#and i appreciate the risks they took because they would have *known* these were Risks in terms of audience reception

[merakiui]

100%

yandere!malleus draconia x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, pregnancy, implied baby-trapping, captivity, very vague and slight implications of codependency, angst note - your mobile phone was at 100% when he took you away. with time, the percentage has diminished. so, too, does your hope for a brighter future.

The windowpane is spattered with rain.

Sitting cozy in a cushioned alcove, you watch the droplets slide down in regal rivulets, consolidating to form single streaks. The scenery beyond the window is bleak and dreary—a despondent landscape of gnarled, leafless trees and scratchy brambles stretching towards a dark, dismal sky. Sometimes you liken the rain to tears, wondering if Mother Nature weeps for all creatures or simply for you and your situation. Rare are the days in which the sun shines upon the craggy stone façade of your captor’s castle, and she is as benevolent as she is cruel.

For all of its sumptuous splendor, generational wealth filling the interior with priceless heirlooms and relics, it is an empty, cold structure. You’ve taken to enveloping yourself in thick furs, if only because these furs do not speak like the monster who so humbly offers his embrace. Though you’ve always considered yourself of strong, sturdy mind, your restraint is thinning. As the days pass and you shed clothing sizes like they’re second skins, you find yourself drawn to warmth.

Which is, ironically enough, contradictory to your current temperament. The windows, frigid like the grave, provide solace you cannot find anywhere else—for it is only tender warmth you receive from him. Had he not been so merciful, perhaps it would have been easier to shrink away and truly loathe him with every ounce of your being.

And yet, in order to escape the warmth which enshrouds, you seek the cold, bitter windows and their rain-weary countenance.

Lying beside you on the pillows, snoozing the afternoon away, a calico cat snores idly. She was a gift from him. You were neglectful of your mental health and thus, as per his guard’s suggestion, he sought to find a cat to cure your loneliness and inspire some form of happiness. You appreciate Silver—genuinely, you do—but the good luck a calico brings is not nearly enough to rescue you from captivity.

She was a stray, a scrawny thing with a limp and one bad eye. You took to her right away, scooping her up in your arms and lovingly naming her Cotton. Similarly, she returned your affections, rubbing her head against your palm and purring pleasantly.

Now she likes to nudge the dome that is your stomach, a great, round thing at only six months. Sometimes you think she’s more motherly than you are. You’ve never been able to care for much of anything. Plants wither under your touch, recipes spoil even when you follow them to the letter, and your electronics crack.

Your phone, more fractured than your very heart, is cold in your hands. The screen is blank; it’s dying. It was at 100% before. Now it’s been reduced to a sad 7%. There is no reception or connection to be had in Briar Valley. Your phone, once so powerful and all-knowing, is but a hollow shell. Useless. A digital photo album will expire at its final hour, and there’s no charger. He offered to use his magic to charge it, but he has never known his own strength and you couldn’t risk losing the treasured memories stored within.

Sometimes you’d return to old message logs and read through them. Now you can’t do that, lest you drain the battery quicker than intended.

“So this is where you’ve retreated,” Malleus notes, poking his head around the corner of a towering bookcase. Concern settles on his features. “Are you well? Sebek tells me you were absent for breakfast.” “I wasn’t hungry,” you mutter, watching his reflection through the stormy glass.

Malleus glances at Cotton and then at your phone as it rests in your clasp. “May I trouble you to eat just a little, if only some fruit?”

“I’m not hungry.” He nods, stalling. “Will you join me for lunch?”

“If I must.”

A small smile lifts his lips. “Are you cold? It can’t be very comfortable to sit there for such a long time. You’ll catch your death.”

“I hope.”

He tuts in disapproval and shrugs out of his cloak, draping it over you even though you’re already wearing a fleece robe. Malleus assesses you with a fleeting once-over.

“It doesn’t hurt to layer. You must understand where I’m coming from, dearest. Extreme temperatures serve to weaken those who are already so fragile.”

“I’m not fragile,” you snap, turning to scowl.

He doesn’t flinch at the heat smoldering in your eyes. “You’re human.”

“How many times did you have to practice that to come to terms with it?”

Malleus’s verdant stare narrows; his frown tightens. “It’s the truth.”

“I didn’t think you’d confront it.”

“I must if I’m to understand…” He exhales through his nose, deflating somewhat. “You’re in fine health. The physician tells me so. There’s no need to worry ourselves with ineffectual what-ifs.”

You turn your gaze on the sprawling forest next, unwilling to discuss the report and its subsequent conclusion: If she remains in good health and follows the recommended diet for an expecting mother, she’ll carry to term.

“My phone is dying, Malleus.”

“Is that not life? Lilia once said so.”

“My pictures… My everything is stored in this phone. It means so much to me.”

“Truly? Is there not a way to make physical copies of these photographs?”

“Unless Briar Valley has the technology to do so…”

“I’m afraid not.”

Malleus takes a daring step closer, endeavoring to comfort you. Cotton cracks her good eye open to peer at him. She hisses low in her throat, a protector standing small against something so tall. Pouting, clearly disheartened, Malleus heeds her warning and chooses to linger just within the bounds she deems acceptable.

“Yeah, that’s what I assumed.”

You heave a dejected sigh, your shoulders drooping. Seeking to cleanse your visual palate, you power the device on. 5% blinks back at you, an insignificant number sitting in a corner that you normally wouldn’t have paid much mind to. Now it weighs heavy, a reminder that the end is encroaching.

“I would’ve liked to keep these photos forever,” you whisper, mostly to yourself. Malleus hums his acknowledgement; you think he knows the feeling—or some variant of it, at least. “If I lose these pictures…”

“Do you not have memories?”

“I do, but it isn’t the same. One day I’ll grow old and my memory will be frail. I won’t remember nearly as much as I do now. Those memories will become ghosts and eventually I’ll—”

“You will not.” There’s a finality to the declaration—you won’t leave me; you won’t drain or die like this mobile device.

You rest your head against the window. The cool glass soothes your soul. I wonder what the others are up to right now… You place your hand upon your belly. I wonder if they’d have any good ideas for a name. I’m terrible at naming things. I can never pick something that feels right.

“I’d like to have a funeral for my phone.”

But maybe there is no right thing.

“Of course,” he agrees, perfectly serious. You will have that phone funeral, just as you will have every other request you make—however patently absurd it may seem. (Every other request except for freedom, of course.) “Materials may not have the same worth as a loved one, but the experiences they provide are just as valuable. Surely, no? Otherwise I would not feel so troubled when Roaring Drago…” Pausing to search for the placeholder, Malleus glances at your phone. “Perhaps there is no greater tragedy than existence itself.”

“It’s the most bittersweet burden,” you echo, scrolling through each picture with wistful remembrance. “But then I’d rather know the fleeting frivolity of life than endure hundreds of years of solitude. It makes me appreciate everything that much more.”

You stop at a picture of you and Malleus, a photo snapped by Lilia himself. Part of you often wonders why he chose you—why he adores you to such a degree when you, like everyone else, will inevitably perish. But therein lies the allure: That which is unobtainable is even more tempting. And because there is only one of you, a human destined to one day return to her home world, your very presence is more fleeting than a dream.

To Malleus, who has always dreamt, fond and fervent, of the unobtainable mundanity of normal life, you are a sweet, tangible blessing.

“Horns, do you think I’ll ever get another chance to have my phone at 100%?”

He softens under the nickname. It means more to him than his lofty station. “Would you like to know that joy?”

“It would be nice, yes, but then I’d just get sad when it reaches zero. I guess I should be grateful it’s stayed alive for this long. Sorry, it’s a stupid question. Just forget it.”

“Nonsense. There is no such thing.” He reaches to touch your cheek, but Cotton hisses again and so he refrains. She stands on unsteady legs and climbs into your lap, perching awkwardly in spite of your rounded belly. The sight draws a deep chuckle from him. “Your feline friend is quite taken with you.”

“It’s probably because I’m warm. She likes my belly a lot.”

“As do I.”

You roll your eyes.

“Your beauty is most beguiling. There’s a certain radiance to your person. It’s very charming. Do you not agree?”

“Flattery will get you nowhere—definitely not in Cotton’s good graces.”

“I’m simply voicing a fact.”

Your hand slides down from your stomach to pat Cotton. She purrs under your touch, and a weak approximation of a smile tugs at your lips. Amidst all of this sorrow, she is a glimmer of hope. In a way, she’s like you—a stray without a place in this world, snatched from the cobbles she once wandered and confined in a cage of royal opulence. Your similarities are striking, if not immensely devastating.

“Fact or not, I don’t care if I look pretty. It means nothing to me.”

“To be impartial towards appearances… Quite a noble mindset.”

I never once thought you were scary or strange, Horns. Even now.

You look at your phone once more. 3% flickers back.

You’re just lost, and in being lost you found me. But I was also lost. I never even belonged in this world to begin with…

“I’m not going to be a good mother.”

“You can’t know that.” 

“I can’t even take care of myself.”

“I shall care for you when you find yourself unable to.”

“I’d rather you not.”

With Cotton having curled on your lap, slumbering peacefully, Malleus chances to close the gap. His broad frame leans to make up for the difference in height, and he runs cold fingers along your cheek. He brushes away the tears you weren’t even aware you were shedding.

You grip your phone in shaky hands, your shoulders hunched. There’s a piercing ache in your chest, pain stabbing all the way through to your heart. It persists when you power it off, unable to delight in pictorial reminiscence for a moment longer. Silent like death, you sob; seismic dismay shudders through you in waves. Distantly, in a forgotten corner of your brain, you suspect this may be the last time you’ll ever use your phone. The last time you’ll ever look upon the photos you’ve amassed. Photos of friends, class notes, food. Photos snapped by mistake, blurry and unfocused. Photos taken when Ace and Grim stole your phone. Precious memories are preserved within the permanence of a photo album—an album that only remains everlasting so long as you keep your phone charged.

Your final shred of the world beyond Briar Valley vanishes in a blip, leaving you with the dark void that is an empty screen. Brutal is the agony, contorting your face, and you bawl like you’ve just witnessed the end of a life.

In a way, you have. You held it in the palm of your hands, and you watched it wither. Watched the percentages drop through numbers, double digits easing into singles. Watched every week and tried to spare your beloved phone of its fate. Watched and attempted to stall the impossible—a foolish undertaking. This was inevitable; you knew this, and yet you’re still mourning.

Perhaps that is the most tragic facet of existence. From the moment one is born, they are mourning. Humans mourn losing time—of allowing it to slip through their fingers when they should have put it to better use. Humans mourn aging even though it is celebrated yearly. Humans mourn for things that are inhuman—for robots stuck in an endless cycle of some menial task while gears grow rusted and systems shut down or trapped on a distant planet, never to return home. For the fruit that falls from trees and rots, trampled and forgotten. For the endings, good and bad, of novels. For art that will never see the light of day because it has been destroyed or stolen or silenced. For the friends they meet, have met, and will meet.

You mourn because you know it’s impending, and you spend all of your life coming to terms with it, only to break down when it finally happens because the truth of the matter is that you will never be prepared no matter how much you prepare yourself. You mourn because you’re a complex human with complex emotions, surviving in a complex world with millions of intricacies, and the only way to weather misery is to mourn.

To the little life cradled in your womb, who knows not of these difficulties yet, they cannot fathom the anguish that accompanies loss. And right now that is all you can hope for—a life without loss.

But that is impossible because loss is true to everyone’s experience. It is part of existence, and existence is inescapable.

Malleus does not gather you in his arms. He will do so if you ask, and he knows you want to ask, which is precisely why he waits. But you’re stubborn and you refuse to give in to the temptation, let alone grant him the satisfaction. It doesn’t offend him.

The windowpane is spattered with rain. So, too, is your phone, spotted with tears and snot.

Briefly, you wonder if you still look beautiful to Malleus.

Even at your ugliest, he would still cherish you. Desperately, as if he might lose you.

Knowing this does not soften the gutting grief.

[witchywithwhiskey]

tempting fate in the CEO's office

pairing: father's business rival CEO!bucky barnes x female reader

summary: you visit your boyfriend in his office to show off your new lingerie, and you end up playing a reckless game when he hast to join a conference call—a call that your father will be on.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, creampie, cockwarming, dry humping, little bit of come play, light teasing, choking, light bdsm, semi-public sex, sex with the risk of being caught, exhibitionism, dirty talk, light degradation, praise kink, pet names (darling), unspecified age gap, fluff, established relationship

word count: 6,300ish

a/n: ok! this took me ages because i started writing it before moving and it was difficult to get back into it, but i'm pretty happy with how it turned out all things considered. this chapter is set in bucky's office because that was what won the poll i posted. it was fun to write, and i already started writing the next chapter, so i hope y'all enjoy!!

tempting fate in the park (part 1)

tempting fate on the terrace (part 2)

tempting fate in the CEO's office (part 3)

You’d done a lot of reckless things in your life—like wearing a dress with nothing underneath it to the park, or starting a secret relationship with your father’s biggest business rival—but walking into the busy lower Manhattan office building of CEO Bucky Barnes wearing nothing but a set of lingerie, a long trenchcoat and heels had to top the list.

Still, you didn’t feel any trepidation. Not even as the bottom hem of your jacket fluttered around your thighs, threatening to give anyone in the lobby a peak at the lacy undergarments you’d worn specifically for Bucky. But, though every step was a potential disaster—because if you did flash someone in the lobby your most intimate bits, it would surely get back to your father—you didn’t falter. 

The points of your heels clicked confidently against the marble floor of the lobby and a fearless smile curled your lips. You were having fun with your reckless behavior. Excitement and desire fizzled in your belly, making you feel like you were walking on air as you crossed the floor to the elevator bank that would take you up to the C-suite offices, where you knew Bucky would be.

While you rode the elevator, you couldn’t help but think about how Bucky would react when you walked into his office wearing only lingerie and a jacket. You could easily picture the way he’d look at you—his brilliant blue eyes darkening and his mouth curling into a smirk. And you couldn’t wait to tell him that he was the one to buy you the matching set. 

He’d given you his black Amex and told you to buy something pretty for yourself, despite the fact that you had plenty of money from your parents. You were your father’s daughter, after all, and he’s given you a generous allowance, even as an adult. But Bucky had insisted you spend his money for a change—so you decided you were going to insist he appreciate the pretty lingerie he’d paid for…while it was on your body.

Your smile deepened as the elevator doors slid open soundlessly and you walked into the lobby of the company’s C-suite, giddy excitement thrumming through your body. You couldn’t wait to see Bucky’s reaction to your outfit, but even more than that, you were excited to see your boyfriend.

It still felt a little strange to think of Bucky as your boyfriend. You’d known him as nothing more than your father’s hot business rival for so long, and your relationship was still so new and covert. Neither of you had told anyone about it yet. Everyone in both your circles of friends knew each other, and they all knew your father, so it was too risky. 

But Bucky was your boyfriend, and that knowledge made your heart beat faster in your chest, your smile widening even further.

You were still wearing your slightly goofy smile when you walked up to the desk where Bucky’s secretary sat. She was an older woman with kind eyes, and when you gave your name, recognition dawned in her expression. Her face creased with delicate crinkles as she offered you a genuine smile and waved you into Bucky’s office. 

As you were walking past, she made a comment that Bucky had given her strict orders to always allow you into his office. Your goofy, happy smile got even goofier and happier at that bit of information, and you pushed through the door into Bucky’s office.

The first thing that struck you about the space was how warm and cozy it felt despite the fact that two full walls were taken up by floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking New York City. The whole of Manhattan sprawled out at Bucky’s feet, and you couldn’t help but understand the city’s desire to do so. In your experience, being at Bucky’s feet was an enjoyable place to be.

You bit back a smirk as you looked around the office, taking in the dark wooden furnishings and gold accents. There were plush rugs beneath a small seating area off to one side and another under Bucky’s big desk, giving the space a homey feel that reminded you of his penthouse apartment. The office was professional, but it managed to feel like Bucky, and you couldn’t help but smile at that.

When you turned your attention to the CEO, you found him watching you as you took in his office for the first time. His blue eyes were sparkling and he had a pleased expression on his face.

“Darling,” Bucky rumbled as a greeting, a smile curling the corners of his mouth. 

He looked so handsome, wearing a slate gray suit with a black shirt beneath, the colors contrasting with his golden skin and dark brown beard. His blue eyes were two stars in the sky, and his mouth was a charming curve that made you ache to kiss him. 

When you didn’t respond—because you were too wrapped up in appreciating the attractiveness of your boyfriend—Bucky leaned back in his leather office chair. His eyes stayed fixed on you, his chin tilting up, and you couldn’t help but think he looked like a king lording over his court.

It made you want to kneel.

Instead, you murmured his name with a smile, “Jamie,” and strolled over to his desk, one hand playing with the belt of your jacket that was keeping it cinched around your waist. “I’m not interrupting, am I?” you asked innocently as you walked around his desk and stepped between his spread legs, your sassy smile making it clear you didn’t care if you were.

Bucky only seemed happy to see you, pushing closer in his chair so his hands could slip around the backs of your bare thighs, making you shiver as he murmured, “Never.” 

His head was tilted back a bit to meet your eyes, and his gaze was impossibly soft as he stared at you, making you feel hot and flustered all over—particularly between your thighs. To steady yourself, you slid your arms around his shoulders and ducked down to drop a kiss to his lips, smiling at the slight rasp of his beard. He tasted like coffee.

“Did you have a nice shopping trip?” Bucky asked, his voice quiet and warm in a way that made you want to melt into him. Your fingers idly played with the soft brown hair at the nape of his neck and his smile turned a little mischievous as he asked, “Did you buy yourself something pretty like I asked?” 

Impossibly, you’d forgotten the outfit you’d worn into Bucky’s office, but his question reminded you of the lacy lingerie that was hidden beneath your jacket. You smiled like the cat that got the cream and nodded at your boyfriend, fluttering your lashes at him as you asked a question of your own. 

“Do you want to see, Jamie?” You leaned back and played with the ends of the belt keeping your jacket tied tight around your body, enjoying the way Bucky’s eyes dipped curiously down to your hands. 

His gaze heated, a grin spreading across his face as he slid his hands up from your thighs to your belt. He paused before untying it, flicking his eyes up to yours. When you nodded, Bucky slowly undid the knot, his fingers brushing against your bare skin as he parted the jacket to see what you’d been hiding.

The sharp breath Bucky sucked in when he saw the pretty lingerie you wore, your curves swathed in lace that he’d paid for, was immensely satisfying. Bucky pushed the trenchcoat off your shoulders and let it fall to pool at your feet while his eyes roved over your body like they couldn’t get enough. 

Then his hands seemed to be everywhere—brushing against the sides of your breasts, smoothing over the curve of your waist, groping your plush hips. He touch you greedily as his eyes seemed to devour your appearance, taking in the way the lingerie clung to your body, the way it framed your breasts and barely covered your mound. 

The blue of his eyes had darkened to the color of the ocean by the time he returned his gaze to yours. All he said was, “Darling,” his voice little more than gravel, as if he was overcome by the sight of you in your new matching set. Your breath caught in your throat at the emotion swirling in Bucky’s eyes. “You’re gorgeous,” he rasped. 

A pleased heat spread through your chest, warming your cheeks, and you smiled happily at the sincerity in Bucky’s words. “Thank you, Jamie,” you murmured, ducking down to press another quick kiss to your boyfriend’s lips. 

But Bucky caught you around the back of your neck, murmuring, “C’mere,” before reeling you back in and deepening the kiss. He kissed you thoroughly, his hands sliding down your body to the backs of your thighs, and then he was pulling you into his lap, your knees on either side of his legs so you were straddling him in his leather chair.

So much of your bare skin brushed against Bucky’s suit, and though the fabric was soft, it was a reminder of how little clothing you were wearing. You shivered when Bucky’s fingers traced down your spine, pressing you flush to his chest, the lace of your lingerie teasing your nipples deliciously so that you whimpered into his mouth. 

By the time Bucky pulled away, your lips were swollen from his kisses and the wetness gathering between your thighs had dripped into your panties. When you squirmed on Bucky’s lap, rubbing your chest against his and enjoying the electric shocks of pleasure to your nipples, you felt his bulge press against your lace-covered core. You couldn’t help the little whine that escaped when you rubbed against the hot, hard length of him.

“Jamie,” you mewled, rocking against Bucky’s bulge, not caring in the least that his secretary was sitting just outside the office door. All that mattered was the way Bucky’s cock twitched when you whimpered his name.

“Darling,” Bucky groaned, pleasure soaking his tone—but there was a warning in his voice, too. When his hands grabbed your hips, he didn’t urge you on like you expected. He forced you to stop. You whined pitifully, leaning back to catch your boyfriend’s eye and pouting up at him. “I’m due on a call any minute,” he explained, a regretful look on his face.

You knew you should leave him to it. Bucky was a busy man, after all, and he needed to work—especially if he was going to buy you more expensive lingerie—which you hoped he would considering his reaction to seeing you in your new matching set. You knew it was still early in the afternoon and you should be content with the few moments you’d stolen of his time already.

But your reckless impulses were too loud to ignore, so instead of sliding off Bucky’s lap and putting your jacket back on, you pressed closer, your soft tits trapped against his hard chest. Your lips brushed the shell of Bucky’s ear as you leaned in, making him shudder beneath you.

“Why does that mean we have to stop?” you asked in a soft, sultry tone. Rolling your hips slowly, you rocked your lace-covered core against your boyfriend’s hard cock in a decadent drag that had both of you letting out little groans. “I’m all dressed up in the pretty lingerie you bought for me, why don’t you let me sit on your lap during your call.” 

You nipped at Bucky’s ear before pressing a kiss to his neck just beneath it, enjoying the rumble in his chest as he bit back a moan. 

“And since I’m on your lap, why don’t you let me keep your cock warm in my pussy—‘m so warm and wet for you, Jamie, and I promise I’ll be so quiet while you’re on your call.” 

Bucky chuckled, both of you knowing full well that you were lying, but he didn’t call you out on it like you expected. Instead, he went a different route, surprising you. 

“Are you sure, darling?” he purred, pressing a suckling kiss to the side of your neck that had your head tilting to the side to give him more access. You were so consumed by how good his soft mouth and rough beard felt against your skin that you almost missed his next words. “Every major CEO in the city is going to be on this call—including your father.”

You froze on Bucky’s lap, not even his mouth working against your neck distracting you from what he’d said. Despite your good sense—at least, what little was left of it with Bucky’s bulge pressing between your thighs—you knew you shouldn’t be thinking about tempting fate in a CEO’s office while he was on a call with your father and all their colleagues. But… Well, you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t enjoy the thrill the the idea gave you.

And it was that side of you that prompted you to purr in your boyfriend’s ear, “I’m sure, Jamie,” as you melted back against his chest. A wicked smirk curled your lips as you issued a challenge to the CEO, “In fact, I’m sure that if one of us is going to give us away to my father, it won’t be me.”  

The chuckle Bucky let out was practically sinister, and your hips squirmed reflexively, grinding your wet slit against his hard cock through your clothes. You managed to hold back the soft moan that wanted to escape, and you were proud of yourself. But then Bucky issued a challenge of his own that had you scurrying.

“Well, then, you’ve got about five minutes to get my cock out, darling,” Bucky said, sounding like he relished giving you a deadline and making you hurry. “Or your sweet moans as I’m stretching out that tight little hole of yours are bound to give you away in an instant.”

Desire flushed hot through your body as you scrambled to reach between your bodies and undo Bucky’s pants. He leaned back in his chair and held your gaze, his blue eyes darkening when you pulled down his zipper, both of you smiling at each other. Reaching into his slacks, you pulled Bucky’s cock free, giving him a quick, appreciative stroke and nearly purring at the velvet-wrapped steel in your hand. 

“Hurry, darling,” Bucky drawled, an unrepentant smirk curling his mouth as his eyes went hooded. “Only a few minutes left before I join this call with your father.”

As you lined yourself up with Bucky’s cock, he reached for the phone on his desk. The robotic musical notes of his fingers dialing felt like a ticking clock and your heart beat faster in your chest. Hooking a finger around the lace covering your dripping slit, you pulled your panties to the side so you could sink down on your boyfriend’s hard length.

A loud, filthy moan squeezed free from your lungs, your head tipping back in bliss as you impaled yourself on Bucky’s perfect cock. It felt as exquisite as it always did, Bucky’s thick girth stretching out your tight little hole as he slid inside you. Your moan turned into a high keening sound as you pushed down further on him, the sound filling his office.

The rumble of Bucky’s laughter teased your ears, but as you lifted yourself up only to slide down further on his stiff length, the sound dissolved into a low groan. Lifting your head, you locked eyes with Bucky while you lowered yourself down on the final few inches of his cock, both of you watching each other as your expressions contorted in pleasure. It felt divine to share the moment with Bucky, and it was made all the sweeter with the impending call dangling over your heads.

Your boyfriend wrapped his hand around the front of your throat and reeled you in for a hot, messy kiss, shoving his tongue in your mouth and taking possession of you in a matter of seconds. His lips were demanding, his tongue forceful, and it made all thoughts flee from your mind. You were desire incarnate and you were consumed by the feeling of Bucky inside you, around you, everywhere.

By the time Bucky pulled away, you were panting for more, your hips rocking impatiently on his cock. But Bucky pressed a steadying hand to your lower back, urging you to still, and then he tapped a button on the phone on his desk, his voice drifting past your ear and sounding exactly as he normally did.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Bucky rumbled smoothly, sounding every bit like the polished CEO that he was. Meanwhile, you pressed your mouth against Bucky’s neck to muffle the heavy breaths that you were still dragging in, willing your heart to slow down from its excited pace. 

But as you calmed, you were able to take stock of your predicament. You were seated on Bucky’s lap, his cock buried in your cunt while you wore nothing more than lingerie and he was still dressed mostly in his suit. To make matters more complicated, he’d just joined a conference call that your father would also be on. You’d perhaps gone far past tempting fate in the CEO’s office, but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret the decisions that had led you to that moment.

Not when there was some fun to be had with your boyfriend. 

While the men on the call greeted each other and talked about their latest golf games, the state of the new Yankees season, and their families—in that order—you focused entirely on Bucky. Looping your arms tighter around his shoulders, you tucked your face into the crook of his neck. Your mouth found the pulse point at the side of his throat, just above the collar of his shirt, and you began sucking softly on the spot that you knew would drive him wild before long.

But then your father’s voice sounded from the speaker on Bucky’s phone—the all too familiar sound of him apologizing for being late—and your entire body clenched tight with surprise and more than a little deviant thrill. When your pussy clutched Bucky’s cock hard, it wrung a strangled sound from the boyfriend your father had no idea you had.

“Y’alright there, Barnes?” your father asked jovially, a tiny hint of the ire he actually felt toward his fellow CEO in his tone. Your father may have hated Bucky, but he knew how to keep up appearances. Mostly.

However, if he ever found out about your relationship with Bucky… You shuddered to think about it.

“Yeah,” your boyfriend responded easily, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your lower back that had you relaxing in his arms. “Just some whiskey down the wrong pipe.”

You bit your lip to suppress the urge to make a snarky remark about taking his cock down your pipe and instead listened as the men on the call all chuckled good-naturedly. Your father’s jocular tone cut through the din as it subsided.

“Hope you’re not getting sick, Barnes,” he said, sounding friendly enough. But there was an undercurrent of malice in his words that made it sound like he was actually hoping for the opposite. Then, as you wondered whether everyone on the call could hear the antagonism in your father’s voice, he dropped all pretenses as he commented, “Though I suppose you don’t have to worry about a girlfriend or wife nagging you to get some rest.” He paused for a moment, like he was relishing his next jab. “You can just call one of your bimbos to take care of you, maybe they’ll take pity on you and give you a discount on their hourly rate.” 

It took every ounce of your self-control not to groan at your father’s comment, but it seemed at least some of the other CEOs on the call didn’t have as tight a grip on their willpower. Frustrated huffs and annoyed groans sounded from the speaker, and you could’ve sworn you hear someone mutter, “Not this again.”

You nearly snorted at the comment, but kept quiet, kissing Bucky’s neck in reassurance that you didn’t take your father’s words to heart. The decision to keep your relationship a secret from your father was one you’d made together, and you knew those kinds of comments were par for the course for Bucky. After all, he was a hot, rich and presumedly single CEO. Of course your father would make an insinuation that he paid for sex. 

But Bucky wasn’t ruffled in the slightest by your father’s dig. If anything, he sank deeper into his plush leather office chair, one of his hands resting possessively against your lower back. Your lips curled and you smirked against Bucky’s neck, nuzzling into him as you felt his cock shift inside you. You squeezed him with your inner walls and he let out a nearly silent snort before responding to your father.

“Don’t worry about me, chief,” he drawled, a little bit of patronizing humor in his tone, especially when he used the nickname to mock your father. “I’m well taken care of.” Bucky’s hand smoothed up and down your spine, making you purr softly in his ear. You could hear the pleased smile in his tone as he went on. “By the way, how’s the family?”

You nearly choked on a laugh, biting down on Bucky’s shoulder through his jacket and shirt to muffle the sound, as your father grumbled and grudgingly muttered, “They’re fine, Barnes, thank you for asking.” His voice was so stiff, and he was so clearly disappointed Bucky hadn’t risen to his bait, that he was clearly trying to save face in front of all the other CEOs. 

You smirked to yourself, leaning up so you could murmur in Bucky’s ear, “Mm, some of us are much better than fine.” Your voice was barely a whisper so you knew the men on the call wouldn’t hear, but Bucky squeezed your hip in warning, which only made you snicker softly. In retaliation, you clenched your pussy around his cock, making your boyfriend grunt quietly.

Bucky’s other hand wrapped around your throat and he gently pushed you back until you were able to see his face. You’d half expected him to be glaring at you for trying to get him to make a noise that would get the attention of the call, but you should’ve known your boyfriend better—he was just as reckless as you. 

Instead of a glare, Bucky’s expression was one of amusement, his blue eyes dancing with mischief and his mouth curved into a smirk that you wanted to lick right off his face. “You’re playing with fire, darling,” Bucky mouthed, but there was no real warning in his words. If anything, it made you want to try harder to get him to make a sound that would get the attention of the other CEOs.

As the business part of the conference call finally began, Bucky made a show of settling back into his chair, reclining his head and giving you a challenging look. An impish smile curled your lips and you rolled your hips. You watched Bucky’s eyes droop in pleasure, his mouth falling open on a silent moan, and a shiver raced down your spine as you began riding his cock. 

You’d intended to torture him by slowly rising up and sinking back down on his hard length, but your boyfriend looked too delicious just sitting there with that smirk on his face. You ducked forward, flicking your tongue against the corner of his mouth, biting back a moan as you tasted him. His beard rasped against your tongue and a burning need flared to life in your chest. You trailed your mouth along his jaw, biting into his beard like you wanted to devour him whole. 

All the while, you rocked your hips as fast as you dared, which wan’t nearly fast enough. Bucky felt good inside you, but your every movement, your every breath was restrained. It made everything hotter, but it also meant you couldn’t truly let yourself give in to the pleasure of him. 

You needed more, you needed Bucky to fuck you. 

Whimpering into Bucky’s beard to muffle the sound, you whined his name in the quietest voice you could manage, “Jamie.” 

Bucky’s hand slipped around the front of your throat, his fingers digging into the sides in a way that made you clench around his cock, your lips parting in a silent moan. Pressing his mouth to your ear, he growled, “Hush, darling, or do you want me to make you be quiet?”

It took you the briefest of seconds to answer his question, your hips bouncing on his lap as you chanted, “Make me, sir, make me.”

“Perfect, filthy girl,” Bucky rumbled in your ear moments before he was standing up and laying you down on his desk as soundlessly as possible. 

All the men on the conference call heard were the rustling of papers, which you knew wouldn’t be out of place, and you had to bite your lip to stop from giggling. Your head was close to the speaker phone and you glanced at it before looking back at Bucky, a challenge in the way you narrowed your eyes and smirked at him. 

Your boyfriend grinned and mouthed the words, “Be quiet, darling,” before pressing a finger to his lips. Then he pulled his hips back and slammed forward, burying his cock in your slick cunt so forcefully, you had to slap both your hands over your mouth to stop from moaning. 

Between one breath and the next, Bucky’s hand was around your throat, pinning you to the hard wooden desk beneath you, his fingers squeezing into the sides of your neck and cutting off all any sound that could even think to dare escaping your lips. Your eyes popped open and you stared up at your boyfriend, spreading your legs wide so he could push deeper into your cunt, the tip of his cock grinding against a spot inside you that made you gush with arousal.

Your face was slack with pleasure, your mouth hanging open as you sucked in tiny, silent breaths, your eyes heavy-lidded as you kept your gaze fixed on Bucky above you. He felt so good inside you, so perfect, his hand around your throat choking you and heightening every sensation in your body.

When you heard Bucky’s name come through the phone, you nearly wailed in protest that someone would try to steal your boyfriend’s attention from you. But Bucky never relented, never stopped fucking you or choking you, slowly pushing you toward your release while he responded to the men on the phone with an even voice. You were too far gone to pay attention to what was being said, but Bucky seemed to know what he was saying, so you left him to it and instead focused on the unrelenting pleasure of his cock.

Eventually, you registered that Bucky was offering his farewells to the CEOs on the other end of the line, and you realized the conference call was coming to an end. If you’d been able to make any sound, you would’ve squeaked happily. Bucky reached across your body and hung up the phone. 

Then your boyfriend was curling over you, his face close to yours, his expression twisting into one of depraved delight as he started pounding into you harder, faster, fucking you ruthlessly on his desk. 

“Did you enjoy that, darling?” he growled, the arousal in his voice making him sound even more gravelly than normal. “Did you enjoy getting fucked on my desk while every CEO in New York City—including your father, who hates me—was on the phone?”

Bucky’s hand around your throat relented enough for you to speak, but you didn’t have any words left in your brain. Not when you could hear the wet sounds of your cunt while he fucked you. All you could do was moan, long and loud, the sound swirling around the two of you and filling the massive space of the luxurious office.

“You’re a temptress, the filthiest fucking girl I’ve ever met,” Bucky rasped, dragging his mouth along your jaw and nipping at your skin as he fucked you harder, grinding against your clit with every thrust. “You’re fucking perfect—you were so good for me, darling, taking my cock so well and staying so quiet for me.”

“Jamie,” you whined, carding your fingers through his soft brown hair and tugging his mouth to yours for a messy kiss. “Jamie, Jamie, Jamie,” you babbled into his mouth, sucking on his tongue and driving him to pound into you relentlessly while you whimpered at how good it felt to finally make some noise. 

“I know, I know,” Bucky rumbled in a warm, pleased tone, and you felt him smirk against your cheek. “My cock feels so good in your tight cunt, doesn’t it, darling?” He rocked into you, hitting that spot inside you and grinding against your clit at the same time, making you cry out sharply. “Yeah, I thought so,” he said, chuckling huskily in your ear. 

If it didn’t feel so good, you might’ve hit him, but the pleasure coiling tight in your body had you too wound up to care. Thankfully, your boyfriend had no interest in making you wait to come. In fact, he was eager for it as well.

“Mm, you’ve been so good for me,” Bucky rumbled, keeping up that impossibly perfect pace of his thrusts. “Come on my cock, darling, want to feel you milking me with your perfect pussy.”

His words washed over you at the same moment that he thrust deep inside and you were helpless to resist the pleasure. Your release crashed over you, Bucky’s hand squeezing your throat in time to choke off the scream that wanted to be let loose. Instead, your mouth opened wide on the silent sound and your body clenched tight, your back arching up off the desk as wave after wave of pleasure consumed you. 

“That’s it, darling, fuck,” Bucky growled, fucking you through your release, his voice going tight as your cunt clenched down hard on his cock. “Gonna come deep in this perfect pussy, and send you home with my come dripping into your new panties,” he rumbled, his thrusts turning wild as he rutted into your still fluttering core. “You’re gonna wait for me in my penthouse, and when I get home, I’m fucking you again in your pretty new lingerie. Gonna show you how much I love seeing you covered in lace and dripping my come.”

Impossibly, your deeply satisifed body tightened in excitement at your boyfriend’s words, and you suddenly couldn’t wait for what he promised. The fact that you’d never been to his penthouse without him was the furthest thing from your mind in that moment. 

“Jamie,” you cried softly before you pulled him down for another kiss. Your legs wrapped around the backs of his thighs and you held him inside you so he could only grind into your cunt. The sounds your bodies made were lewd and obscene, but they were drowned out by the pleasured moans coming from your mouths as you devoured each other.

A moment later, Bucky wrenched free from your mouth as he came with a loud groan. His cock twitched inside you while he filled you up with his warm, sticky come, and all you could do was smile dazedly. Your bodies writhed together as you eked out as much pleasure from your releases as possible, your mouths finding each other again and kissing to muffle your whimpers and groans. 

Together, you caught your breath, and finally settled. Bucky pulled back to stare down at you, a pleased smirk curling one side of his mouth. Then he leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, lazy kiss. You grabbed his face and held him close, kissing the hell out of him while his cock softened inside you.

As you continued making out on your CEO boyfriend’s desk, you heard Bucky open and close a drawer. But it wasn’t until he pulled away and held up a key that you saw what he’d procured from the drawer. You stared at the little scrap of metal, the magnitude of what it meant making you suddenly uncertain. 

You gave Bucky a questioning look. He smiled affectionately down at you, brushing a kiss to your cheek before explaining. 

“It’s a key to my penthouse,” he said, his voice soft and gentle. “I want you to have it.”

Your eyes widened when he confirmed your suspicions, and though you wanted to reach for the key, you held back. “Are you sure, Jamie?” you asked, trying and failing to hide the waver in your voice. You tried to cover it up by barreling on, “We haven’t even told anyone we’re together.” When Bucky just watched you patiently, you tried for a joke. “What about all your bimbos?”

As soon as the words were past your lips, you wanted to take them back, and you slapped a hand over you mouth as if you could actually stuff the question back into your mouth. It shamed you that you’d repeated your father’s dig at Bucky, but before you could apologize, your boyfriend was carefully prying your hand away from your mouth so he could press a sweet kiss to your lips.

“You and I both know there never have, and never will be any bimbos in my life,” Bucky murmured, pressing his forehead to yours. He was so close, you had to close your eyes, which was a relief because there were suddenly tears swimming in them. “You also know that we decide how we want our relationship to move forward and when we want to tell our families.” He let out a soft exhale. “If you want to tell them before we take this step, just say the word, darling.”

With your eyes closed and Bucky’s warm skin pressing against yours, his familiar and comforting scent filling your nose, you let yourself think about it. You knew you’d have to tell your father about your relationship with Bucky eventually. After all, every time you pictured your future, he was a part of it. But you weren’t quite ready yet. You were still having too much fun with just you and Bucky knowing about your relationship.

“Not yet,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. 

“OK,” he said before giving you a reassuring kiss. “Will you take the key?”

You gave Bucky’s question the thought it deserved and realized you liked the idea of having a key to his place. There were nights when you couldn’t see him because you’d already gone home to your brownstone in Brooklyn before he’d gotten out of a late meeting. If you had a key to his place—and carte blanche from his secretary to go into his office—then you could see him whenever you wanted.

You liked that idea. You liked that idea a lot. 

But, because you were you, you couldn’t give Bucky a simple answer. So instead, you said, “I don’t really have a lot of pockets in this outfit.” 

Bucky pulled back and you opened your eyes to find your boyfriend grinning down at you, happiness sparkling in his blue eyes. You watched as those eyes darkened while he tucked the key into your bra. When the cool metal brushed against your nipple, you gasped quietly, your body clenching lightly around his half-hard cock. 

“Your new lingerie is pretty and comes in handy, darling,” Bucky commented lightly, bending down to kiss you as he eased himself from your body. He swallowed your groan, then stood up and smoothed your panties back over your pussy. He stared hungrily at the juncture of your thighs and you wondered if your combined releases were already leaving a wet spot. 

Before you could ask, Bucky shook himself and he turned his focus to helping you up from his desk. He made sure the key stayed securely in your bra, tweaking your nipple in the process, then stooped to grab your jacket. He held it open for you to step into, then tied the belt tightly around your waist. Last, he pulled you in for a kiss.

“I’ll be back this evening,” he murmured against your lips. “Make yourself at home, darling.” His words were nearly a purr and you shivered in delight at just how much you enjoyed hearing them. 

You were excited to spent the rest of the afternoon luxuriating in everything Bucky’s penthouse had to offer—maybe you’d even ask the concierge for some ice cream and cones—but when you pulled away from your boyfriend, you suddenly felt bereft. Your heart panged in your chest and you gave Bucky a bittersweet smile.

“It won’t feel like home until you get there,” you said softly, pushing up onto your tiptoes to kiss him. “So hurry home, Jamie.” 

Bucky’s hands flexed on your hips, like he was struggling to let you go, but finally you eased away from him and his hands dropped to his sides. Reluctantly, you turned and began walking across Bucky’s office. At the door, you paused and looked back. 

Bucky was still staring at you like he didn’t want to let you leave, but you’d both had enough of tempting fate in the CEO’s office for one afternoon. You gave him one last smile and waved, the key to his penthouse warming against your skin as you slipped out. You comforted yourself with the knowledge that you’d get to see Bucky later. 

As you walked past Bucky’s secretary’s empty desk to the elevator, all you could think was that you had a key to your boyfriend’s apartment. You had a key to your boyfriend’s penthouse apartment—and you couldn’t wait for him to come home to you that night.

Maybe, eventually, he’d come home to you every night.

tempting fate in the park (part 1)

tempting fate on the terrace (part 2)

tempting fate in the CEO's office (part 3)

[flowerandblood]

Incomprehension (Oneshot)

[ Michael • Gavey x math student • female ]

[ warnings: stalking, angst with comfort, depression ]

[ description: Michael Gavey seems to her to be an alien from another planet, and observing him becomes her daily routine. She decides to cheer him up by secretly putting his favorite Crunchie in his backpack, but one day she is caught red-handed. Requests regarding the character stalking Michael and her comforting him after the situation with Oliver at the bar. ]

I thought I'd post this between chapters of The Fall from the Heavens because I really like it even though there is no smut in the story! This will not affect the order in which new chapters will be published.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

She had no idea how it really started. She had watched him for a long time, knowing only that he was the best. Even though he was a student in the same year as her, equations that took her an hour to solve, he solved in a few minutes.

He worked like a machine: when he stood in front of the big board his face was stony. Unlike her, he wasn't frightened or stressed knowing that the whole room of students was watching him – on the contrary, seeing his lips clamped into a tight line, the wrinkles of concentration on his forehead and his wide-open blue eyes, she had the feeling that he derived satisfaction from it.

He wanted his genius to be admired.

They never exchanged a word with each other – even if she had wanted to, she wouldn't have known how to begin, and seeing his outbursts and behaviour that seemed bizarre to others, to say the least, she wasn't sure it would be worth taking the risk and stepping out of the shadows.

Something about him not knowing she was watching him filled her with peace and contentment.

Her year-mate had lamented to her as they sat in the library that one of the handsome, rich boys from a good house had not responded to her greeting as she passed him in the corridor. She nodded in understanding, looking thoughtfully towards the other table.

She didn't understand why he stayed close to Oliver.

This boy seemed too frisky to her, stretched out, wanting too many things at once. He wanted to be humble and feisty at the same time, lonely and surrounded by a group of friends, appreciated and unappreciated, for someone to comfort him.

He wanted to be noticed while remaining in a state of his own uniqueness.

Unlike him, Michael was authentic.

She showed up in the places he walked because he appeared in them like clockwork. His routine became her routine, allowing her to be a passive observer of his life instead of participating in her own.

She didn't want to return her thoughts again to her body and the emptiness she felt as she lay alone at night, thinking that she hated math.

However, it was the only thing she could do well.

The logic of formulas, the certainty of the fundamental, immutable laws that ruled the solving of equations gave her a sense of security.

Words were a strange and unnatural construct to her, and while her mind was full of thoughts, they did not usually find an outlet beyond the basic phrases that allowed her to turn in the company of others.

It wasn't her nature, but her choice: it seemed to her that every time she tried to explain the state of what was happening inside her, no one could comprehend her, giving her cloying advice she hadn't asked for at all.

She wanted to hear that she didn't need to change, instead however, everyone kept telling her that she should smile more, which she did reluctantly.

Why should she smile if she wasn't happy?

Michael was her opposite, and watching him was like observing a rare animal in the zoo: he was loud and unpredictable, his remarks often lacking tact and sometimes even sense, his chin raised in the confidence that emanated from him.

He was a mean bastard and she knew it, but she couldn't hate him.

To her despair, he seemed to evoke entirely different feelings in her.

His behaviour did not repel her: on the contrary, his explosive, quirky nature aroused a kind of admiration in her, as if he were an alien from another planet, someone who did not really exist.

She watched from the sidelines as Oliver slowly began to make his choice, more and more and more allowing Felix and the rest to absorb him like a large, voracious monsters.

She wasn't sure if the look of disappointment on Michael's face when he waved at him from afar and he didn't respond was a result of his sadness or his anger at having wasted his precious time.

It seemed to her that after he started eating and sitting alone again he quietened down and fell silent, disappearing before her eyes.

One day she got the idea of cheering him up and whenever she had the chance, she would slip a small Crunchie bar into his backpack, usually when he was busy talking to someone or when he put it down on the floor and left it in the corridor while going to the toilet.

She would then sit down next to it and, watching to make sure no one saw, slip the bar into the side pocket of his backpack and return to her seat.

Only twice had she seen his reaction to finding her gift tucked in one of his pockets. He would then look around, and she would lower her gaze, pretending that she was engrossed in a textbook on quantum physics.

She would smile involuntarily when she heard the rustling of the paper after a while, and then look at his thoughtful face, his gaze directed somewhere far away as he bit into the bar as if he were eating a burger.

He was so uncouth, so bright, so unpredictable.

However, her lack of vigilance doomed her: she wanted to do what she always did when she saw that he had thrown his backpack on the ground and headed for one of the rooms, apparently to talk to their professor. As soon as she sat down next to his bag, he came out and looked at her.

She froze, feeling her heart start pounding like crazy, cold sweat running down her back.

She picked herself up and moved to flee, unable to face the shame that spread throughout her body.

"– hey – wait – fuck –" He cursed, wanting to follow her, but remembered his backpack, so retreated to pick it up.

She stepped out into the courtyard, not hearing or seeing anything, blinded by the sun, stunned by the noise in her head and the shrill conviction that some kind of veil had fallen between them.

"– are you deaf? –" She heard him behind her, his large hand grabbing her arm too aggressively and too firmly, turning her away with a sharp, impatient jerk. She stopped, looking with big eyes at his blue checked shirt.

"– do you like rummaging through other people's things? –" He sneered, frustrated and amused at the same time. She simply remained silent, staring dully at the fabric of his shirt, smelling some cheap aftershave and his own scent.

He bowed his head, apparently wanting to meet the gaze of her eyes, but when she noticed his blue irises she turned her face away, quivering in his grasp.

"– you're weird –" He decided and let go of her, stepping around her, making her lower lip start to twitch, burning tears of shame, disappointment and regret gathered under her eyelids, running down her face one by one.

She adjusted the straps of her knapsack on her back and moved ahead on trembling legs wanting to forget it had ever happened.

The next day she felt like throwing up at the thought of their lectures together and ate nothing. She rushed to the classroom at the last minute, walking straight into the room without looking at the people who were waiting for their professor in the corridor.

She sat down in one of the last rows in her seat, far to the side, almost against the wall, where she felt safe.

When she saw out of the corner of her eye his silhouette walking into the hall she froze, lowering her gaze to her fingertips, feeling an uncomfortable constriction in her stomach, trying to blend into the background and not exist.

She shuddered when she noticed that instead of taking his seat in the front row across the hall he moved towards her, walking down the row below her, sitting down opposite her. She swallowed hard when he sat sideways to her, spreading his elbows comfortably on his and her desk, leaning his back against the wall.

"– what's up, little freak? –" He asked simply, tapping his fingers against the top of her table. She looked at him with big eyes, feeling a complete emptiness in her head, having the feeling that she was hot and cold at the same time.

For some reason she wanted to cry again.

Hearing that she didn't answer him he lifted his gaze to her, twisting so that he rested his arms on her desk, correcting his glasses that had slipped off his nose with the index finger of his hand.

"– you've got me used to eating one bar every day and you didn't give me one yesterday – you've ruined my daily routine and it's very fucking annoying, you know? –" He asked with anger and some kind of expectation that completely surprised her, but what she said had nothing to do with his words.

"– I didn't look inside –" She muttered.

"– what? –"

"– I wasn't rummaging through your things –" She explained in a trembling voice feeling that for some reason her eyebrows arched in pain, warm tears one by one began to run down her cheeks again.

"– are you crying? –" He asked in disbelief, wrinkles appeared on his forehead as they always did when someone made him uncomfortable.

"– yes –"

"– because I'm talking to you? –"

"– because I'm ashamed –" She whispered and lowered her gaze, swallowing hard, feeling that it had cost her a lot of strength to choke out these few sentences.

He fell silent for a moment – other students began to sit down around them, their professor announcing that they were about to begin their lecture.

He no longer responded to her words, returning to his previous position, leaning with his back against the wall, one of his hands remaining on her desk. She watched dully as his long fingers beat rhythmically against it, repeating the same movements again and again.

As always, he didn't even open his textbook, didn't write anything down or take notes, memorising everything he heard in his head.

She couldn't afford to do that, so she wrote down meticulously everything their professor spoke about, knowing that it would be one of the topics that would appear on the exam.

As soon as their class was over, she saw his silhouette standing in front of her with the textbook in his hand, which for some reason he carried with him. She packed her bag, pretending she didn't feel his expectant gaze on her.

"I want my Crunchie." He communicated, as if giving her some irrelevant piece of information. She looked at him in disbelief, feeling her lips part involuntarily.

Was he always this cheeky and spiteful?

"Here." He said, pulling a few coins out of his pocket, far too many for one bar, placing them in front of her.

"Just bring it to me." He said impatiently and moved ahead, running down the stairs, correcting his glasses on his nose, disappearing out the door.

She didn't feel like bringing him this fucking bar, but decided she didn't have the strength to stand up to him.

That's why she went to the vending machine standing in the corridor and, using the coins he'd given her, bought him as many bars as the money he'd given her was enough for.

She found him exactly where he always was at this hour, which was in the library.

She knew that he was solving equations not because it was a challenge for him, but because he was terribly bored. She pulled her fabric knapsack off her back and opened it, placing bar after bar on the table top where he sat.

"– I wanted one – are you mad? –"

"– give yourself one each day – you know how to count – have a nice day –"

"– do you have to be so fucking rude? –" He growled with a hint of malice, from which she turned to face him, feeling that for the first time in many years she had lost her temper.

"– take a look at yourself, you spiteful, spoilt brat –" She hissed and froze, wondering how she could have said such a thing, a hot feeling of shame and horror spreading through her stomach.

He stared at her with his lips clenched, furious, his nostrils twitching in an anxious, heavy breath.

She thought he was going to say something, humiliate her again, but they just looked at each other.

"– I – I'm sorry –" She mumbled and turned away, wanting to run away, to sink into the ground, to disappear.

She was sure he would be avoiding her now, telling everyone with amusement what a fucked up and stupid person she was, that she'd stalked him and then started yelling at him in the library.

She knew he commented on various people's behaviour in this way and she was sure he wouldn't spare her.

"– hi, nasty bar slut – what's up? –" He asked, walking up to her as she stood by the notice board, causing her to completely freeze.

"– please, don't call me a nasty slut –" She mumbled, looking at him with big eyes.

He shrugged his shoulders, correcting his glasses on his nose with his index finger, his gaze fixed on the sheets of paper on which the timetables were written.

"– fine – so? –"

She didn't understand what purpose this exchange of words was supposed to serve.

"– and what are you asking? –" She asked uncertainly and he shrugged his shoulders again.

"– I don't know –"

God.

"– are you still ashamed? –"

She swallowed hard, lowering her gaze to her feet, feeling her heart in her throat.

"– yes –"

"– why? –" He asked, as if he didn't understand what her condition was caused by. "– it was pleasant – finding a candy bar in my backpack pocket every day – unexpected – like magic with this dumb tooth fairy –"

She looked at him in disbelief, feeling a strange kind of warmth and relief spread across her chest. She pressed her lips together, adjusting the knapsack on her shoulders.

"– I saw how Oliver treated you – I think I just wanted to comfort you, but I couldn't speak to you like a normal human being –" She choked out finally, feeling that embarrassing sensation of a tightening in her gut again.

He snorted, correcting his glasses on his nose again.

"– sad bullshit is for poets – isn't it? –" He scoffed, still not looking at her, a mischievous grin on his lips.

She wasn't sure she understood him correctly, but it seemed to her that he was trying to tell her that he liked what she was doing in a way.

She shrugged her shoulders.

"– words have never come easily to me, although my head is full of them –"

"– right – I don't have a problem with talking, as long as someone doesn't start tendentious stories about their deep inner life – I don't give a shit, to be honest –"

He said, still avoiding eye contact. He scratched the back of his neck and rubbed the tip of his nose with the top of his hand, doing his best to look anywhere but at her.

"– it seems to me that you don't give a shit about a lot of things –" She stated finally and it was only when he heard this sentence that he looked at her, the intensity of the blue of his irises frightened her.

"– that's true – but that's who I am – I don't pretend to be anyone, unlike those rich losers who haven't earned anything themselves –" He hissed, and she nodded in agreement.

He hummed under his breath, pleased apparently to find in her a listener who didn't question his rather subjective, and therefore, in his mind, sincere judgements.

"– and you? – why do you behave in this way? –" He asked suddenly, and she blinked, feeling her whole body tense up at the urge in some primitive desire to protect herself.

"– what do you mean? –" She asked finally.

"– that whole crying thing of yours –" He said indifferently, once again correcting his glasses with his finger on his nose.

It seemed to her that he was treating her as an equation for which he lacked data, making it impossible for him to solve, much to his natural frustration as a scientist.

She thought she understood him.

"– I don't seem to feel alive – as if I'm a camera recording everything around me – when suddenly someone speaks to me as a person who should be experiencing and thinking something, I feel ashamed, as if someone has caught me in the act –" She choked out with difficulty, thinking in disbelief, terrified, that for the first time she had expressed in words what she was feeling.

She was more afraid than ever of hearing someone's response to what she had said.

He looked at her for a moment, furrowing his brow, as if analysing in his brain the details she had just provided him with.

"– you're lonely –" He stated finally, as if he had at last found a summary of what he thought of her. She pressed her lips together at his words, embarrassed that he had hit the nail on the head.

"– yes –"

"– me too – that's no reason to cry –" He said, shrugging his shoulders, sliding his hands into his trousers in some subconscious gesture of discomfort.

She nodded at his words, feeling her heart pounding hard in her chest.

"– so –" He began, looking at his shoe as if he saw something interesting on it. "– what now? –"

She swallowed hard, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

"– what are you asking? –"

"– me and you – are we mates now? –" He asked, and she involuntarily smiled sincerely for the first time in many years, feeling some pleasant warmth ripple through her lower abdomen.

"– yes –"

[joequiinn]

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 2

[chap one] | [all chapters here] | [chap three]

summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

notes & tropes: fem reader, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, minor revenge plot, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers

a/n: Oooh I'm excited for this chapter! Would love to hear what everyone thinks about Eddie's characterization! And, after editing this chapter about half a dozen times, I feel like I'm still just not quite conveying the motivations of the character well, so let me know if her thoughts/feelings could be more clear!

taglist: @daisyridleyss @munsonssweets @marrowfrog00 @lotrefcp @rach5ive

wc: 4.0k

Chapter Two

Getting away on Sunday afternoon to meet Eddie was easy. You’d celebrated your birthday on Saturday, with your friends dragging you along on plans that they put together weeks in advance before you returned home for a far too formal dinner with your parents. You probably could have - and should have - been more excited considering that you were toasting your legal adulthood, but if anything, it just stirred even more desire for change and rebellion in you. What good was being a legal adult if you were still trapped in high school, if you were still just following the status quo?

You told your parents as you were leaving the house that afternoon that you were going to the ice rink - your dad grunted in acknowledgement, too caught up in his reading to really hear you, and your mom commended you for how dedicated you were to skating. To both responses, you rolled your eyes, leaving without saying goodbye.

You knew exactly which picnic table Eddie referred to in his note, as you weren’t the first person to meet him there for a drug deal, nor would you be the last. It was a well-known spot for students to meet with the metalhead - although it seemed like no one actually talked about it, probably because they themselves didn’t want to admit to any interaction with him, somehow everyone knew exactly where Eddie made his deals.

There were trails running through a lot of the forest that made it easy to find your destination; you left your car on a neighborhood street not far from the school, and trekked your way into the woods. It was still pretty in late September - leaves weren’t falling to the ground quite yet, and the sounds of wildlife could still be heard up in the trees and low on the ground. Not that you were one to appreciate nature much at all. But it was hard not to at least notice it as you walked quietly along the trail, going over exactly how you might propose this crazy idea of yours while trying your best not to trip over rocks or step in mud puddles.

When you arrived at the picnic area, Eddie was nowhere to be found, which was actually a relief to you. It gave you more time to think, to calm down and find the best means of conveying this idea to him. You felt stupid, having this strange and foreign anxiety in your chest, but it couldn’t be helped. Best you could do was relax and put on a cool face whenever the delinquent did finally show up.

You were about to sit at the picnic table, but quickly decided against it once you took a closer look at the rotting wood - it was disgusting and dirty, and you weren’t going to risk ruining one of your favorite skirts or catching some nasty disease. So, instead, you paced, keeping your mind busy as you waited, taking in your surroundings with an air of boredom as the hour hit 4 and you were still here alone. Eddie better show, or you weren’t going to be happy.

Eventually, the sound of footsteps crunching on twigs and brush caused you to look around, not quite sure which direction the sound was coming from at first. But it didn’t take long for you to spot Eddie hiking his way to you, surprised amusement on his face as he approached. He cocked his head, lips tugged back in a grin, as your heart skipped nervously; god, you felt so stupid being edgy like this, it was so unwarranted.

“Well, well…” He drawled, crossing his arms as he walked closer to you, “I’ve seen a lot, but the ice princess wants something from me? Now I really have seen everything.”

The way he said “ice princess” was jarring, almost as if it was both an insult and an inarguable fact. Yes, you’d heard people call you that before, but never with the gusto that Eddie Munson added to it - you briefly wondered if the nickname was more common than you originally thought, and then you wondered who it was that first came up with it. Was it Eddie? No, if anything it was probably someone in your own circle that started that stupid nickname, maybe even Duncan - you didn’t think Eddie cared enough to come up with a nickname for some popular kid who he’d never even spoken to before.

It’s as if his use of the derogatory nickname immediately reminded you that there was no reason to be nervous, because you could feel your usually cool demeanor coming back to you.

“Don’t cream your pants, Munson.” You replied bluntly, crossing your arms as if to mimic Eddie’s posture. His brows went up in surprise - it briefly crossed your mind that he might not have known what your voice sounded like, let alone how you talked. Well, now he knew.

Eddie tilted his head down slightly as if speaking to you conspiratorially, “I wasn’t expecting a chick like you to be so vulgar.”

You rolled your eyes. Okay, maybe this discussion would be more challenging than you had anticipated. Having never actually interacted with Eddie before today, you couldn’t have predicted what your dynamic together would be. From what you could tell after only this one minute of interacting, your personalities were bound to clash, making your impossible plan all the more impossible.

“I guess I’m full of surprises.” You replied plainly, your tone disinterested. Without thinking, you leaned your rear on the picnic table, but quickly jumped away when you remembered how dirty it was, an affronted sound escaping your lips. As you tried to wipe dirt from your ass, Eddie chuckled. To that, you shot him a cold glare.

“Alright, what are you looking for, princess?” Eddie asked while sitting on the filthy bench - that felt intentional, as if he was mocking your disgust at the grime and muck on the table, “Ask and you shall receive.”

You raised a critical brow at his theatrical tone, at the way he said ‘princess,’ at his entire demeanor. Yup, this was going to be impossible. You were certain that your judgmental expression was clear as day, because you could see the cogs turning behind Eddie’s eyes, how he was analyzing you just as much as you were him.

You stared at him with your arms crossed, your hip jutting out to the side as you briefly considered him, considered what you wanted to ask of him. You made a bit of a harsh face as you responded, “That’s a bold claim, considering that you don’t know what I’m going to ask.”

You met Eddie’s dark eyes as if to make a point, his brow furrowing in curious response. His gaze was mocking as he held your stare, “You think anything you ask for will shock me? Snobby rich kids always want the same stuff.”

“‘Snobby?’” You nearly snapped, glaring smally in offense. To that, Eddie pointed his hand at the empty bench across from him, a defiant look on his face.

“Take a seat then.” He challenged, the corner of his mouth curling up. You make another grossed out face, to which he gives a half-hearted shrug, giving him all the confirmation that he needed, “That’s what I thought.”

You scoffed, turning your back while grumbling, “God, I knew this was a stupid idea…”

You started to walk off in annoyance, trying your best not to trip over rocks or sticks in your haste, but only made it a few steps before Eddie called after you, “Wait, wait, come back…”

You spun back around, but remained planted where you stood, raising an eyebrow and crossing your arms as if prompting him to continue, to grovel and earn your trust.

“I’m just joking,” Eddie raised his hands in a lazy surender, his face growing surprisingly sincere after a moment, although that sincerity was also laced with a hint of judgment, “What are you gonna ask for, then?”

He’s patient, watching you as you deliberate what to do. Was it worth it? Did you really need Eddie to make this plan work? Should you call this off while you still had the chance?

No. This plan was stupid as all hell, but you were going to do it. With a determined little stomp of your foot - Eddie smirking in amusement at the mildly childish action - you approached the picnic table, bracing your hands against it as you tried to ignore the feeling of dirt getting under your nails.

“If you laugh at me, I’ll ruin you.” You threatened while meeting his eyes. Again, Eddie grinned, but he otherwise kept his mouth shut, which seemed to be his way of agreeing to your terms, “I don’t need drugs, I need a favor. It’s gonna sound… honestly ridiculous.”

“Okay…” Eddie leaned forward so that your faces were only a foot apart; his expression was one of neutral attentiveness, however, you could see the sparkle of intrigue in his eyes. You don’t pull back from the close proximity he created, studying one another’s faces; it felt strange to be observed by him so closely, as Eddie had a way of scrutinizing you that felt different from those you knew, different from the way people normally looked at you. You tried to find the best way of proposing your dumb idea, but nothing would make your request sound less crazy than it already is.

Finally, you gave up with a sigh and just blurted it out, “I need you to date me.”

Despite your earlier threat, an unexpected bark of a laugh jumped out of Eddie’s mouth. He raised his fist in front of his lips and pretended to cough, as if that would do anything to hide his very clear amusement. Your eyes widened in intense warning. To his credit, Eddie composed himself quickly, acting as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, although you could still see a little twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“Can you repeat that for me?” He prompts, fighting off his laughter and confusion.

Again, you roll your eyes - god, you were going to be doing that a lot with this guy, weren’t you? You were already getting tired of it.

“I don’t want to actually date you,” You said as if it should be the most obvious thing in the world, “Just pretend. You know, like one of your dumb games.”

Eddie’s eyes darkened a little at the insult, but instead of retaliating he simply pulled back, putting a bit of distance between you. He looks you up and down in consideration, his mind racing to understand your unexpected request.

“Care to elaborate?” He questioned, his tone mildly critical.

You purse your lips in annoyance as you consider where to start, eyeing Eddie closely - how the hell did you explain to someone that you wanted them to be your fake boyfriend? You sighed, pulling back from the table, starting to walk in a slow circle around it. The motion was vaguely like skating around a rink, so in an odd way it helped you think.

“I hate literally everything about my life,” You paused, half expecting Eddie to mock your pathetic woes, but he remained silent, “It’s my senior year and I’m only now realizing that nothing in my life is up to me, that I don’t have any control over anything - everything is decided by someone else. And I’m fucking tired of it.”

You could see mild surprise on Eddie’s face, and you wondered if it was because of your foul language - it always seemed to surprise people to hear the way you could talk considering how nice and well-behaved you appeared, although you’d always been anything but.

You continued, “I want to do something stupid, something that’ll piss off my parents, that’ll get everyone to stop treating me like some untouchable, perfect princess.” You chose the word deliberately, looking Eddie dead in the eye, “And what stupider than to date Eddie freaking Munson?”

Now, it was Eddie’s turn to look somewhat offended, “Gee, thanks.”

Maybe it wasn’t the most effective tactic to keep insulting the man you were trying to bribe, but you just couldn’t seem to help yourself. You didn’t exactly know how to be nice to anyone. Eddie’s eyes considered you for a moment before something of a mean look flickered across his face.

“This has something to do with that boyfriend of yours, doesn’t it? What, you break up or something?” And then an almost mirthful realization flashed across his eyes, obviously seeing some change in your demeanor that you didn’t intend for him to notice, “Ooh, I get it. He broke up with you, didn’t he? You trying to win him back?”

You brace yourself against the table again as you glare at him, but otherwise you maintain your composure, your tone condescending and mean as you reply, “I do not want him back. He could drive off a bridge for all I care. I want to get under his skin. I want to get under everyone’s skin.”

You could tell that Eddie didn’t get it - he still didn’t understand why you needed his help in this ridiculous plan of yours, and he didn’t understand why you were feeling the way you did. With a sigh, you try to calm down and unclench your tight jaw.

“Look, Munson,” You caved in and stiffly took a seat on the opposite bench as if to bolster your argument, to make him take you a little more seriously, “I know it sounds crazy, but I just know nothing else will work.”

“And how do you know that?” He urged - you couldn’t tell if he thought you were an idiot or if he was actually interested in hearing you out.

You stared at Eddie for a long moment, trying to find the easiest way to make him understand. He stared back, again showing far more patience than you would have expected from him, especially with the likes of you. As you study his face in thought, you finally sigh, shaking your head as you look away with a vague annoyance set on your features.

“I don’t actually know, okay?” You start, eyeing him out of the corner of your eye for a few moments, “What I want is complete and utter… social suicide. To just stop worrying about my reputation or what people think. I’m sick and tired of expectations and status quos and doing what I’m told or what people expect. I want to piss everyone off. I want to piss Duncan off. I just… it feels like I need to change, you know?”

“Nope, I have no idea what you mean.” Eddie says plainly, and as you glare at him, you realize he’s joking once he finally cracks a smile. His eyes are surprisingly kind as he leans forward on his elbows, parroting your words, “When have I ever subscribed to expectations and status quos and doing what I’m told?”

At that rhetorical response, your face relaxed for the first time this entire conversation. Hell, you even felt a mild excitement wash over you as you consider what his words were implying, “So… you’ll do it?”

Eddie makes a face as if he’s still mulling over the idea, still trying to figure out what exactly your motivations were, “I mean, you’re bratty and rude and this plan is kind of stupid, but I might do it.”

“Might?” You ask, trying not to sound too pushy or annoyed by his casual insults. If this was going to happen, you both had to learn to stop prodding at each other like this, learn to stop picking on each other just because you could. That might prove to be the most challenging part of all of this, though.

Eddie smirks, rising back to his feet as he contemplates, “What do I get out of this? And don’t say money - that’ll make me feel like a prostitute.”

As you pulled a face, Eddie grinned at his own comment, obviously finding that idea amusing in some way. And like a teenage mimicry of a business person, you sat up straighter, looking at him plainly as you presented your offer, “No, but I do have one idea. But if you think of something better…?”

Eddie nods in confirmation, urging you to continue.

“Well, my uncle’s a cop--”

At that, Eddie chuckles abruptly while cutting you off, “Oh, trust me, I know exactly who your uncle is.”

Aside from shooting him a small look, you continue as if he hadn’t said anything, focused on getting this plan hatched, “I think I can help you. You can’t get in trouble with them anymore if I’m the one taking the fall.”

Eddie’s brows rose in surprise at your words, his arms crossing as he studied you, “What, you think your pretty little ass can handle a night in lock up?”

“No, genius,” You roll your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time, “If it falls on me, there will be no jail, no arrest, nothing. The minute I tell someone who my uncle is, they won’t even think about putting a hand on me, that would be stupid. I’m effectively untouchable.”

Eddie nods, rubbing his chin, “But doesn’t that go out the window if you commit… What did you call it? ‘Social suicide?’”

You shrug, “Maybe. Maybe not. But I can probably keep them off your ass for the rest of the school year so long as you don’t do something too stupid.”

“You want to date me until graduation?” Eddie makes a dramatic show of placing his hand to his chest as if he’s flattered.

“Jesus…” You mutter to yourself with a sigh, “We’ll see where it goes.”

Eddie, again, nodded while humming in consideration. You sat quietly, waiting for him to add something to the conversation. You could tell that he was drawing it out, though, milking the moment just for the hell of it, to put you on edge. Suddenly, he slaps his hand down firmly on the table, causing you to jump in your seat.

“We have a deal.” His eyes glint as he smirks at you, “We play happy little couple, we destroy your reputation, piss off all your friends, and you keep me out of trouble. What could possibly go wrong?”

It suddenly felt like he jinxed everything by saying that, ruined it before you could even begin, but you ignored that feeling as you gave him a slight smile, actually pleased with how the conversation had gone. Of course, there was still that strange sense of disbelief at the entire situation - it was the most ridiculous thing you’d ever thought of or done, but that also made it kind of exhilarating in its odd way.

Eddie walked around the table, leisurely sliding onto the bench beside you, intentionally leaning over to bump your shoulder playfully. It was unexpected, causing you to make a slight face at him, but that only seemed to amuse him more.

“Look, princess, you gotta start being nicer to me if you want to convince anyone that we’re a couple.” Although his tone was teasing, you knew what Eddie said was true. Even you, known for your bitchiness, couldn’t be too mean to the man that you were supposedly dating, especially if you wanted to get under Duncan’s skin - the nicer you were to Eddie, the more it would annoy Duncan that you were never that nice to him.

“Fine.” You say plainly, looking him in the eye, “If that’s the case, no more ‘princess.’”

Eddie made a teasing face, “Then what do I call you? It would look strange if your boyfriend didn’t have any pet names for you, right?”

You sighed, but he did make a good point - it made you realize that you needed to lay out some ground rules for this whole fake dating thing, something that you hadn’t accounted for during your planning stage.

“When we’re around other people, just call me something nice. I don’t care what it is.”

Eddie’s playful expression was still in place, “Oh, you’ll regret that…”

You rolled your eyes, and yet this time the corner of your mouth pulled up into an amused grin despite yourself, “Just be nice to me and I’ll be nice to you. Can’t be too hard, right? And don’t touch me unless it’s in front of people.”

You looked him up and down critically with that comment. It's not that you were worried about him being gross or anything like that, you just hated people touching you unnecessarily.

“Any other commands, my liege?”

“What, you want me to write this down for you or something?”

Eddie pretended to consider the idea, “If only I knew how to read, princess.”

You made a face, knowing that Eddie kept calling you that dumb nickname quite intentionally, that he kept testing you with deliberate aim. Trying to resist rising to the tempting bait, you continued explaining the dos and don’ts of fake dating. 

“Okay,” You started, raising your pointer finger. Eddie made a show of paying close attention, surely just to mock you, as you raised another finger with each new rule you stated, “One: we have to try to be nice to each other. Two: no unnecessary touching if no one’s around. Three: we have to spend a lot of time together, like, not just at school - we have to go out sometimes, especially to places where people will see us. Four: we have to be extra obnoxious when Duncan’s around. Five: … I’m in charge.”

At the last instruction, Eddie laughed right in your face, “You’re in charge? I thought this was a relationship, not a dictatorship.”

You had a response ready to leave your lips, but you let it go - practice for the inevitable niceties to come, you supposed. Eddie studied you for a moment while half smiling, seemingly aware that you were doing your best to bite your tongue.

“Alright, alright, you’re in charge…” He rose to his feet, which seemed to signal that the conversation was coming to an end, “So, what, starting tomorrow I’m your boyfriend?”

“I mean… Should we build up to it first?” The question sounded ridiculous, you knew it sounded juvenile and naive in its way, but it had to be asked. And yet again, Eddie chuckled.

“Sure, we’ll ‘build up to it.’�� His tone was teasing, but not quite so mean as before. Eddie studied the look on your face, trying to learn how to read you considering the amount of time you were surely about to start spending together, “Don’t worry, princess, I’ve got this in the bag. Relinquish some of that control a little, okay?”

He slowly began to walk backwards towards the trail, waiting for you to join him, so you stood to walk alongside him. You almost neurotically began dusting yourself, trying in vain to get the dirt and the mud and the dead leaves off of your skirt, out from under your nails.

You caught up to Eddie easily enough, continuing to pick at your well manicured nails, “I’m serious, Munson, please don’t fuck this up.”

Eddie threw his arm around your shoulder, once again disregarding one of your rules without a single care. He looked down at you with a teasing look on his face, confirming that he did that on purpose, confirming that he was sure to keep doing it on purpose, “Relax. I’ll flirt with you tomorrow, I’ll flirt some more throughout the week, I’ll start hanging around your locker or talking to you at lunch, and then by the end of the week I’ll ask you on a date. Deal?”

You stared into Eddie’s eyes a moment before lifting his arm off your shoulders, stepping just out of reach with a mild sneer on your lips, “Okay, deal.”

His smile is wide as he walks alongside you back to your cars. This was going to be one hell of a time, and he, frankly, was all too curious to see how it would turn out.

[willows-escape]

Symbolic - 1990!Erik x Reader - Part 2 (m)

Pairing - Erik (1990! Charles Dance) x (Female) Reader

Summary - the last hurdle in your relationship had finally been crossed and erik no longer felt the need to hide such a pivotal aspect of himself away from you anymore. but now all the barriers had fallen and the mask was removed, there was one last thing you craved. and erik, for some reason, was very against participating.

Warnings - erik having major moodswings, apologies and forgiveness, poor self esteem, possessiveness, accidental mask slip, erik panicking, sexual and innocent teasing, teeth rotting fluff, victorian purity culture and potentially misinformed discussions of christianity (oops), y/n knows what she wants and she wants it now, reader isn’t particularly chubby or skinny just average size, virginity loss, breast play, hand jobs (m receiving), unintentional edging, continuous position changing, penetrative sex, unprotected sex because the victorians did not vibe with condoms

Word Count - 9,668

Notes - this is the final part of this little 'twoshot.' i think this is a nice place to wrap it up and end it and move on to make even more erik content because god knows we are all starved. god bless.

feedback is appreciated :) good or bad

01 / 02 (you're here!)

You were not exaggerating when you mentioned that the statues required cleaning. Specks of dust covered every surface of the different fabrics and metals of the stolen display pieces. You couldn't remember the last time you saw Erik dusting them.

You spent a good two hours meticulously cleaning those statues, keeping yourself occupied. A wave of guilt settled deep within your chest as you reminisced about the events that had transpired before your hasty departure. It had been overwhelming for you - the emotional outpouring and the astonishment of finally seeing Erik's face had struck you hard. Not to mention when you recklessly flung yourself onto him, as if devoid of any semblance of control over your own limbs. You were overcome by a sense of foolishness. In that moment, you believed it was the only choice available to you: to fabricate an excuse and flee from his presence.

Your heart constricted as if it were tightly bound by an unforgiving rope, mercilessly pulling and yanking as you sat consumed by your ruminations. The weight of guilt intensified as you contemplated the depth of Erik's sentiments, the vulnerability he had bared before you. Desperately, you tried your best to suppress these thoughts, reminding yourself that you needed time for introspection, or you’d risk an emotional outburst. Yet deep within, you recognized that you ought to have known better, should have conducted yourself with greater propriety. If only you had summoned the courage to articulate your overwhelming emotions and request a moment of solitude, all of this could have been averted. Regret washed over you as you comprehended that you had needlessly transformed a simple circumstance into a tangled web of emotions and uncertainty.

It was quick approaching five o'clock, the time Erik would usually call out to you and say that he was off to gather things for your afternoon meal as you didn't have anywhere to hygienically store food in the little lagoon. You'd not seen him since the time you'd spent in your bedroom, so you mustered all your hope and prayed that he'd show himself to you so that you could vehemently apologise and beg for his forgiveness.

It took a little while longer than five o'clock, but your lover finally emerged from hiding. Your ears perked up, and your hair stood on end as the sound of footsteps approached from behind. They came to a halt not far from where you crouched, and you held your breath, your hands trembling as you continued to wipe down the statue. You found yourself fixated on a minuscule crevice in the metal, desperately endeavouring not to startle him away. The apprehension within you grew stronger with each passing second.

"It seems you're more infatuated with the statues than you are with me," Erik finally said from behind you.

You huffed in amusement, a smile finally reappearing on your lips. You compelled yourself to stand upright and forsake the act of tidying for the present moment, instead pivoting to confront the man standing in your wake. He stood towering and seemingly unfazed, a faint smile playing upon his lips akin to your own.

"You have my whole heart, don't play dumb," you laughed, dropping the duster to the floor.

Erik approached you, gradually closing the distance between you until his presence was palpable against your cold skin. His hands delicately clasped yours, his thumbs tenderly caressing you. You raised your gaze to meet his intense stare, entranced in the depths of his eyes.

"You have mine too," he said, "Which is why I'll forgive you for that little disappearing act. I wanted to give you some space, but as you know the evening is approaching and we need nourishment, so I'll be-"

"I'm sorry. I didn't consider your feelings before I left, and that was cruel of me. You'd bared yourself to me and I walked away because of my own feelings, and that was selfish," you whispered, your eyes slowly trailing down in shame as your head dropped.

Erik shook his head, a hand leaving yours to cup your chin and lift you back up to his eye level. "You can walk away from me a thousand times over, and as long as you return, I'll never bat an eye."

"Erik, that's not right," you replied, removing his hand from your chin to hold it instead, "You aren't expendable, you don't deserve to be left and returned to as it suits somebody else. If I hurt you, please say so."

"Relax, we were both tense and overwhelmed. It's alri-"

"I'm not just talking about that! How dare you say it's okay for me to leave you and waltz back as I please! You matter more than-"

Unlike before, this time it was Erik who sent his lips crashing down on yours. The intensity and urgency in his actions conveyed his feelings and spoke volumes without a single word being spoke. His lips pressed against yours with such intensity and fervour that you couldn't help but gasp. His hands wandered from yours, up the contours of your arms until they were tightly holding your face in his fiery grip. Your nerves set ablaze and your eyes watered as you quickly flung your hands up to entangle your fingers in his blonde hair, unaware that you were interfering with the knot keeping his mask attached to his head.

Erik was completely captivated, his senses consumed by the intensity of the moment. Unbeknownst to him, the ties securing his mask slowly slipped, gradually unravelling until they hung precariously. The only thing preventing the inevitable was the proximity of your faces, maintaining the fragile balance. Just as you pulled back slightly to catch your breath before resuming the kiss, the mask finally succumbed to gravity and fell, shattering the veil.

It happened in an instant. His cry of horror echoed through the room as he violently tore himself away from you, his hands that were once ardently wrapped around you now shielding himself once more. Panic surged through your veins as the realization of what had just occurred hit you like a dagger to the heart, shattering your world into a million jagged pieces. Without a second thought, you instinctively reached down to retrieve his fallen mask, your trembling fingers fumbling to grasp it as he seemed lost in a whirlwind of confusion and despair, unable to distinguish up from down.

You felt awful.

"Erik, it's okay. I didn't see anything, I have your mask. Take it," you instructed, holding it out while also trying to maintain some distance, trying to avoid frightening him further.

He struggled to regain his composure, his hands trembling uncontrollably and his body wracked with violent shudders. His mind raced, desperately trying to make sense of the unfolding situation. It was an absolute nightmare. Twice in a single day, he had been exposed, his mask stripped away and his face studied by a piercing gaze that seemed to penetrate his very soul. There was no hint of malice, no trace of fear in those eyes, and that's what terrified him the most. It was an unfathomable sensation, one that sent waves of sheer terror crashing through his being.

"Erik," you whispered, your voice barely audible. Uncertainty gripped your every word as you grappled with the weight of the situation. A deep sense of guilt washed over you, threatening to consume your thoughts. It was your fault, you knew it. The mask had come loose, revealing a side of Erik that he fiercely guarded. You feared he would believe that you had purposely revealed him, betraying his trust in the most vulnerable of moments. The room fell into a tense silence as you waited, your heart pounding in your chest, unsure of what would happen next.

You observed that he wasn't crying like he was earlier that day, which gave you some relief. However, it was evident that he was visibly distressed. Your heart ached as you observed him and his turmoil. After the intense series of events, you believed that he had experienced enough excitement for one day.

"Erik, I have your mask. Put it back on if you wish and go lay down, I'll deal with dinner arrangements tonight. You've been through so much today."

He frantically shook his head, his face still concealed behind his trembling hands. The urgency in his actions was palpable, as if his very soul depended on it. With bated breath, he inhaled deeply, summoning every ounce of courage within him. Slowly, almost agonizingly, he began to peel back his hands, one finger at a time. Your heart raced as the suspense hung heavy in the air.

As the seconds ticked by, the anticipation grew, enveloping the room like a thick fog. The silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of his quickened breaths. Every nerve in his body seemed to be on edge, as if a single wrong move could shatter his entire world. The tension mounted, building up to a high that seemed almost unbearable. You could practically taste the anticipation in the air, a mix of excitement and nervousness. It was as if time itself had slowed down, stretching out the suspense to its breaking point.

The first glimpse of his face emerged from behind his hands as they subsequently dropped to his sides. Your jaw hung heavy, falling open as you drunk in every little bit of his uncovered self. He stood there, unwavering and self assured, a resolute expression pointed at you. Your ears rang and your palms grew sweaty as you came to the realisation that this was the first time you'd seen his face show any emotion that wasn't gut-wrenchingly disconsolate. You were at a loss for words.

"Erik..."

"I know, a handsome gentleman, aren't I?"

You spluttered in shock, the blood rushing up to your cheeks as you stood there observing him. Simply seconds ago he had been exuberating monumental signs of upset, and now he was... cracking jokes? Not that you weren't attracted to him, but he clearly thought he wasn't handsome. Otherwise you two wouldn't be here right now.

"Well, I'll be taking that off your hands," Erik continued, politely taking his most beloved mask back from you. He quickly resecured it to his head. "I must really go and get food now, otherwise we will go hungry tonight. The kitchen closes around 6 o'clock, as you are aware."

You stood there, utterly astonished, as he placed a quick peck on the back of your hand before walking away. You remained rooted to the spot, completely taken aback by the unexpected turn of events. Oh, how the tables turn.

You remained in this state of stupor for an embarrassing amount of time. You were off in your own world throughout his disappearance- when he returned, once your evening meal had been prepared and consumed, and even now while you were tending to washing your cutlery and plates. Erik did not directly reference the elephant in the room throughout that entire sequence, and you knew you'd have to be the person to bring it up.

Now, you weren't usually the person to address things that required addressing. As you'd demonstrated countless times, you were a run away and ignore your feelings kind of person, not a stay and confront them head on kind of person. Admittedly, though, it was unfair to expect Erik to do the emotional heavy lifting the majority of the time, so you yielded. Just this once.

"Erik," you called out, busying yourself with scrubbing down the little nooks and cranny's of the fork you were holding. His footsteps didn't take long to hear.

"Yes, dear?"

"I'd like to discuss... what happened, with you?"

"Hm? What did happen?"

"Erik," you whined, squeezing the washcloth you were using extra hard as you rung out the dirty water.

"Sorry, I just couldn't believe what I heard. I thought my ears were deceiving me. You want to be the one to discuss things first? The horror."

"Erik, be serious!" you cried out, throwing the washcloth to the hard stone floor with a resounding 'splat!', "I wanted to just make sure you were okay, you switched so fast earlier I thought I'd gone crazy."

"Perhaps you did."

"Erik!"

"I'm just teasing," he smiled, coming to sit next to you. He rubbed your knee soothingly. "I'm perfect. I'm sorry for my little outburst, was just a shock is all. Nothing serious."

"Are you sure?" you asked, holding the hand that was rubbing your knee.

"More than I've ever been in my life."

Erik caught your eye, sustaining relentless eye contact upon saying those words.

"Well, I'll trust you then," you replied.

"How much do you trust me?" Erik asked.

"Way too much,” you giggled. Your smile soon fell upon seeing Erik’s serious expression.

A silence swept over. Your heart was hammering as if it's goal was to send you into a fatal cardiac arrest. Your throat felt as though it was closing up, the incessant twiddling of your fingers your only relief from the heavy air of suspense that wafted over you both like a weighted blanket. You could practically feel your heart in your throat.

"That's all I needed to know."

The hand that was resting on your knee slowly began to crawl up the length of your leg, fingertips lightly grazing your skin as it travelled up and up. You were practically hyperventilating. The sinful intentions behind his touch were palpable, and yet he seemed unashamed, as if he were waiting for you to make the next move.

Soon he reached the curvature of where your thigh met your hips, giving your leg a firm squeeze before continuing even higher up your body. The air was so thick you felt as though you could slice it with a knife and it'd split in two. His hands were so gentle and careful, as if he were afraid one wrong move would make you bolt.

"How about we get some sleep for the night, my dear? I'm quite tired after today, I feel like an early retreat to bed is in order," Erik stated, giving you a coy smile. Your head felt as though it could explode at any second.

"Oh. Alright, then. I bid you goodnight," you quickly mounted your feet, "I hope you sleep well and I shall see you in the-"

Erik quickly scooped you up into his arms, holding you tight and secure as he made his way in the opposite direction of where your bedroom resided. Your eyes widened.

"Erik? Why are we heading to your room? You said it was a bad idea for us to share," you squeaked.

"That was before you'd seen my face. Now we've gotten over that small hurdle, the matter of bedroom sharing is no longer an issue," he replied. "Now, shall we?"

Without saying a word, Erik carried you closer and closer to his resting place. His steps were steady yet quick, and he maintained a firm grip on you. During the journey, you noticed a subtle change in Erik's demeanour. The fire and intensity that once burned in his eyes had started to fade, as if he were changing his mind about something.

As you stepped into his bedroom, your eyes wandered with fascination. It was your first time setting foot inside Erik's chambers, and you were captivated by the opportunity to glimpse into his life as you observed your surroundings. His bed, adorned with little coffins on the posts and covered with neatly arranged black covers, boasted a dark brown wooden frame. It was nestled in the corner of the room, exuding an air of intimacy and comfort. Adjacent to the bed stood a wardrobe, while a meticulously organized desk, adorned with stacked papers and a fountain pen, occupied the space in front. A small bookcase resided beside the desk, completing the ensemble. Though entirely ordinary, the room exuded an atmosphere of tidiness and orderliness, prompting a smile to spread across your lips.

"If you don't have any objections, I'd like for us to share this room together from now on. Your old room can be altered to be a place for your hobbies, interests, whatever you wish it to be. Whatever makes you happy," he said.

"That would be wonderful," you replied. He gently lowered you until your feet could comfortably touch the floor below. However, he made sure to keep an arm firmly sinched around your waist, even as you stood upright.

He nodded, radiating a clear sense of joy and relief. After a final glance around, you turned to face him and met his gaze immediately.

"Forgive me if this comes across as strange, but I've kept some nightclothes for you in here since we started our relationship. Just in case," Erik gently squeezed your waist before stepping away and opening the drawers at the bottom of his wardrobe. Delicate lace and pristine white fabric peeked out from the open drawers as he continued, "Everything will be brought over from your room tomorrow, tonight just wear these."

He reached into the drawers and carefully retrieved the aforementioned night clothes, placing them on the bed beside him. With deliberate movements, he pulled open the doors of the storage unit and extracted a long night shirt. Excusing himself, he quietly stepped away to find a private space to change. As he left, you seized the opportunity that presented itself. Swiftly and silently, you exchanged your blouse and long skirt for the nightgown he had prepared for you.

He returned not long after you'd finished closing your top button, door squeaking as he slowly shut it behind him. He took a deep breath before raising his hands to untie the knot behind his head, allowing the mask to slip off. Seeing you have no reaction, he reached out, waiting for you to place your hand in his before guiding you to the side of the bed. He wrapped you in his arms before lifting you once more, pressing a quick kiss against your forehead before lowering you onto the mattress below. You sunk into the bed as if you were laying on clouds.

He busied himself with removing the blankets from beneath you, bringing them up and over to envelope your frame. He ensured that every inch of your skin was covered and unexposed to the chilly lagoon air. Reaching up, he tucked your hair behind your ear, slowly trailing his fingers down until he stopped at your neck. He gave you another quick kiss before retreating.

He blew out out the candle on his desk before he carefully crawled up onto the bed. He tucked himself away into the corner while you laid on the outside. His arm slithered underneath your neck, pulling you into him with his other. You rested your head on his chest as you turned, nuzzling into him as if he were a giant teddy bear. You thought his heart were about to leap from his chest from the rate you could hear it hammering.

"Goodnight," you said.

"Goodnight."

Many evenings were spent in such a manner. Before long, your former room was emptied and filled with new, exciting things. It had transformed into a new sanctuary, replacing your secluded spot in the verdant woods outside. Now, you possessed a haven to house your cherished items; somewhere to store your books, a cozy nook where you could recline and immerse yourself in literature for hours, and a table for you to engage in the art of crochet, a repository for yarn, and a showcase for your completed projects. It has everything you wanted, precisely as he promised.

Your sentiments for Erik were blossoming with each passing day. His comforting caress, his unwavering commitment to your happiness, his tender manner of adoration - they propelled your emotions beyond what you had deemed imaginable. As a child, you could not have fathomed that dwelling in a modest subterranean abode would be where you dreamed to be in life. Yet, now that you were settled in this lagoon, the thought of never encountering him seemed unfathomable. He personified a sense of belonging, amalgamating all that was exquisite and comforting. He was your haven, the epitome of beauty and security.

But as Erik's love and devotion enshrouded you, there existed an alluring charm concealed beneath the surface. It beckoned you irresistibly, drawing you closer, its presence palpable. You could discern its essence in his tantalizing touch, his possessive grasp, as he ensnared you with an insatiable hunger. It was as if he held you under a bewitching spell, your body a mere marionette swaying to his carnal desires. The longing in his eyes spoke of an urge that transcended innocence, a primal yearning that flouted the conventions of morality. And you, consumed by the same passionate flame, yearned for him with equal fervour, unbound by societal expectations or righteous inhibitions.

So why was he resisting?

He was your everything, your entire world consumed by his presence. You did believe yourself to be the keeper of his heart, and he, in turn, was the keeper of yours. No other soul could ever compare to the ardour you held for him. He was the very essence of your existence, the driving force that propelled you through each passing day. It was not about what he did for you or what he provided; it was simply him—the embodiment of all that you craved. You were willing to endure the depths of hell itself just to remain at his side. There were no limits to what you were willing to bestow upon him, not even your own purity.

It was truly mortifying how excessively you fixated on this minuscule detail. From the moment you had first shared a bed, weeks or even months had elapsed. The atmosphere crackled with an undeniable sexual tension and an insatiable yearning that permeated every interaction, overwhelming you to the point of metaphorical asphyxiation. If only he did not desire it, then you would accept it and never mention the subject again or indulge in surreptitious tantalizing touches. But it was evident that he did indeed want it. His body language screamed what his own lips dared not speak.

So tonight, you had a plan. Either he would relinquish his defences and claim you, as you could discern the fervent desire in his eyes, or he would quash all notions and prospects of intimacy for the indeterminate future. A straightforward affirmation or denial was all you sought, to then bring an end to your torturous overthinking.

To start your plan, you deliberately selected sleepwear that exuded desire, surpassing the usual modesty of your night clothes. It was exquisitely crafted from elegant and feather-light fabric, delicately caressing your skin in a manner that mirrored your desires for your beloved's touch. Its slender straps gracefully extended from the bodice, adorned with sheer breast cups embellished with intricate floral lace. Just below your bosom, a dainty bow served as a liaison between the upper portion of the gown and the gracefully flowing, undecorated skirt. While not lingerie per se, you believed it would at least catch his eye. Hopefully.

As per his usual routine, he entered the room once he had finished dressing for the evening. Lately, he had taken to leaving his mask aside unless he had to venture into the opera house or he was planning to receive a visit from Gerard. Hence, you had the opportunity to behold his expression in its entirety when his gaze fell upon you. His eyes widened, and his mouth fell agape, unabashedly scanning your figure as you discreetly feigned obliviousness to his direct scrutiny. In that moment, you felt acutely aware of your own immodesty, your cheeks aflame with a profound sense of embarrassment.

"I haven't seen that nightdress before," he commented, finally picking up his slack jaw. He moved closer to you, hands coming to rest on your hips as he lips edged near to your ear.

"It was at the back of my closet, I hadn't noticed it until today," you lied, knowing that you'd been very aware of it, and just had no reason to wear it. Until now.

"You look heavenly," he whispered into your ear, sending shivers ricocheting down your spine. His presence was dizzying.

You hadn't thoroughly pondered the plan it seemed. You had hoped that the execution would require minimal effort on your part, yet you had neglected to determine your response for this inevitable situation. Shaking your head, you realized the need to gather your wits. Retreat was not an option now that you had made a commitment.

"Do I?" you asked, hesitantly placing your hands upon his. You needed to act like you knew what you were doing. "You should feel the fabric, it's heavenly to touch as well."

You sensually and enticingly glided both of your hands up your torso, relishing every moment as they caressed the curve of your waist, skilfully manoeuvring them to rest seductively beneath the swell of your bosom. A startled gasp escaped his lips, his breath catching as he realized the audaciousness of your gesture. Your confidence surged with every passing second.

"Y-yes, it's quite nice. I see what you mean," he tried to remove his hands, but you clutched him tighter in response. He clearly didn't really want to remove his hands either, because he didn't put up more resistance than that.

"You touching me is quite nice, too. Although I'd prefer your hands higher."

Each breath that escaped his lips resonated loudly in your ear, his yearning becoming increasingly apparent as it ardently pressed against your backside. Instinctively, you drew your body nearer to his, eliciting a deep groan from behind.

"Or lower. I'm not fussy."

Erik felt as if he were on the verge of bursting. Every ounce of blood in his body was frenziedly surging downward, his throat parched as sweat dripped down his skin. His fingers yearned to comply with your request, but his mind vehemently protested, urging him to resist and refrain from succumbing to such feeble-mindedness. He couldn’t treat you like an object, only something he used to fulfil his devilish wants.

"My dear, I know you may not intend to have this affect on me, but I am a man and... your words stir things in me. Please allow me to remove my hands so we can retire for the night."

"What if that is my intention?" you teased.

Erik hesitated. Did you truly wish for him to treat you in such a manner? Perhaps you did not fully grasp the implications of your actions. For an unwed woman to partake in the act of intimacy was deemed the utmost disgrace, an indelible blemish that would tarnish her reputation indefinitely. Although Erik knew that their secret would remain hidden, he did not wish to lead you astray into the depths of sin. While he may not believe in a higher power, he understood that most individuals clung to faith, and you were no exception.

"I couldn't do that to you," he replied, "You are my lover, not something for me to vent my unholy desires upon. I hold too much respect for you to allow that to happen."

You sighed. "Is that why you kept running away? Because you do not wish me to be a damned woman?"

"Yes. It is already too late for me, I have done too much wrong and I have hurt too many. But you can be saved."

Carefully considering his words, you shrugged, "I can always repent."

Erik gawked at your words, eyebrows furrowing as he processed what you'd uttered. Did you not understand the severity of the situation? Were you not thinking straight at the moment? Why were-

"I may believe in God, but I also believe you aren't going to heaven. So why would I want to go there either?" you explained, tightening your grip on his hands. "If I end up changing my mind, and I regret my decisions, I shall repent and hopefully God will forgive me. But if I marry the man I had premarital sex with, is it really so bad?"

Erik found himself descending into a state of turmoil. He grew exasperated, unable to comprehend why you could not understand that he was doing this for you. He yearned for you to grasp his intentions, to comprehend that his actions were driven by a desire to shield you from sorrow and remorse. Simultaneously, a sense of bewilderment overcame him. As you expanded upon your reasoning, the fortress around his emotions began to crumble, revealing a vulnerability that he had long concealed. With each passing word, he felt his defences wane, his carnal desires surging forth, beckoning him to abandon propriety and surrender to the depths of his impure thoughts. The allure of gratification grew stronger, compelling him to yearn for the freedom to explore the depths of his desires, to caress you with an intensity that bordered on ravishment, and to claim you as his own.

"So, Erik," you spoke, "Will you take me right here and right now, or will we forget this ever happened and go to bed, as if nothing ever happened?"

Erik let out a strained sigh, feeling his composure shatter like delicate porcelain. He offered no words in return, only a meek inclination of his head, which you could discern from the proximity between you. Your heart soared with a mixture of elation and trepidation.

You spun around and launched yourself at him with an enthusiasm you never knew you possessed. Every fantasy, desire, urge, and longing surged to the surface, your lips conveying everything you had kept locked away until this moment. Oxygen ceased to matter, the world dissolving into nothingness as you clung to him with every ounce of desperation. The bed seemed impossibly distant.

With a sense of urgency, you propelled yourself forward, gently but firmly directing Erik until his knees collided with the plush mattress. Wasting no time, you pressed your delicate hands against his chest and gracefully pushed him back, momentarily breaking the connection of your lips as he tumbled onto the bed beneath. He hastily settled into a proper position, while you, with a mix of excitement and apprehension, gracefully climbed on top of him, your legs straddling his form.

Too much time had been squandered to concern yourself with trivial matters like being gentle and slow, you needed him now and you had no intention of lingering. You centre settled upon his pelvis, sensing the warmth of his length beneath his night shirt. Your hips circled around the bulge poking through the fabric, moans and whimpers escaping your lips as you took everything he was willing to give you. He definitely did not object.

Your kisses grew increasingly fervent and frenzied as time wore on, losing yourself in the sensation of his proximity and knowing that by the morning, your connection would have deepened and exceeded all of your expectations. Reflecting upon yourself a month prior, when Erik finally granted you the privilege of seeing him whole- witnessing the profound transformation that had taken place between the two of you since then was nothing short of dizzying.

The straps of your nightgown were slowly beginning to falter off of your shoulders, loosely hanging as if begging him to finish the job and strip you entirely. You’d imagined countless nights of lying beneath him, skin bare and free for him to explore and observe as you basked in the glory of his gaze. So with that thought, you took the hands that were currently clinging onto your hips for dear life and placed them on your shoulders, saying exactly what you wanted without uttering a word.

Erik appeared to understand your desires, for with trembling hands and lips that faltered, he withdrew himself to assess the situation. He gazed up at you, seeking your approval with a nervous and hesitant air, fearful of making a wrong move that would propel you away from him and back to square one. However, your reassuring nod and an intensified grinding of your hips against his spurred him into action more swiftly than a racehorse urged on by the whip. He wasted no time in discarding the delicate straps that confined your form, liberating your body from his prying gaze.

As your nightgown fell to bunch at your legs, Erik felt as though his lungs almost gave out. Your body was unlike anything he’d ever seen in the paintings he collected, every mark and curve of your skin displaying a radiance he didn’t realise was possible. With a thrust of his hips, he gestured for you to move back so he could continue diligently removing the last of your clothing.

The moment your last inch of skin emerged from the confines of the fabric, Erik gently nudged you to recline. You should have felt more shy or apprehensive about being bare and vulnerable beneath him, yet the only sensation that coursed through you was the fire that blazed within your core. You let out a soft whine about no longer being able to remain on top of him, but your grievances were swiftly silenced as his hands swept you up, swiftly manoeuvring you beneath him.

“Wait, can I see you too?” You asked, hurriedly sitting up before he had the chance to properly position himself above you. He seemed taken aback by your eagerness.

“Are you sure? I’m nothing special to look at, don’t feel-“

“Take your shirt off!” You demanded.

Erik seemed even more speechless than you thought possible. His eyes were blown wide in astonishment as if you had begun conversing in a long-forgotten, extinct tongue. While somewhat entertained by his disoriented state, you delicately extended your hand and commenced the task of unfastening the buttons of his nightshirt with the utmost precision and unwavering determination, as if you’d done this many times before. Even if that couldn’t be less inaccurate.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he reminded you, “It’s okay to go slow.”

Slow was a word that had no place in your dictionary at this present moment. However, you eased your grasp and lessened the ferocity of your actions, aiming to appear slightly less forceful in your demeanour.

After the last button popped free, you hurriedly removed the garment from him. Discarding it to the side, you reclined slowly, unable to tear your gaze away. His figure exuberated a powerful presence, every inch meticulously sculpted as if by the hand of a master artisan. Though littered with small scars and scratches, the striking juxtaposition between his celestial physique and his disfigured visage was utterly captivating, leaving you utterly intrigued.

He could feel your eyes penetrating him, and he resisted every urge screaming at him to shrink away. He was done hiding from you, he wanted to feel the warmth of you enveloping him, holding him, loving him until the day it was no longer possible. He wanted to give you all of him and never let go. He was done with thinking he didn’t deserve to be loved wholly, because you were right here offering everything he never believed he could possess. You had defied all of his meagre expectations and made him a new man.

You were so pliant and pure beneath him, the rise and fall of your chest and the slight nibble on your bottom lip betraying the hidden worry within. He wasted no time in leaning forward above you, his lips desperate as they sought to kiss away every fear and trace of hesitation you harboured. He bestowed a trail of delicate kisses down your forehead, across your cheeks, and along the graceful curve of your neck. His fervent kisses then graced your shoulders, tracing a path around your collarbones, each touch so delicate and reverent, until finally reaching the soft expanse of your chest.

His lips hovered, waiting for the right moment to strike and send you into a frenzy of pleasure and bliss. He bestowed tender kisses upon the delicate curvature of your breasts, attending closely to the sounds that escaped your parted lips. He observed the signals your body conveyed, observing the hastened rhythm of your breath and the involuntary movement of your legs, the way you were drawing them closer to create friction where you craved it. His own longing became unmistakable, his cock standing tall and achingly rigid, tantalizingly grazing against your abdomen.

His mouth was progressively nearing your nipples, delicately encircling your areola and occasionally darting out his tongue to deliver a teasing lick. Despite his inexperience, he performed with an air of seasoned confidence, as though he had engaged in such intimate encounters countless times before. He knew exactly where to lick, kiss and touch to elicit the most erotic responses from you. His lips slowly closed around your nipple, testing the waters with light sucking and flicks of his tongue before experimentally grazing it with his teeth, his cock turning red and angry from how much blood was coursing through his veins.

You cried out at the peculiar sensation, quickly calling out for him to not be too rough with his teeth. He nodded against you, his tussled hair tickling your skin as he consumed himself with teasing and playing with your breasts. It felt so scandalous and immoral the way he played with you, the way his hands caressed and pressed against you as he familiarized himself with the curves of your body.

As his fervor increased, your sensitive buds responded with heightened sensitivity. The intense and eager caresses caused your nipples to swell, becoming puffy and tender. The sensation was so overwhelming that tears threatened to well up in your eyes, the stimulation evoking a sharp, piercing ache. Eventually, you found yourself asking him to stop, and he promptly complied upon hearing you.

"Are you alright?" He was panting, saliva coating the surroundings of his mouth.

You nearly laughed, but could only manage a whimsical giggle. The sight of him so concerned yet utterly spent at the same time stirred emotions within you that you dared not confess. Your essence overflowed, moistening your inner thighs as it trickled out like a stream. The influence your lover had on you was profound, surpassing anything you had ever imagined. Even the most daring of literature that you’d read did not evoke such a powerful surge of arousal and longing within you.

"I'm perfect," you smiled, "but my breasts were beginning to hurt, and the feeling was becoming much too overwhelming. Besides, I'd like to return the favour."

You sprung up, lifting your back off the bed before he even had time to brainstorm his response. You jumped at him, twisting both of you until he was back beneath you. You gave him a sloppy kiss before pulling away, venturing down until you reached his shaft. It was longer than you expected. Your old, more outspoken friends who boasted of their premarital escapades always mentioned men's genitalia to be around four or five inches, but Erik's seemed more like six or seven. His girth seemed to align well with their descriptions, so you decided he must just be a bit more gifted in the length department. You gulped.

"What are you doing? Please, just focus on yourself. I need nothing in return."

You shook your head teasingly, rolling your eyes with a small smirk on your face. The vivid images that had danced in your mind about how on earth that was supposed to fit inside you were quickly dismissed. You gathered all the saliva you could muster in your mouth, spitting it onto your hand. You’d read about that in a book once.

Erik looked utterly astounded, captivated by the strings of saliva that cascaded from your lips. He was about to inquire about your intentions and where the destination of that saliva globule was going to be, but his curiosity was quickly satisfied when your delicate fingers enfolded around his manhood and you tentatively began stroking him up and down. Your movements lacked the refined cadence of experienced hands, occasionally faltering in rhythm and fluctuating in pressure. Yet through perseverance, you eventually established a steady and pleasurable pace, accompanied by a grip that elicited delightful sensations and heightened pleasure.

Sighs of ecstasy escaped his lips, his eyes fluttering closed as he became enveloped in the sensation of your caress. He felt a stirring deep within his abdomen, a tension coiling tighter and tighter until it would inevitably release. His skin glowed with perspiration as he tilted his head back, his moans growing louder and louder, harmonizing with the sound of your saliva squelching as your hand traversed his shaft.

He was no stranger to desire and impure thoughts, long before he had met you he still yearned and had fantasies of what it would feel like to touch and be touched by another. However, he refrained from indulging in such pleasures, deeming it a frivolous waste of his time. Little did he know that the allure and intensity of self-pleasure had eluded him. Oh, how he wished he had been more enlightened back then.

Something was building inside him. Unaware, you continued your steady pace, looking into his eyes with a sweet smile. He felt something akin to a rubber band stretching in his abdomen, reaching its snapping point, pulling further apart. Instinctively, his hand reached up to grab your free hand, squeezing with a force that you knew would cause pain the next day.

Your arm was beginning to seize up, your muscles cramping worse than you’d ever experienced before. His hand practically crushing yours didn’t help, and eventually, you had to relent and withdraw. A frustrated grunt escaped his throat, his eyes clenching shut as his hips bucked. The snapping sensation in his abdomen gradually subsided, the build-up disappearing as if it were never there to begin with.

"That was... different," he heaved.

"Good different?" You tentatively asked.

"Good different," he confirmed.

A profound stillness enveloped both of you as Erik struggled to regain his composure, his erection throbbing with a vengeance. He clenched his jaw, the distressing ache seeping into his bones, sending tingles down his limbs and leaving his mind in a dizzying haze. The rush of blood roared in his ears as he lay there, gradually returning to the realm of consciousness.

You were filled with trepidation. Had you committed a grievous error? Why did he seem so discomposed? His eyes were shut, and his chest rose and fell with alarming rapidity. He appeared to be in a state of distress. The books you read had failed to prepare you for such a sight!

"Are you alright, love?" You fussed, cupping his cheeks in your hands in concern, "Do you need anything? Water? To stop?"

"No, no, no," he instantly denied, waving his hand. His arm came to drop over his eyes. "I'm just... a little overwhelmed, I suppose."

Hearing that he wasn't about to enter sudden cardiac arrest, you threw your leg over his stomach. Your warmth pressed deliciously against his well-toned abdominal muscles, sending electrifying sensations up your bones. He appeared more at ease now, his hand that wasn't thrown across his face reaching up to caress the skin of your thigh with his fingertips. Quivers reverberated through your body, as if a gentle breeze had swept through the room, carrying with it a delightful shiver of pleasure.

You leaned forward, pressing your lips against his with utmost delicacy. His other hand joined in, but instead of gently caressing your thighs, he grasped your flesh firmly, guiding your hips in a swaying motion. Your mind turned to mush, the undulating movement causing your senses to ignite. Sparks flickered between your bodies, every touch sending pleasurable jolts through your form as he manipulated you to his desires.

Every pitiful moan and whimper was swallowed by his intoxicating mouth, every breath shared intermingling into one. He kept you restrained at a steady pace, even as you attempted to push against it and yearned for a more vigorous rhythm. One amused glance sent a rush of crimson to your cheeks, a blush of embarrassment that betrayed you.

"Can I put it in?" You whispered. You wanted to get your upper hand back and fast.

He paused for a moment, his pupils dilating and a gasp escaping his lips as he absorbed your words. His eyes turned upwards towards yours, staring deep into your soul as if attempting to decipher your thoughts. His unyielding gaze was slightly intimidating, and you found yourself questioning if you had spoken inappropriately.

"If you wish," he replied.

Sucking in your lower lip, you cautiously descended. The sensation of his tip brushing against you made you unconsciously bite down, feeling the connection of your most intimate parts. He elevated himself to a seated position, pressing his arousal even closer to your entrance. The wetness that coated his tip, combined with your own slickness, allowed for ample lubrication as it trickled down.

He gave you one final questioning look, to which you responded with a confident nod. He returned the gesture in understanding. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you slowly lowered yourself until the tip naturally found its way to your opening, gently teasing and exploring. You bit down on your lip so hard that you could taste blood, but you pressed on. His hand reached down to assist in guiding himself inside you, and both of you gasped as his bulbous tip slipped past your entrance.

The sensation was indescribable, pleasure and discomfort waging a battle as your body came to a halt. Erik pressed tender kisses along your shoulder, his hand resting on your back to ease your tension. It was unlike anything you had ever experienced, the feeling of your purity being tested by his manhood was intense and sent a fiery heat rushing through your core. Your face twisted as you summoned the strength to sink further, enduring the initial sting as best you could.

"We can stop at any time, just say the word," Erik gently reminded you, nestling his head against you as he patiently waited for you to adjust. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for indulging in such pleasure while you were clearly in pain. He made a concentrated effort to conceal his contorted expressions and stifle his moans and grunts.

Finally, you managed to lower yourself fully into his lap. His cock was nestled deep within your intimate depths. You took deep breaths, determined to overcome the discomfort and replace it with the exhilaration you knew could await. It felt as if you were being impaled, your arms clinging to him with increasing intensity as you willed yourself to relax and surrender to the sensations that enveloped you.

You were practically restraining him, keeping him trapped inside of you to the extent that he felt unable to move even if he desired to. The tightness was approaching discomfort, his soothing and calming touches attempting to coax you into relaxing your muscles and embracing the sensation.

After a few moments of acclimation and striving to ease your muscles, you soon sensed the inferno below gradually transform into a thrilling excitement. A surge of adrenaline coursed through you as you comprehended your current location and the nature of your actions.

Testing out the waters, you gingerly lifted your hips, wincing at the sensation of your walls contracting as you raised yourself further off of him. His swollen tip caught on your entrance, prompting you to cease ascending. Erik released his grip around you, reclining back on his hands to observe the spectacle.

The eye contact was overwhelming. He dared not divert his gaze from you for a single moment, your partially closed eyes battling to remain open as you lowered yourself back down. A strangled cry threatened to escape your lips as the exquisite stretch overwhelmed your senses, your mind empty and your vision wavering. His tip was nearly grazing your cervix. Every fibre of your being was consumed by the sensation, your mind black and vision wavering.

You pushed yourself up and down a few more times, willing yourself to adjust and adapt. Gradually, you found your rhythm, moving with grace as your walls glided along his cock. The sound of your flesh meeting echoed softly in the air as you fervently rode him. He was buried deep within you, overwhelming your senses and leaving you dizzy with desire. Erik wasn’t any better off.

"Oh my god," you whined, fucking yourself on him as if you had never been more desperate for anything in your life. "I've been dreaming of this for so long."

"Me too," Erik grunted.

Your breasts undulated in perfect harmony with your motions, practically demanding Erik to divert his gaze towards them. In any other circumstance, you would have teasingly chastised him for his audacity, yet a deeper blush coloured your cheeks as you beheld him intently studying your form. He reclined further upon the bed, his weight supported by his elbows, his eyes filled with a fervent longing.

Your hands instantly found purchase on his chest, using him as leverage to move faster and rougher on top of him. He was engrossed in the way your body moved and responded to him, his hoarse moans only serving to make you even more hot and bothered. Your faltering stamina almost made you want to burst into tears, because the last thing you wanted to do was stop.

Erik soon caught on to your stuttering motions, noticing the way your hair stuck to your forehead from the copious amount of sweat.

"I love you, I love you so much," you cried, sniffling from the overload of emotions that were bubbling to the surface. The love, the infatuation, the relief, the pleasure, the euphoria- everything was rising inside of you abruptly and without warning.

"I love you too," he moaned, relinquishing his elbows to rest upon the bed. He grabbed your hips, bringing you to a pause. You sobbed. "Are you getting tired?"

"No, I'm perfectly fine," you protested, attempting to resist his hold in order to resume your agitated movements. He would've rolled his eyes at your stubbornness if he wasn't distracted by the feeling of your hole swallowing his cock.

He forcefully pulled you down, pressing your body against his chest as he exerted his dominance. With a swift motion, he flipped you over, positioning himself on top. In the process, he momentarily withdrew from your cunt, but without hesitation, he re-entered your inviting warmth. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and your arms enveloped him as you surrendered to him, reclining in submission.

Your mouth formed a perfect 'o' as you endured his pounding, setting a fervent and punishing cadence as he plunged inside of you with all the strength he could summon. Your world spun, your lungs yearning for air as you let out moans and cries with every motion he executed.

His whispered curses and sounds of pleasure were hot against your ear, every slide in and out enhanced by how close he was pressed against you. It was intoxicating, his embrace crushing you so tight that you couldn't distinguish where your body met the mattress and where his body met yours. Everything dissolved into one.

"Does this feel good?" Erik questioned, pace merciless as he pulled away to look at you directly.

"Yes! Yes it does!" You wailed.

"Who's making you feel good?" He growled.

"You! You!"

"What's my name?"

"Erik! Oh!"

"That's right," He let out a deep and guttural groan, diverting his gaze from you for a fleeting moment. With a firm grip on your thighs, he effortlessly folded you, positioning your knees so close to your ears that it bordered on the extreme. "Who do you belong to?" he gruffly inquired, his voice laced with a hint of possessiveness.

"Ah! You, Erik! You!"

"You," thrust, "belong," thrust, "to," thrust, "me."

Ecstasy surged through your being, the sensation of being filled to the brim overwhelmed your senses. Your every nerve tingled and quivered, your body contorting and your eyes fluttering in pure pleasure. Your walls fluttered around him as you uttered his name in breathless gasps, your voice choked with desire. The tightening in your core reached a crescendo before finally giving way to an intense release.

Erik was going crazy. The feeling of you contracting and spasming around him made his body tremor as his desperate pace transitioned into aimless jerking. His resolve came undone as white ribbons shot out of him, painting your walls white. Your cunt was practically milking him.

"My god," Erik sighed, huffing as he recovered from the aftershocks of his climax.

You were in no better a state. Tears streaked down your face, and sweat had practically glued your bodies together. Erik withdrew himself from you, guiding your limp legs back onto the bed. He laid beside you, his form exhausted and his arousal gradually subsiding, as you both took a moment to regain composure.

You swallowed, surprised at how parched your throat was. "Was it good?... Was I good?"

"Better than I ever imagined," he affirmed.

It didn't take long for Erik to rise, hastily donning his nightshirt before exiting the chamber and venturing into the lagoon. In a swift manner, he reappeared, clutching a moist towel in his grasp. With delicate precision, he gently glided it over your sensitive areas, meticulously cleansing the semen that had spilled out of you, ensuring that no traces of your sin were left behind.

A damp patch had formed beneath you, causing the fabric to become stained and the bed linens quite uncomfortable to rest upon. Erik gently lifted you and settled you onto the chair positioned in front of his desk, attending to the task of replacing the soiled bedsheets so that you would not have to sleep upon the concoction of your arousal and his release.

"I'll prepare baths for us tomorrow. For now, I think it's best for you to get some sleep," Erik tapped your cheek, laughing as your droopy eyelids perked up at his touch.

You grumbled at him, your dishevelled hair and pouting lips evoking a sense of charm that made his heart soar. He scooped you up once more, cradling you in his arms with care as he escorted you back to your shared bed. With haste, you scurried beneath the fresh linen, seeking solace and warmth within the confines of the quilt that shielded your immodest frame from the chill that seemed to permeate the air. Erik casually discarded the used towel into a corner alongside the dirtied sheets, joining you on the bed and tucking himself away behind you with his back to the wall.

He drew you closer, his arm slipping beneath your neck as he nestled you against his side. You gazed up at him, a smile gracing your lips, but inside, a vexed frustration swelled as you silently cursed his attire. Why must he remain clothed while you, in this moment, were so undressed?

"If I'm naked, then you're naked," you playfully stated.

"Is that so?"

"Yes, strip right now."

He complied silently with your request, and your internal vexation turned to jubilation as his flesh made contact with yours. You resumed your former position, nestling yourself once again into his embrace as your wearied eyes finally succumbed to the burden of your fatigue.

Then it was ruined.

"Will you marry me?" Erik implored, his voice filled with anticipation and a touch of desperation. As your disapproving gaze met his, he hastily continued, "We've already consummated our love. What's the harm? We agreed on this months ago."

Snickering under your breath, you retorted, "Get me a ring first, then I'll consider."

The comforting hum of Erik's complaints and attempts at convincing you to please please marry him carried you softly and sweetly into a deep sleep.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hii! Could you do a mizu w reader where one is injured (doesn't really matter which one haha) and it's like a hurt/ comfort?

Take your time and get some rest!!

Write this when I was on the verge of falling asleep, so if any of it sounds like it was coming out of my ass, it was. 🦦

‘Why did you do it?’ Mizu asked, choosing not to look at you but instead focus on your injuried chest with a hard glare.

‘Do what? Protect you from that smiley coward who was about to use unethical means to completely blindside you?’ You replied as though the answer wasn’t already glaringly obvious, you honestly didn’t understand why you had to explain your reasonings as for protecting Mizu and putting your life at risk, but if it meant showing them that someone did give a shit about whether they’d live or die; then you’d happily be that person for Mizu.

‘You had no need to protect me, I could’ve-‘

‘Easily defend yourself, I know Mizu.’ You interrupted them before grabbing ahold of their hand, memorising the feeling of callousness to memory, as you rubbed your thumb against the back of their hand reassuringly. ‘I know how strong and powerful and amazing you are. I’ve witnessed your fighting spirit first hand and it took my breath away. Literally because when we first met you knocked the wind out of my lungs with the butt of your sword, all because you thought I was some stranger about to attack you.’ You finished recounting the tale of how you first encountered Mizu with a small smile. Why? Maybe it was your way to direct their mind to a more happier and healthier memory, rather then have it stuck heavily focusing on the one where they had their back exposed to the enemy; the reason you now had a massive gash running across your chest. A gash that would surly become a permanent part of your body but also a painful reminder to Mizu.

A reminder that you could’ve been easily taken away from them.

A reminder that you’d always selflessly put them before yourself, even if that meant getting hurt, maimed, loosing a limb or worse yet; your life.

A reminder that they’ll have to get stronger if they wish to prevent you from doing so in the nearby future. Mizu knew that their revenge took presidency over everything else, even their own health, but they don’t want you to ruin yourself beyond recognition for them; It just didn’t feel right to Mizu to have you be the barrier between them and the ill intentions of other people. They were strong enough to deal with it but as it’s been made clear countless times before, you didn’t give two shits about that, and instead focused all your time and effort into showing them that they matter so much to you; Which is an admirable and respectable trait to have in Mizu’s eyes.

However that did little to quell the unease they felt upon witnessing your body drop at their feet in what felt like slow motion, just as the first sighting of blood that began to pool beneath you in such quick succession, that at one point Mizu genuinely thought they were too late to save you, this was proven especially more true when you didn’t awaken within the first couple of days after Mizu had stitched and then later covered your wound; all in due to the amount of blood you had already lost. So the feeling of being able to properly breathe again upon seeing you wake up made the uneasy feeling that little bit more bearable for Mizu.

‘While it’s appreciated to know that I can fully count on you to have my back in the heat of battle, it is not a necessity.’ Mizu states, bring the conversation back to where it was needed most, causing you to frown. ‘I should’ve known better than to think that he would honour me with a fair fight. I should’ve known that he’d play dirty the moment he realised the odds were stacked against him.’ Mizu adds, clenching their fists into the seams of their clothing, jaw clenched and their eyes become an unforgiving steel blue; all signs of their underlying rage toward themself and the cowardly man.

‘You didn’t know and that’s perfectly fine.’ You grunt as you slowly sat yourself up with Mizu’s hands supporting your endeavour whilst being mindful as to not reopen your wound. ‘It’s normal to not foresee things before they happen, otherwise it wouldn’t be considered an authentic human experience.’ You let out a little chuckle, all the while Mizu was left to sit there and narrow their brows at what you could’ve possibly thought was so humorous. ‘And to live an authentic human experience is to accept that you have limitations, especially during the moments where you wished you didn’t have any at all.’ You said as you looked into Mizu’s eyes hoping that your words were somewhat getting through to them.

‘We always question ourselves on how we didn’t see it coming, or how we didn’t see the signs but what we’re not taking into account is that we’re human. Not super powered beings of mythical origins nor gods but just plain old humans. We don’t get the luxuries that they do, however if there’s one thing we can pride ourselves in having, it’s how we take these moments to heart and learn from them going forwards.’ You smiled softly, seeing the sea of emotions within Mizu’s eyes. ‘Another thing we can pride ourselves on is our resilience and our willpower to continue paving the way forward. We get hurt but we always get back up because that’s the indomitable human spirit. That’s what we do.’

‘Where are you getting with this and what does it have to do with me allowing you in getting hurt?’ Mizu asked, curious and a little restless as to what this was all meant to mean. ‘The moral of this for you to not beat yourself up over being human for being human is all we’ll ever know how to be until our final breath.’ You explained, lifting their clenched hand within yours to press a kiss to the back of it, before placing it back onto their lap. ‘Instead of focusing on what has already come to pas, how about bringing your attention to the fact that I’m still here and I’m still breathing. Yeah?’ Mizu stayed quiet for a while, allowing for your words to sit with them as Mizu thought long and hard before finally reaching to a conclusion.

‘Only on the pretences that I get to teach you in the basics of defence.’ Mizu said. ‘As a precaution.’ They add.

‘As long as you don’t go hard on me.’ You chuckled, already visualising it.

Mizu gave you an almost missable smirk. ‘No promises.’

[onestepbackwards]

Love that Bites Pt. 13

IT'S DONE AAAA Sorry this took so long, I have had a rough few months, it's made it hard to write and focus. BUT! This chapter is at least 8000 words to make up for it! I hope you enjoy!! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

Summary: Despite what he had hoped, Dracula has decided to spring a talk of 'business' with you earlier than he had intended. He anticipates it to end in disaster, destroying what little peace you both had. However, he finds things might not end like he presumes...

CW: Anxiety, talks of depression, allusions to abuse, mentions of murder, mentions of sexist behavior, brief mentions of injury

Word Count: 8039 Words!

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First: Here Last: Here Next: Here

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Dracula, if he were being honest with himself, had dread when this day would come.

Deep down, he knew eventually you two would have to talk. There was no getting around it, no avoiding it forever.

After all, you were still a Belmont, and he was King of the Night.

He had known this talk would come before he eventually had been freed. How you mentioned wishing to talk instead of immediately engaging in battle.

However, he would admit that a small part of him looked forward to this, especially before he had been freed from his stone prison.

Back then, he could not help but imagine different scenarios of himself and you discussing the future. This primarily was before he had got to know you a little bit more with each ‘visit’.

Before you broke the curse on him, he had planned on using this talk to gouge your own plans, and see just what kind of a Belmont you really were.

Would you be all bark and no bite? Or was the idea of wanting to talk really just a guise to make yourself more high and mighty than him? Another ‘holier than thou’ spiel he had heard countless times throughout history, and still managing to condemn him?

Perhaps it was even a trick to try and lower his guard? Just to attack like a snake on unsuspecting prey?

Not that he would have let his guard down that easy in the beginning, of course…

Other questions though still had run through his mind at the time as he slowly grew to know you in his imprisonment.

Were you really different? Did a small bit of Leon still persist despite the generations of Belmonts? Was it truly kindness that shone bright in those tired eyes of yours?

It certainly wasn’t naïveté, despite what some may think. Those eyes of yours had seen too much to be dull witted. Any kindness you had to give, it was because you chose to, despite knowing the risks.

That kindness, and your interest in asking questions for yourself. That still drew him in.

However, as time went on, it became almost alarmingly clear that you were in fact serious about this. How you didn’t particularly want to battle him, at least not without hearing him out personally.

No power play here, no desire to put yourself above him while seemingly giving the vampire a chance.

You were a rarity that Dracula didn’t want to let go. Especially when you were just within his grasp.

Humans like yourself were rare, he didn’t want to just let you slip through his fingers, even if you were a Belmont.

If anything, that made it all the more important to try and sway you to see his side of things.

Or to at least… come to an understanding.

However, Dracula was all too familiar with how finicky fate could be. Should he try and lock you away or strongarm you into staying, he’d simply be pushing you away.

It also didn’t help that the idea of simply holding you hostage didn’t sit well in his gut. The last thing he wanted, (even if he refused to admit it out loud), was for you to hate him for stealing you away.

…He would admit he did consider it, though. Dracula had already lost so much, was it hard to blame him for wanting to protect this Little Belmont who was clearly a hidden gem amongst the rotten trash that was humankind?

Still, he couldn’t afford to risk losing you to his own arrogance. Not like this.

Unfortunately though, you unintentionally threw a wrench into his plans.

Originally, he hoped to have you here for at least a week, if not two. During that time, he planned to gleam who had hurt you, and deal with them swiftly if need be.

All while healing you, and seeing if he could push past a few of your walls.

That way, hopefully when you eventually had to have a talk with him about where you both stood, he had hoped he would have enough information to form a way to convince you to stay.

Alas, things never went to plan for him. Fate seemed to enjoy taunting him that way, it seems.

Despite how receptive you had been to him, and how you accepted his care, you surprised him with what you had to say.

How you could not stay much longer. You had to leave soon.

Your words weighed heavy in his heart. However, it became clear this wasn’t exactly a choice you wanted.

It seemed you were oddly reluctant to even mention why, clearly unhappy and anxious about the idea of going back.

That had alarm bells ringing in his mind.

The Lord of the Night was no fool. When he wasn’t constantly being slain by your ilk, he was a ruler, a leader, and a tactician. Among many other things.

No one lived as long as he, and not pick up on different things about human behavior.

A part of him wanted to puff up in pride. You seemingly wanted to stay.

But that was unfortunately a double edged sword, so it seemed.

Sure, you were receptive to his care and being his guest, but that was far from being entirely trustworthy and comfortable around him.

…So just how bad was your home life for you to prefer staying at his castle, even after someone already tried to foolishly tamper with your life?

You seemed a bit dodgy when he delicately prodded about your home life. However, the less you said, the more of a picture it seemed to paint.

No words had to be said for him to assume the worst. The wounds you had must have been from wherever you resided outside his castle.

Yet you stubbornly refused to give him details. Even if you were different from your ancestors, you were still very much a stubborn Belmont.

It would be endearing, if not for the fact he worried about your safety the moment you left his property.

And the fact he had to have this conversation with you now, rather than when he would have liked. He had at least hoped you would be in a better physical and mental state before he sprung this talk on you.

After all, you both couldn’t ignore the elephant in the room forever. One of you would either have to give and declare war, or… Perhaps meet halfway.

Even though he hoped for the best, Dracula was well aware this may end in disaster. He at least hoped it wouldn’t be too explosive.

He’d like to at least fight you on even ground with respect, like you had wished to do for him.

The last thing he wanted was to fight you as you looked up at him, clearly still incredibly injured, despite what the potions have done for you so far. He wouldn’t underestimate you, but he knew that you would no doubt leave with permanent damage if you managed to win.

And if he were being honest, Dracula didn’t want to deal with the whirlpool of emotions he no doubt will have to suffer from if you choose to try and destroy him.

He may be a prideful man who didn’t like admitting his faults, but he was well aware how badly he handled losing someone last time. He didn’t want to kill you or try to hurt you with his own hand.

So he donned his King of the Night mask. Ready to face the music.

Your reaction to his change in demeanor was instant.

Those wide eyes of yours sharpened, and he could practically see the hair on your neck stand on end. Seems a hunter’s instinct never rests.

It was almost fascinating to watch in real time, if he were being honest with himself. Any Belmont he had faced, almost exclusively were ready to fight him from the get go.

So to see you so subtly shift, as if a snake preparing to strike, or a cat ready to react with a strike of its own…

Dracula would be lying if he didn’t find such a sight interesting, stirring a set of feelings in him he thought he had long since buried. A shame he had to see such a shift when he might become your enemy in mere moments.

The air around you both was tense, and was charged with enough energy Dracula idly wondered if it could charge a light at this rate.

“So,” Dracula began, his voice becoming a bit of a bored drawl, “what exactly do you intend to do now, Little Belmont?”

Your eyes nervously bore into his own, and you swallowed thickly as you sat up straighter.

“What I intend to do?”

Dracula kept his lips from curling up into a grin. He at least would try to hold off from antagonizing you like he would with annoying diplomats from other monster and vampire clans.

“Yes. Forgive me for being rather blunt,” he began, his eyes glowing idly as he watched you for any change in behavior, “-but you know as well as I do, that we can’t just pretend the other doesn’t exist after you leave.”

It was subtle, but he recognized the calculating look on your face after he finished speaking. He wondered what thoughts were flying through your head as you scoured your mind for an answer.

Dracula knew his words had to be thought on, though he also imagined you probably had thought about this long before he had even been freed. Although, imagining what one would say in such a situation, and being in the situation you had imagined didn’t mean things would go as one planned.

You were silent for a moment. Then another.

Dracula didn’t mind, nor did he rush you. Despite his shift in attitude, he didn’t intend to push you to make a choice at that exact moment, even if he did put you on the spot.

Though perhaps, that may just be his thin veiled excuse to keep the peace, just for a little while longer.

After a few more moments, you let out a sigh, and put a hand on top of your head. You averted your eyes from him, and closed them.

“I… I don’t wish to fight you.” you began, almost tentatively. Your hands gripped the blanket nearby, and began to fiddle with it.

“You have been very kind to me since uh… Since you were freed from being a statue. You didn’t have to do that, for me of all humans.”

For a moment, your eyes met his own, and Dracula felt some tension in his body lessen, just ever so slightly.

So you didn’t wish to fight him either. It was one thing to suspect as such, but to hear it from your own mouth relieved him in a way he couldn’t explain. No doubt it also took a lot for you to admit that, to your own destined adversary.

But that didn’t mean you wouldn’t fight him. No, it was clear you would if you had to. The words were unspoken, but still there.

Despite this, you were still clearly nervous, your heartbeat pounding hard enough for him to hear in the quiet room.

“I’ll be honest. I… may be a fool for admitting this, but…” you began, your eyes flickering between your whip, which sat next to you on the bed, and Dracula himself.

“...I probably wouldn’t even win. What’s the point, anyway?”

That was indeed surprising to hear from your lips. The way you practically sagged as you admitted such a thing, showing just how tired you really were.

Dracula could see it now. It wasn’t just exhaustion in your eyes from whatever happened to you at your home.

You were tired of life. You were tired of the burden you had on your shoulders. You didn’t have much to fight for, anymore.

Dracula felt those words of yours tear into his heart. They struck a chord with him in a way that was almost unsettling.

“If I fight you, then what? I ‘win’? There’s nothing in it for me. Sure, I save humanity, or whatever-” You say, making finger quotes as you shake your head, “-But then I just end up back home in my own hell hole, no doubt with injuries that can no longer be healed. Then I’d still be expected to keep hunting.”

It was strange, as if a dam had broken within you. Dracula had a feeling this was something that had been building for years. No doubt from when you were a child, thoughts like those had been swimming in your head. Especially after you had lost a parent.

“Plus, what then, you rise again in a century? If even that? I know for a fact sometimes you have risen in half that time. What’s the point then? Just holding off until the next battle until someone else in my family stands up to fight you?”

Blinking quickly, you rubbed one of your eyes with your wrist, clearly trying to hold your emotions in check. The conversation clearly weighed heavy on you when you were already dealing with enough as it is.

He’d admit though, it was surprising to hear this from you.

Some Belmonts seemingly had been eager to seal him away. Either for glory, or the sake of mankind, thinking it a triumphant thing to succeed.

Here, you simply showed the opposite. How cruel fate really was, how winning against him was nothing more than a temporary, hollow victory in the grand scheme of things.

And how those words of yours echoed deep within his own mind. How many times had he been forced to answer the call of humans and other forces since he was killed that first time after Lisa’s death?

Those first few times, he had been vengeful. But after he had fought with his own son one on one, it had become increasingly clear how hollow his life had become.

How far he had sunk since he even lost his own dear Elisabetha.

How he encouraged this lonely life as a vampire after losing his first wife, then grew to detest the cursed cycle he had been put in after his second wife was murdered.

Fated to be the monster talked about in folk tales to keep children from misbehaving, only to reappear due to the whims of Chaos and Order. Cursed to be revived, when after all these centuries, he had finally wanted to rest.

He was tired too.

At least he was living in the hole he had dug for himself. He had no one to blame other than his own self and actions.

But there was a strange pang of sympathy for you in his chest. His actions were his own doing, but you? Your family was doomed because of both him, and your ancestor who created his whole clan just to slay him and his kind.

You were born to slay him, for better or for worse. Raised to kill him, and if he didn’t appear, raise a child in your family to kill him in your stead.

Did you even get to live a life of your own? Dracula doubted you could, unless you completely cut all ties, probably having to go as far as to change your own name.

After all, any Belmont was free game, regardless if they hunted or not. If there was a chance someone was related to a hunter, let alone a Belmont, beasts and monsters would hunt them for sport.

He would say at least you had your own family to support you. In the past, that seemed to be the case.

However… If your own family treated you like the dirt they walked on…

No wonder you were tired.

The room was silent for a moment, the tension having morphed from something tense and anxious, to somber and dreary.

“May I ask you a question?”

Dracula was almost startled by your voice, and how soft it had gotten. You were now looking out the window, watching as rain had begun to fall. A rolling thunder was heard off in the distance.

He wondered if that was due to the castle, or from him from the dull ache in his chest.

“You may.”

Dracula was also surprised by how his own voice had softened. He prepared himself to act like The King of the Night, yet here he was, already unable to stay cold and curt with you.

How his icy demeanor had already cracked seeing you so… broken.

It was silent for another moment as you gathered your thoughts.

“Why bother at this point? Is not coming back again and again exhausting? Why keep planning to attack humanity?”

At first, the questions seemed piercing and aggravating, until you finally looked back over at him. Those tired eyes of yours meeting his own.

“No one ever really told me. I have an idea, but… Most of what I know I learned from old journals. I highly doubt things written by a victor are always 100% accurate.”

That familiar, proud warmth stirred in his chest amongst the painful feelings that swirled from old memories.

But this… this is what he had wanted. When was the last time he got to explain his side?

…Though to be fair, he knew he would be seen as wrong, regardless of what he told you. However, it was still nice to at least have a chance to explain, without immediately being called a heartless monster first.

You at least were curious. You wanted to know for yourself, rather than just believe the words of your ancestors without thought.

Truly a marvel for most humans, even now.

Dracula looked over you, and how your eyes still watched him with a wary, curious gleam.

He sighed.

“Several centuries ago, my wife, Lisa, was murdered by humans.” Dracula began, letting himself relax slightly as he began to speak. You, meanwhile, sat up a bit further, clearly interested in what he had to say for himself.

“She insisted I go travel, and that she would be fine in the small home we had built away from the castle. Lisa wished to stay, having pursued the career of a doctor. Taught her everything I know.”

A small smile flickered on his face as he recounted his time with his late wife, though that smile quickly fell back to a frown.

Your eyes seemed to sharpen slightly, and it was as if he could see you calculating in real time what must have happened. No doubt you were already making educated guesses.

“Unfortunately, many didn’t take kindly to her healing others. Even a few of those she treated reported her to the church.”

Eyes widening slightly, a look of sorrow and horror briefly passed over your face. Had he not been paying attention, it would have been easy to miss.

No doubt you had an idea before, but his words were painting a horrific story, even if he hadn’t even said what had happened specifically just yet.

“For a year, she was fine. We occasionally wrote letters to the other, and she would tell me about her different patients. Sometimes how fulfilling it was to be a doctor, something she had dedicated her life to. Other times… She’d mention how her patients weren’t as kind or cooperative.”

Dracula held back a sneer at the reminder. He really should have noticed the signs so much sooner. How he could have avoided her horrible fate if he had just relied on his gut…

“They would groan or complain that she was treating them. How it wasn’t normal for a woman to do man’s work. They would sometimes curse her out or grow aggressive even. Some accepting her treatment while saying vile things about her. Although… My son at the time usually was around to help if things were too violent.”

Recognition flashed in your eyes. Of course you would recognize his son, to some degree, if you didn’t already know him.

There was doubt in his mind however, that you knew his son. Dracula at least liked to think his and Lisa’s son would have stepped in by now to help you if he had an idea of whatever was happening behind closed doors.

Especially given how his son had been insistent on helping the Belmonts throughout the centuries, even if it wasn’t always by choice since it regarded slaying him.

Details.

Though that did make Dracula briefly wonder just where his son was. Had he gone back to resting? Or had he stirred now that he himself was awake and free?

Dracula was no fool. Alucard had a connection to this castle just like he did, even if it wasn’t on the same scale. His son’s powers being from his own would always have a connection to this place, so long as Dracula remained alive.

Those thoughts were pushed back into his mind. He could dwell on such thoughts and speculations later. If he was still alive and this went well, of course.

Clearing his throat, Dracula continued.

“It was nearly the time I was to return home, when it happened. The church and heads of the nearby town seemed to have had ‘enough’ of my wife ‘playing’ healer, despite the fact she had most likely treated someone they knew, if not themselves.”

Anger and irritation began to simmer a bit brighter in his chest as he thought of how his wife had been treated. How alone and scared she must have been that day.

“They came. They saw the instruments we both used for medicinal purposes. Something I believe you would find rather modern, or even old by today’s standards, but at the time…”

You looked up at him then, realization in your eyes.

“They accused her of witchcraft, didn’t they?”

It was more of a statement, then a question.

Dracula could only give you a small nod.

“She was.”

You had a pained look on your face, clearly upset.

“I’m… not surprised.” you began, a bit hesitant.

“Humans fear things they don’t understand. Or things they can’t control. I imagine being a woman, and a doctor who no doubt had a great success rate at that… Add the more modern medicine practices…” you mumbled, eyes looking down to the side as you thought out loud.

Dracula was at least somewhat pleased you were beginning to see the gravity the situation had been. He had no idea what your knowledge of his wife had been, but this no doubt was an eye opener. That is, if you were choosing to believe him.

Given how you were reacting though… he’d like to hope you were. At least you weren’t screaming obscenities at him and calling him a liar and a heathen like some of your ancestors might have.

“Indeed. It… was brutal.”

Your eyes were now back on him, and he mentally cursed as his voice nearly wavered. He wanted to grow angry once more, and yet, a part of him wanted to simply mourn.

When did he last ever get the chance?

“When I arrived at the small home we had shared, all that was left was cinders. She had been taken captive, and I had been informed… She was to be burned at the stake.”

The air was colder, and your body tensed as a growl slowly crept into his voice.

“By the time I had found where they were keeping her…” he began, his voice low, growing strained, “...They burned her, claiming she was a witch. That this was God’s will.”

He could feel his fangs grow just ever so slightly, as well as his claws. Dracula could practically remember the smell of those ashes of that home.

“It was a lie, of course. All of it. They simply wanted her dead, and used all of that as flimsy excuses to placate the town.” he snarled, leaning forward slightly.

Despite the anger clear on his face, you remained steady. You didn’t flinch away like he thought you might, though your eyes were still wide with horror all the same.

Though… he had the feeling it wasn’t horror from seeing him like this. You weren’t scared of the beast threatening to break free from his flesh.

“By the time I located her, she was already burning. Her soul was already beginning to fade. She was gone.”

Dracula leaned back into the chair, his heart heavy in his chest.

A moment passed, and then another once more. The only thing either of you could hear was the storm that had begun to persist around the castle. How the rain harshly hit the window against the wall, and the wind wailed.

“Not one human stood up. No one looked at what was happening, and said no. All they did was watch.”

Your eyes flickered to the arm of the chair Dracula was sitting in, how it splintered under the pressure of his claws.

Yet… you still didn’t look afraid.

“I then warned them. I gave them a year to apologize and admit they were wrong. A year to pack up and leave. No one did. Not one.”

It was quiet for a moment, and Dracula took a deep breath. In an instant, the air was no longer as heavy as it had been a moment before, though a deep chill still ran throughout the air.

A part of him wanted to feel a bit bad. The moment the air lessened, you slumped again. You were still wounded, and weren’t able to hold yourself together like you no doubt would have if you were healthy. He would have to be mindful how much of a powerful presence he had.

Thrumming his claws against the partially destroyed arm of the chair, Dracula looked over you briefly before continuing.

“In my grief and anger, I declared a year from that day, I would rain hell on those who killed her. I would raze humanity to the ground.”

Your eyes met his.

“And then you did. Or tried to.” you spoke, your voice surprisingly steady.

His eyes never left your own.

“Indeed. I did.”

You swallowed thickly, your hands gripping the sheets under you nervously.

Different ways over how you would respond flashed through his mind again, much like they had earlier these past few days. However, what you said next surprised him.

“I… I don’t blame you, if I am being honest.”

Sure, Dracula thought of the possibility of you saying something along those lines, but he didn’t think you’d actually say it.

Even if you were different from some of your ancestors, he still expected you to go along and claim he was still an evil bastard, that killing those people was still horrible.

Though, that thought isn’t wrong. He knew what he was doing all those centuries ago, and knew what he was doing each time he had been revived and set out to attack. How evil those actions were.

Yet here you were, so quietly admitting you didn’t blame him.

“I’ll be honest… If it were my partner, or someone close to me… I can’t say I wouldn’t have wanted revenge.” You began, head tilting slightly towards him.

“Though uh… I don’t think I would have tried to kill all of humanity, but… Well… I don’t know your situation in full, but I do know grief is a powerful motivator for a lot of things…”

Dracula wasn’t sure what overcame him, but he found himself standing up out of the chair and leaning forward. His arms caged you in as he rested his hands on either side of you on the bed, while he loomed over you.

“You, Little Belmont, would commit murder? To avenge someone close to you, despite what your ancestors have stood for?” he asked, curiosity truly burning in his chest.

You didn’t shrink back, instead met his gaze head on, even as he caged you in. Even as he heard your heart pick up, and your breath hitch, you didn’t back down from his question.

“I’m not saying I would have tried to destroy all of humanity… or even that entire town. But I would hunt down every single person involved. They would know I was coming, one by one.”

Your eyes spoke promise, as if this was something you had thought of plenty of times before. The certainty in them was surprising.

“I’m not my ancestors. I protect humanity, sure, but don’t assume I'm just like them.”

He stood over you for a moment, his face so incredibly close to your own as he stood above you as he took in your words. Your pulse was loud enough to ring in his own ears, and your body was stiff as stone, as if awaiting him to call you a liar.

Then, he laughed.

It was more of a chuckle really, though seeing your bewildered face as he pulled back away from you nearly had made him want to laugh harder.

Leaning back and sitting into the chair once again, Dracula ran a hand against his face and into his hair.

“Forgive me- Forgive me…” He began, his lips twitching into a smile. “I just never thought I’d see the day where a Belmont would admit something such as that. Though…”

Dracula adjusted his posture to a much more relaxed one, most of the tension that had been in the air washing away in an instant.

“You are correct. You are far from what some of your ancestors have been.”

You definitely had Leon’s fire. It was hard to say if Leon would have committed murder against humans if the past had been slightly different… But you had that gleam in your eye that his old friend once had. A fierce look that was different, yet just as vicious as Belmonts before you.

With such a revelation, Dracula could feel the heavy feeling in his heart lessen, but that didn’t mean you both were in the clear, even if you understood each other just a bit better.

Even if you were sympathetic to him, that didn’t change the fact he very much attempted to kill many people. Multiple times, sometimes against his will. He very much has caused harm again and again.

Still, you looked at him with such a complex look on your face. No doubt conflicted yourself with everything you had learned today, especially if you were going to go ahead and plan to fight him anyway.

“So, Little Belmont.”

His voice had you looking back up at him.

“Now that you’ve heard it from my lips, why I detested humanity for so long, what do you plan to do now?” he asked.

Dracula wouldn’t lie. He was genuinely curious what your response would be. Anxiety began to creep up his throat once again, however.

…Maybe you would say something that would once again surprise him.

It was silent for a few moments, as you looked deep in thought, before looking back up at him.

“Well… Do you intend to keep trying to kill every human? Seems kinda… counter productive to do so now. Especially when things have changed so much in the centuries that have passed.”

Though you gave a slight wince.

“Granted, I don’t expect you to like anyone. But at this point, what do you gain? Are you… Not tired of fighting and dying and being revived?”

Once again, he could sense a genuine curiosity in your questions.

What did he gain, at this point?

Killing every human would be suicide for vampires everywhere. It would do more than just destroy vampires, but ecosystems as well.

As much as Vlad hated to admit it, humans were a necessary factor when it came to the earth.

But why should he care?

The moment that thought crossed his mind, his eyes landed back on you. How you fidgeted a bit on the bed, though seemed far less anxious than before. Your instincts didn’t seem as on edge as they had been when he first initiated this conversation.

Granted, he hadn’t been as… enthusiastic about world domination in centuries, if he were being honest with himself. His last run in with his son definitely left a mark, how his son grimly told him what Lisa’s last words had been.

But even though he often wished to stay dead, many would find ways to bring him back, and it was as if a cord was attached to his back, tugging him like a string. A force urging him to kill once again.

He’d barely be awake even a few hours, before he was set to be killed again.

Dracula would admit, he was definitely tired.

This wasn’t exactly what he expected his life to become after he chose to forsake his own humanity to spite God. Though he supposes that’s what he gets for doing so in the first place.

Who knew immortality would be full of boredom, tragedy, and bone deep tiredness?

Still, without it, he wouldn’t have experienced the brief bouts of love and joy that he wouldn’t trade for the world.

His eyes stayed on you as those thoughts swirled in his mind.

Despite everything that has happened to him, he found it hard to regret meeting you, at least so far.

For a moment, his eyes gazed to the side, different thoughts conflicting in his mind, but…

He didn’t wish to fight you, either.

Fingers thrumming against the arm of the chair, Dracula leaned his face against his hand.

“I suppose that is a fair point. Nearly every human that has personally spite me is dead. It gets tiring being woken up, and then killed for attempting vengeance when those who personally wronged me are gone.”

Your lips twitched upwards slightly at his ‘admission’, before giving him a look.

“But tell me, Little Belmont…”

He leaned in close again from his spot in the chair, looking at you almost amused.

“What should I do instead, hm?”

You blinked, and your face briefly flushed from the proximity.

“Um… Well, what did you do before declaring humans as your enemy? Uh, I’m no historian, but didn’t you just kinda do your own thing, only killing people that came to bother you or hurt you? Like how the church likes to refer to you as Vlad the Impaler to hide that you are a real vampire that exists?”

Dracula stared at you for a moment.

“They what.”

Hands flew up, and you shook them a bit in front of you as Dracula leaned back.

“Uh- don’t worry, I can tell you that later, but in all seriousness-”

Arching a brow, Dracula briefly wondered just what the church and human historians have been saying about him all these centuries if they were attempting to hide his existence. Despite being freed for a few days, he still had much to catch up on.

Regardless, he gave what you said some thought.

“That is true. I… did mostly keep to myself. I had no desire to join or hide amongst humans. Though I had little pity for those who sought me out to destroy me and met a… bloody end.”

At his words you blinked, before nodding to yourself as if you agreed. However, your eyes widened ever so slightly, and you were looking at him with that familiar spark in your eye he had seen come and go.

“Um… Why not do that again? Actually, how about a compromise?”

Now he was interested. What kind of compromise would a Belmont come up with? You were different from many of the others, sure, but he couldn’t help but be curious.

“Well…” You began, clearing your throat, “Unless any innocent humans are harmed, I have no desire to or need to hunt you, or anyone in the castle, really. What would be the point? I know from personal experience not everyone of the paranormal nature are ‘evil’, after all.”

Your hands were fidgeting in your lap, and you were having a hard time sitting still.

“Uh… that is to say I won’t hunt anyone that hurts any innocent folk. But at that point, that was their own choice, right? Unless you ordered it, I can deal with them personally. No need to go to war if you aren’t attacking anyone. And…”

It was clear you were growing more and more flustered as you tried to explain yourself and your reasoning. It wasn’t for the fact he had to take this seriously, he would have found it cute.

“And I- um- I can try to keep people away? I own a part of the property nearby and can have the road closed off. Of course, I can’t stop trespassers if I am not here, but I have plenty of traps set around the property… close to my cabin, really. I can try and keep people away…”

You were mumbling more in thought now as you tried to come up with ideas.

“...And I know a few blood banks for vampires, and a few other paranormal people who require blood to live. I know a witch that owns one, too. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to bits to help.”

All were interesting ideas, if you felt you both could really pull it off. However, he still had one question.

While you were rambling, he gently reached forward, clawed fingers tenderly grabbing your chin to have you look at him. You stopped talking and froze, eyes wide.

“All very good ideas, Little Belmont, but please answer me this,” He began, watching as your eyes comically flickered between his hand and face, “What about your family legacy? It was founded on the very idea of killing me.”

You swallowed thickly as he spoke, eyes trained on him.

“You asked why it mattered. Are you really willing to throw away the one thing your clan was founded for? For peace? For both humans and monsters? Are you willing to toss aside the very reason your ancestors became hunters in the first place?”

You stared at him in silence for a moment, swallowing thickly once more. After a few moments, you moved your head out of his grip, a sudden annoyed look in your eyes.

“I said it once, and I’ll say it again. I’m not my ancestors.” you began, a sharp look on your face.

“I didn’t ask to be born a hunter. To be born a Belmont. I’ll protect humanity, sure, but why do I have to limit myself and people’s lives based on what my ancestors decided what- 500 years ago? Why should every rule my ancestors made define my life in its entirety?”

It was as if your nerves had dissipated, and you crossed your arms in annoyance. Dracula wondered if this also was something you have thought about for years.

It made sense, he supposed. If your personal life was as much of a mess as he suspected, then what did you have to show for being a Belmont besides pain and strife?

His lips twitched upwards slightly into a small grin. You just keep finding ways to surprise him.

“Fair enough. It’s admirable to forge your own path rather than be held down by your ancestors.”

Dracula then tilted his head, that smile never quite leaving his face.

“So, Little Belmont. Let’s say I do agree to your ideas. I won’t destroy humanity, and you won’t hunt myself, and the residents of my castle. You’ll help keep humans away, and help anyone here who needs a meal. What will you do then?”

The annoyed look on your face fell, and you thought for a moment.

“Um… I could show you a bunch of modern stuff? No offense, I know you are a genius and all, but uh… I doubt you know all the ways civilization has changed since you were last around for more than a day.” you said with a wince, though you perked up almost instantly.

“Oh! I could get you a cell phone! Oh, I bet you would like some of the online libraries as well-”

He would admit, he had no idea what a cellphone was, but he was intrigued by the idea of a library.

But he was more interested in the very idea of you not only not slaying him, but you coming back to visit.

Yes, the idea of you wanting to come back was very pleasing to him, indeed.

It was at the cost of playing nice, but was that such a hard thing to achieve?

If it had been several decades ago, he doubted he would have been so… willing. He has had plenty of time to cool off, being imprisoned in stone. That urge to kill never truly left…

But that urge to devour humanity whole… that was dwindling. He’d argue that it had been dwindling for a while now.

He may be King of the Night, but this song and dance was growing tiresome.

That, and your ideas had merit. He could work with them, within reason.

“Alright Little Belmont.” he began, and you paused in the middle of your muttering.

“I’ll make a deal with you.”

You sat up straight again, eyes at attention, and he could practically hear your heart pick up in anticipation.

“For starters, I won’t attack humanity, not as a whole. However, I won’t show mercy to anyone who personally slights me. That, and any human foolhardy enough to come to my castle in an attempt to destroy me shall be dealt with accordingly.”

After you gave him a brisk nod, he continued.

“You, on the other hand, shall not lay a hand on anyone in this castle, unless they attack first. Am I clear?” He spoke, his voice becoming firm. You tilted your head, and he decided to elaborate before you agreed.

“Everyone in my castle is under my protection. They are here either as a direct connection to me as my servants, are here for sanctuary, or are here for political endeavors. They are not to be harmed unless they attack you first, or attack humans on their own accord.”

He could only imagine the shit show that would follow if you killed one of the political guests for another coven. A part of him actually considered letting you loose on them, now that he thought about it, especially with those nasty guests that like to undermine him for dying to Belmonts…

That could be a thought for another day.

A look of understanding crossed your face, and you gave him another nod.

“That’s reasonable.”

It was more or less your idea, after all, but he was glad you were willing to agree to what he added on to it.

“Next, you said you own the property nearby, and could help keep other pesky humans away. I’ll hold you to that, because I may not attempt to kill humans for existing, but I do not wish to be bothered.”

Though he’d admit, he wondered if you would be willing to show him the land you own. Vlad was curious how a little cabin you owned.

What would it look like? Did you keep it clean? Messy? Was it large? Small?

Questions he could ask later, should he see you again and you agree to these terms.

You blinked, before nodding at him slowly.

“I mean… I’ll try and do what I can. Of course, If the government or church discovers you, they may try to override me, or send someone to attack from a different position. I can’t stop that, but… I will do what I can. If I can’t, and you haven’t done anything besides exist…”

Your eyes flickered to a nearby mirror, before looking back at him.

“Well, like you said, they’ll be dealt with. I can try to persuade but… well at that point, if they won’t hear me out… I can’t stop anything you do to someone trespassing.”

That was a fair compromise, he supposed. He had little idea how the human government worked in this day and age, let alone how entangled hunters were with them. Should anyone be foolish enough to challenge him, then he’ll make sure to deal with it.

But if you were at least willing to help him out, even a little, in regards to keeping humans away. Even if you most likely weren’t a fan of the idea of him exterminating any human that foolishly sauntered into his domain.

“Agreed. Now, another thing…”

Dracula tilted his head as he looked at you.

“I’d like to see you again after this, Little Belmont.”

Your eyes widened a degree, and your face grew slightly flushed from surprise.

“What-”

“What I mean is, you intrigue me. You fascinate me in ways I had long since forgotten, and I’d like to hope this simple compromise will simply be the beginning of a… commendable relationship.”

He felt his lips curl upward again at the look on your face. Clearly you weren’t expecting him to be so forward in asking to see you once more.

“Are… Are you sure? I uh, no offense, didn’t think you’d want a Belmont around after I leave… Or your castle’s inhabitants, since I know how some of them feel with me recovering here…”

Oh, how you had no idea how much he wanted to see you again. Vlad knew his time with you now was short, and his old heart was beginning to pound in his chest at the possibility of this little meeting actually working out.

He had to see you again. One way or another.

“I am sure. You will soon find that I don’t say things I don’t mean without reason, especially in company I like.”

He wished he had a camera, it was clear you weren’t quite used to subtle compliments. Or perhaps there was more to it?

Dracula could think more on that later.

Gently, he held out a hand to shake.

“What do you say, Little Belmont? Are these terms agreeable?”

Eyes flickering between him and his hand, you held out a hand, before hesitating.

“Okay… On one condition.” Dracula raised an eyebrow, but was curious nonetheless.

“Name it.”

After a reluctant pause, you spoke up.

“It can’t be this easy.” You began, though quickly continued when you saw his face fall.

“When I say that, I’m not referring to you. I mean our circumstances. I worry something might come up that would be… disruptive to this ‘peace’. I propose that we at least try to talk about something before acting rashly if one of us feels slighted, or if the other may have broken the agreement without realizing it.”

Dracula had to give you credit, even while injured and under what must be an absurd amount of stress, you were managing to think ahead. Something a hunter no doubt had to be good at while on a hunt, so why wouldn’t it show in other areas as well?

Plus… It pleased him you were still being careful, critically aware of your situation instead of blindingly agreeing. You were no fool.

No doubt your mind was whirring with possibilities, ways he, or someone in his castle could try and trap you by these agreements. Those thoughts weren’t unfounded, at least involving his subjects.

He had no doubts there would be chaos when you started coming around for visits.

Even if he himself wouldn’t dare try and trap you by your own rules to invoke a battle, it still impressed him that you were cautious. There were too many conniving fools when it came to such politics, even now as he settled back in as King.

Vlad smiled.

“Very well, that is agreeable. Anything else?”

You were still hesitant, but after a moment, you reached forward, your smaller hand meeting his own.

“No, that will be all for now.”

With your warm hand clasped with his own, Dracula felt his body finally relax, and his gaze on you softened.

For now, things might finally start going his way.

Even if that meant his desires had morphed into something different than pure destruction. All he wanted was to learn more of you.

[arazialotis]

Get Him to the Con - Part 10

Pairing: Jensen × Reader

Word Count: About 6520

Story Summary: The reader stumbles into Jensen at her favorite bar, a very drunk Jensen. She soon realizes Jensen was booked for a con this weekend and has to be eight hours from town in only two.

Chapter Summary: Y/n visits Vancouver to see Jensen and, more importantly, to try to win Jared over.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Warnings: Always language. Grumpy Jared. After dinner, well, it gets NSFW 🌶️🌶️, 18+ Only

Although this is an RPF, these are fabricated characters and should not reflect back IRL. I intend no hate or ill wishes to him or his family. This is purely just for writing and wasting my time as a coping skill. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

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The black Escalade wove through the Vancouver traffic, the sun beating down, melting the piles of slushy remnants from the first snow. What should have been an eagerly anticipated moment for your arrival was tense. Behind the wheel, Jensen was trying to be the bridge between you and his best friend.

“Lighten up, man. Y/n’s really excited to be out here again and wants nothing more than to hang out and cook us a nice meal.” Jensen pleaded your case.

He, in fact, suggested pizza on the risk of jetlag, but you had insisted, falling back onto the age-old idiom ‘the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.’ You already had one of their hearts, and you were convinced you could make Jared warm up to you, too, if only he saw you as who you were and not as a clingy fangirl. Yet you felt that rift growing every time you saw him. And the last thing you wanted was for Jensen to be caught in the middle.

“Would you try to like her? For me? Please.” Jensen nearly begged when Jared didn’t respond.

At least he was in the car, though Jensen didn’t give him a choice, with this outing as a pretense of drinks after work.

Jensen tried one more time, fed up with Jared’s stubbornness. “At least act nice.”

That got his attention. “Act nice? I’ll play nice if she does.” The accusation hanging heaving.

Jensen furrowed his brow. “Y/n doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.” Okay, you had a bit of a temper, were known to hold a grudge, and had a smart mouth, but Jared didn’t need to know that.

Jared scoffed. “Last time she came out, she literally laughed and criticized me for overacting.”

Jensen’s confusion grew, trying to remember the last time you came out. Then, the realization hit him as the three of you watched the latest episode together in another futile attempt for Jensen to foster peace.

Despite the animosity, Jensen couldn’t help but chuckle. “No, she laughed at a scene and apologized immediately, saying it was hard to take the show seriously now that she knows us. And I said that wasn’t it; it’s probably because you took your acting lessons from Bruce Campbell." His tongue peeked out between his teeth as he attempted and failed to control another giggle, still quite proud of the slight.

“It was a serious scene. I was acting my heart out.” Jared stressed. “You had just gotten back from hell.”

Jensen lost the smile. “In her defense, it does lose its impactfulness after the 17th time.”

“Whatever, man.” Jared pouted, looking out the window.

Jensen rolled his eyes and prayed to any god that would listen. “Would it make you feel better if we watch Devour together after dinner? Then we’ll just laugh at me.”

Jared said nothing, not taking the bait. The clicking of the blinker filled the silence as Jensen waited to turn toward the arrival gates. Jared ran his fingers through his hair as Jensen pursed his lips together, trying to think of something, anything. The light turned green.

“I don’t even know why I am here. Y/n has, like, what, two full days out here? You should be spending it together without having to worry about me third-wheeling. I’m sure there are other things that you would prefer to occupy time you don’t get over Zoom.” Jared rambled out loud.

Jensen’s eyes tightly blinked shut momentarily as he began seeking out an open spot at the curb. Jared was right, of course, only on account of his last thought, but he wouldn’t be at peace until he had the blessing of his best friend. Jensen inhaled through his nose, held his breath, and released through his mouth.

“It is important to me that you and Y/n find some common ground. If you gave her even the slightest chance, I’m positive you would start to like her.” He said calmly as he put the car into park.

“Why does it matter so much to you if I like her?” Jared pushed. To him, you were still only a rebound after Elena.

And then it hit him. Maybe Jared’s denial of his true fear of being replaced had come true.

“Because she’s my best friend and I love her!” He declared and then laughed through the shock.

It was the first time he had admitted it out loud. The silence was palpable as both men processed the weight of the words. Jensen wasn’t one to open up lightly. He felt deeply, but he was always careful with those emotions, cautious even. It had taken nearly two years before he said the same to Elena. Another before they started looking at rings. Maybe because it was one of the first serious relationships he had since the start of his career. The depth and commitment he had felt with her made the falling out that much more disastrous. He had fortified his walls to be higher and more impenetrable. Then you came out of nowhere and shattered everything he thought he knew about himself. He felt like a caged bird learning for the first time how to spread its wings, to feel the breeze on its face, and the warmth of the sun. With you, he felt free.

Jared’s eyes darted back and forth as if reading his thoughts, finding the right response. Jensen squeezed the steering wheel and nodded his head. “I love her.” He said again, the realization hitting him, fully knowing it was true. But then the terror of the statement hit him. The car door shuttered open, and the catapult of a backpack rolling over the seatbench crashing at the other end pulled Jared from his thoughts as you entered the car.

“Hiya!” You squeaked.

You pulled the door close with a thud and clicked on your seatbelt. You cleared your throat, looking up, momentarily afraid you jumped in the wrong car. But it was Jensen and Jared, alright. Jensen stared directly ahead, his face as white as if seeing a ghost. Jared scrutinized his friend. You sank back in your seat. You had thrown yourself directly into something.

Jared turned in his seat, blinking rapidly and addressing you in the most amiable tone he had ever taken with you. “Hi Y/n. Um, would you mind giving us a minute?”

Oh, you had definitely walked into something. It took you a minute to process this, but then you began fumbling with the seatbelt, “Yeah. Yeah. Of course.” And vacated the Escalade as fast as possible.

Jared’s brow furrowed, and he leaned closer to a whisper as you aimlessly knocked your fists together outside on the sidewalk. “You love her?”

He chuckled again and ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I really do.”

Jared knew he should be happy for Jensen, knew they should be celebrating this, offering congratulations, but all he felt was dread.

“Have you told her?” Jared asked.

“Nah, you’re the first to know.” Jensen clapped Jared on the shoulder. “I want the moment to be right, you know. I want to be able to remember it for a long time.”

Jared thought about faking it, but he had to be real with Jensen. “You don’t know her.”

That set him off. “Why are you so set against her? Why can’t you be happy for me? I do know her. I’ve known her for seven months, been dating her for 4 of those, and talk to her almost daily.” His voice went up an octave higher. “I don’t know why I have to keep justifying my choices to you, man? When will it ever be good enough for you?”

Jared didn’t take the bait. “But you don’t know her. How can you truly? You haven’t met her friends or her family, and it sounds like her mom is a real piece of work. Are you ready to deal with that?”

Outside the car, airport security approached you. Both boys could tell from your over-exaggerated gestures that you were attempting to buy them more time.

Jared continued. “And no offense, but she isn’t spotlight material.”

“Fuck you.” Jensen's blood boiled over. He was about to leave the car to find another way to get back into the city. At that moment, he never wanted to see Jared again.

“Come on. Give me a break. You know I didn’t mean it like that.” Though he kind of did. “All I’m saying is that if you truly are that committed to her, that this isn’t some fling, you should think about preparing her for the kind of attention it will warrant. The good, the bad, and the ugly. That kind of stress and attention can ruin a person.”

Jensen didn’t respond but wrung his hands on the steering wheel. There was a knock on the window.

“Please, know I’m just trying to look out for you,” Jared whispered as he began rolling down the window.

“Nobody asked you to.” Jensen snipped back before the security guard started to chew them out.

As the boys were on the receiving end of a very stern lecture, you slipped as quietly as possible into the back seat to avoid further angering or endangering yourself with security. Yes, spending a night in jail was on your bucket list, but this is not what you had in mind.

“Sorry, officer,” Jensen ended a profuse apology before hightailing it out of there.

You weren’t sure exactly what you missed, but the air hung thick with tension. Nobody spoke. There was only the hum of tires on the road. It hit you that Jensen never even acknowledged you. You fiddled with a loose stitch on the seat in front of you.

After five minutes and starting to get out of airport traffic, you couldn’t handle it anymore. “So…” You drew the word out, unsure how to break into a conversation.

Jensen blinked, realizing you had no reason to be as upset as him and that it was unfair to suffer from their drama, especially when you were not privy to it.

He cleared his throat. “I got the groceries you requested delivered.” However, he didn’t know how the three of you would sit through a dinner together.

“Oh, good! I’m starving. Airport food never really hits the spot, but the Cajun snack mix does kinda slap.” You rambled, trying for anything to get them talking.

They both hmmed in response. You were about to ask them about their favorite airport snack, but thank the gods, it was Jared who surprisingly saved you.

“What’s for dinner then?” He was trying. He had fucked up. He knew it. This was how he could try to make amends with Jensen.

You beamed, having perfectly planned it out, trying to finally win Jared over to your side. “We’ll start with a strawberry, basil, and balsamic whipped burrata and roasted bone marrow. Then, a small lemon watercress-radicchio salad for a palate cleanser before moving on to a butter-basted ribeye accompanied by potatoes au gratin and crispy brussel sprouts with mustard seeds and pomegranate.”

Jared’s stomach rumbled. Goddammit, that sounded good.

“And, I was considering a dessert, but Jensen said I already had enough going on, and because baking isn’t my strong suit, I let him handle the rest.” You explained. “You did handle the rest, didn’t you?”

Jensen's anger melted a little. With a smirk, he said, “Yeah, a tub of vanilla ice cream.”

Your heart dropped. “Stop.” There was a glint of teasing in his eyes as he looked at you through the rearview mirror, but the rest of his face remained deadpan. You couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. “Okay, I guess I could repropose what I had in mind for the burrata, and if you have sugar on hand and something salty and crunchy, we could do a quick brittle. Oooh, maybe the cajun snack mix. Or perhaps…”

“Y/n! I’m messing with you. I have an assortment ordered from Thomas Haas.” He winked at you in the mirror.

Thomas Haas meant little to you, but anything would be better than a tub of ice cream. Okay, a tub of ice cream had its time and place, but not when you were working so hard to impress Jared. Still, you eyed Jensen skeptically, unsure if it would measure up.

“Some of the best in Vancouver,” Jared assured. “I’m sure it will compliment your dinner perfectly. I can’t wait. It all sounds very delicious.”

“Hmm.” You looked between the two of them.

There were still too many questions unanswered. What were they talking about before you arrived? Could you trust either of them to select a quality dessert or would you have to resort to brittle anyways? Were you now on a no-fly list due to the tiff with the security guard? When could you get Jensen alone (this stern look painted on his face was doing things you couldn’t control)? But most importantly, why was Jared acting so nice?

“I’ve had bone marrow before, but only in restaurants,” Jared continued. “I didn’t realize it could be done at home.”

“Oh yeah, it’s actually super simple if you can find a good butcher.” You explained.

Jensen interjected. “Don’t let her fool you. She’s been binging The Bear, and now her only goal is to become an Iron Chef.”

You smirked, impressed he even knew what an Iron Chef was. Aside from eating food, anything kitchen-related was the furthest on his interest list. You were rubbing off on him.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “It’s the easiest cheat code appetizer if you want to impress someone. You toast some bread, toss the marrow in the oven for twenty minutes, and add a few accouterments to a serving board. And bam, done.”

Jared laughed, actually laughed. “I’m sure you are underselling yourself. From what Jensen has told me, you are an excellent cook. I can’t wait to see it all come together.”

Jensen glared at Jared out of the side of his eye, the anger resurfacing. He was laying it on thick. Too thick.

You squinted, eyes darting back and forth between them. This wasn’t going to plan. You were supposed to cook the food and then become BFFs with Jared. This was happening too quickly. But perhaps you should take it for what it was. Maybe you had stuck around long enough for him to finally accept you. Or Jensen had talked you up enough. Whatever the reason, you had to stop ruminating on it. All you had to do was get through dinner. Perhaps after, you could corner Jensen into an explanation.

It wasn’t long until you pulled into the parking garage adjoined to the condos. Jensen popped the trunk, surprised to find it empty.

“Where’s your luggage?” He asked, oblivious as his conversation with Jared required most of his mental capacity.

You held up your backpack as a response, and his brow furrowed with confusion.

“What’s wrong? Are you ill?” He pestered, placing the back of his hand against your forehead.

“Shut up.” You snipped and then explained. “I’m practicing becoming a lighter packer.” You lowered your voice to a whisper. “Besides, I recall not needing much clothing last visit.”

Jensen raised his eyebrows, reminiscing, and then nuzzled his nose into your neck in anticipation of this weekend. Jared, having overheard, rolled his eyes and fought a gag. You laughed as Jensen pulled away, his eyelashes tickling your cheeks. And Jared plastered on his fake smile yet again.

“Let’s get upstairs,” He said. “I’m starving.”

-----

Dinner was coming along nicely. You were basting the last of the steaks in butter, and the boys were watching the end of a game in the living room. The thoroughly cleaned plates on the coffee table were the only lingering evidence that there had been appetizers. You snuck a bit here and there, but it was mostly to keep the two of them from sniffing around the kitchen.

With a final splash of liquid, the steak was done—perfect caramelization and crust. Now, the potatoes. You checked the timer—ten minutes, enough time for the steak to rest. And the Brussels? Shit. You scooped the last of them out of the oil in the nick of time. You generously salted them and would add the pomegranate molasses after plating. Satisfied with how it was all wrapping up, you whipped Jensen’s once pristinely white dish towel over your shoulder. There was a shuffling behind you as you began cleaning what you could.

“Need any help?” Jensen asked.

You were about to shoo him out when you heard the scrape of a knife. You snapped your head around to catch him red-handed. He stared at you like a deer in the headlights, the end of one steak pinched between his fingers and the knife hovering millimeters above. You scowled, and Jensen slowly set the knife down, held his hands in surrender, and backed up.

Your scowl melted into a smile. “A couple of minutes longer. If you’d like to help, you can set the table.”

He straightened. “Yes, chef.”

You playfully stuck out your tongue and whipped the dish towel in his direction, earning an exaggerated yelp.

Finally, after a few minutes passed, you brought the final plate to the table and scooched in. Jensen didn’t hesitate and dove in.

With a full mouth, he mumbled, “If this tastes as good as it…” Then it hit him, and his eyes rolled back in pure delight. “Oh god.”

Jared went in a little slower, cutting his steak and bringing it past his lips. He took several testing bites and paused, glaring at you. He was actually glaring at you. Dropping the act, he’d kept up all night, pissed at how good it tasted. He knew what tonight had been about. About you trying to butter him up, quite literally with butter braised steak. And god dammit. It was a good steak. And he was mad about it.

“Fuck.” Jared cursed aloud, snapping your and Jensen’s attention to him. “Fuck, that’s good.”

You smiled sheepishly, looking down at your plate. “I can’t say I’ve had that reaction before. Not quite as orgasmic as I was hoping for, maybe if I adjusted the…” Your face went pale, realizing the last part was out loud.

Jensen snorted, and Jared even cracked a smirk.

“So, um,” You attempted a recovery. “How was work this week?”

A few minutes of silence passed as Jensen gave Jared a chance to answer. When he didn't and caught him glaring again, Jensen kicked his shin under the table, prompting him further.

Jared grunted. “Well, hours weren't as shitty as usual.”

“Cause Collins hasn't been around.” Jensen teasingly interjected.

Jared chuckled. “Yeah, not as many retakes. Finally, it feels like we're making some progress this season.”

You nodded. The three of you looked back and forth, trying to gauge whether it was appropriate to continue the conversation or return to eating.

“What about you?” Jared coughed before going in for another bite.

“Same old.” You simply stated.

Silverware scraped against plates. A clock ticked in the living room. The sounds of the city rose from the streets. You dabbed the corner of your mouth with the black cloth napkin, then considered it. You’d be willing to bet good money this was the first time Jensen ever pulled them out.

Jensen tried again to spark the conversation again. “Should we talk Vegas?”

Your eyes lit up excitedly, ready to discuss a plan and details.

“So, about that,” Jared started. Jensen didn’t hide his scowl, but Jared's eyes widened, challenging him. “It’s not often we get that kind of time off work, and I’m going to meet Gen in Austin.”

Ah, so dinner wasn’t the wondrous miracle you hoped it would be. You cursed yourself for not trying a Wellington. Jensen reached under the table to graze your thigh, trying to communicate that this had nothing to do with you.

“Why doesn’t she join us?” Jensen shrewdly offered.

Jared’s lips formed a thin line before countering. “Actually, we are going to use the time to do some house hunting.” He hesitated for a minute. “We’ve started talking about, um, the next steps in starting our family.”

Kids? Oh god, Jensen was going to be an uncle. He was already an uncle to Harper’s clan, but this was Jared. All the tension momentarily evaporated as you both offered your excitement and congratulations.

“Yeah, our current setup isn’t going to cut it. We need more space, a yard.” Jared explained. “Y/n, are you interested in kids?”

Jensen choked on the last piece of steak, recovering with a swig of wine. The temporary peace was broken yet again.

“Oh, um.” You stammered, trying to think of a response. Every couple (that was serious, that is) had to come across this question. You just didn’t picture you were there yet with Jensen. And you didn’t picture the conversation would come about this way. “Well, I’ve recently only managed to keep a house plant alive, so maybe the next step is like a cat or something before moving onto a…” You gulped. “A child.”

“Hmm. So you haven’t given it much thought?” He clarified.

“I mean,” Heat was rising to your cheeks. “It might not be my first choice, looking after a little drooling, monstrous carbon copy. Don’t get me wrong, I love being Aunt Y/n to my niece but one of my own. It’s a lot of responsibility and sacrifice and time and money… I don’t know. There’s a lot of benefits, too, I’m sure. You and Gen will be fantastic parents!”

“Interesting.” Jared ignored your last comment. “Wasn’t it in Colorado that you said you’d have Jensen’s babies? Or maybe that’s changed after you got to know him more.” He chuckled a bit, trying to conceal it as a joke.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Jensen attempted to shut this down.

“No, I never actually said that.” You talked over him and defended yourself. “Casey, a fan, although more than well-meaning, took several liberties that day. A decision that big should require careful consideration rather than something silly like initial attraction or blind devotion, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Absolutely,” he responded sincerely. “Such as your partner’s thoughts on the issue. Gen and I knew immediately that growing our family was an intention for our relationship. Jensen, you’ve always wanted kids, haven’t you?”

If looks could kill, Jared would currently be en route to the nearest morgue. But then he caught a glance at your wide, curious eyes awaiting an answer. There’s no way he would lie about this. Yet, this was the first time the subject of the long-term future had been broached. He swallowed the lump in his throat with another dose of wine, then threw his napkin on his plate.

“I have always seen my future with one or two kiddos running around.” He spoke softly and slowly. “But if my partner wasn’t on board, there’s no way I’d force that upon them. The two of us would always come first.”

Jared raised his eyebrows and nodded, staying silent as he finished his last bite.

You filled the silence instead, unable to handle the pause in conversation. “Similarly, I would never want to deny my future partner if that was something that was really important to them.”

Jensen closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. This wasn’t a relationship-ending kind of conversation. You did share common ground. And it was each other.

“That seems like a lot of sacrifice.” Jared circled back to the earlier point.

“But what is love?” You asked back.

Jensen whined a high-pitched melody under his breath, “Baby, don’t hurt me,” so over this conversation.

But Jared and you were beyond dialed in.

“You want to define that here, tonight?” Jared pushed. “Scholars, philosophers, religions; they’ve been trying to do that since the dawn of humanity.”

“Many of which have brought it back to sacrifice.”

“And many of which have used that ideal to perpetuate cycles of horrendous abuse.”

You pushed your plate aside, needing the space to talk with your hands. “I’m not denying that. But if you are talking on an individual level about two people in love outside of an institution, there are many components, but sacrifice is usually one of them.”

“So you’re arguing you shouldn’t be happy for the sake of the other person?”

“I’m arguing,” You strained. “Both people in the relationship sacrifice for each other, and not only are they happy to do so, but it is a privilege. You lift each other up and balance the other, and there is a net gain rather than elevating one over the other, becoming nothing more than a mere doormat. Trust me, I’ve been around enough narcissists to understand that never ends well.”

“So that’s your conclusion: love is sacrifice?” Jared asked.

Was he trying to trap you? “Like I said, it’s a component. But at the end of the day, I’d say love is a choice. There’s those initial feelings of lust and excitement and newness that will eventually fade away. And you’ll get on each other’s nerves, and there’ll be tears and fighting, and hell, we all get old, and gravity always wins. There’ll be moments where you have to choose. In fact, there’ll probably be moments where you choose not to. At the end of the day, I’d like to end up with someone who is my best friend above all else because you’ll have that to fall back on when it's hard to love.”

Jared didn’t say it contradictory but as a compliment to your point. “Friendship is its own kind of love.” He looked to Jensen apologetically.

“Very true.” You agreed. “What do you think, Jensen?”

Jensen sighed and shook his head. He stood up to start clearing the table. “It’s a mystery. Sometimes love is just love.”

You began stacking the dishes, bringing them to the kitchen as well. “It defies explanation, logic even.” You added.

Jared grabbed the bottle of wine, refilled glasses, and brought the fresh pour to you. “And definition. It’s the ultimate expression of humanity, isn’t it? To wrestle with complex concepts.”

You chuckled, taking a sip. “I guess that’s based on how you define humanity.”

Jared leaned against the counter. “Well…”

Jensen snapped up from putting plates in the dishwasher. “How about a movie?”

Jared lost his train of thought. “I have kind of been in the mood for The Matrix.”

You beamed. Perhaps this disaster of a night wasn’t ruined after all. It would be the perfect opportunity to bring up simulation theory with Jared. From what Jensen told you, Jared loved debating and theorizing over abstract topics. It would be the perfect foot in. Maybe you could impress him after all.

Jensen caught the mischievous look in your eye. He shook his head. “Don’t…”

But you beat him to it. “That sounds perfect!”

---

Later that night, hours after discussing perceived reality, you hovered over the kitchen sink, scrubbing down the remaining mess. Jared was long gone but thanked you for a pleasant evening. Jensen came up behind you, stripped down to his undershirt and briefs. He pulled your waist to his, wrapping his grasp around your hips, and nuzzled closer.

“Come to bed.” He whispered into your neck.

You half-moaned, leaning into his touch. “I just have a few more.”

“That’s what the dishwasher is for.” He said.

You paused and stiffened. “And ruin the finish on this cast iron? You monster.” Jensen gave a light chuckle before closing his eyes against your skin as you continued. “How do you think tonight went?”

He sighed, chewing it over.

“I know.” You agreed. “I should have done the Wellington.” That earned you a pinch to the side. You yelped. “Not when I’m washing the knives!”

“Honestly,” Jensen started. “I don’t know what to think.”

You took a deep gulp and turned off the faucet before turning to face him. You searched his eyes and ran your pruned thumb against his cheek.

“I don’t want to come between you two.” You strained.

He took your hand and his and glided your knuckles across his lips.

“You’re not.” He whispered.

Your glare pierced him.

Jensen continued. “He’s coming around, albeit slowly.” He added as your gaze held, “I promise.”

Your breath released, and the tension left your body, too tired to challenge him further.

“Come on, off to bed.” He instructed.

But you turned around and yawned, “Only a few more.”

Suddenly, you were swooped up and being carried away from the kitchen. “The rest can wait.”

You hit the mattress, immediately sinking into the plush duvet and feathered pillows. Jensen followed, his warmth and weight wrapping around you. The day's weight full of travel, cooking, cleaning, debating, and worrying all hit you instantly. You closed your eyes, darkness quickly closing in. Yet you couldn’t ignore the lips peppering slow, soft kisses at the edge of your navel.

“Mmmm. Jensen, I’m tired.” You moaned over the response your body had to his touch. His fingers danced along the hem of your shirt, trailing higher. Between kisses, he breathed. “You won’t have to do a thing.”

You popped an eye open and raised an eyebrow, looking down at him through the darkness. The city lights illuminated his features. There was a feral glow in his eyes, waiting for that sweet, sweet permission he longed to hear.

“Are you proposing to use me?” You questioned, rubbing your thighs tighter, seeking pressure to alleviate the quickly growing need.

And he knew it, too. A smirk that would impress even the devil crossed his lips. “That depends,” He brought his hand from your ribs, prying your thighs apart, and you whined in response. “Would you like to be used?”

You nodded even though you could barely keep your eyes open, “Very much.”

He made quick work of your clothing, your lazy attempts to help only impeding the process. The cold air of the condo brushed over your skin, providing temporary alertness as your hair rose and you shivered in response. His hands roamed over you, chasing away the chill, replacing the sharpness with tenderness.

Even as you wrestled sleep from taking you, eyes fluttering close, you could feel his eyes on you. From day one, he made it his mission to study you; taking note of every sharp inhale, every squirm, every crease of the brow. He had been a quick and eager student. His hand gently encouraged your legs apart, his hand roving over your core, parting your very soul as he found his mark. Satisfied, his eyes closed, and his head rested against your chest as he let instinct take over.

Dancing on the edge of sleep yet pulled to the waking world by pleasure, your brain couldn’t comprehend thoughts. The worries of the day, the countless insecurities, the what-ifs, they all melted from your mind. The only thing you knew was touch. It was the only constant. The concept of time faded, and at some point unbeknownst to you, fingers had been replaced with lips.

Incoherent words praised his practiced tongue as thoughts attempted and failed to form meaning. Your hand wound through his hair, gripping to hold him in place as you rocked your hips forward. His arms hooked under your legs, lifting you higher, spreading you farther as he lost his need for air. His only purpose in consuming you.

“Jensen.” You mewled his name as a curse. “Please. God, please.”

Teeth scraped against soft flesh, sending you soaring off that endless cliff. You cried out, a slew of fractured speech. Jensen idly continued as you floated back down to reality. Only as breath returned, hungry for air, did he stop, attempting to catch some himself.

“Turn over,” He instructed through the shallow pants. “On your knees.”

You whined, rubbing your face with your palm. “You said I wouldn’t have to do anything.”

He nipped at your inner thigh. “Brat.”

You lazily smiled until he grabbed your sides and flipped you over himself. That woke you up, but only momentarily as he shuffled behind you, allowing you a minute to bury your head deeper into the pillow.

“Oh, I don’t think so, sweetheart.”

An arm snaked under your diaphragm, and you lost your breath as he pulled you up to a kneel, pinning you against his bare, hard flesh. His hands roamed your curves, already mapped in his mind, desperate to bring to fruition what he had imaged during the month apart. A hand came to your throat, gently squeezing, as he tilted it to the side.

“Color?” He cooed into your ear.

You only moaned, too tired for words, grinding your hips back into him, hoping it would prompt this process further along.

“Use your words.” He softly demanded.

“Green.” You placed a hand over his, encouraging him to squeeze harder. “So fucking green.”

He buried his mouth into the crook of your neck, claiming you, possessing you, undoing you. But two could play this game. With your free hand, you reached behind you, immediately claiming your prize. You stroked up and down his length, stopping at the apex and rolling your grasp.

“Fuck.” He indulged temporarily before taking your hand, guiding it to the top of the headboard.

Your other hand followed suit as he gripped your hips. You arched your back and swayed side to side, inviting him in or, at the very least, enticing him to hurry.

“Patience has never been your strong suit.” He playfully scolded.

As he knocked your knee with his own, spreading you apart further and lower, he bent down, planting long, deliberate kisses on the small of your back. Your eyes fluttered close yet again, your mind at war with your body, demanding sleep. He neared your entrance, testing at first, then surged forward, completely filling you. You cried out, sparks turning to flame as he flooded you. Over and over, he built pace, seeking his own high.

It was unlike anything you had ever known. Nothing existed outside of this claiming rhythm, outside of this mounting heat, outside of this ecstasy. Your mind was blank. Your mind was numb. He was the only thing you had ever known—the only thing you were created for.

His hand gripped your shoulder, arching you deeper, pulling you more flush against his hardness, hitting the deepest parts of you. Your curses and praise garbled together, moans became mute, and blinding pressure rose, threatening to break.

“Come on, Y/n,” Jensen said through ragged pants. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

“Jensen.” You cried, tears spilling over. “I can’t, I’m so tired.”

His grip left your shoulder and joined yours on the headboard, intertwining his fingers with yours as he drove into you over and over and over.

“Yes, you can.” He encouraged. “Tell me where.”

He adjusted, giving you time to assess the effectiveness.

And then, suddenly, “Ah, right there. Fuck, don’t fucking stop.” You squeezed your eyes shut.

He did as he was told, gritting his teeth together, fingers digging into your flesh as he held on. He waited and waited until he felt you close in around him, constricting, demanding he fall off that cliff with you into the deep pool of bright light. Your hands slid from the headboard as you collapsed back onto the mattress. Jensen fell with you, his weight trapping you.

It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. But eventually, you found your way to the surface again, taking a deep, shuttering breath. Jensen rolled off you onto his back. He stared up at the ceiling, breathing in and out, in and out. Sweat outlined his sculpted frame as he ran a hand through his tousled hair. When his heart finally settled, his eyes found yours, and he pulled you close.

You were no longer aware if you were sleeping or awake, but still, you said. “I think it is safe to say we can move ‘exhausted sex’ from the maybe category to any fucking time or day.”

He laughed and kissed your forehead. “Thank you.”

You groaned. “Oh please, let’s not start that again.”

“Fair.” He agreed and thought of something else to say. “You’ve ruined me.”

“I’ve ruined you?” You corrected. “Sir. You’ve gone and rendered the entirety of the male species inconsequential.”

“Okay,” He challenged, rubbing his eyes. “You can’t be that tired if you can spin that heap of bullcrap.”

You burrowed into the crook of his arm and closed your eyes before mumbling, “It's not bullcrap. You’ve ruined me too.”

His eyes darted back and forth in the darkness, contemplating everything you had said about love and god, even children. He looked back at you. Your breath had slowed and evened out. And he knew his epiphany remained true. His love for you was beyond his initial attraction, curiosity, or, frankly, his blue balls. He’d give it all up if you asked, find some office job, become a cat dad. And then it hit him why, and he chuckled, saving that thought for another day because now sleep was threatening him too, and he might not be thinking rationally.

He kissed your hair and whispered, testing it out loud. “I love you.” A cold, electric shiver ran throughout his being.

He froze as you stirred. “Hmm?”

He chuckled. “What would you think about going public?”

You shot up, fully conscious. Fully alert. Your brow furrowed, trying to comprehend.

“Aren’t we already public? You did ask me out at a convention?”

He also sat up, rubbing his hands through his hair to stir further energy.

“Well, kind of. People know I’m dating, but only a select few know who.” He explained trying to assess your emotions at the same time. “We’ve done a pretty good job keeping a wrap on your identity.”

“Probably ‘cause your ballcap and sunglasses are such a convincing disguise, Clark Kent.” You teased.

“Smartass,” he grumbled. “Probably more likely because I have a good manager and an even better team right now who locked down and scrubbed your social media.” He waited for you and added, “If you don’t want to…”

“No, that’s not it.” You stopped him. “I… Can I think it over?”

“Of course. Take all the time you need; there’s no rush.” He assured.

“I’ll have to talk to some people beforehand. Friends, coworkers, family.” You gritted your teeth. “My mom, she… Well, she might make things difficult.”

“Hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up so late. We can sleep on it and talk to the team tomorrow. They’ll answer any questions you have and maybe provide some guidance on the hard things.” He bent down to look into your eyes. “Okay?”

You nodded in response.

“Let’s get some rest, yeah?” He encouraged again and pulled you down against him.

But how the fuck were you supposed to sleep now? Your whole world could change overnight. And you weren’t sure you were ready for it.

---

TAGS:

Everything Jackles: @akshi8278

GHTTC: @maggiegirl17 @foxyjwls007 @djs8891 @deans-spinster-witch @tmb510 @ghostofjoharvelle @ellen-reincarnated1967 @deansgirl79 @chriszgirl92

(Always feel free to ask to be added or removed (I won't be offended))

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Then There Was You ❤️

Summary; Eddie's ex left him heartbroken and you were there to pick up the pieces.

Eddie should be happy that Jessie is back but there's you, you who put the pieces of his broken heart back together, who made him smile on his worst days.

(This is just a lil fic to get me back into the swing of writing)

Warnings; Angst, heartache, fluff, minors dni

Likes or reblogs are much appreciated ❤️

I don't give anyone permission to copy, reuse or repost my work.

❤️❤️

Eddie is smiling as you wake up, his fingers gently caressing your hair as you curl into his chest.

Mornings have been like this for a while, lazy and full of sleepy kisses, affection and the urge to do nothing but lay with each other, limbs entwined as the sun rises.

It's bad though... Bad because you can't risk falling even more for Eddie than you already have.

This was just meant to be sex between the two of you, meaningless, mindblowing sex to take Eddie's mind off his heartache from his ex leaving him.

Jessie had broken Eddie's heart two months ago by calling him a loser, good for nothing and driving away with Josh Harris in tow.

"He's actually making something of his life Munson, not working in a shitty garage and being a total loser"

In truth you had never liked Jessie at any point of the almost nine months she had been dating Eddie, she was stone cold but Eddie was too lovesick to see it.

Until it was too late. Then he came to yours a few nights after you left and you both got a little bit drunk and slept together.

It was the best sex you'd ever had and before both of you knew it the two of you were meeting up every chance you could.

Most of the night was about sex but there was lots of talking too, Eddie opening up to you and you to him, a lot of laughter shared and good times.

Two months down the line and pesky feelings had took root, you were hopelessly in love with Eddie.

There was this nagging feeling though that at some point Jessie would swan right back into Eddie's life, begging for forgiveness.

As for as you knew Eddie still loved her though you were too scared to ask and hear the answer for real.

"Hey, sleepyhead. How's my girl?" my girl him saying that makes you giddy even though you tell yourself not to get your hopes too high that he feels the same.

"Hmm, too early. Need kisses" he grins and dips down to kiss you.

"With fucking pleasure milady" you giggle as his stubble tickles your neck, he stops kissing you for a second and stares at you, his expression sweet, full of tenderness.

"You're so beautiful" he sighs and those three words make your heart beat like crazy.

"Right back atcha handsome" his cheeks turn pink and he hides his face in your hair, it's so cute and the morning only gets sweeter as you stay in bed kissing and cuddling.

It's a beautiful morning, you and Eddie in your own little bubble. You should have known it wouldn't last...

❤️

"Eddie, the pasta will get cold" you giggle as he kisses you, one hand caressing your face while the other sneakily grabs your ass.

"Wanna keep kissing you princess" he pouts and you giggle leaving closer to him as your lips capture his and he sighs in contentment.

Unfortunately, as you are getting a little hot and heavy there's a knock at the door.

"Bet that is Dustin, you know he loves your pasta dinners" you grin at Eddie and rush to open the door.

It's not Dustin, no who it is makes your heart sink.

Jessie is standing outside and smiles at Eddie when she sees him, she rushes over and hugs him and he stands shockas at she kisses his cheek and apologises.

"I'm so sorry honey, what I said was out of line, I never should have left. You're my Eddie bear and I've missed you". The sight of her hugging him makes you go cold, she's back and you know Eddie must be thrilled, angry yes but thrilled she came back to him.

She turns to you.

"Oh it's you" she huffs and Eddie goes to respond but you get there first.

"I should go. Leave you two to talk" Eddie shakes his head.

"Wait, sweetheart, you don't have to go" The option is to stay and witness their reunion which will inevitably turn loved up and you don't think your heart can handle it.

"You both need to talk" you repeat and grab your jacket, hiding your tears until your out the door.

Jessie is back and Eddie will be so happy, the tears fall down quickly and you wipe them away, hurrying to your car and heading home.

❤️

The next night Robin takes you to The Hideout and you're trying your very best to not fall apart, she knows all about Eddie and has spent the last ten minutes glaring at him.

Unbeknownst to you he's spent the last twenty sneaking glances at you and longing looks but Robin is too irate to notice that.

"It's fine Robin, I knew it was a no strings attached gig" she huffs.

"You're heartbroken so it wasn't that for you was it? You get tossed aside because the bitch is back" at this point Eddie walks up to you and Robin looks set to cuss him out so you manoeuvre Eddie away from her wrath.

"Hey," he runs his hand through his hair.

"I didn't expect her to come back," he tells you honestly and you know that's true but it's always been an eventuality that you knew could happen, that you dreaded.

"I bet you're happy though, deep down. Sure she apologised and stuff" he sighs.

"She did, wanted to pick things up where they left off. I... I slept on the couch and have had barely any sleep, just a lot of shit rattling in my mind"

Eddie looks pained at that moment, reaching out to you but looking so unsure of what to say so you decide to just cut to the chase.

"Look, It's okay, I always knew she would come back Eddie, this was just fun right?" you try to portray that you're aloof and that your heart isn't breaking but the emotions threaten to spill over.

"Right..." Eddie murmurs and you smile, it feels so fake and you wonder if he can see right through it but Jessie is soon beside Eddie and it hurts your already sore heart.

"Eddie, your friend is here again" she sounds so unenthused and you would love nothing more than to tell her a few home truths but you can't get the words out.

"I'll see you around Munson" You smile weakly and he swallows, big brown eyes gazing at you, full of many emotions, something you can't place.

"See you around? Maybe tomorrow we could... You cut him off as Jessie glares at him, hanging off his arm like a limpet.

"I'll probably be busy for a little while, work is hectic so maybe in a couple of weeks or something?"

"Weeks" he mumbles and you think you hear pain in his voice but dismiss it. You were just a fuck buddy nothing more, you were just getting your hopes up for nothing.

"Goodbye Eddie," you tell him and gently kiss his cheek. You feel his eyes on you as you go and resist every urge to look back at him.

Once you're gone Eddie feels a hollowness in his chest, like someone carved out his heart and stomped on it.

Jessie is fluttering around him and he stares at her feeling fury build inside of him.

"Why are you here?" she stops talking at that moment and looks at him stunned.

"Excuse me?" she demands.

"Why are you here? You swan back into my life like you didn't decide the grass was greener on fucking Josh Harris's side, like you didn't call me a loser and shit. Make me feel like nothing"

She looks lost for words, mouthing wordlessly.

"It was a mistake" he snorts.

"After two months you realise it was a mistake? What shit didn't work out with Josh so Eddie is a good ol back up huh?" her guilty expression gives it away.

"Unbelievable. I'm right aren't I?" she bites her lip.

"Come on Eddie. I apologised, I still love you" he shakes his head, no she loves that he was smitten for her, that she thought he would be easily manipulated.

"No, you don't, I loved you once yeah but it doesn't compare even a fraction to what I feel for... His eyes widen and her expression turns thunderous.

"For who? Yn? Are you fucking kidding me?" her anger makes him even more annoyed.

"You have no right to be pissed. You left and she was amazing, fucking amazing, at first it was just casual, just sex between us but I spent more time with her and yeah I fell in love with her, I love her" It's the first time he's said it out loud and it feels so good to let out.

"I love her," he says again and smiles then immediately face palms. Shit! He loved you bit he had no idea how you felt, you said it was just casual but he knows you so well, you were hiding your emotions.

Because you thought he still loved Jessie, he groans and turns to Jessie, her hand is on her hips and she looks pissed.

"I love her. You left and let's face it, we were never a good match anyway were we? We're done, Jessie, for good. Go find some other poor dickhead to make your bitch instead yeah?" he leaves her standing there and is determined to see you.

❤️

The urge to find Jessie and cuss her out for hurting Eddie is strong, however you tamper that down with some ice cream and a cocktail.

Eddie was a big boy, if he wanted to give Jessie another chance then it was up to him, even though it was killing you inside you would just have to deal with it.

Move on... the despair threatens to overwhelm you again so you decide to watch a movie, not a rom com, something spooky and scary, it occurs to you tonight would be movie night for you and Eddie and it sours your mood again.

Robin insisted you tell him how you feel but you didn't see what good that would do. It would just make Eddie more confused than he already was.

Lightning flashes in the sky, thunder rumbles as rain pelts down on the windows outside, and the storm threatening to hit Hawkins had finally begun.

Listening to the rain was calming to you, in fact, you had almost nodded off when the lights began to flicker erratically before going out completely.

You sure hoped you could find some candles stat, just as you were in the process of lighting a bunch of them your doorbell rings.

Probably Robin.

"Robin? Did you forget your keys again?" you open the door and Eddie is standing soaked to the bone, holding a now extinguished candle.

"Uh, the storm is crazy huh?" you pull him inside, filled with worry.

"You'll catch your death out there Eddie. Could have waited until morning to come you know?" he shakes his head.

"This couldn't wait. I had to see you" he shrugs of his jacket and places the candle on the table.

"Where's Jessie?" you ask even know you're not sure if you even want to know.

He shrugs. ''Don't know, don't care princess" his attitude makes you do a double take.

"I don't understand. This is what you wanted for her to come back? You love her?" his attitude was confusing you, why wasn't he happy.

"I did want her to come back. For a little while it's all I wanted. Then it faded and she came back, you think I would be happy but I'm not because it's been a day and I've barely seen you and I'm going crazy"

He strokes your cheek and you lean into him, hope filling your chest.

"All the time with Jessie and I've never felt a fraction for her or any woman the way I feel about you"

His eyes are shining brightly, full of...love.

"Eddie?" he kisses your forehead and you can feel your heart race.

"I don't want Jessie, haven't for a long time. I've fallen in love with you, head over heels in love with you princess"

His lips meet yours, he kisses you deeply, thumb stroking your cheek. "I love you" he repeats and you can't help the tears that fall down your cheeks, happy tears.

"Oh, I love you too Eddie. I've been wanting to say for a while but then Jessie came back and I thought I'd lost my chance" he kisses you again.

"I should have told you sooner sweetheart. Every day waking up to you in my arms is something I love more than anything, I love you"

His forehead rests against yours and he holds you close.

"Kinda spooky outside huh princess? Might need extra cuddles tonight?" you giggle and wrap your arms around him.

You know full well he loves storms and have caught him outside without a care in the world.

"Mmm, I love you, Eddie" he takes your hand leading you to your room where you make love all night long.

❤️❤️

Jessie was long gone within a few days, she announced she was too good for Hawkins and went off with Josh yet again.

Not that you and Eddie noticed, it was Robin and Nancy who told you the whole story, you had kinda been busy lavishing in the love bubble you and Eddie were in.

You didn't expect to fall in love with Eddie or any of this to happen but you're so happy that it did.

❤️✨❤️✨

[sunflowersbones]

The Hand That Feeds - I

Warnings: This fic will contain eventual NON-CON, eventual DUB-CON, abuse of power, violence, emotional manipulation, guns, alluded to Mafia!Bucky. My warnings are not exhaustive, proceed at your own risk.

18+ only. This is a dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary : Your best friend’s and yours entire lives have revolved around violence, death, greed and fear. You’ve always had each other and took comfort in the fact that none of this was your doing; you never had a choice. But what happens when time winds its roots around you, such that even when given the opportunity to leave, he neither leaves nor lets you leave. {mafia au}

NOTE: So this is my very first fic on tumblr!. i wanted the first to be a one shot but, oh well. Do feel free to send me your thoughts!. Reblogs are really appreciated, this is tumblr after all. I hope you enjoy!.

DIVIDERS: @firefly-graphics 

*

You’ve always loved Bucky, since the very beginning and you’ve always known it, he was your best friend after all. It was your responsibility to love him, to protect him, and to take care of him— you’ve always tried your best.

Whenever Steve would take it upon himself to start unnecessary fights with the older boys, Bucky would step in to support him, to save him and both idiots would end up getting their ass’s whooped. You were the smarter one you knew how to pick and choose your fights, you would run to find the nearest teacher and complain about the senior boys and they would take care of the rest.

So you always knew that, when he needed you; you’d be there for him. But you never knew if he felt the same way, or if he even liked you at all, Steve always did seem to be his first priority.

You were badly jealous of the boy, but you never wished ill on him, especially because of how frail he was and how often he’d fall sick. You supposed everyone prioritized him…

Both your father and Steve’s worked for Bucky’s dad. Considering how dangerous it is and how enemies would stoop so low as to hurt the children, Steve’s mother’s paranoia seemed valid.

But you were too young to realize all of that; after all, there’s only so much an 8-year-old can understand. You seemed quite content with your life; little did you know that everything would change soon enough. 

You remember that day very clearly, even now, long after the incident. You’d had a big fight with Bucky, about him leaving you to see Steve because he was sick again! In his defense, he did ask you to come, and you did want to visit Steve. But Sarah was not your biggest fan; she simply tolerated you and was more often than not, not very welcoming of your family. You remember your mother saying something about them being more rich due to old money.

Although you supposed that it was mostly, due to the fact that while other kids were out playing; her son was more than often stuck in bed.

As you opened the door and entered your house, you hadn’t noticed the stillness in the air. The house was very quiet, but then again, it always was. Your dad was out for work, your mom; busy with the housework, you were quiet the small family.

Just as you enter the kitchen, you’re alarmed as somebody holds you and covers your mouth, and just as you are ready to scream; as much as your trembling voice will allow you to, you stop. Mortified to see your wailing mother screaming and crying to let you go, her hand’s tied; as 3 men stand around her.

You had never seen her so scared before; seeing tears in her face scared you even more; she had always been the brave one, the one you run to, whenever you had a nightmare.

Right next to her was your dad, his forehead bleeding and his lips split. The man questioning him seems to have stopped in your presence; he stared at you and his face seemed to hold a mixture of pity and guilt.

He continues to question your father. It’s all too much; Your mother’s cry, your father’s helplessness, and the tight grip of the man holding you—your mind starts to get hazy.

All of a sudden, the front door crashes open, a ear-bleeding, loud bang resonates through the air, and the person holding you falls on to the floor. By now, a lot of men are in your kitchen, their guns pointing to each other.

You hear none of their conversations; you try your best not to look at the dead man lying beside you; you get a glimpse of the blood splattered on the wall, terrified; you close your eyes for a second and look straight ahead, only to find the man questioning your dad on the floor, his head underneath the sole of Bucky’s dad’s feet.

Somebody helps your mum up, and she runs to your side; she holds you close to her as they escort the two of you outside into a black limousine. Just as you climb up, you hear another gunshot; you no longer wish to know who was shot.

Time seems to be moving in a different pace and before you know it, you’re at the Barnes household. Your parents seem to be discussing something but you couldn’t pay any attention to it.

All you could feel was the ringing sensation in your ear.

Bucky entered the mansion just around that time, his initial reaction to seeing you at his place was surprise; a small smirk forms on his face, but it slowly turns into confusion as he looks around.

He slowly comes up to you, takes your hand in his, and leads you to his room. As you sat on his bed, he prepped his pillows up to make you more comfortable and sat down next to you.

You assumed that he would ask you what was wrong or what happened. Your disheveled state would have made the distress obvious. But he never did; he just sat next to you, staring at you, yet you felt more comfortable sharing this silence, than you did the whole day.

Eventually he left and came back after some time with a glass of water in his hand. He gave it to you as he sat down next to you, even closer this time; and hugged you .

He’d been out for much longer than what would be required to get a glass of water.

So you assumed that he must have pestered around and made his mother spill everything. Mrs. Barnes was a sensitive women and Bucky always had his way with people.

He hugged you a little tighter as he said “It’s OK; you’re safe now. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you, ever.”

And in that moment, you realized that he loved you back as well.

~

[not-5-rats]

This is gonna sound awful but I kinda hope somebody dies in Episode 9 (Gator Boys), ((this is focused more on Bodie, Timmy, Marco and Bug dying though))

IK IK, 'how could you say that!?!?' 'that would be heartbreaking :((((' THATS THE POINT!!!! THINK ABT IT! Think about how sad it would be, each of them for their own reasons

☆---------------☆

Bodie, Timmy, Lora and Rolden have a reason in common, they've all recently been reunited with their family in some way (even if Lora wasn't super pleased to see Timmy-). Sure Timmy and Bodie had found family, they had each other, but something about knowing some of their family was alive must have been such a sweet feelings (despite the circumstances). Now imagine if as soon as they got that family back it was taken away again. You finally found your family, some of which you thought were dead, you were getting to reknow those you lost, finally feeling like you have people you belong with..then you die. You loose it all.

☆---------------☆

Now let's focus on Bodie for a minute. Bodie, the first character we met in this series, the one that knew we were a Hunter yet risked his life to aid us, allowed us into his home, took care of us...oh where would we be without Bodie? If he died, the despair that would cause. He's a carer, the only thing he wants to do is help. Even when it would be beneficial to leave someone behind, he reufses. Such a kind soul, killed because he wanted to help those that mattered to him. It would be devastating, and the guilt that followed oh my.

Timmy spent so much of his time with Bodie, the two saw each other most days! Now they wouldn't spend another minute together. No more fishing, no more hanging out in the tree house, no more talking whilst Bodie made gumbo. They would never spend time together ever again. He would feel guilty because he was the one that got captured, he was the reason Bodie was there to begin with! If he had been more careful none of this would have happened...Bodie would still be here.

Obviously Rolden would also have some guilt, he'd feel bad for adding to the workload. Since they found him and felt they had to free him too, that would have made it harder for them to get out which could have caused Bodies death. Add that to the fact he just lost his brother for a second time and we can see Rolden would be having a pretty shit time.

☆---------------☆

We'll get back to Marco/Bug and their guilt later :3 for now let's discuss Timmy. Such a bright, adventurous youth, his whole life ahead of him. So much for him to do, he has so much potential, so much he could achieve...he could have done so much. Now he's gone. He won't achieve anything now. He had finally found out the truth, found out what he was, why he was different...but turns out it didn't matter. He didn't live long enough to fully appreciate this information.

Lore and Roldan would be crushed, they had worked so hard to get him out of here the first time then he was dragged back and killed. Tbh they would probably partially blame Bug for what happened, for their sons death, they were part of the reason he was brought back here, they undid all their hard work, all that work to keep their son safe undone by some Hunter...but as I said we'll talk about Bugs guilt later

The guilt wouldn't only affect Bug though think how Bodie would feel. He and Timmy had known each other for so long, they had such a brotherly bond (even if it turns out they were uncle & nephew), they were family...and family is meant to protect one another, yet Bodie failed to do that. He had tried to, but he failed nonetheless. He had lost his family...sure he had Rolden and Marco, but given the fact he was just reunited with Rolden and that Marco was away so much, Timmy was the closest family member he had. Now he was gone, forever.

☆---------------☆

(If someone else died/ his guilt)

Marco, a traveller, an explorer, a venturer. He already felt guilt, before all this mess, he already felt guilty for being away so much. He was never there, Bodie and Timmy barely ever saw him. He tried to visit them whenever he could, but there was so much he had to do, so many places he had to be. Yet even though be was barely around they still cared about him, they still saw him as family, just family they never really saw...and now they will never see him again.

He would feel awful, knowing that he should have spent more time with them when he could, he shoulde have done more then and he should have done more now. More to get them out of here, more to stop them from ending up here in the first place, more to stop them from dying. He could have done more, he should have done more. Now they were dead and be couldn't do anything to save them

(Now if he was dead)

He never stayed still, Marco was always going somewhere. Where he went? Half of the time nobody but Marco knew. He simply wasn't at the swamps. Now he would never visit the swamps again, he wouldn't go anywhere anymore. He was finally going to stay in one place...that place just happened to be 6ft underground.

Timmy couldn't believe what had happened, he couldn't believe that his carelessness had ended up causing his friends death. Sure they didnt see each other much, but he still meant alot to him, they were family! And now Marco was dead because Timmy was captured, he was captured and Marco felt a need to help get him (& everyone else) out. If he had just been more careful! If he had seen the trap, Marco would still be alive.

Timmy wasn't the only one that blamed himself, Bodie shared his grief. He worried about Marco when he was away, he never knew where he went to or when he would be back, he never knew if he was safe. He worried because he cared, he may not be around much but he still mattered, he was still family. Now he's dead. Bodie would feel guilty, mostly for the same reasons listed for if Timmy died. He was meant to protect people, to help those who needed it. But he hadn't helped, he failed to help his friend when he really needed him. Now he had to face the consequences of his 'negligence'.

☆---------------☆

(if someone else died/ their guilt)

No matter who dies, it's Bugs fault. The boys wouldn't have been there if Bug had stayed away to begin with and Rolden/ Lora are only involved in this because Bug had failed to stop the Hunters from taking Timmy. Even if they died it was their own fault, they had made a plan and that plan failed. They messed up. So no matter what happened, it was Bugs fault.

I don't think they could live with themself if they were the reason for any of the boys dying, especially Bodie. He had taken care of them, they were planning on hunting him down and he still helped them. Bodie originally planned om going to save Timmy on his own, but Bug insisted on tagging along...now he was dead, why couldn't they just back off, they had caused enough damage then, they've caused so much more damage now. Timmy and Marco, even if they didn't know of their past, welcomed a human into their lives. They didn't try to hurt then or shove them away even though it would have been fair to do so. They accepted Bug and now they were dead...how could Bug let this happen

To put it simply...if one of the boys didn't make it out of the arena, Bug would probably choose not to make it out alive either.

[latenuitrambles]

𝕭𝖗𝖔𝖐𝖊𝖓 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖘 ( lyney x reader angst )

Note: so since the request only said angst I decided to go with angst no for comfort ( not sorry tehe) some minor spoilers for the first Fountaine archon quest if you haven't completed it yet ! As always criticism appreciated!

Requested by @heartsbyvalentina

thanks a lot <3 I'm sorry if this isn't what you exactly had in mind or if you wanted more angst with a happy ending T-T

TW: neglect, drifting apart, hurt no comfort, lyney is fatui because I love how much there is to explore with that. Not proofread :( so might be grammatical errors.

Your POV

The past few weeks had been tough. These days it seemed like lyney just didn’t have time for you at all. You had always known about his …..work. The one he didn’t talk about in public. He had told you when he confessed to you because he didn’t want your relationship to be founded on a lie. And you had understood. You were ok with the fact that he might sometimes not have time for you because you knew he did it all with good intentions. But these days it had become worse. Between his missions that had seemed to increase in quantity and his preparations for his show at the Opera, you couldn’t even catch a glimpse of his face properly. Lyney was up before you and returned long after you had fallen asleep. No more dates, no more him having silly magic shows just for you, even the way he talked to you seemed distant these days. You had tried to talk to him but he was always in a rush and put it off. Today, you decided you were finally going to confront him. 

It was way past 3 in the night when you heard the bedroom door creek open. Lyney entered and he was shocked to find you awake. “Why didn’t you fall asleep dear, you know how important sleep else you'll get dark circles on your beautiful face, mon amour.” Even now he was trying to sweet talk you. The grim look on your face didn't budge, “We have to talk about something, lyney. It seems as if these days we never even talk properly. I miss you. I understand you have certain duties but I can't go like this. It feels we are more like roommates than lover these days.” His face darkened. And yet he didn’t say anything. “You can talk to me about it, at least tell me what's wrong so that I can at least understand. Please lyney, I love you, I want this to work, I WANT US TO WORK. But not if you keep shutting me out and pushing me away.” A look of guilt flashed on his face before he masked his features again. “I can't tell you what is happening. You know I can't betray the House. Not after all it has done for me. And I had been thinking about this for a while, but maybe we should take a break.” You looked at him in shock. He couldn’t be implying what you thought he was. “So, this is it huh you choose the House over us?” He slowly nodded his head as he avoided your gaze. “I'm sorry mon amour but I have duties I cannot ignore, and you are a distraction. I hate that it had to be this way, but the House comes first.” You couldn’t believe him, you felt sick like you were gonna collapse. The tears in your eyes stung, threatening to fall. And so, you did exactly what he asked you to do, you walked away. 

Lyney’s POV 

He watched you as you walked away, keeping his own emotions at bay. He loved you, he truly did, but he could not risk you getting hurt. Not with the upcoming ‘plan’. Everything was going to finally begin, all the big plans they had set in motion. It was finally time. So, he had to let you go, both for your own safety and to make sure he was ready to sacrifice whatever it took for the plan to succeed. He had recently discovered that he was chosen to be ‘Fathers’ successor. That would put you in so much more risk. He could not do it to you, let you carry this burden. You deserved someone who could give you a safe life, not someone like him. For a second, he let himself wonder what it would be like was he not from the House, if he was just a normal Fountaine citizen. But alas, wondering gets you nowhere, because he did have duties, duties to the House, to ‘Father’, and duty to save the people of Fountaine. “For the greater good”, he repeated I his mind, over and over again, as he watched you walk away from his life.

End note: it seems I got carried away. Initially, I was gonna do a simple argument, but this idea struck me and I just had to write this. I love the lyney and the house and now he's probably the next harbinger ( he mentions the successor thing in his character story!) if it wasn't clear this is roughly around the time right before the archon quest starts hence the mention of his upcoming show at the opera!!! the plan is referring to the big fatui plan with the tampering of the Oratrice and Childe getting arrested. it is probably a very intricate plan and hence I wrote it like this. hope you liked it<3

[sinsmockingbird]

This thought has been plaguing my mind all weekend, and I just needed to write something on it.

CW: SFW under the cut

I've had thoughts on surrogacy recently (strange, I know). Which lead me to thinking of becoming a surrogate mother for an [Insert Ship]. Really this idea can be used for any wlw ship, but there was one that stood out to me, that @sea-lanterns so kindly gave me thoughts for. That ship being IronAnne; Iron x Anne from PTN.

So, just hear out the idea I have. Maybe I'll expand on it more in the future if people want me to. Also feel free to let me know what other ships you think this idea could work with.

It wasn't exactly an- ideal situation in Iron's eyes, at first. She didn't like kids and didn't want them, she found them to be pretty disgusting and insufferable. But, Anne did want them. It was a conflicting situation for the doctor- she didn't want to have kids but she desperately wanted to see her beloved happy.

It took some time and convincing for Iron to give in, but she made it very very clear to Anne that she wasn't carrying it. It was a disappointment to the nurse but she didn't fight it, just happy with the fact Iron ended up agreeing and being more open to having kids with her.

The disappointing part was that Anne couldn't have kids of her own, due to health reasons and high risk of death during birth. It left the couple with few options, but in the end they decided to get a surrogate.

Anne would lend one of her eggs to the surrogate and they would then get an anonymous sperm donor. It was quick and easy- well everything except finding someone who they thought and trusted could carry their child. It was a long process of countless interviews with different people, but finally in the end, they found someone.

They found you.

The process went smoothly and in no time you were pregnant and carrying Iron and Anne's child. Because of this you moved in with the two, and they both took time in caring for you in anyway you needed.

Iron always made sure you and the baby were healthy with weekly checkups she could easily do from home. She may have been cold and quiet most of them time, you knew she was genuinely appreciative of you for agreeing to be their surrogate. She would make this known with small gestures, either with soft touches, or going out of her way to do minor things for you without a word.

Anne was quite the opposite. She was basically glued to your side, always telling you how thankful she was for what you were doing. She was kind and open, always helping you with minimal things, like helping you up from the couch, bathing you, or feeding you dinner during times the pregnancy got hard. She was so caring to you, always making sure you were alright and comfortable.

It wasn't a surprise that you'd fall in love with them.

At first you'd try your hardest to kerp your feelings at bay and push them aside. You were simply a surrogate, carrying their baby. They were a happy couple so obviously in love with one another that you didn't want to ruin anything between them because of your feelings.

But on one particular night, where Anne was being especially attentive of you, you couldn't stop yourself from kissing her. You had pulled away quickly, apologizing profusely to her. But Anne simply cupped your face innher hands, kissed you again and told you she had been waiting too long to do that.

You were relieved to know she reciprocated your feelings- but then you remembered Iron. You liked her as well just as much as Anne, but how were going to tell her that? How would she react to her lover liking and kissing you back?

Anne didn't hesitate to answer when she began talking about how her and Iron had begun to fall for you during your stay with them, that they weren't sure how you'd react to their feelings. But lucky for them you liked them back as well.

Telling Iron about what occurred and about your feelings, it wasn't long for you to join their relationship. It was perfect, they were perfect. Always showing you love in their own special ways, making sure to care and love you. They were also quick to accept you as a parent of their child, and you were ecstatic to give birth to their- no your guy's baby.

And once they were born, you couldn't haven't been happier to have gained two new partners and a child from deciding to become a surrogate.

[fluffysucker]

Say Something.

Bucky Barnes x Reader (Mob Au)

'You are the one that I love, and I'm saying goodby'

It is written in Third POV. No use of Y/N. However, the reader is referred to as a female.

A/N: I was writing a request that was so fluffy but couldn't shake this from my head. I had to let it out. Let me know if you want part two. Also, if any of you wanted to in a taglist, you are so welcome. Likes, comments, reblogs are VERY VERY highly appreciated. Opinions really matter to me

TW: Mentions of physical abuse. Mention of miscarriage.

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you tried to focus on the good things. Your hair was combed to perfection. Not a single strand of hair falling from its place. The hairpieces made the hairstyle ravishing. The simple makeup look you asked for was excellently done. Highlighting your best features with colours that work best with your skin tone. However, the best thing yet was the dress. It was your dream dress. It hugged your body like it was made specially for me, which it was. From the material, the shade of the white, to its exact length in centimetres, the dress was dazzling. And the look was beautifully finished with the white flowers you were holding.

You looked stunning. The most gorgeous you have ever been. However, you didn't feel like it. You wanted to get out of here. You wanted to disappear. You wanted to hide from everyone. It was becoming too real. There was no escape. Before the panic could take over and make you break down on the floor, the door to your room knocked. You turned to see your father enter the room.

On this day, they said fathers get emotional. They would tear up or cry. You would be able to see the undying love they have for their little girls as they grow up. But you could only see one thing in your father's eyes. Victory. He was about to have the biggest deal of his life finalised today, no matter what it cost. You wondered if the signs had always been there. That your rocky relationship with your father would lead to this. The lies you used to tell yourself that your father loved you were never true. That your happiness mattered nothing in the face of his interests. At least he had the decency to tell you that you looked beautiful.

You locked your hand between his arms as he led you outside, where everyone was waiting. You tried to ease your nerves and draw the biggest smile your face could handle. You stood in front of the door as it opened. There was no going back now.

You tried to focus on the music playing and the bright blue sky instead of the people staring at you. You wanted the aisle to be longer. You didn't want to reach the end. Because for you, it was the end of everything. Your wishes weren't granted. Your father came to a stop. He pressed a kiss to your cheek as he handed you to your future husband.

It took a lot from you to keep a smile on your face. Standing in front of your husband-to-be, holding your hands between his foreign hands. You were trying to convince yourself that the smile on his face was genuine and that maybe it wasn't just an accord with him. Maybe there was still hope. Which is why you avoided his eyes so you wouldn't be disappointed.

But you should have known better. You should have known that it was not his eyes that you should have avoided. It was the ocean blue eyes that never left you. But the moment you noticed him, you couldn't turn away. His eyes spoke loudly. So loud. Pain and defeat are coated with anger and rage.

You remember vividly your last conversation together. Your crying and begging for him to understand. His accusations of not loving him enough. But you did. You loved him enough. You loved him too much. Which is why you refused to let him stand in the face of your father. You couldn't let him risk his life. You couldn't let this kind of danger fall on him. And most certainly not because of you. Your father was neither understanding nor loving. So if you had to live miserable lives, he could live his life. That is a sacrifice you were willing to make. And just like that, your three-year relationship was down the drain.

You couldn't help but stare at the man who meant everything to you. who your heart beats for. The love of your life. He was sitting close, yet so far. It should have been him standing here. It should have been the happiest day of your life. But fate was never on your side. Starting with making you fall in love with your father's rival

You thought about the days you spent together behind closed doors so nobody would see you. The lazy morning in bed with you cuddled up in his arms The movie nights that would always end with heated makeout sessions. The secret dates under nobody's eyes. The stolen getaways so you can finally be free and act like the so deeply in love couple that you were. The happiest days of your life. Now they were memories you kept so close to your heart.

You collected yourself quickly before your act would fall as your fiancé squeezed your hand. You heard him say the two words, and you wanted to cry. You wanted to shout and scream. You wanted to throw a tantrum like a child. That was how desperate you were. But you never did. The officiate turned to you to ask you the same question. You wanted to have the courage to say no. Stand your ground. Tell the truth. Run away with the man who has ever truly loved you. But you couldn't. There was too much to lose.

With one last look at the man who would always have a hold on your heart, you kept the tears inside, and with a heavy breath, you turned to the officiate and said, "I do".

"And now, I announce you as husband and wife." Waves of clapping and cheers filled the decorated garden while dreed filled you.

And just like this, you went from being a Pierce to being a Rumlow. And you lost Bucky Barnes.

Twirling the straw between your manicured fingers, you were standing at the bar. Taking a break from all the chatting and loud laughter. You were delaying rejoining the others. The act has been getting harder lately. You were trying to stay a little bit longer in the peaceful corner of the venue. Until you heard his voice. Your thoughts stopped. Your heartbeat went faster. You knew he was in here. Your circle of acquaintances would usually cross. You would meet on these occasions. But you never talked or acknowledged each other. Stolen glances were all you had ever done.

You gave in to the urge and turned to look at him. You couldn't help the smile that formed on your lips. You hadn't been that close since before the wedding. He looked so good. The expensive black suit. The huge frame. The low bun. The well-trimmed beard. The strong perfume. You felt the tears gather in your eyes. You missed him terribly. Beyond what you ever thought.

Your staring must have caught his attention, and he turned his sight in your direction. He didn't expect to find you here. He knew you went off to hide somewhere for a little bit. He didn't know it would be at the bar. You always tried to steal some time away from these events. He often kept an eye on you whenever he knew you were an attendee. It was a force of habit. A habit he couldn't break despite how hard he tried.

After the wedding, he hoped that every time he met you again, he wouldn't feel his heart move from its place. But this time, it never came. Every time, he was taken back by your beauty and grace. Your captivating eyes and sweet smile. You were always the most beautiful.

And there you were, sitting close to him. Yet so out of reach. How he wished he could take you away and escape this world. The bartender placing his order in front of him broke you both out of your trace. You regained control of yourself, pulling the drink to your lips to take a sip. That's when he saw it. The reason for the distance between you. The reason for your downfall. The wedding ring with a big diamond ornamenting your finger

"Mrs. Rumlow." He cleared his throat before he spoke his bitter word.

The last name was never music to your ears. However, for him, it was like a hit in the gut.

"Mr. Barnes." You understood why he would choose to be so formal. To the world, you were rivals acting civilised. Nobody knew what you both meant to each other.

God, he missed your sweet-like-honey voice. It soothed him and put his mind at ease. Now, it was a harsh reminder of a harsher reality.

"Congratulations on the new deal. I heard it was very successful." Despite the bar being less crowded, you were still surrounded by people. You couldn't let them know the truth or even sense something. You had to act normal. Like you never knew him outside of this room.

"Thank you." The shortness and stiffness delivered the message. And you heard it loud and clear. Your attempts were unwelcome. So you decided to leave. Your time hiding away was running out anyway.

However, as you were getting up, you miscounted your steps, making your long dress tangle with the stall. You expected to fall down and make an embarrassment out of yourself, but the pain never came. You only felt a familiar, strong metal arm wrapping around your waist, catching you. This time, you were so close. You could feel his hot breath on your face. His eyes stare so deeply into your soul. His arm tightened around you. You almost gave up. You prayed your eyes weren't showing it all. But they were. It would explain the confused expression on his face. Your eyes were screaming at him. Sadness wrapped in pleas for help. A complex look. He should have let you go now, but he couldn't. He missed having you in his arms. He missed everything about you.

The call for your name brought you both back. He steadied you to your feet before ripping his arm away. You straightened your posture, regaining your composure after this accidental slip. An immediate smile was drawn on your face as you saw your husband approaching. He came to a stop next to you, wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"Been looking for you, baby." Your husband spoke as he kissed your cheeks.

"I was getting us a drink." You didn't lie. Usually, you would bring him a drink so he wouldn't get suspicious of your absence.

"Always so considerate." He laid another kiss on the top of your head. Being overly affectionate in public was something you were used to from your husband.

"Ain't I the luckiest guy in the world, Barnes?" He turned to Bucky, who was still standing in front of you.

"Yes, of course." Despite his neutral tone, he meant it. Any man who had you had the biggest blessing. He envied this man with every fibre of his being.

Both men talked about work very briefly. It was a formality. An act to go with the night. It was very well known. Bucky Barnes and Brock Rumlow don't get along. Their mobs weren't on the same page. But for the sake of the bigger picture, both had to learn how to coexist. Temporarily, at least.

"This reminds me. Are you free next week?" The bizarre question caught Bucky off guard.

"I'm throwing a party for our second-year anniversary. Would love it if you could come." Brock pulled you closer to him as you laid your hand on his chest, your smile not breaking for a second.

"I want to celebrate the best day of my life." It's the irony of the world that Brock's best day is Bucky's worst. He still remembers the heart-wrenching feeling of watching you marry another man. The excruciating pain of losing you

He was about to turn down the invitation. But he remembered the look in your eyes. Sheer helplessness and hurt Even if it was for a split second. Even if you looked so happy now. He wasn't going to take his chances. He couldn't turn away from your call for help, even if you didn't voice it.

"I wouldn't miss it." And he didn't. And he never regretted something more.

The party was a blast. A beautiful celebration of love. You and Brock looked so happy. A perfect couple. He wanted his instincts to be right. But only came face-to-face with his worst fear. You were happy with another man. A man that wasn't him. And could never be him.

Between the gala and the party, Bucky tried to look around. See if he could find anything out. To get a glimpse of your life behind the lights. And he got nothing. Only good things. Maybe his longing for you made him misread the signs.

After the wonderful speech Brock gave about you and your marriage, Bucky couldn't take it anymore. He had to leave. And most importantly, he had to let you go.

You barely met again after that day. He avoided even the galas that he would see you at. He needed to move on. He needed to forget you. He needed to let go of the girl who turned his whole being around. even though it was going to crush him. He had to.

He spent more time at work. More than he ever did. He started doing the dirty work again. Something he stopped doing for years. But he needed an outlet for the pain and rage. An escape from the brutal reality.

He knew how pathetic he was being. It's been two years, and he can't let you out of his mind. He tried to see other people. But it would only be physical. He couldn't find it in himself to be vulnerable or emotional with any other woman. Only you managed to tear his walls apart. Only you invaded his being. Sometimes he wishes he had never met you in the first place. The sweet girl sitting in a corner by herself in the over-the-top gala. He knew Alexander Pierce was your father. But he couldn't resist. You took his breath away the moment his eyes landed on you. And when he got to know you, you blew his mind away as well. You were nice, kind, polite, understanding, trusting, smart, and everything good. He had to have you. And he did. He fell head over heels for you. You gave meaning to his life. Bucky was madly and deeply in love with you. He still is.

And by some miracle, you loved him too. You let him have you. He remembers, after your first time together, As he held your exhausted form to his chest, he heard your sleepy voice whispering something he should have expected. "Please, when it's time to leave, let me down slowly." Of course, you would think he was only using you for something. He couldn't blame you. So he made it his mission. He would show you how much you meant to him. How much he loved and cherished you.

So maybe he should have fought for you? Shouldn't have chosen the city's peace and safety over you? Should have risked it all?

But this means nothing now. He had to move on.

Now, he was sitting in his office in his mansion. Sitting on the couch with his drink in hand and Steve and Sam on each side, They were joined by a dear guest. Nick Fury. Nick is a huge part of the mob. He started it off with Pierce at Hydra, but both of them grew too big. Then Pierce showed his true colours. So now he was playing on both sides. And nobody could stop him. A lot tried. But no one succeeded. Nick Fury was too dangerous of a man.

It wasn't a formal meeting. It was just a gathering. It wasn't planned. Nick showed up at Bucky's house. They talked about work for a bit, but the conversation drifted with time. With Steve's girl falling asleep in his lap, they found themselves talking about parenthood. How family and their line of work don't usually go together. However, those who did have families always managed to be the best. However, nothing could have prepared Bucky for the turn the conversation was about to take.

"Not all of them turn out to be good. You've got Pierce, for example. I have never seen a worse father in my life." The mention of the man's name caught Bucky's attention. Pierce definitely didn't win the Father of the Year award, but what does it mean?

"What do you mean?" It seemed Steve was thinking the same way as Bucky.

"That man married off his daughter to a beast and watched as he ate her off." The statement didn't sit well with Bucky.

"What are you talking about?" Bucky couldn't help, but he asked, wanting to know more.

"Alexander knows exactly what Rumlow does to his girl." Nick's answer wasn't enough for Bucky.

"What does he do?" He didn't care how desperate he looked or sounded. He needed to know everything.

"I think the scars on her body speak for themselves." It was like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on him. His blood ran cold. His lungs almost stopped working.

"Rumlow hurts his wife?" Sam was one to speak, knowing his best friend wasn't in the right state anymore.

"Hurt doesn't even begin to describe it. Poor girl has been hospitalised ten times in the last two years." His tight grip on the glass almost made it shatter in his hand. They have been doing this to his girl.

"How do you know this?" Steve couldn't help his curiosity.

"I know everything. And Pierce doesn't put much effort into hiding it from those close to him."

"How come nobody else knows?"

"I said only those close to him."

"But they look so happy. He seems to love her."

"Of course they do. Rumlow wants to be seen as a good family man. The perfect husband So they need to be a picture-perfect couple. Not a single flaw. It's easy to paint when you beat somebody that much."

"Why didn't she try to leave?"

"And go where? Her father has no problem with it. I heard that Rumlow slapped her in front of him. And Pierce did nothing."

Bucky was grateful for his bestfriends who kept the questions going because he needed to know everything. But he couldn't speak. Nick seemed to be talking about some stranger he barely knew. And it was true. But not to Bucky. That was you. His whole entire world. And someone was hurting you. And you couldn't do anything. You were helpless. He should have trusted his instincts.

"How bad does it get?" He mastered the neutral tone, so not even Nick would know the fire burning through him.

"I don't know. All I know is if that was my daughter, Rumlow would be dead a long time ago." Instinctively, Steve pulled his daughter closer to him and laid a soft kiss on her head. How can any father not protect his daughter with his life? Steve would never know.

"But the girl is tough. Despite it all, she is still nice and caring to everybody." Nick added. And it somehow hurt Bucky more. For godsake. You even tried to be friendly with him. He, who left you, was a deer in a wolf's den.

"Have you ever met her?" Nick asked, looking at Bucky.

"Only on parties and occasions." He could never tell Nick that you were the love of his life.

Nick stayed for a little longer before he left. And Bucky couldn't recall a single thing after Nick told them the truth. Steve and Sam wanted to stay with their friends, but they knew better. He wanted to be alone right now. And he did. He went upstairs to the master bedroom. He opened a drawer in the side table and looked at a small album he kept hidden from the world. He tried to get rid of it but never had enough courage. It had all your pictures together. This album meant more to him than all of his good fortune.

Looking at the pictures, he felt like he was drowning. They took you away from him, only to hurt you. Bucky didn't know what to do. He must think straight, because if he didn't, he would go over and kill them all right now. It would be a bloodbath. But you were worth it. so worth it.

Before he could make any wise decision, he reached for his phone, dialling the number of the person who would help him.

"Bruce, I need a favour."

Bucky was standing by the bar, watching people talk and laugh in their very expensive attire. It was all so fake that he wanted to throw up. But maybe the act wasn't the only thing bothering him.

Bruce was able to do him the favour he asked for. And he gave it to him today. Your medical reports. All of them.

Bucky was stunned, to say the least. He regretted asking, but he had to know. How could anyone do this to you?

Broken bones. Internal bleeding. Deep Cuts. Concussions. Vaginal bleeding. Three miscarriages.

Bucky couldn't help the tear that fell on his face as he read the last report. It was two months ago. Two weeks before he met you again. A week before the anniversary party. You were recovering from another miscarriage and a broken elbow. Yet nobody could tell. You put on the act to perfection that even Bucky believed. You managed to trick Bucky, who claimed to have known you best. His heart ached to see how much Brock had to beat and break you to fool everybody that you are so happy. Bucky was a strong man who everybody feared, but he had to read how a nobody hurt his girl. Yes, you were his girl. You were always going to be his girl. He needed to figure out a way to get you out of there.

Which is why his eyes never left you since you walked in. It took all his willpower to not go and beat the hell out of Rumlow. But he knew better. All he could was wait and think. He watched your moves and your voice. You were such a good actress. With all you went through, you acted the happiness so well. He wondered how you were really behind closed doors.

He didn't plan to do anything tonight, but the moment offered itself when you walked to the garden alone. He followed you out instantly. Not knowing what to do. But he had to do something.

You were breathing the fresh breeze ear. You needed to a moment of peace, or you would have lost your mind. This morning, Brock lost his temper, and your body was still aching. It wasn't something you hadn't seen before. You mastered the ability to look and act fine by now. You just needed a moment away. You were glad there was a garden so you could enjoy the view of the stars

The familiar voice calling your name made you stop in your place.

"Mr. Barnes." You turned to him with a smile on your face. Even if you were alone, you weren't dropping the formality. Also, it looked like he never wanted you to

"I want to talk to you." He didn't know how he was going to approach the topic, but he had to do something. Say something, at least.

You gave him your full attention. What do both of you have to talk about? And after all these years. You weren't sure if you could even hold a conversation with him.

"Are you okay?" The question caught you off guard. It was a strange question to ask.

"I'm fine, thank you." You tried to keep a smile on your face. You haven't talked in years, and that is what he wanted to say?

"How are you and Brock?" Bucky was a feared mob boss, yet he couldn't get a word out that made sense.

"We are great." You couldn't hide your surprise. The last thing you expected was for you to talk about your relationship. Let alone with Bucky, from all the people in the world.

"Are you sure?" He should have thought about what to say first before he followed you.

"Yes, pretty sure." You weren't really seeing where this conversation was going.

"No, it's not great." Way to go, Bucky. He thought.

"I beg your pardon." Yes, of course, your relationship wasn't great, but that wasn't for Bucky to know.

"I know your relationship isn't that great." Bucky was hoping to get any reaction from you other than your pretty smile.

"I don't think that's for you to judge." You were taken back by his statement. So you went in defence mood.

"No, it's. It's when you aren't safe." You tried not to let your emotions take over your face. He didn't mean it this way, did he?

"I think I would be perfectly safe with my husband." You prayed he didn't catch your lie. You were a good liar by now.

"Does he make you memorise this?" Bucky was frustrated. Not with you. But with your situation.

"Does he tell you to always pretend you are happy?" Bucky was done with your act.

"Mr. Barnes, I don't think we should be talking about my marriage. And you can't talk about my husband like this." You knew you had to be direct and forward. Even if nobody was around, this wasn't a chance you were going to take.

"Do you have anything else you want to talk about?" You received silence, but you could tell he had a lot to say.

You turned to leave because you couldn't stay and have this conversation. Even if you wanted so desperately to stay in Bucky's company.

"How many more hospitalisations will it take for you to admit the truth? How many more babies do you have to lose before you leave?"

You froze in your place. It was like time had stopped. You were trying to process what Bucky just said. Every cell in your body was working overtime to keep you from shutting down. You turned again to look at him with your pale face.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say it like this." Bucky felt guilty for throwing it like this in your face. But he saw you leave, and he had to stop you.

"How do you know?" The question may be irrelevant, but for you, it was important.

"It doesn't matter." Bucky tested the water by taking small, little steps towards you. You didn't move.

"It doesn't matter. What matters is that I know." He was itching to hold you. Wrap you in his arms and protect you from the world.

"I'm okay, Bucky." It had been so long since you said his name, but it still felt the same. And you were back on track with your act quicker than you thought.

"No, you aren't. Nobody should ever go through this." He came to a stop in front of you. You saw empathy in his eyes you hadn't seen in a long while.

"Let me help, please." Bucky had no problem getting on his knees and beseeching you to allow him to step in.

"You can't help me." Your voice was tiny. You felt exposed. That part of your life wasn't to be known.

"No, I can. I have to try." Bucky wanted to help you, not just for your sake but for his too.

"No. It's my life now. I'm okay." You knew Brock wasn't going to get a trophy for being the best husband when you married him. However, it got so much worse than you thought.

"Stop saying that. You aren't." Bucky hated the surrender in your eye. The shakiness of your voice. He hated how you were choosing to accept this life when you deserved nothing but the best.

"There is nothing me or anybody could do." You made your peace with this fact long ago. Since Brock first hit you and nobody moved.

"I can. I should have never let you marry him in the first place." He moved even closer to you.

"Then it would have been the both of us, now. Either dead or suffering. I'm okay with it being me." You were. Maybe that is the reason you managed to survive up to now. That Bucky was okay

"You think I'm not suffering this way?" He followed his instincts and placed his flesh hand on your cheeks.

He prepared himself for you to flinch or move away quickly. But you didn't. On the contrary, your face softened. You were craving Bucky's gentle touch. You missed him so much. Bucky took this a sign and let the next words fall from his tongue.

"I still love..."

"Please, don't.

You stopped him right away. Did you still love Bucky? With all your heart and even more. But it was way more complicated than this.

"There nothing you could have done or can do to change it. It's my life, and I can't escape it." He should move on. He shouldn't even be standing with you here.

"I was doomed from the beginning. I'm so sorry I dragged you with me."

You shouldn't have let him love you. You should have heard his name and went the other way. You should have spread him all this pain and mess. If you failed to do it, then you would now. You moved away from, already missing his touch.

"Thank you, Mr Barnes. But I can never leave." You put on the act again, keeping your tears inside. You wished you weren't that helpless or broken, but you were. You were surrounded by monsters that can never let you break away.

You gave Bucky one last smile before you turned to get back inside. You didn't want to anger Brock more. And you didn't want to drag Bucky deeper. Even if your heart longed for him dearly. It wasn't right. You were a tragedy from the start.

[eros-agape-art]

PRINCESS TWILIGHT'S LOG: Day 15

SUBJECT:

AUDIO START: TAPE 2

----- ----- *wirring* *click, click, click* *wirring*

Testing, testing... Okay. This is the second tape I'm making to record the status of the Infection... Or at least, that's what everypony is referring to it as. Through my extensive research, and what little Thorax could tell me, that what we're dealing with is a species of fungi known as Ophiocordyceps versicolor.

It happens to be a direct relative to the Ophiocordyceps unilateralis fungi, which is notorious for devouring insects, primarily ants, from the inside to use its carcass as a breeding ground... This raises cause for concern because it spread through any open orifices, such as the mouth or nostrils.

In addition, it has a long standing history of affecting Changelings from the few records that were preserved in the lower hidden levels of the Changeling hive colony. It's particularly deadly to ponies as well, with a few documented cases across Changeling and pony records, from what I could piece together. But the knowledge it limited and bears no detailed analysis.

...But there are more concerning matters than this discovery. I've since told the other Princesses and Equestria has kind of been thrown into a panic. Cadance has quarantined the Cryatal Empire and only sends letters via magic, Celestia has taken to safeguard Canterlot while Luna has joined me here in Ponyville. She's working to keep ponies' hopes up, lulling them into gentle sleep when needed.

To make matters worse, Mayor Mare has completely disappeared. She went to send word to Zecora with a few other ponies, but they haven't returned since. Applejack then took it upon herself to serve as acting mayor. Everyone trusts her, it's not a surprise to me, but she doesn't sugarcoat anything either. She tells everyone the truth about what's happening, keeping everyone informed while I'm working.

She's even working hard to protect her family, I know Granny Mith would greatly appreciate that. She unfortunately passed shortly before everything began. I think that's why AJ is so on edge all the time, I don't think she could handle losing Big Mac or Apple Bloom.

I'm honestly glad that she's taken up the position of acting mayor, it's lifted a weight from my shoulders, and she wants to support me in any way she can. Though I worry for her and Pinkie the most, as they face the most risk of infection as Earth Ponies.

Although I still reside in Ponyville, I perform most of my research in the Changeling hive. The young Changeling I mentioned last tape... has unfortunately passed, the fungi fully matured in such a short time, but it's unclear how long she even had it. She may have been found when it was already too late, but there isn't much I can do now, except for studying the fungi before it dies so we understand what it is we're handling fully.

I fear... that we will have to resort to awakening Chrysalis for the sake of Equestria, but I'm working tirelessly to ensure that doesn’t happen.

END TAPE:

DAY 2-15 FINDING NOTES:

Little is known about fungi, referencing known relative fungi and examining known subject for analysis

Fluttershy has been showing cold/flu-like symptoms lately, AJ is keeping close tabs on her

No search party for Mayor Mare and other missing ponies has been formed, everyone is too on edge for fear they contracted the fungi, even though it's unlikely to be in the Everfree forest

fungi responds to anti-fungal treatment, small percentage dies within 3 hours upon treatment. this could lead to the development of a cure, but it's still in the testing phase

fungi is possibly slow acting, which gives ample time to pursue treatment

[holdupjack]

They’ll Be Much More Interested In My Wife

——————

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fem!Reader

AU: Hollywood film stars hiding their love.

WARNING: SMUT 18+/MINORS DNI

——————

Third Person P.O.V:

Los Angeles California, 1958

Hermione had moved to the States in 1955, a month after her 18th birthday, She had hugged her mother and father goodbye to pursue a career in the biggest film industry in the world.

She was destined to become a star.

Her soul yearned for it.

The young girl was cast fairly quickly due to her beauty and the seemingly natural talent she had for capturing her emotions onto film.

Hermione did many movies within the last few years, having to mask her accent for most due to the 'all-American girl fantasy' the whole word was stuck on.

Then again, she understood the charm.

She had reluctantly gone on dates with many male stars, all of them being less than fruitful as they talked on and on about their successful movies and Oscar wins.

On one of the days on the set of a 'romantic' war film, she was the lead. Y/n Y/l/n walked in dressed as a secretary, her character's 'roommate'. Whom she was supposed to fight with, in the next scene.

This movie had more secret gay underlining than straight movie buffs would ever realize.

She hoped the future generations would see it and appreciate the risks the writers took.

Y/n is a beautiful woman, always smiling as she read her lines, or laughing at something one of the stagehands said.

Hermione couldn't keep her eyes off her as they waited for everyone to be ready for shooting, their eyes met from time to time as Hermione sat in her chair with her legs crossed, her thumb holding her chin as she blocked her growing smile with her index finger.

This wasn't their first encounter, not even their second, and you could tell from the way they greeted and looked at one another.

It wasn't a surprise that in the time they lived in, openly dating someone of the same sex was a death sentence, with your career and literally.

They had first met a few months into Hermione's first year as an Actress, circling each other like predators.

It was a secret hostility they shared, since Y/n had a few years on her in acting, even though they were the same age, and considered Hermione a threat to her career when it came to the chances of getting leads in movies.

Y/n had been a child star, and Hermione even grew up watching her in the family-friendly movies she saw with her parents.

Hermione found her pretty then, and even more gorgeous now.

She had known of her feelings towards women for many years now, she honestly knew it was the whole reason she detested men.

Yet, she had to keep up the act. No journalist or paper could know how she felt, so if that meant unfulfilling dates and sex, so be it.

They only had a month left with each other until this movie wrapped up for editing, and the male lead, Joesph Cotten was hitting on them relentlessly.

(A/N: actual actor back then btw, but I know him best from Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte...also no idea if he was a lady's man, so consider this satire)

The girls just gave fake giggles and thanked him for his kind words before they were called onto the stage. They took their places and waited for the director to call the scene to action. Y/n sat at a desk while Hermione stood behind a door that led into the area.

"Action!"

Hermione walked into the room and shut the door behind her, Y/n didn't look up as she pretended to sign papers, she then glared at her.

"What are you doing here?" She whispered in her very convincing American accent as Y/n looked up and had a confused look on her face.

"Pardon me?"

"You told me that you were going to stay home today" Hermione states as she walks toward the desk and peeked past her and into the window that had her boss (Joseph) sitting inside talking to an associate.

"I'm a secretary for an important general of the U.S. Army, I can't call off because you told me to Lily" Y/n replied as she stood up and walked over to a filing cabinet, opening it to a slew of blank papers inside.

Hermione loomed next to her and stared at her face in a soft panic, the corner of their eyes saw the camera slowly make its way to capture their emotions.

"Please Mary, go home after lunch." Hermione whispers as she stands closer to capture Y/n's gaze.

This movie wasn't focused on expressions like the others they had been in, instead of close up of their faces to make a statement, it was told through body movement.

Yet, the gazes shared between them told another story, a relationship between a spy and her 'roommate'.

The whole plot was that Hermione's character, Lily Sullivan, is tasked by the United States military to coax a confession out of Scott Willis (Joseph Cotten) as an enemy of the country. When in reality, "Lily" was the one selling secrets to other countries, she was covering her tracks by killing Scott. The man that was hot on her trail.

Yet, she only says goodbye to one person before she goes on the run.

Mary, her 'roommate' for many years.

They end up leaving together.

The studio said it was a friendship built on lies but was still strong after everything. While Hermione and Y/n knew what it really was.

The girls have on-screen chemistry better than most male and female actors, the papers had said it paid off that they were such good friends off-screen.

"If it bothers you that much Lily, I'll go home after lunch. May I ask why with the urgency?" Y/n asks as she shuts the filing cabinet and Hermione freezes as she pretends to think of a reason.

"I'll explain everything to you later, alright?" She replies and Y/n nods with a bit of hesitation, before ultimately verbally agreeing.

"Okay, Lily."

Y/n then walks out of frame, leaving Hermione to act as if she was thinking deeply for a few moments as the camera zooms in closer.

Her eyes just flickered up and down Y/n's body as she stood a few feet away, it took everything in Hermione to not smile and ruin this take.

Y/n didn't smile, but the glint in her eye showed her that she was enjoying their little staring contest.

"Cut! Great job everyone let's take five and do the next scene with Y/n and Joseph, then will do another take of this after!" the director yells as a bell rings for their dismissal.

A few assistants crowded around the girls as they were pulled towards their chairs for any hair or makeup fixes.

It was late into the night, and they were behind schedule due to a broken camera last week. So today everyone was forced to pull an all-nighter and come back the day after next.

Hermione loved an all-night shooting, it happened once in a blue moon, but when it did?

Y/n came home with her.

No paparazzi would be staying out late to catch them holding hands inside her car, where they could hear the giggles as she chased Y/n into her home and kept the lights off.

Where they would worship each other without fear of being caught by unwanted eyes.

Oh, Hermione loved all-nighters.

——————

When the set was closed and everyone had gone home for the...well it was 3 A.M, so morning. Hermione parked her car behind the studio and waited for Y/n to jump in, the walls were high around the Hollywood set buildings, and even bushes blocked anyone dumb enough to try and climb it for a rare photo.

Hermione loved it when the entire studio was almost vacant, besides the security that watched the gates. They never cared that Y/n had been coming with Hermione to set every morning, or that they left at night together too.

Everyone knew they lived close by, so in their heads, it was just carpooling with a good friend. Of course, the tabloids wouldn't see it that way during all-nighters like this. Where she didn't drop her off at home, or at times where they didn't even make it out of Hermione's garage.

She couldn't keep her hands off her all-American girlfriend, and Y/n couldn't stay away from the British Vixen.

Y/n emerged from the shadows beside the building and quickly slipped into the passenger side of Hermione's 1957 Chevy Bel Air.

"Hello my darling" the Brit whispers as she looks around for any prying eyes, then kisses her cheek softly.

"Hiya doll, did you have as much fun as I did on set?" Y/n asks as Hermione starts the car and drives off to the exit, her hands were aching to touch her like she wants to.

"Very much, but Joseph needs to back off" Hermione mutters as they turn into a small alleyway between two set buildings. The windows were down, the air softly blowing on their faces.

"Awe, still jealous that he grabbed my ass?" Y/n snickered as her girlfriend groaned softly as she thought back on the action from earlier today.

They both knew that if they wanted to get far in this world, they had to let a few hands touch them without objection.

The women could only hold back slaps to the face when this happened, and act as if it didn't bother them.

Of course, when Hermione watched their male lead grab her girlfriend's ass, it took everything in her not to stake her claim in front of everyone.

"I'm not jealous. I'm pissed" Hermione responded as they pulled up to the security guard, who smiled at them as he came up to the passenger side window.

"Get some rest Ms.Granger and Ms.Y/l/n," He says as they smile back at him as he walks towards the gate and opens it for them.

The car crept out into the street and then turned to the start of their way home. Y/n looked out towards the high-end clothing stores, their display windows dim, but you could see the shine the fashion produced.

"I'm still surprised you haven't gone shopping during our lunch breaks," Hermione says as she catches her stare, to which Y/n chuckled in response.

"No time, you know our 'breaks' are only fifteen minutes" Y/n sighed as she looked back at Hermione. They were stopped at a red light, the glow of all the street lights illuminated Hermione's face as they stared at one another.

"I've missed you as of late my love" Hermione whispers as she rests her hand on the space between them, her palm open and ready.

(A/N: this was in the days when there was no center console in between the front seats so you could literally lay someone down in the front and have a grand old time lol)

"We've seen each other almost every day for the last three months" Y/n replied as she slipped her fingers between her girlfriends. Hermione squeezed slightly and hummed in dissatisfaction at her lover's answer.

"I know, but if I had it my way, I'd hug and kiss you after every scene and performance you gave" Hermione whispers as she notices the streets are empty, no cars coming or going, or even a single person walking the lonely sidewalks.

"You just want to find every reason to touch me" Y/n whispers back as Hermione looks around them one last time before through the car in park and unbuckling herself, leaning over their intertwined hands.

"If God told me touching you was a sin, I’d go down to hell with a grin on my face" Hermione states as she kisses Y/n's neck, leaving a bright red lipstick stain in its wake.

A guilty moan slipped past Y/n's lips as her girlfriend happily nipped and kissed her sensitive skin like a hungry mosquito.

"Hermione" Y/n warns as she feels a hand land on her knee and slowly trail under her skirt. Her eyes fluttered closed and snapped open multiple times as she kept watch for any signs of life.

Hermione's fingers traced the lining of Y/n's undergarments, earning another moan as she leaned her head back.

Suddenly Hermione backed away and put the car back in drive, but her hand grasped Y/n's thigh and pulled her close enough to not raise any suspicion.

Y/n looked back up and realized a car was coming up behind them, thankfully the light turned green and they were on their way.

Hermione was now only less than an arm's length away, which worked in her favor as she hooked her fingers around the fabric covering Y/n from the greedy hands of her girlfriend.

"Hermione are you-"

"Shhh, just enjoy our extended ride home" she states as she pulls her garments away enough to slip her hand under it with less resistance.

Hermione kept her nails short, which was unusual for most actresses, but she cared about her Y/n more than nonsensical questions from the media about her defiance of social norms.

If only they knew.

Her fingers slowly circle Y/n's clit as she turned onto a back street neighborhood.

Y/n's legs spread slightly as Hermione trailed down her folds, teasingly slipping the tip of her finger inside her, and then removing it swiftly.

Hermione just chuckled as Y/n moaned softly, and looked at her with pleading eyes as they cruised down the quiet neighborhood.

"Be quiet my love, as much as I want the world to hear how good I make you feel, you have to be quiet" she whispers as trailed back up to her clit and gently pinched it. Y/n hissed and gave a glare to the side of her head, to which her girlfriend chuckled in response as she stared at the road.

The pads of her fingers seemed to apologize for her as she soothed the bundle of nerves with small circular motions.

Hermione slowly halted at the stop sign and let her eyes fall onto her beautiful co-star as she tried to bite her lips from moaning in pleasure.

"Lay your head on my lap" she whispers as she retracts her hand and lets Y/n lay down on her thighs.

Hermione could see her underwear had fallen below her knees, peaking out under the skirt, showing the beautiful purple she was wearing,

The Brit's hand snuck back under the fabric of her skirt in desperation, feeling her fingers begin to coat with her slick as she traced her folds again.

"Please Hermione" Y/n pleads in a hushed voice as she grasps the seat in agony. Hermione cooed in response as she turned onto a long narrow street, finally slipping two fingers into her lover's aching entrance.

A moan got caught in Y/n's throat as her head was thrown back in pleasure, a hand grasping Hermione's shirt so she wouldn't crack the leather of her car.

Hermione stalled her fingers and buried them deep inside of her favorite girl, watching from the corner of her eye as she squirmed under her touch.

"Fucking tease!" Y/n whispers as Hermione curls and separates her digits inside her. A soft chuckle left the woman's throat as she continued her sweet torture.

"But you feel so nice around me, can you blame my passion for you?" Hermione asks as her eyes darted around the road, feeling her cunt quiver around her fingers.

"Are you going to cum just from my motionless hand?" She teases as she curls them again, Y/n's mouth hangs open from the sensation.

"You know, if we had soundproof dressing rooms, I'd fuck you senseless during every break. No matter how short it was." Hermione admits as she begins thrusting her fingers at a slow and calculated pace.

"W-We'd never get anything done" Y/n replies between her groans, to which her girlfriend chuckled again.

"Oh my love, if you weren't so headstrong about acting, I would have moved us out to the middle of nowhere by now, so I can have you like this all the time" she whispers as the car rumbles over a pothole, causing the vibrations to stimulate Y/n for a moment.

"Oh god" She whispers as Hermione's pace speeds up slightly, quiet lewd sounds fill the space. If anyone got close enough to the open windows, they would certainly hear the heavenly noises.

Jazz played from the only lit house on the block, tons of people stood within its walls as the starlights drove by.

"Would you like to host parties if our kind is ever allowed to love freely?" Hermione asks as the curling of her fingers becomes more constant with each thrust.

Y/n tried to respond, but the curve of Hermione's palm began to rub against her clit in delicious circular motions.

"You'd be a cute little host, I'd smile proudly as you greeted our friends and introduced me as your lover" Hermione whispered as they turned onto a street that was a straight shot to their homes.

Y/n's hands grasped Hermione's forearm as the pit of her stomach began to tighten familiarly. It took everything in the woman not to dig her nails into her girlfriend's skin, knowing that the bruises would be hard to cover up with makeup.

"You're going to cum already? I was ready to drive around the block a few times" Hermione hums, but the smug and teasing tone didn't slip past Y/n's fading coherent thoughts.

The Brit quickened her pace, noticing cars she recognized all too well, that were parked around the corner to their homes. Also her hand was starting to cramp at this angle.

Fuck, why are they out here?

Paparazzi are waiting nearby, ready to pounce on the women unprovoked from the open windows. She should stop, and just ask Y/n to, loudly, ask her in for a quick drink in case any cameras were watching them.

But, Hermione was too enamored by the fact that only she could bring Y/n to this state. Feeling her body squeeze and tremble around her fingers was delightfully maddening.

Hermione continued down to Y/n's home, they had maybe less than a minute.

"Cum for me my love, we're almost to your house" Hermione whispered as her palm slapped against her clit in a frantic motion from her thrusting.

Y/n's mouth hung open as she uncontrollably dug her nails into her lover's skin. Oops.

Hermione watched from the corner of her eye as Y/n's legs shook and a generous amount of slick covered her fingers, dripping onto the fabric of Y/n's skirt.

"F-Fuck!" Y/n moaned quietly as her head pressed into her girlfriend's lap, and her back arched from the pleasure. Dots of white poked holes in her vision as she stared at the ceiling of the car.

"I think some of our 'friends' are waiting for us." Hermione commented as she reluctantly pulled away her hand and sucked them clean. So she wouldn't ruin her steering wheel...obviously.

Y/n didn't even give herself time to recompose, slipping her underwear back around her hips and sitting back up. Even after a quick session in the car, Y/n still looked as if she had just come out of makeup.

A bright red lipstick stain shined through the dark.

"Don't forget my signature on your neck" Hermione chuckled as Y/n quickly rubbed away the stain, not wanting to take any chances with the journalists.

Hermione had been right, when the headlights hit the tree line when she was turning into Y/n's driveway, two photographers were waiting for a chance at a picture of Y/n or herself bringing home a costar.

Technically it would be true, but they would just say that they two shared drinks after a long day on set. Oh to be so naïve.

The girls acted as if they didn't see them, instead as Y/n got out of the car, she asked her 'friend' in for a cocktail and to talk about some...unfinished business.

Hermione accepted and shut off her car, locking it behind her as she got out. They could hear the clicking of cameras as they walked to the front door. It took everything in the English woman to flip them off.

They slipped into the house with ease, Hermione watched Y/n lock the door and flip on the living area light. She signaled her to follow, and they instead went upstairs and stepped into her bedroom.

It was pitch black, but Hermione knew this room better than her own, so she easily made her way onto the bed.

Somewhere in the darkness, she could feel Y/n's eyes on her, Hermione then felt a hand start from her calf and trail up to between her thighs.

Goosebumps were left in its wake.

"Let me return the favor, won't you Granger?"