to feel more out of the loop than when one’s circle of friends discusses their romantic escapades, and that was exactly how Ona felt as the number of dates she had been on recently was a big, fat zero. Being basically married to her job did not allow for many dating opportunities, and truthfully, once the Spaniard finally slowed down enough to even think about finding some romance - the lasting kind, not that friends with benefits type - the extent of her fame quickly quashed those chances. She found the increased attention rather overwhelming and quite frankly scary, and women only wanting her for her celebrity meant that a genuine relationship was not in the cards at the present.

Come to think of it, she wasn’t even sure she really wanted to play the dating game; the horror stories heard from teammates often causing her to recoil in her chair – Bruna’s about a date bringing their mother along and then having an allergic reaction to the shrimp still fresh in her mind. The last time she had even attempted a romance had been with Felicitas Rauch, and that had ended before it had really even began. She’d been basically celibate since then, and apparently, this was borderline unheard of, if the yell of Mapi León was anything to go by.

“What do you mean you haven’t dated in years?” Mapi questioned, the drinking of her coffee abandoned as she turned to gape at Ona.

“I don’t know, just haven’t really gotten around to it,” she shrugged, cheeks turning hot as she noticed the eyes of most of her club team on her. A certain pair of sparkling hazel eyes trained on her made her flush even darker, if possible, and she averted her eyes as quickly as she could. Despite her obvious discomfort, Mapi pressed on. “Not a single date or nothing?”

“Eh, had a fling with Feli for like a month before it kind of- “

“That was over a year ago, amiga. And from what I heard, you didn’t even go on a proper date,” Patri butted in, and Alexia smacked the back of her head as she regarded the Spanish fullback’s embarrassment at that statement.

Seeing the slightly pitying looks from her teammates, Ona went to speak, but before she could scramble together a sentence to alleviate the embarrassment, Lucy chimed in. “What’s keepin’ you from datin’ now?”

Ona paused, mulling over the reasons in her head before settling on an answer. “I guess I’m kind of nervous about dating again. I don’t even know if I can still flirt.”

A poor reason, admittedly, but better than revealing to her team about her anxiety around her sky-rocketing fame post-World Cup. At least she could attribute that excuse to everyone else’s constant anecdotes about bad experiences within the dating realm.

“Everyone is a bit awkward at least once, chiqui. There’s no reason to be nervous,” Alexia said soothingly, shooting a glare at Mapi who snickered a little at the fullback’s answer. After fixing Mapi with her own pointed look, Ona let out a sigh.

“I know, but I can’t help but feel that way, sabes?” That was met with an understanding silence from her team before Lucy slammed her hand on the table and shot up out of her seat.

“I can do it!” she boomed, a smug smirk on her face.

“¿Qué?” came the response from around the table, everyone furrowing their brows at what Lucy just said. Seeing the confused faces of her teammates, she slowly sat down again and cleared her throat before beginning to explain her genius plan.

“Think about it, Ona hasn’t gone on a date in ages, right? And she’s nervous about the awkwardness that will come along with it. If she goes out on a couple of fake dates with me, and I make it as horrific as possible, then she can get those bad date experiences out of the way, and get used to going on dates again! What do you say?”

With that, Lucy mimed an explosion with her fist and glanced around the table to garner people’s reactions. Mapi was nodding in agreement, Alexia’s brow was furrowed in contemplation, and Cata just looked thoroughly confused. Flicking her eyes towards Lucy, Ona saw the Lioness staring at her expectantly.

Truthfully, it was lowkey an awful idea, but Ona supposed that it would help her get the ‘back on the dating scene’ jitters out of the way and would allow her to spend some time with Lucy, who she shamefully had nursed a small crush on for a while now.

“Okay.”

“Okay?!” came someone else’s shout, but Ona was too focused on Lucy’s determined pump of the fist to locate where the protest came from.

“That was easy,” Lucy spoke into the Spaniard’s ear as she gathered her into a crushing hug, and grinned at Ona once she let go. “I will see you on Wednesday for Bad Date #1.”

There was nothing she could do but nod.

---

It was only when Ona was sat on the boat that the regret came rushing in, narrowing her eyes at Lucy who was fiddling with the fishing poles a few metres away. It was not a secret that she had a strong dislike for fishing, the smell of the bait, the unstable feeling of floating on water in a boat the size of a tin can, and the gleam of the fishhooks bringing her back to the disastrous fishing trips with her father and older brother.

Many days were spent in a small fishing boat, with her father’s disappointed sighs being the soundtrack to her disgust at the dead fish that surrounded her, and a lurching stomach created by the movement of the water below. She supposed this is why Lucy chose it for Bad Date #1.

“Chin up, darling. Let’s get ready to catch some big fish!” Lucy thrust a fishing rod at Ona, shocking her out of her memories and with a little bit of grumbling, the younger woman begrudgingly took it, Lucy’s face lighting up in a smile at her behaviour.

Following her lead, Ona attempted to bait her hook with a particularly fat mealworm that still wriggled between her fingers. Maybe it was poor timing, but a small movement from Lucy caused the boat to shift suddenly, and Ona’s hand got caught on the sharp point of the fishhook. She let out a hiss of pain and went to go suck the wound, forgetting that she was clutching a slimy worm in her hand until she was practically eyeball to eyeball with it. Not exactly expecting to be so up close and personal with a mealworm, Ona let out an almighty scream and tossed it away.

To her horror, instead of plopping harmlessly into the water, it found it’s way to Lucy’s lap. The older woman’s scream echoed around as well, and Ona had to stifle a grin as Lucy turned to narrow her eyes suspiciously at the Spaniard.

“Having trouble with your bait?” Lucy questioned and held up the worm Ona had sent flying in her direction, the initial shock having worn off and leaving behind an expression of amusement.

“I hate you Lucia Roberta,” Ona grumbled, swatting away the mealworm that Lucy had now started dangling in her face.

The older woman just laughed and dropped the bait back into the bucket, deciding that teasing Ona in the middle of a bloody lake was not a good idea. “Oh, you don’t really. Plus this hasn’t been too awkward now, has it?”

“I suppose not. I feel too sick to be awkward.” Ona did look a bit pale, and she quickly sucked in a breath and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force her breakfast to stay down in her stomach where it belonged.

“Just try and focus on the fish, not the boat swaying.” Lucy advised, placing a warm hand on Ona’s shoulder. If she had been anywhere other than a small boat swaying in some water, Ona would have blushed, but she currently found herself rather preoccupied.

“Lucy, I don’t think you understand that the smell of the fish is also making me feel very sick,” she gritted out, clenching the seat she was sitting on with a white-knuckled grip.

“Look, I have some spare plastic bags if you need one, okay? Here, I’ll rebait your hook and we will try again.”

Ona opened her eyes and nodded grimly, accepting the plastic bag Lucy had in her outstretched hand and the newly baited rod. Once both of them had finally settled, casted their lines and were waiting for a bite, they began to chat a bit about Ona’s life with United in Manchester, and Lucy’s experience in Barcelona before Ona had come home and rejoined the team. Slowly the Catalan felt herself beginning to feel less ill, her teammate and friend doing a great job at distracting her from the situation that the Lioness herself had put them in.

After a half hour or so, they were interrupted by a tug on Ona’s line, and the Spaniard looked at Lucy with wide eyes. “What do I do?”

“Reel it in?” Lucy responded, grinning a little at Ona’s alarm.

“Mierda, it’s very strong!” Ona spoke as her muscles flexed, trying incredibly hard to reel the fish in. But the stupid thing absolutely refused to budge, the fish at the end of the line fighting for it’s life to remain in the water. A particularly strong tug made Ona almost fly into the water, and pleaded with her eyes for Lucy to give her a hand.

“Here, let me try.” With that, Lucy abandoned her line, and shuffled closer to Ona, the Spanish woman suddenly finding her senses overwhelmed with everything Lucy.

The press of her warm shoulder against Ona’s, the positively intoxicating perfume that she had on, and the fact that she was close enough that Ona could see the small sun spot close to her right eye had the Catalan so captivated that when the English woman said something to her, Ona jumped in shock and accidentally dropped the rod that she was holding.

The both of them watched as the rod got tugged away by the fish who was no doubt celebrating being free, before it eventually came to a stop a few metres away and floated, still, on top of the water.

“Lo siento,” Ona grimaced, biting her lip in embarrassment. She half expected Lucy to growl at her, but instead the other woman’s face split open in a wide grin, and she let out a laugh.

“That was one of funniest things I think I’ve seen in my entire fishing career.”

Ona glared playfully at the English defender before picking up a paddle. “We should go retrieve it, no?”

Lucy nodded and picked up the other paddle, the two of them slowly steering their boat towards Ona’s rod. Soon they were almost close enough to reach it, but suddenly Ona stopped her movements and frowned at something in the water just ahead of them. Lucy turned to look quizzically at her fellow defender, and nudged Ona in the side when she saw the slightly worried expression her face.

“Lucia… is that.. a shark?” Ona squeaked out, pointing at a grey shape that lurked in the distance.

Lucy squinted, trying to gauge what it was, but Ona had already begun to panic a bit, despite the fact that sharks were most likely not residing in a random lake in Barcelona.

“I don’t think-” Lucy managed to squeeze out but Ona had already snatched the rod out of the water and was now frantically moving her paddle as quickly as possible.

“I don’t care! Row, please Lucy,” the smaller woman begged, sending Lucy such a look of genuine fear that the Lioness just bit back a smile and placed her own paddle into the water to guide them back to shore.

Once they two of them had made it safely back onto land with Ona looking slightly green with fear and motion sickness (“Lucy, I’m not kidding it was a shark!”), the Spanish fullback took a few steps on shaky legs before collapsing into Lucy’s side, who wrapped her arm around the other woman’s waist to prevent her from falling over.

“Not a very successful trip, huh?” the English woman spoke, gesturing to their very empty cooler where the fish they caught was supposed to go.

“No, but at least we were not eaten,” Ona replied before checking her watch and looking back hopefully at Lucy. “I have 3 hours before my brother will be over, so would you want to go out for something to eat?”

“Well, considering the fact that we are currently fishless, and I don’t want to starve, I will accept.” With that, the pair made their way back to Lucy’s car, equipment in hand and chattering the entire way.

“What have you got planned for Bad Date #2? Might be hard to beat this.”

“Just wait and see, Ona. Wait and see…”

---

As soon as Ona stepped foot in the mini golf course and made eye contact with the tacky pirate ship that resided in a murky fake pond, she let out a groan and immediately turned on her heel. Lucy was quick to grab the smaller woman by the shoulders, however, and strong armed her towards the counter, the Lioness wiggling her eyebrows at Ona in amusement.

Saying that Ona hated mini golf was an understatement. She could stomach regular golf from all of the times that her friends had dragged her down to the nearest course, but to shrink the clubs and add on a bunch of screaming children made the experience almost unbearable. Plus, it was hard. No wonder Lucy chose this as a bad date destination.

“Can’t believe you brought me to a mini golf course of all places!” Ona complained, glaring daggers at the brightly colour obstacles scattered about everywhere.

“It’s only mini golf, Ona. The only people who are gonna witness this are like ten,” Lucy laughed while paying at the counter and motioning for the Spanish woman to select a ball colour.

“Well ten year olds can be very mean,” she retorted back, selecting a bright green one and pretending to throw it at her as the English woman pretended to collapse to the floor, wounded. With a yellow ball in hand, Lucy steered her towards the first hole and gestured for the younger woman to go first. “Aye, c’mon. Let’s see if you’re as good at mini golf as you are at football.”

After flipping her the bird and earning a very scandalised gasp from a nearby mother, Ona lined her body up to hit the ball and… missed. Lucy let out a bark of laughter from behind her and Ona turned to shoot her a glare, feeling the heat of embarrassment crawl up her neck as she puffed in annoyance at the English woman’s smirk.

“Forget being a World Cup winner, we’ve got a future mini golf world champion on our hands.”

“Why would they make golf, which is already hard by the way, even smaller?” Ona replied, disgruntled. Lucy, bemused but unsympathetic to her complaints just grinned before yelling “Swing again!”

To Ona’s credit, she did. But unfortunately, her club flew out of her grip and hurtled a few metres away, spinning just clear of a small child who toddled around another hole. Turning back to Lucy, the Catalan saw her bent double in laughter, unable to keep it in after watching Ona fling her club into the air. Seeing Lucy smile caused the corners of Ona’s mouth to turn up slightly, but she quickly tampered down the fondness that had begun to sneak its way into her heart.

“Ha, ha, very funny,” Ona deadpanned while she collected her club, wincing apologetically at the parent of the toddler she almost took out and traipsing back to Lucy who had managed to compose herself.

“How about I give you a hand, aye? So you don’t accidentally maim any more children.”

“I’ll have you know that I didn’t actually hit him,” Ona responded, blowing a rather childish raspberry at Lucy, “but I’ll take you up on your offer.”

She wasn’t too sure what the Lioness had meant by giving her a hand, but as Lucy dropped her own club to the ground and made her way towards Ona, the Spaniard eyed her cautiously. Wrapping her arms around Ona, Lucy let out a huff of laughter as the smaller woman tensed at the unexpected physical contact.

“Here, hold the club like this.” Lucy’s breath tickled the back of Ona’s neck as her warm hands grasped the smaller woman’s and left her slightly breathless, cheeks heating up for what felt like the thousandth time that day. Slowly Ona allowed herself to relax, opening herself up to the other woman’s guidance and moved where Lucy wanted her to stand. She felt herself almost mourn the loss of the fullback’s warmth as she released Ona from her hold, the slight autumn breeze making the lack of her body heat more apparent. Ona could blame her flushed cheeks on the cold, of course, but a feeling stirring in her gut begged to differ.

Shaking herself from those traitorous thoughts, Ona steadied herself to hopefully hit the ball accurately this time, Lucy’s cheers making its way into Ona’s ears.

“Don’t swing as hard as before. Give it a light tap,” came the encouraging advice from the defender, and Ona took a final breath in, not unlike one she’d take before a rare occasion when she would have to convert a penalty kick.

Ona heard the whoosh of the club through the air as she swung before she felt it make hard impact against something solid.

Clearly, she had overestimated the distance Lucy had put between the two of them, and instead of softly hitting the ball like she was advised to, Ona had swung the club back as far as she could, and had ended up smacking Lucy hard in the shin.

“Ow, fuck!” Lucy groaned, clutching her leg. “My legs are literally my money-makers, Ona, and you know my knee is hanging on by a string.”

“¡Dios mío, Luce! Are you alright?” Ona rushed towards her in horror, praying that she hadn’t given the Englishwoman an injury that could cause a premature retirement or one that would leave her benched for months. As the Spaniard bent over to peer at Lucy’s face, Ona could see that it had lit up into a shit-eating grin, the contact not as bad as she had originally thought.

“Ay, don’t scare me like that, idiota!” Ona growled, smacking Lucy on the shoulder as her thundering heart began to slow again.

“For a world-class athlete you sure are clumsy. Almost as bad as Less!” Lucy chuckled as she straightened up, before gesturing for Ona to take a fourth attempt at the ball. “Don’t worry about me, just focus and swing gently.”

“Missing the ball three times, accidentally throwing the club away, and now hurting you will definitely win for worst date ever,” Ona muttered as she went to take the shot, yet again. Her comment was met with a wry smile from Lucy. “That’s what we’re here for, no?”

For the next few hours, the both of them made their way from hole to hole, with Lucy expertly navigating the ball past the obstacles and Ona bumbling her way through them. It was positively infuriating how good Lucy was at everything, but every time she sunk the golf ball into the hole and shot a cocky smirk the Spaniard’s way, Ona’s insides turned to mush. Her own skill only improved marginally, but the more mistakes that were made, the more she and Lucy were able to relax into some comfortable teasing. Somehow, even when faced with the activity of her nightmares, Ona felt as though she was able to get into her stride and even start to enjoy herself a touch.

They were now down to the final hole, and while Lucy had given Ona a very thorough and obvious beating, the Catalan was determined to at least win one round. Whether it be pure, stupid luck, or what Ona will say later was complete and utter skill, the ball rolled into the hole after one single hit. Lucy didn’t care how it happened. All she cared about was that the other woman had actually just gotten a hole in one.

“You fucking did it!” she yelled into Ona’s face, as surprised as every single human being on the course that she had managed to pull that off. Everyone else had, after all, been witness to her poor attempts to golf for the past few hours.

“Sí, I did!” Ona shouted back, but the only thing she could focus on, even in the wake of her own sporting brilliance, was the cheeky sense of pride and fondness that was painted on Lucy’s excited features.

Not dissimilar to how she has done on the pitch, Ona hurled herself at her, Lucy tossing her club to the side in anticipation and catching the Spaniard with an unexpected passion. Tightly gripping her t-shirt, Ona could feel the other fullback’s rippling muscles under her fingertips, and as she gazed into Lucy’s elated face, she had to take a nervous swallow.

Lucy spun Ona’s body around, almost whirling into, but narrowly avoiding a treasure chest that had been bolted into the ground, and the only thing Ona found herself wanting to do was kiss her. So she did.

Even though the Spanish defender had just spent the past few hours humiliating herself in front of Lucy in the worst way possible, the English woman kissed Ona back with a similar joy, warm hands finding their home on the backs of Ona’s thighs. Lucy’s lips were as soft as Ona had always envisioned them to be, and a part of her soul seemed to sigh with contentment at the contact.

For a moment it was like it was only the two of them in the world, the screams of kids, chatter of people, and tweets of birds fading into the background. All Ona could register was the grip Lucy had on her thighs, the way their bodies fit together perfectly - almost like two pieces of a puzzle, and the way Lucy’s tongue teased the seam of her lips, making her head spin deliciously.

Soon they both had to draw back from the kiss, air becoming a necessity, and Ona leant her forehead against Lucy’s with a smile. After a few beats, the Lioness buried her face into her neck, and Ona felt Lucy’s mouth curve into a grin.

“My champion.”

Those two simple words had Ona’s heart beating a million times faster, and Lucy laughed at the feeling, but as she mindlessly walked them backwards, she lost her footing and sent the both of them stumbling gracelessly right into the man-made lake smack bang in the middle of the mini golf course.

The two of them let out a pair of matching god-awful shrieks at the sudden feeling of icy water, but they soon dissolved into peals of laughter at the utter absurdity of what just happened. Blind to the judging stares of the public around them, Lucy sent a small splash Ona’s way, which soon became a fierce splash battle as the Spanish woman - not one to lose a fight - sent tidal wave after tidal wave straight into Lucy’s face.

“Oi, you got that in my bloody mouth!” she groused playfully, and attempted to tackle Ona to the ground, the pair still floundering in the dirty lake. Unluckily, or luckily in the case of everyone else, a disgruntled staff member hauled the both of them rather unceremoniously out of the water and escorted them to Lucy’s car. Turns out Pablo did not care that Ona had won a World Cup before, and slapped the both of them with lifetime bans. If Ona celebrated the fact that she could never be dragged back to play mini golf again, then that was no one’s business but hers.

Despite being sopping wet in the middle of a carpark, Lucy in Ona’s eyes looked positively radiant. Droplets of water shone on her eyelashes, and her shirt clung to her body, showcasing every curve and harsh ridge of her musculature. There was no denying that she was mouth-wateringly attractive, nose ring glinting in the sun and lips turned up in a cocky smirk. Her eyes had also started to carry out their own appraisal of Ona’s shorter figure, and she shifted awkwardly from foot to foot at the way Lucy’s hazel eyes seemed to pierce into her soul. Her intense gaze made Ona feel as if the Lioness could peer into the very depths of her psyche, and quite frankly, that kind of intimacy scared her a little.

“What a, how do you say? What a freaking disaster,” Ona spoke, a timid attempt to break the heightening tension between the two of them.

“Guess I delivered on my promise on a second horrific date,” came the response, but they both knew that was far from the truth. The older woman’s dimpling smile and shining eyes undid all of her efforts to make that a bad date, and in a rare moment of honesty, Ona allowed herself to accept, if only for a moment, that she was falling in love with Lucy Bronze.

Following her small hum of agreement, they both fell silent again, just taking in each other’s presence. Ona tried to dull the burst of emotion that had welled up in her, but Lucy’s hand cupping her jaw and brushing away a stray smear of mud caused the Catalan’s breath to hitch and sent her efforts flying out of the window. Heart pounding unbearably fast, Ona broke away from her grasp and heard Lucy let out a sigh. “Gotta get you home now. It’s bloody cold.”

Ona nodded at her words and they both slipped into Lucy’s car, Ona apologising profusely for drenching and muddying the English woman’s car seat. The ride back was nice, the conversation light-hearted and easy, however it was impossible to deny the suffocating tension hanging in the air between them. As they pulled up to Ona’s house, Lucy turned to face her, and Ona noticed her gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“Guess you’re ready to go out and date new people now, huh?” Lucy spoke, a tinge of sadness lacing her words despite the small smile she shot Ona’s way. The Spanish fullback sent back a half-hearted grin back. “I guess so.”

The car was silent for a second. “I think I should be getting inside. I’ve got a meeting tomorrow.”

The only thing Lucy could do was say a quick “see you later” before Ona clambered out of the car and made her way to her front door. Pausing, Ona turned back to look at the car and caught a glimpse of Lucy staring at her with an unreadable expression on her face. It was only after she had let herself in that Ona finally heard Lucy’s car pull away from her house, and she finally allowed herself to collapse against the door, countless thoughts running through her head.

She was well and truly fucked.

It had been two weeks since her mini golf ‘date’ with Lucy, and Ona was just about to embark on her first proper date in literal years. As she stared at her own reflection in the mirror, Ona couldn’t help but mourn the fact that her feelings towards the English fullback were likely to remain unresolved. Things between her and Lucy had been rather stilted after that day, the only words exchanged being as mundane as asking for the time or to pass the salt. Truthfully Ona felt kind of hurt at Lucy’s indifference, but in all fairness, she hadn’t exactly tried to talk about that kiss either and instead had opted to ignore her, so it wasn’t fair to put the blame on Lucy. Maybe Ona was just doomed to be alone forever.

Shooting a glance at the clock and seeing that it was time to go, Ona swiftly brushed her hands once more over her outfit, checked her makeup, and grabbed her keys before heading out to the restaurant.

The girl Ona was going on a date with, Elena, was a friend of Alexia’s girlfriend, and her captain was adamant that this was a match made in heaven. Smart, funny, and a passionate Real Madrid hater, Alexia had also mentioned that Elena was accustomed to hanging around with footballers, so Ona didn’t have to worry that she was trying to date her for her five minutes of fame which was something that Alexia too has had some experience with.

The initial part of the date was nice, Ona thought, both of them just getting the small talk out of the way and getting to know each other, the two of them bonding over their shared love of a musical artist. The food was adequate as well, and much to Ona’s relief, Elena did not have an allergic reaction to the shrimp, nor did she bring her mother along like Bruna’s horror date. Things only took a turn when Elena hit her with a completely unexpected question.

“Who is she?” Elena spoke, “The girl you’re in love with.” Her query caught Ona incredibly off guard, and the only thing she could get out was an awkward stammered denial, which she knew was thoroughly unconvincing to even the most gullible of people. The expression on the other woman’s face wasn’t angry however, instead a soft look of sympathy painting her face as she placed a hand over the footballer’s.

A beat passed before Ona hung her head and decided to spill her guts to her date. “She’s my teammate at Barcelona and I’m pretty sure I ruined it because I’m so awkward. We kissed and then I ignored her the day afterwards which means that she definitely hates me, and not only have I lost my chance with her but I’ve also lost her as my friend, and now we are going to lose all of our games and then the Champions League because I think that if I have to go on the pitch with her again I will throw up. She even made me have fun mini golfing and everyone on Earth knows that mini golf es el deporte del diablo and that I absolutely despise it with my entire being... except for when I was playing it with her.”

Elena thoughtfully listened to Ona small spiel before offering her a gentle smile.

“I know I don’t know her, or the extent of your situation, but something tells me that she won’t be opposed to your affections. My advice? Go find her. Tell her how you feel. The worst thing she could do is reject you, and from the little that I’ve heard, she definitely won’t do that.”

“You really think so?” Ona said, feeling a little hopeful at her words.

“I do.”

“Okay.”

Ona sat there awkwardly until Elena laughed and motioned for her to get up. “What are you still doing here? Go!”

“Now?”

“Sí, now!”

Taking in a shuddering breathe, Ona strengthened her resolve and stood from her seat, slightly more invigorated. “Okay, I will. And I’m sorry for running out on you like this.”

“Ay, not the worst date I’ve been on. Good luck out there,” she grinned, and Ona felt a sense of overwhelming appreciation for the woman across from her. Maybe in another life they could have become something, but right now, all she wanted was Lucy.

“Gracias. Truly,” Ona responded before slapping several bills down on the table. “Dinner is on me by the way.” And then she was hightailing it out of the restaurant.

Ona found herself pounding on Lucy’s door before she had even registered that she had no idea what she was even going to say to her. A wave of doubt passed through the Spaniard as she wrung her hands on the doorstep, and thoughts of escaping to the comfort of her own home to down a tub of ice cream were getting increasingly more enticing. Those plans were short-lived however, because the door swung open and revealed Lucy who stared at her, her hazel eyes wide in surprise.

“Hola.”

She wanted to smack herself for that stupid opener, but Ona refrained from doing so as she could have sworn that she saw a corner of the defender’s mouth tilt upwards. Maybe all was not lost.

“Hola,” Lucy responded, and was quiet after that, silently telling Ona that the ball was in her court.

“You look well.” Nice one.

Lucy smiled properly at that one and decided to put Ona out of her misery a little. “You’re all dressed up. Hot date tonight?”

Ona didn’t miss the way Lucy’s grin became slightly strained at her words and felt a surge of confidence fill her heart, so she decide to take the plunge.

“Sort of. I- Look, Lucia, I’m sorry for how I treated you after our… kiss. I messed up and ignored you for like a week after, so now you probably hate me, and I can not blame you. I know we said that the dates were not real and for me to get over my nerves, but then I couldn’t help but start to pretend that this was real.” Lucy stayed silent, her expression unreadable, but her eyes were shining with something that made Ona’s stomach flutter, and she took that as a sign to keep going.

“The girl I was just out with, Elena, noticed something was off immediately, and so I told her that I love you. Because I do. And if I’m not wrong, then I think you like me too. If you do have feelings for me, I’m so sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner and spared us from all of this pain, because I’ve been stuck in this hole of sadness for the past couple of weeks. So por favor, just tell me that I haven’t missed my chance.”

“I love you too.”

Lucy’s response was quick, her words confident, and to Ona in that moment, she was sure that Lucy was the most beautiful person in the world. The small fly-away hairs that escaped from her bun, the freckles that were dotted across her skin, the stray eyelash that rested on the apple of her cheek, all made a rush of fondness spread throughout Ona’s chest.

With that admission, she tentatively reached out to rest a hand on Lucy’s jaw, and she leaned into Ona’s touch as her arms circled around the smaller woman’s waist.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Lucy breathed. Ona gave her a quick nod.

“I asked you to go on those fake dates hoping that you would give me a proper chance afterwards. I’ve liked you for a long time, you know?” she confessed, leaning in to brush her nose against Ona’s skin.

“You could’ve just said something instead of subjecting me to sharks and mini golf,” came Ona’s reply, but her tone held nothing but fond amusement.

“I still don’t think that was a shark,” Lucy, eyes crinkling in laughter as she thought back to Ona’s panicked paddling at the lake.

“I’m telling you, I saw a fin!” the younger woman protested, but there was no real fight in it, Ona long having accepted that she may have overreacted a touch. That didn’t mean she wanted to give Lucy the satisfaction of being right, though.

“So, how does Elena rank on the scale of bad dates. You must be an expert after both of ours, so gimme a number from one to ten. Spare no gory details,” Lucy smirked, her hands creeping up to place themselves firmly on Ona’s face, lips within a hair’s breadth away from the Spaniard’s.

“I think that was the worst date I’ve ever been on, because it wasn’t with you.” And hearing those words, Lucy kissed her.

#lucy bronze x ona batlle #ona batlle x lucy bronze #lucy bronze #ona batlle #woso fanfics #woso imagines #my fics

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