#because i genuinely thought this was a thing i just made up as window dressing/minor plot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chanandlersstuff · 3 years

Text

The seasons pass and the heartbreak too

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader.

Summary: Life its a funny thing or maybe whats meant to be will find his way back together.

Word count: 1.927

Author’s note: This is the second part from this one and I was thinking that those two deserve some closure, so it will be one more part and that's it. Hope you like it. English is my second language so sorry for the misspellings. The song that inspired this part is "Nineteen" from Dylan, it's really good and some parts of it are on the story.

After leaving Charles at the airport that day, you didn't hear from him anymore until maybe the next year because having almost the same group of friends it was pretty hard not to know about him. One day while you were on a long call with Pierre he told you that he was dating a beautiful girl and that he seemed happy. That instead of breaking your heart completely made you happy because he was happy again. The love you had for him prevented you from being sad about it. Pierre also told you that Charles was having a great season and that also made you happy. Months passed and you didn't hear from him. You were getting better and better at your dream job, becoming more important in the business. The F1 life was little forgotten in your life but always alive in the back of your mind.

Summers, birthdays and seasons passed and Charles was achieving all his F1 goals. One night while having dinner with Pierre in some part of the world talking about life he told him that you were dating some guy and that you were happy. Charles’ fork stopped mid air when he heard the news and to Pierre surprise a smile appeared in his face, a genuine smile. He was happy for you, after all the last time he saw you was nearly three years ago and he didn't hate you, he had incredible affection towards you but that was it. Charles had no love interest in his life anymore but none of that had nothing to do with you.

Sometimes he wondered what were you doing with your life, if you achieved all your dream goals, if you were fine, all that kind of stuff. Even one time he almost dialled your number only to see if you had the same number and if you would answer him but that idea turn into a stupid one the second he almost tuch your contac name. You, on the other hand, while exploring new places or when you saw something that you thought would be fun for him, you couldn’t contain your brain from thinking about him and smiling. His name always on your phone but never used. Happy memories from the time you spend together, while being friends and lovers, no hold grudges.

One day while you were crossing the street, coffee in hand and sunglasses in your eyes, your mind deep down in work, someone shouting your name brought you back to reality and the voice was so familiar. You lowered your sunglasses to see better and when the window car next to you lowered too your heart seems to beat a little slower or everything happens in slow motion. He was there in his matt black Ferrari with the Monaco flag across the car and the 16 on one side. Charles Leclerc in the flesh, shouting your name in the red light of a street. With a smile on your face you walked to the passenger side of the car and you crouched a little to see him better.

-I wasn't entirely sure it was you.- Charles said smiling.

-So you took your chances shouting at me I see.- He nodded and you laughed. -How are you?

-Fine, fine. What about you?- The two of you were smiling like little kids on Christmas night.

-I’m fine too.- Looking at his face you notice that he hasn't changed that much. His face was more mature and his beard from a couple of days the same as you remembered. The honk of other cars brought you back to reality -It was fantastic to see you again but I'm going late to a meeting and those drivers are getting pissed.

He frowned a little and moved his head to see the cars behind him. -Oh. Yes, it was great seeing you again.- He smiled and you smiled back. You straightened and took two steps back. -WAIT.

-¿Yes?- Your voice was sweet.

-You ....eh....we….- You giggle because he was the same nervous Charles you remember when you were little.

-¿Yes Charles?.- He laughed and cleared his throat.

-I was thinking if you could give me your number.- You raised your eyebrows. -To stay in touch I mean, if you want of course.

You smile and from one of the pockets of your bag you pulled out your card. -Gimme a call whenever you want.- Your fingers touch and a familiar, not so forgotten, feeling travels through your bodys. -Bye Charles.

A week later you were walking towards him in whiteh trousers and shoes, a black tank top, sunglasses and hat. The “friendly lunch”, as he said, was in a restaurant in front of the water and the summer in the air made the day perfect. It wasn't a date at all, it was two friends who hadn't seen each other in a while catching up.

With a bottle of water in the middle, because he had to drive and you weren’t going to drink wine alone, the conversation flowed as easy as all those years ago. Laughs that made the stomach hurt and tears appeared in the corner of your eyes while the two of you remembered long time memories and funny histories.

The way he kept switching languages as easy as breathing and the sun that was coming down, illuminated your skin making you glow in his eyes and your smile, gosh it was the brightest smile he'd ever seen. Everything was so easy going and funny, like a picture perfect. As if the two of you have never walked away from your lives, as if you have talked every day for the past few years.

-Do you remember that night when we went to that awful party and we ended up drinking coffee in that spot we used to like so much?- He said when you came down from the laughter.

-It was the same day that your mum almost kill us because we were minor and we stunk at cigarettes?- The scene coming to your brain as it was yesterday and he nodded. -Oh yes, I remember. Some dude spilled his drink in my dress and it had a huge stain on it.

-Yes, that blue dress looked so beautiful on you.- You didn’t remember the color, but apparently Charles did.

-I was a mess Charles.- You tried to argue with him.

-A hot mess.- He said in a low tone hoping, praying that you didn’t hear him but you did and didn't say anything about it trying to not ruin the nice day you were having.

-Do you remember that day you called me late at night to pick you up at that random bar?- You said and he burst into laughter at the memory.

-Oh god yes. I almost came out of that bar crawling and you were there waiting for me in that empty street.- Charles said, scratching his head.

-Were only one streetlight worked properly.- You add in a funny tone.

-You were there with my jacket and two blankets and a worried face.

-Because it was freaking cold, like freezing.- You said laughing and he did too. -I don't remember why you were there and I could bet you don't remember either because you were so drunk that you forgot the reason.

-I remember that the next day I had the worst hangover of my life and I swore that I would never drink that way ever again.- Charles grabbed the glass from the table and drank.

-I remember that you were insufferable the next day, like I couldn't even look your way and you were already whining like a baby.- You said and he laughed.

-And the night you were so stressed about that exam and I told you to run away with me?- You frowned. -That I “kidnapped you” and took you to that little dinner and we stayed there for like 5 hours.- You were smiling but didn't say anything or move an inch. -The dinner that was like from the 70s or 80s, with neon signs and rock music.

You nodded with your head. -Can I be honest with you?- He nodded. -All I saw that night was you and how your eyes seem to change color with the neon lights. He didn't say anything but smiled brightly at you and blushed a little.

If you were honest you remember all too well the things you did together. The little lies to your friends telling you didn't like him when you clearly did, the big fights in those summer days where everything complicated and all the mistakes were made and how he always said “You and I, that’s all the matter. No one else, just you and I” and how he told you “You are the only one I want” when you were agreeing to that strange summer deal.

-Do you remember the day we spent in your granny’s garden looking at the stars in that white old sheet?- You said looking at water.

-Yes, we spent hours talking about our big dreams and desires.- A little silence fell between you two. -I really hope you achieve everything you told me that night.- The fact that he seemed to remember what you told him that night told everything that you needed to know.

-I did, most of them I did. I hope the same for you.

-I achieved some of them and I’m doing others this year.-

But the truth was that both of you made promises and dream things together, thinking that you would stay friends or lovers forever. Always by the other side, cheering their wins and being there when they lost but life wanted other things.

-It seems that we both remember a lot of things from years ago.- You said in a nervous tone trying to cover the inexistent awkward silence.

-Of course I remember. How could I ever forget it.- You tilted your head. -How quickly and hard I fell for you.- His tone was so tender and the smile he was giving you was something from another planet.

-Charles…- You played with the napkin in front of you.

-What? It's true, I was never capable of lying to you and you weren't capable either so tell me what's on your mind.- You stayed in silence for a couple of minutes trying to find sense about them.

-Loving you wasn't a waste. Yes hearts were bruised and mistakes were made but I will do it all the same.- You said and smiled at him.

-I don't.- The look on your face must be a hurt one because he rushed his next words. -Because at the end I lost you, everything we were. Friends, lovers, partners, everything lost for years.

-But we are here now.- You said in a slow tone.

-But for how long?- You opened your mouth to talk but he interrupted you. -A week? Ten days? You are going to get back to your job and I have to get back to race, it's the summer deal all over again. And I do not say this because I want to be your boyfriend again or whatever we have been years ago, I say it because I want my friend back. You know how many times I almost called you to tell you everything that was going on with my life, to tell you that I needed you when shit hit the fan? A thousand times. I do not want you in my life if you are going to be entering or leaving it as if it were a candy store. I want you permanently in it and I want to be in your life in the same way. Be there for you when your work is going well and when you cry from stress like all those years ago but this time physically. I want you here.- At this point he was moving his hands freneticaly and raising his voice a little but the only you could do was looked at him speechless absorving his statement and your stupid heart racing as fast as he drives his car in the weekends.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #formula 1 x reader #Charles leclerc x y/n #Charles leclerc x you #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #formula one one shot #formula one x reader #formula 1 x you #f1 x you #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc f1 #charles leclerc one shot

212 notes · View notes

lacheri · 3 years

Text

rituals

pairing: boyfriend!Levi & fem bodied reader

content: modern au, established relationship, over stimulation, penetrative sex, oral (f receiving), body worshipping, a sprinkle of somnophilia and dacryphilia, Levi really loves his pet names, very minor OCD portrayals, minors DNI

wc: 5.7k

notes: not me creating an entire tumblr so i can post my smut lmfao. this is my first time writing smut like this, so i hope ya’ll enjoy (:

Levi couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, even if he wanted or tried to. You were just so beautiful to him, long eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks as you tried to drift off to sleep. He insisted that you faced towards him every night, his eyes tearing up from pushing away blinks because he genuinely couldn’t bring himself to miss even a second of you. It was borderline obsessive, definitely the craziest ritual he had, but Levi just couldn’t help it. This was the only time he fully and unabashedly got to admire you, and it wasn’t like you didn’t mind the attention. In fact you’d lay there fully conscious, steadying your breathing and squinting just barely to watch him watch you. Your boyfriend wasn’t an overly affectionate person, but God did he love to spend hours memorizing every curve and line of your pretty face.

Levi’s fingers reached out, tracing your cheekbone with his knuckles, breathing a hair above a whisper, “So gorgeous.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from blowing your cover, a wide grin erupting from your lips. Eyes still closed, you heard Levi chuckle, “Seems like my brats’ still awake.”

Instead of answering in fear of ruining the moment, you snuggled closer to your boyfriend, burrowing your head into the space between his neck and shoulder. You placed an innocent kiss there as you brought your left hand up to rub tiny circles on his bicep. His shirtless body was warm and soft from his earlier shower, and he had just decided on sliding into your freshly washed bed sheets with you in just his boxers. You couldn’t help but take notice of his hardened length pressed against your stomach.

“So sweet for me tonight,” he rasped, fingers edging under the fabric of your silk shorts.

“I’m always sweet for you,” you moved your head back to look up at him, batting your eyelashes and pouting.

Levi took your bottom lip in between his index finger and thumb, gaze locked in on how it rolled in between them. He groaned softly to himself letting go, leaning in to indulge himself in a kiss. You eagerly matched his slow, sensual pace. His hand wandered back to your shorts, slipping underneath the bottoms to caress the back of your thigh. He molded the soft flesh between his fingers, biting softly at your lips for permission to taste you. Your tongue licked in response against his bottom lip, Levi taking it upon himself to push his tongue forward to dominate yours. His taste buds slid sinfully against yours, twisting and turning around the muscle. You tasted divine. All mine, Levi thought to himself.

The tips of his fingers traveled upwards to the fullness of your lower cheek, not being able to stop himself pulling the handful towards him. He softened his grip, feeling your ass jiggle back into its original place. His mind ran wild, images of your naked body flooding his head. You couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh, feeling a familiar burn rumble in your lower stomach. Unlike your boyfriend who could play and get you wound up for however long he saw fit, as soon as you got started all you wanted was him inside you. Patience was not in your personality, and as he continued to paw at your lower half, you had one goal set in mind.

“Wanna’ get on top,” you demanded, breathless and feeling needy as you pulled away from your kiss.

Levi’s kiss traveled to your cheek, down your jaw and neck as he responded, “No, not done with you yet.”

“But Levi,” you whined, shifting an octave higher as he sucked the side of the column of your throat. His tongue drew delicious circles before going back to peppering kisses.

“Patience, brat. You’re being so good, don’t want to ruin that by being whiny, do we?” He ended his question with a light smack on your ass, removing his hand all together after to lean his torso up to hover over you. You gulped, the burning feeling intensifying as he stared at you with predatory eyes. You nodded slowly, feeling accomplished as he murmured, “That’s my good girl.”

Levi easily guided you to lay flat on your back on the bed, fully encasing you in between his strong arms. You eyed his biceps as he balanced over you. The full moon that looked just outside your bedroom window was a blessing in disguise as it illuminated the room, casting flattering light on all it saw. Your favorite thing about Levi’s body was his arms, toned and strong, and always so in control. You practically drooled watching them flex as he leaned in back to your neck, this time trailing kisses upwards. His lips met you in a kiss again, this one a bit heavier and needy than the last.

His right hand strayed up to your face again, Levi always needed to touch you, and his thumb ran along the edge of your jaw, a grip solidified under your chin when he pulled his face away from yours. He titled your head up, his stone colored eyes locked in on yours. His jaw was slacked open as his eyes kept traveling your face. Every time he saw your face it was like a spell, he was completely devoid of ever being able to gaze at another’s after being graced with yours. In a flash, images of you looking angelic in a white dress came to mind, and with a pretty diamond ring burning a hole in his sock drawer he had yet to show you, his cock throbbed. Levi’s lips attached aggressively to the spot where his fingers accompanied, sucking fiercely down. You bit back a moan as heat pooled instantly between your legs, oblivious to his thoughts.

“Levi,” you moaned, both of your hands shooting up to his waist leering above you.

“Yes?” he moved downwards again, this time taking the buttons of your silk shirt in between the pads of his fingers, popping them open slowly.

“I love you,” your eyes fluttered closed, heart race increasing. His did as well, flickering to your bra-less chest and back up to the soft smile that lit up your face.

“As do I, brat.”

Levi pushed your unbuttoned silk sleeping shirt open, gazing down in awe at your exposed chest. Your nipples were pert and standing to attention, and you felt like your heart was going to slam out of its confines. Levi always did this to you, every time you made love felt like the first. You wondered if this effect would ever go away, but as he leaned down and flicked one of your hardened nubs with his tongue, you wholeheartedly believed it never would.

His lips encircled around your nipple, his hand began toying with your other breast. His licks and sucks were slow, so agonizingly slow, but did Levi just love to work you up and tease you. On the nights you were an extra good girl for him, he’d let you take charge and tell him what you wanted and give it to you. Unsurprisingly, there was absolutely no time wasted in foreplay. Of course this power change wouldn’t last very long, Levi would find it too amusing how quickly being in control went to your head. He needed to remind you on those nights that he was only allowing you to act that way, and Levi was always the one in charge.

You could feel the throbbing of want from your core, not being able to hold back a whine as Levi continued his assault. His hand stayed kneading your breast as his lips moved south once more, tongue lolled out on your skin to leave a saliva trail. He had to feel every square inch of you, lapping against the soft skin of your torso. He bit playfully at the underside of your boob, and you let out a tiny yelp in response. His lips smoothed over the light impressions of his teeth, kissing languidly to earn back the soft moans and sighs he was eliciting from you.

Deciding then that your clothes were an offensive insult to his existence, Levi huffed and abruptly yanked down the waistband of your shorts, taking your lace panties with it. This had caught you off guard, but before you could react, Levi had slipped one of his hands under you on the small of your back to lift your hips while the other tugged down your shorts and panties to your knees. You lifted your knees up on your own to your chest and he pulled the garments off the rest of the way, throwing them off to a forgotten corner of the room. His hands returned back to you quickly, landing on the back of your heels, and he leaned up onto his knees to gaze down at you from hazy eyes. Wherever his fingers trailed, his eyes followed. Feather light scratches traveled the underside of your feet, his palms facing towards you. You shivered involuntarily, your body was on fire and he hadn’t even touched you where you needed him the most yet. His digits finally met the tips of your toes, and his knuckles wrapped around the tops of your feet, massaging them in the process. Levi’s eyes flickered up then, expression completely stoic, but you saw every emotion swirl in his cloudy grey eyes. The want, the need, the complete and utter adoration, it was all there.

“You’re so fucking stunning,” Levi spat as if he had spoken an insult. “All fucking mine, I want to hear you say it.”

“Levi, please, touch me,” you begged, fed up with him toying with you.

“Tell me, now.”

“I’m yours,” you pleaded, nearly in tears as your frustration built. “I’ll always be yours. Please, baby.”

“Such a good girl,” Levi praised, face softening after getting what he wanted. He pressed his lips to the top of your right toe then, never breaking eye contact. He didn’t spend much time on your feet, only peppering closed mouth kisses until he reached your ankle. His fingers followed shortly behind his lips, eliciting goosebumps in the trail of his light touch. You were a whiny mess, he was just getting you so worked up. You knew he didn’t reward bratty behavior like this, and you really did try to control it and keep it in, but you were just getting so frustrated that Levi wasn’t giving into what you wanted, no, what you needed. And every kiss closer to your aching center moved slower and slower, stopping completely once he reached the insides of your thighs.

Taking your knees in a tight grasp, he spread you completely open in front of him. You clenched around nothing in anticipation, a silly grin on your face. You bit softly on your bottom lip, watching him devour you with his eyes. It was just so much to take in, Levi was groaning to himself, burning the image into his memory. There just weren't words to describe it, having you like this felt almost holy. His eyes struggled to fit you all into one simple picture, wanting to focus on every single detail; The way your pussy glistened and the muscles contracted, the darkened skin in the inner creases where your center met your thighs, the skin bunched together on your stomach from having your legs spread so wide and up, the tiny bumps of your areolas, the way you sucked on your bottom lip, eyes so wide and pure, hair a fucking halo around you. He placed his hands on the sides of your center, spreading you open with the pads of his thumbs resting on your outer lips. Levi wasn’t a religious man in the slightest, but God did he want to put your body on an altar and goddamn pray to you, worship you, die for you, kill for you.

Levi finally leaned forward, his lips placing an open mouth kiss to the bare skin above your folds. It was all way too much teasing, and you couldn’t stop yourself from squirming, trying to push yourself closer to his mouth. He shot a warning glare up, daring you to continue disturbing him.

“Bad girls don’t get what they want, brat,” the vibrations of his grovel were so close to your aching clit, and you let out a choked moan in response.

“I’m sorry, baby,” your head became clouded, feeling like you were going to explode. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

“This is the second time I’ve had to remind you,” Levi took his index finger and finally stroked it against you, a shaky intake of breath elicited from you. “Don’t let there be a third.”

The tip of his finger circled gently on your clit, exposing the pearl in the center. Every time his soft touch brushed against it, you wanted to sob. Your loving boyfriend, so gentle and caring, taking his ever loving time with you. He watched you as if he had never seen another woman in his entire life, it would always be just you. Even the mere thought of someone aside from you had him growling. Whilst you were all his, he belonged to no one else but you, and he felt every urge to prove that to you.

The assault of his tongue was a shock to your system, nerves sizzling deliciously. Levi was a man on a mission, and he knew exactly how to get you to come undone under him with the rhythm of his mouth. There was a pattern to be appreciated, a ritual even, and Levi was a man who found reason in a routine, because routine always worked. You knew this well even outside the bedroom, Levi ate the same foods every day to stay as fit as possible, he color coded every single thing in your home to stay as organized as he could, losing his mind if he even suspected a hint of dust on any of his furniture. He told you once before that you were the one compulsion that didn’t drive him utterly insane, and in Levi’s world he pretty much declared his eternal love for you. And you definitely didn’t mind this attention in the slightest, because although the thoroughness of his touches and kisses made you want to ignite into ball of flames with desire and frustration, there would never be another man on the planet who could make you feel as beautiful and as loved as Levi did, or who would be worthy of receiving of your own love and adoration.

Levi’s took his free hand to your opening, circling the area with pressure. His tongue still licked and sucked faithfully on your clit, you whimpering and mewling at his worship. His index finger pressed in, your walls instantly sucking him in as far as you could take him. You shuttered, eyes rolling into the back of your head as his finger began to move inside of you. He was grazing the ridges, pumping the digit as the knuckles of his fingers made a ‘come here’ motion over and over. And when he added a second one to add to his pattern, the coil in your lower stomach was about to burst. Of course Levi could feel the change of the pulses of your walls, holding a squeeze for longer seconds than the last ones, and he knew you were close. He angled his fingers then so the tips rubbed against the spongy part of your cunt, pumping his fingers even faster, creating friction at your entrance as well.

Between his expert fingers and the suction of his lips, you came fast and violently, not being able to voice a wanting, white light flooding your vision as you arched your back and your eyebrows knitted together, your mouth hanging agape in a breathless scream. Levi watched all of this before him, and couldn’t help but rut against the bed in his boxers. You were simply heavenly, and had he humped the bed the entire time he was eating you out, he would’ve came in his boxers without hesitation.

The contractions slowed but Levi did not, knowing he could get at least one more out of you before he moved on to the main event. The stimulation was too much, too overwhelming coming immediately off of your high. Your muscles were still so tight, not completely relaxed and your clit was just so sensitive. It didn’t take more than a few strokes of his fingers yet again to have a quick orgasm.

You moaned louder the second time, although the first one was stronger. It just felt so good, not nearly as satisfying as the first, but the waves washing over you were unbelievably strong.

Levi removed his mouth, and watched his fingers slip out of you, skin pruned from your cum. He placed a kiss on your thigh, bringing his gaze to your weary expression, “Such a good girl for me, I think I’m going to reward you.”

Your ears perked and you lifted your head from the pillow, “Reward?”

“Yeah, why not?” he sucked where he was placing kisses, eyes locked in on yours. “I’m going to let you pick how you want me to take you.”

Your eyes widened, an excited smile gracing your features. Now this was rare, and you realized that Levi must’ve been in an exceptional mood to let you have even a fraction of control right now. Or, on the flip side, he was setting you up to lose control so he could find a reason to punish you. Either way, you couldn’t wait to find out.

“On top,” you begged yet again, sitting up on your elbows and sliding out of your opened shirt. “I want to watch you.”

“So needy,” he scoffed, grabbing the backs of your thighs and pulling you further down the bed so you were eye level. His chin was covered in your arousal as he leant in for a passionate kiss, lips mashing together. He easily flipped you over so you laid on top of his muscular form. You sat up, knees bent on either side of his hips. You placed your hands on his lower stomach to steady yourself, thumbs brushing against the elastic of his black boxers. Levi had strategically rolled you so you sat pressed bare against his erection, and he could feel how wet your pussy was through the fabric. He audibly groaned when you pressed further down, rubbing yourself on his clothed cock.

Your hips rocked back and forth in a lazy rhythm, and Levi was having absolutely none of it. Although he could deal out plenty of teasing, what he wasn’t going to allow was for you to give it right back to him. Really, it wasn’t on purpose, you promise. It was just there was no time to waste, and you would find any kind of satisfaction any way you possibly could.

His hands gripped hard at your hips, stopping your motions entirely, “Oi, brat, you trying to get a strike three?”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized once again. “Feel so good, I can’t stop.”

“How could you?” his expression softened, bringing his thumb to trace your lips in mock empathy. “You’re so spoiled.”

Levi then took matters, literally, into his own hands. He patted your thighs so you could lift your hips as he grabbed his thick cock out of the confines of his boxers. It slapped against his stomach, and you saw the glisten of precum on his slit. Your mouth watered, eyes drinking up every second as he pulled the clothing down his legs, kicking them off his ankles. You sunk your hips down again, letting out a whimper as your clit made direct contact with the head of his dick. Levi pulled his bottom lip in with teeth, face scrunched as he let out a low hiss. You slid against him a couple of times, lubing his shaft with your arousal. Grabbing the base, you angled him at your entrance, eyes glued to the spot between you. His eyes stayed trained on your angelic face though, not trusting himself to bust on the spot as you began to slide yourself down on his length.

“Fuck,” Levi cursed, nearly drawing blood as he bit down. Your mouth hung agape, eyebrows furrowed and tears pricking the edges of your lash line. “So fucking tight.”

Fully impaled on top of him now, a fat teardrop rolled down your face, landing on his lower abdomen, and Levi was instantly regretting letting you take control like this. All he wanted to do was to feel your pelvic bones wrapped around his fingers on your hips as he unforgivingly plowed into you. He hated seeing you cry, but in the bedroom, he didn’t mind it one bit. It was an arousing reminder that no matter how many times he made you cum before hand, no matter how drenched your core was, you would still struggle to fit all of him inside of you. He would even go as far to call it a sick fascination, a warranted deal as lovers to see you sob and hiccup on his length. His ego was fragile, as are most men, but as you opened your teary eyes and met his lustful glare, he felt as if he could take down the entire fucking world for you.

“Oh my god,” you cried softly, angling your hips upwards to bounce back down swiftly. You both let out a groan as you met his pelvis once again, feeling the tickle of neatly kept pubic hair tickle your clit. As much as you wanted to grind yourself down on his base to get yourself off yet again, the furrow of Levi’s brows and the sight of his lip tucked between his teeth gave you motivation to continue on.

Raising yourself up again quickly, now feeling your cunt adjust more to keep taking him, you used all the power you could muster in your knees and thighs to lower yourself down, then up again, into a steady rhythm. A bit slow for both of your preferences, but you fully knew that his patience would wear thin soon and Levi would just haul you onto your back again, having his way with you.

His thick tip continuously brushed against your ridges, every time you would purposefully clench yourself as you met his base. Whimpers escaped your lips, the sounds of you and your cunt gripping him for all its worth filling the room. You would’ve been embarrassed had this been anyone else, but truthfully, Levi was the only man who could ever get your beautiful pussy to this state of unending flow. You were soaking him, and the both of you knew that after all this was said and done, the sheets that were just pulled out of the dryer not even an hour ago would go right back into the wash, all because of you. No, you weren’t going to take the blame. It was all because of Levi, and what he was doing to you.

His hand smacking your ass brought you out of your thoughts as he grumbled, “You fucking brat, you’re fucking yourself on my cock to wind me up, huh? You’re really wanting that strike three?”

“No,” you managed to moan out as your pussy clenched from his words. “I’m really trying my best, Levi.”

Levi’s hands grasped your hips as your cunt was trapped at the top of his fat tip, stopping your motion entirely there as you hovered, “I don’t fucking believe you.”

With one swift motion, he thrusted upwards, hard, burying himself right up against your cervix. You yelped in response, tears resurfacing as the pain mixed with the pleasure. This was exactly what you had wanted, and Levi knew this, but you would refuse to admit it.

“Wanted me to get fed up, didn’t you?” he grit his teeth, plunging himself into you once again, unbelievably even harder this time, your moans turned desperate.

“Please,” is all you could whimper, his harsh thrusts increasing in pace as he fucked himself into you. Not once relinquishing his tight grip on you. All you could do is hover above him, grabbing onto whatever you could to steady yourself.

Another loud smack was heard as you felt a sting against your ass, and now you were really sobbing, “Please, please!”

“Please, what?” Levi venomously spat out, eyes darkened in lust and in mild anger. You knew it wasn’t legitimate anger, and all his look did was feed the flame growing in your core.

“My legs can’t hold up anymore,” you cried, fat tears rolling down your face. Your knees were buckling, a tender ache in your thighs had your body wanting to go limp.

His hold on you eased up, maneuvering his hips so his cock slid out of you with a squelch. You fell into his lap, trying to catch your breath as fast as you could before he locked you in another grip, rolling around so your stomach was flat on the bed. His cock, now soaked in your juices, was grinding into the seam of your ass, and he was groaning at the contact. Truthfully, you’d let him fuck himself anywhere he wanted. And God, did Levi want to use that to his advantage. Not tonight though, he had one goal, one place in mind, and that was your beautiful, angelic cunt.

He slid himself back in between your folds with no resistance, his knees locked in between your legs to prevent you from closing them in a reaction. His fingers tangled themselves in the back of your head, pulling it up by your hair so he could hear every single mewl and whimper from your beautiful mouth.

From this new angle, Levi was buried so deep within your body that every nerve was singeing, lit aflame by the wondrous pleasure. Pulling his hips back slowly, he could feel every ridge and muscle in your plush cunt, and he let out a subtle growl. He pressed back in at the same pace, almost torturous. He eyed the handprints on your ass, and felt his ego soar. Every mark, every bruise, every touch, your body was entirely his, and his alone.

His fingers unwound in your hair, grasping both of your full ass cheeks in his hands as he plunged in, flicking his hips faster. You heard and felt the smack of his balls as he bottomed out inside of you, and all you could do was gasp and hiccup at the impact. He repeated it, again and again, increasing his speed every time. He angled himself then to brush his engorged tip to that sweet spongey spot inside of you, fucking right up into it with every thrust. He really had you moaning then, your hands reaching forward to grasp the pillow in front of you, knuckles white in your grip. While the sight was erotic, seeing the back of your head as you stuffed your face into mattress, body completely limp under him, Levi wanted to see that beautiful face of yours as he brought you to a climax. He could feel your cunt squeezing him, ready to cum, but knew how your clit needed the extra attention to bring you there.

When he pulled out of you suddenly, you let out a frustrated cry. He silenced it very quickly, flipping your body once again to lay on your back. Strands of your hair were stuck in sweat against your forehead, mouth agape and he couldn’t help but smirk at the sight of your moistened lips, unable to stop the drool as your mouth hung open. Your legs still parted, bent at the knees, he grabbed your thighs and pulled you even closer, aligning himself with your vulva once again. His hands stayed there, his cock standing to full attention, needing no guidance, as he filled your tight hole, and continued fucking you.

Your breasts bounced from the impact as you tried, so very hard, to match his pace with your hips. You did well at the beginning, feeling the skin to skin contact against your clit as your bodies met full on. Your legs were shaking though, unable to hold a rhythm long enough to get off, and you gave in, allowing him to take full control.

“You’re so close again, aren’t you?” he chuckled darkly, his right hand leaving the smooth skin on your thigh to travel in between your legs.

“‘Wanna cum, please, Levi,” you pleaded, your eyes screwing shut, hands attaching themselves to his looming biceps.

“You haven’t been very good, though, brat,” he chided, almost mockingly. “I don’t know if you deserve it.”

“I’ll be good!” you begged, hips shakily trying to match his pace once again. “Please!”

“You’re gonna’ be a good girl?” he asked, gaze dark and hungry as he drank in your desperate form.

“Yes, yes!” you nodded furiously, eyes opened now, watching his own flicker up to yours.

Without answering you, or teasing you any further, his thumb met your clit, and you moaned so fucking loud that Levi almost came from the sight of you. He pulled his thoughts together, focusing on getting you off first. His thrusts fastened, your pussy squelching as the sound of slapping skin echoed in your bedroom. Levi’s thumb worked in quick circles, no intent of letting up. No, you wanted to come, so he was going to make you fucking come.

The coil was never unwound in the first place, and his attention had you seeing stars. The pressure in your abdomen kept building, and you could feel every single slide and inch of his dick everywhere inside of you. At your sweet spot, in your entrance, the encouragement of his thumb on your most sensitive area. It was all too much.

“I’m gonna’ cum,” you panted as you threw your ankles around his waist, wanting to pull him in deeper.

“Cum for me, beautiful, cum on my cock,” Levi begged, feeling his own release impending.

That’s all it took, your jaw dropping and knees shaking as your pussy pulled in him so deep, and squeezed him painfully tight. Your head was empty, and Levi watched you completely fall apart below him. Seeing pure white, eyes locked in on his, his face screwed together in his own pleasure. That’s all it took to finally push you over the edge. Your cunt gripped him harshly, and feeling the first contraction, Levi couldn’t hold back anymore, his thrusting desperate and thumb moving so fast his wrist was aching. He flicked his hips as you pulsed around him, shooting his load deep inside your velvet center.

As you screamed his name, he moaned out yours, both of you stilling completely aside from his thumb working you down. Even as he came down from his height, your cunt was still milking him, albeit at a slower pace now. His thumb slowed movement, your contractions winding down as your chests heaved.

Levi quite literally had to force himself out of you, your pussy that tight on his dick. He watched in adoration as some of his seed spilled out of your hole, and using the same thumb he brought you to your climax with, he pushed the fluid back inside of you.

Thank God for birth control, you thought, breathing heavily as you watched him from below.

Levi threw himself out of the bed, taking shaky strides over to your on suite bathroom. He spent a couple minutes there, and you stayed in the same position, trying to find any energy to move. Not much to his surprise, he looked on in adoration to see you still sprawled out, your eyes closed peacefully as you enjoyed your post orgasmic bliss. Now this was a face worth studying tonight.

You jumped when you felt the cool contact of a wet rag meet your folds, and your eyes opened and followed Levi’s hands as he diligently cleaned you, his focus intent on your womanhood. You cringed when you finally looked down at yourself, inner thighs glistening under the pale moonlight. So much for laundry day.

“Normally this is the part where I tell you how good you were,” Levi’s eyes flickered up as a small smirk set in on his lips. “But I’m beginning to think you’re a bit too spoiled, brat.”

You laughed breathily, “I’m sorry, you just make it so hard to control myself.”

“Maybe I should start dealing out real punishments,” he mused, finishing up wiping you down.

“Oh?” you managed to tilt your head lazily, interest peaked. “Like what?”

“I don’t know, maybe make you start calling me captain, or something?” Levi inquired. His expression was completely serious.

“Captain?” you snorted. “Captain Levi? What kind of fantasies do you got swirling around in your head? Do you want to buy a boat or something?”

“You could be my little cadet,” he smirked, ignoring your teasing, returning the rag to your pussy with mischievous intentions, a bit too sensual. “My little bratty cadet.”

You closed your legs as much as you could with him in between them, a pout settled in on your face, “Why can’t I be a captain too? Better yet, what about your commander?”

“In your wildest dreams, brat.”

Levi stopped teasing you then, deciding your lower half was as clean as he could possibly get it without tossing you into the shower. Making another quick trip to the bathroom and back, he adjusted the pillows behind you, until they sat perfectly on the bed frame, and worked out the wrinkles in the duvet that had been half haphazardly thrown down and off the mattress to make way for your love making. Deeming everything perfect, Levi finally crawled into the bed beside you, where your eyelids were drooping heavily as you fought off legitimate sleep this time.

“I love you, Levi,” you murmured, burrowing your face into the crook of his neck to pepper a sweet, innocent kiss.

His hands gently cupped the back of your head, pulling you back and you pouted sleepily, “Oi, you know what you’re supposed to do. I’ll cuddle you when I’m done.”

You only nodded in a response, sleep catching up to your exhausted body. You only stirred when you felt the length of his fingers intertwined with yours, a small smile creeping up as you finally drifted off. Levi gazed at your expression in adoration, pushing back your hair from your face as your breathing softened. He would fight his own need for sleep for an hour, memorizing every crinkle of your beautiful face.

“I love you, so much,” Levi whispered, barely able to hear himself. “My beautiful angel.”

#levi x reader #levi ackerman #attack on titan #levi fic #levi smut #tw: ocd #shingeki no kyojin #levi fanfiction

488 notes · View notes

caspercryptid · 2 years

Note

IDK IF THIS IS THE INBOX BUT FAKE DATING AU???

🕊️ Twitter — 📖 Ao3 — ☕ Ko-Fi — 📖 Fic Index

Jailco for you. Because I know you. Third of Fifteen Fake Dating requests, and thank you, as always, for playing <3

You have reached Silco’s voicemail box. If you’re not supposed to have this number I strongly suggest you hang up and forget you found it. Otherwise, you had better be aware of how phone voicemail boxes work.

*Beep*

“Hey, Silco, it’s Jayce. Remember how we hooked up last week and you— uh. Remember how I had to wear your clothes? Leaving? Well. Turns out that someone did get pictures. So. You probably already know, I imagine someone’s. Told you. About TMZ. Well, can you do me a favor and call me back before you tell the press anything. My agent had an idea. Just. please. Call me back. Bye.”

Jayce is still not entirely sure if he’s entered his dream or his nightmare when Silco arrives to their “date”.

Silco is handsome, gorgeous, utterly fucking terrifying. As always. Jayce is smiling, dressed down in a heavy sweater and jeans, leaning casually outside of the aquarium. He’s signed a few autographs for people brave enough to approach him, told them without hesitation he was waiting for a date, and ignored the few pictures people had gotten. Thankfully the demographic of his fans didn’t overlap much with people who come to museums midday during the week.

He asks himself, not for the first time, how he got into this mess. Stupid question. He’d jumped Silco at the party last week.

Well, maybe jumped was a strong word. Silco had been staring at him. Even though he’d probably been staring because Jayce had knocked over a punchbowl and looked like someone had gone full Carrie on him, Jayce had wanted to pretend that it was genuine interest. He’d been pretty... miserable. Since going solo. He couldn’t really deny that one. Fame, acclaim, awards, all of it was getting old and he was lonely, and he’d accidentally knocked over a punchbowl, and Silco had stared at him, so he’d gone over and Said silco could take a picture since it’d last longer, or something, or something about lasting all night, and then they’d made out against the table and the door and the backseat of a cab and Silco’s apartment hallway and he’d had a pretty good night from there. The best night he’d had in a while, if he was honest with himself.

But hey. If there’s one thing Jayce is a expert at. It’s ruining a good thing.

So he just smiles at Silco when he gets there, doesn’t try to touch him until Silco snakes an arm around his waist and drags him closer to his side. “Second thoughts?” Silco murmurs.

“And thirds and forths and fifths.” Jayce mutters, and Silco snorts, guiding him inside.

“This was your plan.” “This was my agent’s plan. Mine was to hide under my bed and never come out again.”

“Well, the world would be deprived of your voice.”

Jayce glances up at Silco, half-surprised. “That sounded like a real compliment.” He says.

“I am capable of those.” Silco deadpans.

“Well, yes. To other people.”

“For a popstar, you’re really lacking in terms of ego.”

“Am not.” Jayce counters. “I know i’m talented. I just wasn’t expecting you to think so.”

“Well now you’re insulting my taste.”

Jayce shrugs. “You seem like you’re above pop music. Classical only. Beethoven or bust.”

“Be honest, is that the only classical musician you can name?”

Jayce rolls his eyes. “I did study music.”

“Ah, so you only play an idiot on television.”

“Sells better.”

“Hm.”

Jayce doesn’t know what to do with that one, and hadn’t entirely meant to answer that honestly, so he readjusts a second and then says—

“Actually only minored in music. I did my thesis on... resonance. So. Discovered I could sing shortly before I blew out the windows of the lab with my speakers during an experiment.”

Silco actually looks a little interested. “Perhaps you can tell me about that sometime you’re not playing an idiot in public.”

“Oh, right, the bit.” Jayce drapes himself into Silco’s side and makes big eyes at him. “Where did you wanna go in the aquarium, baby?” He asks, voice slightly louder than his normal speaking volume.

“I’m going to show you the sharks.” Silco informs him, looking amused as he pulls Jayce along. Jayce blinks, forgetting to play his part as he keeps stride.

“You know the way already?”

“I’ve been here before.”

“—You did suggest it.’ Jayce realizes. “You like fish?”

“They’re interesting creatures.” Silco says, neutrally, and Jayce very carefully keeps his smile only the showman’s grin not to let the real fondness slip through. Nerd.

“Show me the sharks, then.” He says.

He’s looking forward to getting to know Silco. Maybe this will turn out alright after all.

#jailco #jayce x silco #silco x jayce #jayce talis #silco #silco arcane #casper's haunted fic tag

39 notes · View notes

cherienymphe · 4 years

Text

xoxo (Peter Parker x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, roofie use, Stark!Peter, snobby rich people, Peter’s an ass (I believe @opheliadawnwalker3 coined the term “baby Ransom”)

DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers}

summary: Peter Stark, the adopted son of the playboy philanthropist Tony Stark, has been a pain in your ass for years. Ever the womanizer, you always brushed off his flirtatious behavior as part of his personality, unaware of just how deeply his feelings ran.

You leaned against the bar with a grimace, nursing the strong drink in your hand as the annoying sound of high-pitched laughs and fake compliments drifted up from downstairs, swirling around you. You glanced over your shoulder to look down at the rest of the guests before rolling your eyes at this soiree that was nothing more than a pissing contest for the rich and snooty.

You truly hated being the daughter of a wealthy CEO more often than not. You’d grown up with the kind of lifestyle that more than half the world would never taste, ignorant to not only reality, but the true inner workings of the business that funded your lifestyle. It wasn’t until your junior year of high school when the rug was ripped out from underneath you, exposing the dark truth.

Now, you detested everything about this lifestyle. From the preferential treatment to the fancy parties, you hated everything that came with it. Despite the fact that you were an adult now, your father still had an iron grip on you no matter how much you pretended he didn’t. It was why instead of going on a humanitarian trip with some friends from college for winter break, you were back in the big apple, the upper east side to be exact, surrounded by a bunch of brownnosers.

“Another please,” you murmured, setting your empty glass down onto the bar.

The bartender was quick in giving you a refill, but before the glass met your lips, a finger slid in between to gently push it away. A sigh escaped you before you even turned your head, the familiar smell of his cologne reaching your nose.

“You’re always off by yourself at these little gatherings…”

You turned towards the voice, eyes meeting his dark ones as a playful smirk danced along his pink lips. His brown hair was neatly pushed away from his face, suit fitting him to perfection. He looked so put together and very much like a gentleman. Too bad that you knew better.

“Someone like me might take it as an invitation to approach you.”

You fully turned in your seat, leaning your elbow on the bar to gaze at him, unimpressed, cheek resting on your hand. He too was leaning on the bar, signaling for the bartender to get him a drink, already sliding into the seat in front of you. You could’ve protested, but he wouldn’t listen anyway.

Peter Stark was the bane of your existence. Adopted by the great Tony Stark when he was just a toddler, a big ordeal that made the papers apparently, the dark-haired male grew up in the same environment you did. The same circles. You went to the best schools together, often times having the same batch of friends. He always had the teachers and just about every other adult fooled, but everyone else knew better.

Peter’s charm was notorious. Those soft brown eyes and boyish good looks could have any girl swooning at his feet. He was so good that most girls didn’t even mind being one of the many. As long as they were a number, they didn’t care. Let them tell it, he had a way of making every single one of them feel special. You probably would’ve been one of them had you not seen his behavior firsthand all those years ago. How he’d tell one girl one thing and say something completely different to the next.

Peter’s constant flirtations with you and your absolute refusal to ever even entertain him had made your relationship…interesting. Could you even call yourselves friends? He flirted with you, and you rolled your eyes at his antics. That was the gist of it. His behavior had only gotten worse once you’d denounced this lifestyle the minute you left for college, a non-Ivy League college at that.

You remembered the surprise you felt that Peter had seemed to be genuinely upset with the 180 you’d done with your lifestyle. You had rolled your eyes as he’d called you all sorts of ‘wannabe’ this and ‘wannabe’ that, biting your tongue as he insulted your ‘low rate school’. Even now, after a little over 2 years, he still sneered whenever he brought up your new life.

“Color me shocked you even showed up today. Last I heard you were going to build houses for children,” he said, nursing his drink.

You smirked at him, fighting back a laugh.

“Last you heard? Keeping tabs on me, Stark?”

He returned your smirk, dark eyes trailing over you, gaze lingering on whatever skin your short dress exposed. You weren’t fazed by his conspicuous onceover, more than used to it.

“Of course. I have to make sure my best girl stays out of trouble,” he told you, leaning in.

You scoffed, looking away from him as you downed your drink.

“Your best girl,” you dryly repeated, standing. “Yeah, okay.”

Peter hurried to stand with you, whistling at the bartender as you walked away. It wasn’t long before you felt his arm being thrown over your shoulder as he pulled you against him. He waved an expensive bottle of champagne in your face as he walked down the hall with you.

“You may have switched up and hate me now-.”

“I’ve always hated you,” you deadpanned.

“…but you can’t deny that I know how to throw a party within a party,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard you. “Ned and I are having a little get together in the penthouse suite.”

He wasn’t wrong, and you sighed as you thought about how angry you’d been to be forced back home for the break instead of doing what you wanted to do. You could honestly use the distraction, at least for a little while until you had to be in your father’s presence again. You sighed again, and by the grin on Peter’s lips, you knew that he knew that he had you.

“Fine. Lead the way,” you said with a flourish.

His grin widened, and he pulled you closer as he took you to the elevator. You leaned against the mirrored wall once inside, staring at your reflection with a frown.

“You shouldn’t frown so much,” he said, pressing the button. “It’ll give you premature wrinkles.”

“Why are you so concerned with how I age?”

He unbuttoned his suit jacket, approaching you as he swung the bottle of champagne in his hand.

“I want you to age as gracefully as me when we get married,” he teased, pressing his free hand onto the wall beside your head.

You laughed, shaking your head.

“I’d never marry you, and you… Well, you’d never get married,” you said with a shrug, shaking your head.

His grin dimmed a bit as his eyes met yours.

“I’d marry you,” he murmured.

You rolled your eyes, head leaning back against the wall as he moved closer, pressing his forearm to the wall, face suddenly serious as he eyed you. It was his turn to sigh now, the sound heavy and drawn out.

“When…are you and I finally going to get together?” he slowly asked, voice low in the quiet elevator.

Your eyes widened just a tad, nose brushing his as he leaned in. Peter hadn’t asked you that for some time now. It was a recurring question of his that you always brushed off, and even though this time was no different, something in his voice made you blink. There was a yearning that had never been there before. Something new lingering in his eyes.

You laid your hand on his chest, pushing him away, and he let you.

“Seriously, Peter? You know the answer to that question,” you said.

He huffed, his grin returning as he shook your rejection off.

“You know I always have to ask…just in case you change your mind,” he replied, quickly scanning your frame.

The elevator dinged, and the doors parted behind him, the low hum of a small party reaching your ears.

“I’m never going to change my mind.”

Without a second glance, you brushed past him to exit the elevator.

“You need to start getting serious about your future, Y/N.”

You stared out of the tinted window, watching the city fly by as your father’s car weaved in and out of traffic. He was giving you yet another lecture on what he thought you should be doing with your future. After all, it wasn’t like you had already decided on a major and knew exactly what you wanted to do with your life, so you could understand his- oh. Wait… You had!

“Dad,” you sighed. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Humanities isn’t a real major,” he argued for the umpteenth time, tone laced with contempt.

You cut in before he could continue.

“First of all, it is. Second of all, it’s my minor-.”

“Oh, of course. How silly of me to forget that- what is it? International relations? That’s the major, right?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, shaking your head.

“You know, I’ll never understand you kids. So fickle with your goals-.”

“Dad, I’ve had the same plan since before I even went to college. You can’t call it fickle just because at 17 I told you I didn’t want to follow in your footsteps. I’ve known what I wanted since then. Its literally the opposite of fickle,” you huffed.

You heard him sigh.

“I don’t understand what happened here, Y/N. I really don’t. Ever since you were little, you wanted to follow in my footsteps-.”

“…and now I don’t. Things happen,” you told him. “I don’t want anything to do with this lifestyle.”

You’d told him this a hundred times. You were so tired of having the same discussion, and you knew that he was too.

“Why can’t you be more like Peter?”

You frowned, finally looking over at him. This was a new tactic. The older man had his eyes focused on the paper as he continued to speak.

“He’s following behind Tony swimmingly, a real successor in the making,” he praised.

You fought the urge to groan and sink down in your seat like a child. Never in your wildest dreams did you think your father would be comparing you to Peter Stark of all people.

“You’re comparing me to Peter now?” you scoffed.

The paper ruffled as he turned it, humming.

“I’m just noting that the two of you came up together, but you somehow deviated so far off track.”

“Well, since you love Peter so much, just pass the company onto him when the time comes. God knows he’ll appreciate it way more than I will,” you grumbled.

Your father hummed at that.

“I actually have hopes that, in some way, the company will be his one day,” he replied.

Your brows furrowed, confusion filling you as you fought to understand what he meant. Your father’s eyes finally met yours, a serious look on his face.

“Peter’s exactly the kind of man you should be considering when you finally get ready to get married.”

Shock poured over you like a bucket of ice water, his words having been the last thing you expected to hear. Marriage? Peter? You blinked a few times, fighting to clear your head enough to articulate what you were thinking.

“You…you can’t be serious…?”

He fixed you with a stern look.

“As a heart attack. What is there to oppose? Peter is young and handsome and well brought up. He’ll be taking over after Tony one day, and you really can’t do much better than that. Unless you’re aiming to be the next Meghan Markle, but no offense sweetheart, you don’t strike me as the type,” he elaborated.

You pressed your hand to your forehead as your mind spun.

“I’m not telling you to marry him or anything. I’d never go so far to participate in something as archaic as an arranged marriage. I’m just telling you to consider it. He’s a good match for you, and I’d like you to be open to it…”

You couldn’t begin to believe how sharply this morning had turned.

“It’s why you’ll be seeing a lot more of him over the break. Just keep it in mind when we meet with them,” he said.

He must have noted the confusion on your face because he continued.

“We’re meeting them for brunch. Tony wants to run his latest idea by me, and we figured it would give you and Peter more time to catch up,” he explained.

The car had finally stopped just as he finished, and you didn’t have time to process anything before you were being ushered out of the car. The brisk air whipped around you as you followed your father into the fancy restaurant.

Your father wanted you to marry Peter? The idea was so absurd that you actually considered the possibility that your father was playing a joke on you. You felt like you were having an out of body experience as you and your father sat down, you across from Peter. As always, he looked absolutely tickled to see you, while you simply returned his grin with a withering stare.

Brunch was a taxing affair. Tony Stark greeted you as politely as he always did before he and your father got right down to business. That left you and Peter with no one but each other to look at. You did your best to ignore the annoying brunette sitting across from you, barely speaking with him no matter how many times he tried to engage you in conversation.

You supposed that your behavior towards Peter was a bit unfair. After all, it wasn’t his fault that your father wanted you to marry him. Although, as you thought back to your conversation in the elevator the other day, you had to wonder if he knew, or at the very least, had some idea. And that was exactly what you asked him once you were alone.

Your father and Tony had gone back to Tony’s office in a hurry to remedy some oversight that had been missed. You’d been left with your father’s car and driver, and you eyed Peter, waiting for his answer, as you made your way outside.

“Not really, no.”

You slid into the backseat, thanking the driver before scooting as far away from Peter as possible as he joined you.

“Not really or no? Those are two different answers,” you told him.

A smirk danced along his lips as he leaned his head back, turning it ever so slightly to gaze at you out of the corner of his eye.

“I had an idea. The great Mr. Y/L/N never came outright and said it, but little things he’d say here and there started to add up,” he explained with a chuckle.

He apparently found this funny while you did not. You crossed your arms over your chest, anger bubbling within you at the thought of your father playing matchmaker behind your back. Peter reached for your hand, attempting to pull it away from your chest, but you jerked it away as soon as his fingers brushed yours. He sucked his teeth.

“Come on. Would marrying me really be so bad?”

You turned to fully face him, not a hint of humor on your face.

“Yes,” you answered, voice steady with conviction.

He simply rolled his eyes, lips twitching, and you shook your head with a scoff.

“Is your father in on this too? God, I bet Tony Stark is just eating this up,” you complained.

The tone of Peter’s chuckle gave you pause, and you eyed him as he grinned at you.

“Quite the opposite actually…”

You frowned, and God help you, because you found yourself…offended.

“He thinks I’m not good enough for you or something?” you questioned, raising an eyebrow at him.

You didn’t want to marry Peter, but you knew that you were more than good enough for a guy like him. The truth was that Peter wasn’t good enough for you. He shook his head, picking at a piece of lint on your shoulder as he hummed.

“No actually. In fact, he’d dare say that you are out of my league, and I’d be forced to agree,” he told you with a shrug. “He thinks you’re too much of a ‘wild card’.”

Now it was your turn to chuckle, nodding as you understood what that meant.

“I see. So he wants you to marry a meek and submissive little thing who will do everything you say and conform to the Stark image. Got it,” you replied with a smirk.

He returned it, finger trailing along your collarbone now as he eyed you.

“He thinks that you march to the beat of your own drum…and you do…,” he said, smirk growing as his gaze met yours. “…but I think I can handle you just fine.”

You slapped his hand away, disgust filling you just as the car stopped.

“We’re at your place. Get out,” you sneered, looking away from him.

“Care to join me? No one’s home…we’ll have the whole place to ourselves…”

You opted for ignoring him and the way his voice lowered, the hidden meaning in his question loud and clear. When some time passed, he finally sighed, and you heard the car door open. When it didn’t close, you turned to see Peter standing outside, one hand pressed onto the top of the car door while the other rested on the hood of the car as he leaned down.

A dark strand fell out of place and brushed along his forehead, dark eyes somehow darker as he trailed them over your tense form. His smirk slowly fell, and you blinked at the less than humorous expression on his face. You could count the number of times on one hand that you’d seen Peter so serious.

“You really shouldn’t try so hard to show your dislike for me…”

You frowned at him, and the corner of his mouth curved upwards just a tad.

“…someone might think you’re playing hard to get.”

Before you could process that, he’d closed the door. He didn’t go inside right away, instead opting for standing on the curb to watch your father’s car drive away.

When your father said that you’d be seeing a lot more of Peter over the break, you underestimated just how determined the old man was to get you and the Stark heir together. Every innocent gathering turned into a run-in with Tony and his wife, Pepper, and Peter. Whether it was brunch or dinner or a shopping trip. Hell, even an innocent day at the park had you coming face to face with who you now liked to refer to as ‘the pain in your ass’.

Had you known that this is what your winter break would entail, you would have fought tooth and nail with your father on it. You felt like this was such a waste of time, one big joke that you’d walked into and you were the punchline. You had no idea how much worse it could get.

You were currently in the hallway of the home that belonged to none other than the Starks. You were killing time by fleetingly looking at the artwork that was hung up on the dark walls, a half empty glass of some brown liquor in your hand. You could hear the voices of Tony, Pepper, and your father drifting to you from the lounge, and you rolled your eyes.

When your father had told you that you’d be joining them for dinner, you thought it’d be in their apartment in the city. Some place that you could easily escape if need be. You never would have agreed if you’d known you’d be in upstate New York hours later, conversing with them in one of their many secluded vacation houses. Dinner was long over, and you had no desire to be privy to anymore of their business talk. Peter had scurried off to only God knows where, and you couldn’t be bothered to care.

Perhaps you should have.

Your mood soured even further as you felt an arm slide over your shoulders to curl around your neck, pulling you back into a firm chest. Peter hummed, and you sighed. The story of your lives.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” he wondered, gesturing to the painting. “I picked it out. I thought it would brighten the place up a bit.”

You threw his arm off of you, and he chuckled.

“Don’t look so glum, Y/N. The grownups are knee deep into stock market talk, which means they won’t even think about us for another hour at the least…”

You looked to the ceiling as he slipped an arm around your waist, praying for some higher power to strike you down. Or him. You’d be happy either way.

“Surely we can find some way to keep ourselves occupied,” he murmured.

You turned to face him and turned your head again just in time for his lips to brush the skin of your cheek. You pushed yourself away from him with a frown, backing up until your back rested against the opposite wall.

“Whatever happened to MJ?” you suddenly asked him, a faint smile on your lips as you took a sip of your drink.

Peter smirked, leaning against the other wall as he stared you down, raising an eyebrow at you, dark suit hugging him nicely.

“Keeping tabs on me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Hardly,” you snorted. “My father likes to bring up you and your personal life every chance he gets. Of course, now I know why. I was shocked to find out that you had a girl in your life who stuck around for more than two months.”

“She was too much like you,” he dismissively said. “She wanted to travel and see the world and make a difference. There’s only room for one girl like that in my life. Anything more, and things would start to get a little…dull.”

You hummed, pushing away from the wall to walk past him. Peter followed, and your mind spun.

“What exactly are you going to do when I finally meet a nice guy to get serious with? Surely, this behavior can’t go on forever, Peter,” you wondered.

He grabbed your elbow and gently pushed you into the wall. His other hand was beside your head, dark eyes narrowed and inquiring. You sharply inhaled, unintentionally breathing in the scent of him, and you blinked.

“What nice guy could you possibly meet at that sad excuse of a school you call-?”

“I don’t know how to break it to you that an Ivy League education isn’t exactly the picture of intelligence you think it is,” you sneered at him.

His own face grew taut as he glared at you, tilting his head to the side.

“Is that why you turned down your acceptance to Princeton? To prove some silly point?”

“For your information, Peter, I turned down my acceptance because I learned that the main reason I got in was because of my father.”

“So what? What is the point of our parents working their asses off for years if not to give us the opportunities they didn’t have growing up? When are you going to drop this holier-than-thou wannabe Mother Teresa act?”

“It’s not an act,” you spat, shoving him away from you. “This world? This way of life and everything that comes with it? I hate it. I despise everything about it. Its sickening that we live like we do while people down the street struggle to keep a roof over their heads. What is it to you, anyway?”

Peter ran his hand through his hair, huffing as he stared you down.

“You and me?” he started, gesturing between the two of you, his other hand on his hip. “We could’ve been unstoppable together. We were supposed to go to Princeton together. We were supposed to leave our mark on that campus together, create a legacy, and make a name for ourselves on our own, and instead I’m doing that by myself while you go off galivanting down south-.”

“Is that what this is about?” you demanded, incredulity filling your voice. “…some fantasy in your mind that we’d be some power couple who’d go on to take over after our fathers and rule the upper east side? Seriously? That’s a new one, even for you.”

Peter’s jaw clenched as he glared at you, nostrils flaring as he ran his eyes over you with the nastiest look you’d ever seen on his boyish face.

“You can run all you like…reinvent yourself all you want…”

His voice lowered as he approached you, and you stood your ground, glowering at him.

“…but you will never escape this life,” he threw at you, and you flinched at his harsh tone.

“That may be true…but I can still try,” you whispered.

The corner of his lips lifted into a mocking smirk.

“Try all you want. Hell, jump into a relationship with the next guy you have some anthropology project with for all I care. We both know that the only guy to give you the life you deserve…to give you what you need…”

He reached to fix a stray hair that had come out of place, smirk smug and eyes smugger.

“…is a guy like me.”

You stumbled away from him with a frown, arms folded over your chest.

“Screw you, Peter.”

You turned away from him to go find your father.

Peter had always been an annoying thorn in your side, but his behavior tonight had reached new heights. It amazed you, really, how far he was willing to go just to finally get you into bed. He had never had any problem being an asshole, but there was a shift in him tonight. His tone was harsher, words meaner, eyes just a tad bit icier than normal. In fact, it almost seemed like it wasn’t his usual cruel teasing.

When you finally neared the lounge, you frowned at the words that reached you.

“She’ll probably be a bit bitter about it at first, but I’m sure Y/N will grow to love it. This will be an amazing opportunity for her.”

You recognized your father’s voice, and you slowed just before finally entering, listening in.

“I was surprised to hear that she’s transferring, which is why I had never initially considered her for the internship. I was under the impression that she wouldn’t be here to do it.”

Your frown deepened at Tony Stark’s words, a sinking feeling in your gut, and although you wanted to hear more, something in you prevented you from staying still and doing so. You stepped into the lounge, greeting them all with a smile before resting your gaze on your father.

“I hate to cut the evening short, but I’m feeling a bit ill,” you lied.

Perhaps it wasn’t a complete lie. Peter’s harsh words didn’t exactly leave you feeling the best, but your father believed you anyway. The two of you said your goodbyes to the Starks, even Peter who had slithered his way into the foyer eventually. He’d sent you off with that stupid smirk on his face, and it took everything in you to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

The ride home was quiet. Your mind was too stuck on the snippet of conversation that you’d heard. You knew that it was about you, that much you had heard, but the talk about internships and transferring had you confused. Again, there was that sinking feeling in your gut, and it wouldn’t go away. You wanted to bring it up to your father, but he’d spent the entire next day in the office.

Your paranoia got the best of you though, and the next evening, you found yourself in his study, mind going a mile a minute as you poured over the papers you found. Shock coursed through you at every reveal, hands shaking and heart sinking in disbelief. That was how your father found you that night, perched in his desk chair, tearful eyes glaring up at him as he walked through the door. He sighed as soon as his eyes landed on the papers scattered all over his desk.

“Tell me this isn’t true,” you quietly pleaded.

You knew that it had to be, but you needed to hear him say it.

“You’ll be going to Princeton for your senior year. All of the paper work has been done and whatever needs to be transferred has been transferred,” he breathed, stepping into the room.

You shook your head in disbelief, tears spilling over. You were shocked to find yourself…shocked. You knew that your father didn’t approve of your new lifestyle and your plans for your future. You knew that it ran deep, and yet it had never occurred to you that he’d do something about it. You had foolishly thought that he’d let you make your own decisions.

This was the main reason you hated this world you were born into. The things that people could buy, could do, if they had enough money to do so scared you. It shouldn’t be allowed.

“…and the internship?”

You didn’t even care that you had revealed yourself to be eavesdropping last night. Your father stepped further into his study.

“You’ll be interning with Stark Industries immediately after graduation…”

You were out of his chair and stomping out of his office before he could even finish. He didn’t even call for you to come back, and why would he? His word was law. You both knew that this was going to happen, and you couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

The night air was cold, and you wished you’d grabbed a thicker coat before stepping outside. After all, the only thing you had on underneath was a flimsy dress. You’d had plans to meet up with some old friends from high school tonight after your talk with your father, but you had never imagined that the talk would reveal this.

A lot of people were out in the city. It was a Friday night, after all. There was some light snow falling, but you could hardly even see it because the tears had finally spilled over. You couldn’t remember a time where you were so angry that you’d cried. You were grateful to be in New York of all places, right now, because a girl crying on the sidewalk was the most normal thing someone would probably see.

You crossed the street to a less crowded sidewalk, still trying to wrap your head around what your father had done, when a sleek black limo slowed beside you. You wouldn’t have thought anything of it had the window not rolled down to reveal none other than Peter.

“Are you drunk?” was the first thing he asked you.

Fed up with this night and having no patience for Peter Stark and all of his glory, you sneered at him.

“No,” you snapped.

You huffed when the limo rolled slowly along the street in time with your steps. Peter called to you, but you ignored him. What was he even doing out, right now? It was a Friday night. Shouldn’t he be at someone’s party participating in at least 2 illegal activities?

You sped up when you heard his door slam shut, but you weren’t quick enough. His firm hands grabbed you and turned you to face him, shaking you just a little as he ran his eyes over you, gaze lingering on your tearful one.

“Hey…”

“Go away, Peter,” you said, fighting to get out of his grip.

His hold tightened, and he stepped closer.

“It’s late. Why are you out here on the street like this? What happened?”

You snatched one arm out of his hold and shoved yourself away from him.

“Did you know?”

His brows furrowed, frowning slightly at your question. His cheeks were red from the cold, giving him a cherubic aura that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Stark. Did you know that my father was getting me transferred to Princeton behind my back? That I’m supposed to be interning with your father as soon as I graduate?”

You registered the shock on his face, and he slowly shook his head, thrown by what you’d told him.

“No,” he softly said.

You crossed your arms over your chest, more tears falling.

“If I had known…I would’ve told you, Y/N.”

“Would you?” you scoffed.

His face hardened at your insinuation, and he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah, I would have. Look, I may hate this 180 that you’ve done with your life just as much as your father, but even I know that you’re going to do what you want anyway. You always have.”

He whispered the last part, and your gaze reluctantly met his. He pursed his lips, running his eyes over you as he reached for you.

“Where are you headed?” he wondered.

It hit you that you hadn’t really had a destination in mind. Your eyes widened, and you were sure that the panic and confusion was written all over your face. You shrugged, a few tears escaping.

“I…I don’t know,” you pathetically answered.

Peter softly sighed, pulling you towards the limo.

“Well, I was on my way to a party-.”

He cut himself off as you started to shake your head. You didn’t know where you wanted to go, but you knew that a party was not it. He pulled on your jacket, and you stumbled towards him in your heels.

“Hey,” he softly said when your eyes started to stray, and you looked at him. “I’ve got a couple of bottles of champagne in the limo, a full tank of gas, and a driver who’s getting paid by the minute. I’ll take you wherever you wanna go.”

You glanced away, thinking it over. You couldn’t stomach the thought of being near your father right now, and although Peter had shaken you last night, in the end, it was just him being his usual self. Your uneasiness from his words last night you wrote off to sensitivity and overthinking. You suddenly let out a humorless chuckle.

“You promise to get me really, really drunk?” you teased.

You were joking, but you honestly didn’t want to even remember your conversation with your father right now. That familiar smirk of his graced his lips as he threw an arm over your shoulder, guiding you towards the car.

“I promise to get you anything you want,” he purred.

The inside was warm, and you had almost forgotten how roomy limos could be. The L-shaped seating could easily fit 4 more people. True to Peter’s words, there was indeed two bottles of champagne on ice, and he reached for one as soon as the vehicle continued down the dark street.

You leaned your head against the window as he popped it open, getting you a glass. You felt defeated, and you were sure your face showed it as you took the offered drink from him.

“So what are you gonna do?”

You shook your head at Peter’s question.

“What can I do, Peter?” you quietly wondered with a shrug. “I mean… If my father is willing to go this far to get me where he wants me to be…? What’s stopping him from doing so again and again and again?”

Peter leaned back in his seat, eyeing you as you sipped on the bubbly alcohol.

“I’ll never be free of him,” you said, more to yourself than Peter. “God, he really is going to get everything he wants. Looks like I’ll be seeing you in 3 years at our engagement party, after all.”

Peter slid along the seat to get closer to you, rolling his eyes.

“Come on,” he dragged out. “Would marrying me really be so bad?”

You almost choked on your drink, and you incredulously eyed him.

“We’ve been over this before, and the answer is yes. That’s if we can even get you to walk down the aisle.”

Peter sighed, sitting his drink down.

“I would marry you,” he argued, looking at you.

“Come on, Peter. You’re just saying that!”

You took another sip, thankful for the liquid courage.

“It’s all a game to you. It always has been. The minute you finally get with me, it’ll be over. Hell…,” you said, thinking. “…maybe I should sleep with you so you’ll finally leave me alone.”

Peter laughed, resting his arm behind you on the back of the seat.

“If I had you, I’d never leave you alone,” he replied, voice soft.

“Yeah,” you barked a laugh. “Okay…”

“I’m serious,” he said, tone matching his words, and you fought to hold his intense gaze. “When are we finally going to get together?”

You glanced away.

“You’ve asked me this probably a hundred times, and the answer is always the same,” you murmured.

“When are we finally going to stop playing this game?”

Your eyes met his again, brows furrowed.

“I wasn’t aware that we were playing a game-.”

“I want you,” he whispered so quietly that you weren’t sure you heard him right. “You know that, Y/N. I’ve always wanted you.”

There was a frown on his face, and you swallowed.

“You want everyone,” you quietly replied, suddenly feeling very odd.

You scooted away from him just a tad, but he followed.

“When I have you, Y/N, I won’t treat you like those other girls,” he told you.

“Ha! How reassuring,” you sarcastically replied.

His hand rested on your arm, and you squirmed, head feeling a bit light.

“I’m serious,” he murmured, hand trailing upwards to brush along your shoulder before resting on your neck. “You’re my best girl…”

You blinked at him with a frown, and he tilted his head at you, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Why would I treat my best girl like the rest?”

You shook your head, moving away from him some more.

“Maybe…maybe I should just go home after all. I’m not feeling so good, right now,” you told him, alarmed at how slurred your words were.

You watched as Peter reached to take another sip of his drink.

“Yeah,” he calmly said, taking your drink from your trembling fingers and setting it aside. “That would probably be the Rohypnol.”

You slowly blinked at him, trying to clear the fuzz from your head as you processed his words. Did he just say…Rohypnol? As in…?

“Roofie is the common term, also known as the date-rape drug.”

Your mouth felt dry, and you felt like you weren’t sliding away from him fast enough.

“Peter, this…this is a joke, right? You’re kidding…?”

He snorted, and even without his confirmation, you knew that he wasn’t kidding. Your head had been spinning for minutes now.

“Come on, Y/N. When have you ever known me to be a huge comedian?”

You fell against the door as you tried the handle, but it was locked, and that was when you really started to panic.

“Y/N.”

You ignored Peter as he called your name, opting instead for hitting against the partition. You heard Peter heave a sigh from behind you before his arm slipped around your waist, pulling you back. Your movements were sluggish and futile, but you fought against him anyway. He pulled you down onto his lap as he leaned back into the seat.

“Peter…”

Your words died in your throat as his hands clasped around the back of your neck, pulling you down until his lips met yours. The kiss was hungry, Peter a man starved as he moaned into your mouth. He was panting when he pulled away, chest heaving before he kissed you again.

Your hands were pressed against his chest, trying in vain to push yourself away from him. You gasped against his lips, heart stuttering when he flipped you, your frame now between his and the seat. He settled against you easily, fitting perfectly in between your legs as his fingers danced over you.

The buttons of your coat flew as he yanked it open, and you shivered. Peter paid no mind, running his hands over your exposed skin before sliding them under your dress. You felt like you were barely hanging onto consciousness, not even realizing when Peter had started to drag your underwear down your legs until they were already to your ankles.

You feebly kicked against him, but he simply grabbed your legs, spreading them to settle in between them once more. You could feel him hot and hard through his pants, and more tears kissed your eyes. How on earth had you missed this? You cursed yourself for not taking his behavior more seriously. For not listening to yourself last night.

Confident that you could not fight him off, one of his hands worked between your legs while the other worked to release himself. He was right to be confident, because no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get your arms to work right. You felt like you were underwater, weighed down by sand.

“Peter,” you quietly pleaded again, and he shushed you.

You squirmed beneath him as he pushed his fingers in and out of you, hating how easy it was because of how wet you were. He pressed his mouth against yours, forcing his tongue past your lips, and you trembled as you felt him line himself up with your entrance.

A high-pitched yelp left you as he filled you with one thrust. The moan that climbed out of his throat was low and long, and he cursed as you clenched around him. Your hand pressed against the back of the seat as he pulled back before snapping his hips into you again.

“You feel so good,” he groaned into your mouth.

One arm locked around your waist as he pulled you both into a sitting position, his throbbing cock still inside of you as he held you onto his lap. You pushed against him, but your arms buckled when he lifted his hips up into you.

You whimpered, falling against him, and both of his hands fell to grip your waist, tightly holding you as he fucked you. Your body couldn’t support itself, and you sagged against him, forehead pressing against his as your eyelashes fluttered. Your jacket was barely hanging onto you, and with one hand, he pulled it all the way off. He gripped the bottom of your sequined dress before bunching it around your hips.

You tried to push yourself up, push yourself off of him, but not only was his hold firm, your body was too under the influence of the drug he’d given you. You pathetically whimpered as you fell against him again, a sob caught in your chest. He pressed a sloppy kiss to your neck, the strap of your dress falling, and you shuddered.

He pulled you into another kiss, the taste of your salty tears seeping into your mouth. Your head was light, mind spinning with the pleasure being forced onto you. You pressed your hand against the seat, attempting to push yourself away again when Peter spun you both, your back connecting with the seat as he laid you down, his clothed hips slapping against yours. He moaned into your mouth as you fluttered around him, and with a start, you realized that despite your unwillingness, an orgasm was creeping up on you.

Both of his hands rested on your cheeks as he kissed you again and again. His dark hair was falling into his forehead, sweat coating the strands, and your skin fared no better. You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt your stomach clenching, shamed and disgust coursing through you.

“Look at me,” Peter quietly demanded.

You shook your head but yelped when one of his hands reached to pinch your nipple through your dress. You peeled your eyes open, tears blurring your vision, but your gaze met his all the same.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured just as you clenched around him with a choked moan.

Your climax triggered his own, and he pushed into you a few more times before falling against you with a groan. You were both sweating and panting, and you felt the flames of sleep licking at the corners of your vision.

There was so much that you wanted to say to Peter, to scream at him, but you couldn’t form the words. You could only lay there as he kissed you again before pulling out of you, leaning back against the seat as he fixed himself. Sleep was just in your grasp, but you were scared to close your eyes. Scared of the man you thought you knew.

He spread his arm over the back of the seat, the other pulling your dress down, that annoying playful smirk dancing along his lips.

“I think a winter wedding would look absolutely beautiful.”

tags: @bamposworld @mcudarklibrary @darkficreposter @xoxabs88xox @buckybarnesplumwhore @harryspet @coconutqueen21 @opheliadawnwalker3 @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi @lokislastlove @notyourtypicalrose @hurricanerin

#dark peter parker #Dark!Peter #dark fic #dark!peter x reader #dark!peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker

2K notes · View notes

mqgriett · 3 years

Text

Tech- Princess

Request: hello darling, i saw you were taking requests (it’s okay if you aren’t anymore, just disregard the rest of this) and I was wondering if you’d be able to write something for Tech? I’m absolutely starving for content surrounding him and I’d take literally any crumb you’d be willing to spare🥺 prompt/genre is totally up to you! @bandaid-bunny

Pairings: Tech x Fem!Reader

Warnings: small mention of death (very very minor, like a sentence)

Summary: you left the Jedi Order a year ago, which meant also leaving the Bad Batch. Tech’s feelings for you never faded, and neither did yours for him.

Notes: I really want to write a part 2 to this!! Please lmk if y’all would want a second part!!

Tech adjusted his tie for the fifth time, looking at himself in the reflection of the silver elevator. He licked his hand, smoothing back any stray hairs on top of his head.

“Nervous much?” Hunter muttered next to his brother.

Tech shook his head, “of course not. Why would I be?”

“Because this is the first time you’re seeing her in a whole year.” Crosshair replied, a smug smile on his face as he crossed his hands over his lap.

“And why would that make me nervous?” Tech scoffed, rolling his eyes and straightening the cuffs of his suit. The collar of his dress shirt felt increasingly tight and he pulled on, further giving his brother more of a reason to tease him.

“Last time you saw her you couldn’t talk right!” Wrecker slapped him on the back, making Tech choke on his own spit.

“That-”, cough, “is-”, another cough, “not true.” He finally caught his breath and repeated his sentence a little clearer. “That isn’t true.”

“Really?” Crosshair raised an eyebrow and turned to Hunter, who was giving Tech the same look.

Sarg intertwined his fingers, bringing his fist to the side of his face and making his voice a few octaves higher to mock Tech, “You look especially beautiful in the night time, it hides all of your imperfections. No- it highlights your imperfections. No- you have no imperfections in the night time. No- you’re perfect”

Tech crossed his arms, his cheeks glowing a shade of bright red as Hunter reenacted the scene from a year ago.

“We’re here for a surveillance operation, that’s all.” he swallowed the ball in his throat, “I might not even get the opportunity to speak with her, so I have no reason to be nervous.”

The quiet ding of the elevator reaching the top floor was his saving grace. Tech was the first one off and he automatically began to scan the crowded room for any sign of you. As Wrecker walked behind his brother he whispered, “surveillance operation.” He nodded and followed the rest of the Bad Batch, eyes still searching for any sign of you.

“Sarg, good to see you.” said Cody’s strong tone of voice, catching Tech’s attention again.

“Same to you, Commander.” Hunter replied, giving the 212th trooper a strong handshake. Cody pointed out that the Bad Batch and 212th were allowed to have fun that night, and that they were only to interfere with anything if it was a threat to the princess’s life. He pointed to the other troopers that had accompanied him that night. The majority of the 212th attack battalion dotted the ball room.

There was no sign of you after roughly twenty minutes, allowing Tech to ease up a little bit. Crosshair returned from the bar, standing next to his brother and handing him a medium sized glass with a small amount of black liquid. Although he wasn’t much of a drinker, Tech downed the shot within seconds of having it in his grasp.

***

“Nervous much?” Padme asked, watching from the corner of your room as you adjusted the front of your corset for the fifth time.

You ignored her snarky comment, continuing to speak your thoughts out loud, “Out of all the squadrons he could have asked, of course he chooses 99.”

“You’re going to smudge your makeup if you keep pacing and sweating like that.” she replied, walking to your side. “And, who knows? Maybe he’s not here.”

“Hunt- The Sergeant, doesn’t go anywhere without him. He’s here.” you answered, taking a loud breath in to calm yourself. “It’s been at least a year. Last time I saw him I was allowed to go on missions and hold a weapon that’s bigger than my palm.”

You reached behind yourself and started to undo the corset, “Now I need to go and sit in meetings, sit like a lady, smile and nod, and be pretty. That’s all… Could you re-tie this for me? The seamstress made it so I couldn’t breathe.” You motioned to the strings of the corset.

“How about you wear that blue dress, you liked that one.” Padme suggested, trying her best to get you into a better mood.

You sighed, “alright.”

As you walked back to your closet, Padme spoke behind you, “if you look on the bright side, attachments are no longer forbidden for you.”

It genuinely made both of you laugh, lifting your spirits a little as you unhooked the blue dress from its hanger. “maybe embrace that he’s here. You no longer need to follow the code, make the best of it.”

She was right, the Jedi code no longer applied to you.

About a year ago, when your sister had passed, it left you to take the throne of Alderaan as Princess. Your father, Bail Organa, was a senator and your mother, Breha Organa, was Queen. Someone needed to help her govern the planet, which led to you leaving the Jedi order and fulfill your duties as the only living legacy of your parents.

It was a difficult decision to make, and tonight would lock it in. The majority of Senators were here, including a few other monarchs. Last time you had seen the bulk of them you were still a Jedi Knight, now you were Princess of Alderaan.

This party was risky to throw, but it had already been postponed many times before. There was a small window to celebrate the new princess, which is no-doubt why the Bad Batch was called in. Majority of the troopers were on missions, and if the party was to be short on guards then it needed the strongest battalion available, Clone Force 99.

It was already twenty minutes into the celebration, and you had five minutes prepare to see them again. Last time you five were together it was a special operations mission, you were a Jedi and they were your designated clone battalion. Now you were tasked with pretending to be someone else, a princess.

You tugged your dress on and allowed Padme to lace the back up, it was time.

***

A loud sound of trumpets echoed through the room, quickly drawing everyone’s attention. The lights dimmed everywhere except the grand balcony with a staircase leading down to the main floor.

Tech followed the voice of the announcer, who seemed to be invisible among the huge crowd. “It is with great pleasure that I welcome the Queen and the new Princess of Alderaan.” he said obstreperously.

Queen Breha walked with grace down the steps, waving as she descended.

Next came the princess, her gold-accented, sleek, pastel blue dress shining in the light beautiful. Tech’s heart raced as he saw you, his glass slipping from his grip. He had nearly forgotten how beautiful you were, and the way you quickly walked down each stair nearly made him faint. The expensive glassware would have broken if it weren’t for Hunter’s quick reflexes.

The only other time he had witnessed the sight of you in a dress was during an undercover op, other than that you were frequently in your robes. Maker, you were breathtaking in that gown. He was going mad and you were still across the room.

You turned over your shoulder, automatically scanning the crowd for any signs of the Bad Batch. It seemed that every free moment you had was interrupted by a Senator or distant relative congratulating you on your new status. So, you smiled and made small talk, a tiny headache beginning to creep up on you.

As you thanked Senator Clovis for coming, a strong hand touched the small of your back. “Need a break?” Hunter asked behind you.

In that moment you could have cried at the sound of his voice. You were so overwhelmed and tired, wanting to collapse every time you needed to start a new conversation with someone. As you turned, you straightened your back, “Sergeant.” You gave him a curt nod, “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

Hunter raised his eyebrow, waiting a moment before hooking his arm within your own. “Since when do you call me Sergeant?” he mused, beginning to lead you over to the edge of the ballroom.

You were well out of earshot of anyone important now, and your whole demeanor changed. You let out a breath of air and slouched, letting your legs rest a shoulder-width apart. “You have no clue how happy I am to see you.”

“Right back at you Command- Princess.” he said, letting go of your arm.

“Don’t call me that, for maker’s sake.” you pleaded, your tone genuinely sad.

He smirked, “not your thing, huh?”

You shook your head, “where’s the rest of the boys?”

“Wrecker spilled that Corellian wine on his shirt, Tech and Cross are helping him get cleaned off.” he responded with a shrug, as if it was a regular thing; on that thought, it was.

Your heart fluttered, “Tech’s here?”

Hunter chuckled deeply, combing his hair back, “he is. Why?”

You pursed your lips while narrowing your eyes, “just curious.”

Before Sarg could tease you any further, the large gold door to the men’s bathroom opened and the other three Bad Batchers stumbled back inside the room. You instinctively looked over your shoulder, your gaze catching Tech’s.

You both froze, trapped in each other's presence. He smiled, eyes sparkling in the faint light of the ballroom.

The group of three made their way to Hunter and you, Wrecker with a huge grin on his face.

Crosshair performed a dramatic bow, “m’lady.” he slid his hands into his pockets, a smug smirk on his face as he greeted you.

“I hate you,” You teased, shaking your head the smallest bit to show you disapproval.

“Hi Princess.” Wrecker didn’t hesitate to pull you into a tight hug, but he soon let go once realizing that he was possibly transferring the wine stain onto your dress.

Tech wrapped his arms around your waist and whispered, “you look nice.”

You rested your chin on his shoulder, “back at you.”

Crosshair interjected, “you got something on your dress.” he twirled his long finger towards your abdomen.

Wrecker had accidentally transferred some wine on your gown. You frowned, knowing that you now had to change dresses. “Kriff,” you mumbled, secretly slightly relieved that you got to leave for a few minutes, “I’ll be back. If anyone asks, just say I’m touching up my makeup.”

As you took a step forward, Padme’s words seemed to echo in your mind. Maybe embrace that he’s here. You no longer need to follow the code, make the best of it.

You smiled, “Tech would you mind coming along? I’m not supposed to leave the room without another person.”

He looked slightly surprised at your offer, but after tripping over a few words he nodded and followed.

Tech took a deep breath once you two were alone, clenching and relaxing his fists to ease a bit of his nerves, “I missed you, we all did. Missions aren’t as fun without you.”

You grinned, “I missed you too. Everything goes by slower nowadays.”

“You don’t enjoy your new life?” He asked, eyebrows creasing to form a concerned expression. He looked around at all the gold accented treasures hidden among the castle.

“There’s no excitement. Every day is just a repeat of the last.” The elevator doors opened and you both stepped inside.

They slid shut, officially making it just the two of you. “Do you miss the Order?”

You shook your head, “Not as much as I thought I would, but I miss the adventures. I miss you.” you said the last piece quietly, hoping he didn’t hear.

But since it was Tech, and he was the most attentive person you knew, he heard. He turned to look at you, making deep eye contact, “I miss you too. Co-piloting with Crosshair isn’t as fun as it was with you. I’m not as good at calming Wrecker down as you were.”

You arrived at your floor, the doors opening again and both of you walking out. There was an awkward silence surrounding the two of you now, both wanting to say the same thing.

As you stepped foot in your room, the energy shifted a little. You motioned for Tech to make himself comfortable and made your way to the closet.

He sat at the foot of your huge bed, admiring how well-decorated it was. He turned to look at the wall his back faced, eyes wandering to your nightstand. In the middle stood a framed photograph. It was a picture that Wrecker had taken after a rough mission. You and Tech were both asleep, your head on his lap and his hand draped over your waist. He sighed and called out to you, “You know I’ve always loved you, right?”

You froze, barely finishing at pulling the peach-colored dress over your head when his voice reached your ears. By the time you had turned around, Tech was standing in the doorway of your closet.

No more Jedi Code.

You walked to him, placing a gentle hand against his cheek and kissing him. He grabbed your hand and held it, leaning forward to deepen the kiss. He had waited too long for this to end quickly, and you felt the same.

#tech x reader #badbatchxreader #clone trooper tech #clone trooper crosshair #clone trooper hunter #clone trooper wrecker #bad batch #clone force 99

222 notes · View notes

oddshelbyout · 3 years

Text

Push // John Shelby X Fem!Reader

Summary: You attend a ball with John after Tommy asked you to go instead of him. You notice someone with a gun aimed at you and decide to act on it.

Warnings: Canon typical violence

Word Count: 2797

Author’s Note:

The ending might be a little rushed, I’m sorry about it. I loved writing this and it ended up being longer than I imagined it would be. I hope you’ll like it <3

English is not my first language and I’m not always confident about my work so please let me know if I make any mistakes or anything I can fix in my writing.

Requests are open. You can request any Peaky Blinders related imagines or prompts for me to write. I’m a minor so I don’t take NSFW requests, please keep that in mind.

You can ask to be added to my taglist. You can be tagged to works on a specific character or just any of my works. Please dm me or send your wish to my ask box if you’d like to be added.

———————

Your red dress was extremely uncomfortable. Sitting in the passenger seat of John’s car wasn’t an unusual occasion but it felt like at the time. He drove the car in a well tailored suit, it was different from what he usually wore.

Both of you were dressed in clothes you weren’t comfortable in. You were going to a ball against your will. You were only going because Tommy couldn’t and he asked John to attend instead.

“I wish I said no.” John mumbled while still driving. You sighed, “You can’t say no to Tommy.” John rolled his eyes to your simple words while keeping them on the road.

“He would’ve understood, we have kids at home.” he said. You chuckled at his excuse, “We also have a babysitter.” it amused you how much John complained.

Thankfully it wasn’t a long ride so the conversation didn’t go for more. You were already ready and on the road to this event, what you had been discussing had no point. Thankfully the big house came into your sight.

The house was the biggest you’ve ever seen. You had grown up in Small Heath, just like the Shelbys did and this big of a house only existed in fairytales for you. Tommy had just bought a huge house, just like this one, his purchase though might sound stupid had made you partially believe in fairytales.

The host’s house was bigger than Tommy’s, it could even be a castle. From the outside, it had big windows that displayed rooms with high ceilings with chandeliers hanging. The house looked magical even with the first look.

After seeing the estate, you were mesmerized and you hoped John was too because you definitely weren’t interested in listening to him complain about coming to the ball. He wasn’t a fan of formal events at all, he just didn’t fit in and also didn’t want to.

You left your car and a butler welcomed you. He looked sharp and seeing him made you feel like royalty. The butler showed you the way to the ballroom. You couldn’t believe a house could have such a thing. The rich kept surprising you from the first moment Tommy introduced his family, you included to the world of the wealthy.

Your steps made everyone turn to you with the sound you heels made as you made your way to the ballroom. Everyone you’ve seen so far was in well tailored suits and shiny dresses. The outfits of everyone else were so extravagant that your expensive dress and John’s custom made suit.

“Shit, we don’t belong here.” you whispered to John. You never planned or wanted to fit in but the house was big and elegant, everyone inside was too, besides you. At that moment, you did want to fit in. You wanted to be part of the fairytale in which the wealthy were the main characters.

“We somehow have to learn how to blend in.” he held your hand tight. He seemed to be uncomfortable unlike you. You had never felt this comfortable around this much wealth.

This was far from where you’ve come from. You were rich but not by birth like the other ones attending the ball, neither was John. He was uninterested in anyone in the room but you were examining everyone unlike him.

Your hands were locked into each other’s, the heat of your hands made John feel safe in this uncomfortable environment. You would’ve thought John would be used to all this as being part of the Peaky Blinders. He was used to it, he just didn’t like them. You at least enjoyed the expensive champagne.

“Y/N Shelby!” you heard someone call, you turned around and John turned with you. You let your hand go and whispered “Go, I’ll find you later.” to your husband. John nodded and kept walking.

“Hello.” you kindly smiled. “We weren’t expecting to see you here.” the lady said with a nervous tone. You couldn’t remember her name but you remembered her face. She had sharp cheekbones and really thin lips like any other woman in the room.

“Yes, the plan was changed last minute.” you explained, the lady didn’t look much glad to see you. You remembered her but nothing about her, the question of where you remembered her from stayed a mystery. It should’ve been one of the fundraisers Tommy dragged the whole family to, you couldn’t recall exactly.

“How wonderful.” the lady smiled but you couldn’t see a genuine smile, the corners of her eyes didn’t wrinkle like they would when you smile. You were now looking at the lady with a more skeptical look, you didn’t like the tension she had with you.

“I think so too.” your gaze fell on different parts of the room, looking for John. You needed to get away from the woman, you remembered why you didn’t like rich people. They always looked for something to gain and they were almost never genuine or maybe this only applied to the ones you’ve met.

You rushed to excuse yourself. “Now, would you excuse me.” you said with a faint smile, the lady nodded. “It was nice to see you Y/N.” the lady called after you turned your back at her and slowly started walking away.

Your eyes were anxiously looking for John. Your conversation with her was extremely short. So short that it wasn’t even a conversation but she made you uneasy. You needed John to survive through the hell of socialising with these people.

Sadly, he wasn’t at the bar. Thankfully, he wasn’t on the dance floor. He wasn’t on the sides and he wasn’t to be found anywhere. You decided to expand your search for him. You left the ballroom to meet the wide steps to the first floor.

You were getting nervous, the woman’s attitude had affected you. You skipped the whole of the entrance floor to search for John on the other end on the stairs.

You were rushing to find him and the rest of the entrance floor felt like a waste of time. You climbed the stairs as fast as you could with the heels you had on. You checked the rooms one by one. You found multiple people engaging in inappropriate acts but not John.

You finally decided it would’ve been the better decision to go over the entrance floor first. While trying to get back to the stairs you climbed earlier, you got confused about your way.

Just as you were losing hope on both finding John and finding the stairs, you noticed a door half open. There weren’t any sounds coming from inside unlike the other doors you looked behind. The absence of a sound intrigued you more than the presence.

The door wasn’t completely open so you looked through the little opening. You saw a tall man, dressed in informal wear rather than formal like everyone else. He was holding a rifle, you couldn’t tell what type because you had no interest in them.

The door seemed to be opening to a balcony with the clear view of the ballroom. It worried you and you had a reason. No matter who the target was, you had to find John and tell him that.

You started running downstairs. Your blood was flowing really fast. You hoped you had better luck finding John this time. You also hoped the target wasn’t John because that wouldn’t be the first time he was one.

You stormed into the ballroom trying to look calm. You didn’t care if he wasn’t there earlier, looking at the ballroom first was a safe bet. Your body rushed to fill in with adrenaline with a bit of anxiety. Your eyes moved around and around, looking for your husband.

You were tired of thinking and rushing to find him. You walked up to the bar to get a drink. Obviously you needed one. Someone was in danger, John and you were one of the possibilities. It was an event Tommy was invited to and he had a lot of enemies, especially wealthy enemies.

You sat at the bar with a glass of gin in your hand, the type of gin was too sweet for you but it wasn’t the occasion to judge the type of gin they served. Just as you were getting your first sip, someone tapped on your shoulder.

You flinched, you took a deep breath and turned around to see nobody but John. He had found you before you could find him. You took another sip from you gin and licked your lips afterwards.

“Where were you?” he asked, he sounded almost angry. You raised your eyebrows, “Looking for you!” you said, putting on your most judging expression. “We also need to talk.” you continued, the judgy expression was replaced with your previous anxious one.

“Tell me Darling, what is it?” he asked and sat next to you at the bar. He grabbed your left hand which was on your lap. “There’s a man with a gun at the balcony.” you said vaguely. “What balcony?” he raised his eyebrows, he had no idea there was even a balcony. “Look up.” John looked up, not even trying to be discreet.

“It’s directed at me.” he mumbled, smiling. He seemed to be trying to go unnoticed after spotting the balcony. “I had a strong feeling it was either of us.” you confessed, John’s eyes lit up and he looked like he had just invented something.

“Let’s dance.” he offered. You were surprised, he loved dancing but not the type they did in balls like this. “Aren’t you even a little nervous?” you asked. Your tone was obviously full of anxiety. On top of that, you didn’t understand why he would suggest dancing.

“It’ll be harder for them to shoot while dancing.” he explained shortly. “It’ll keep us safe.” he nodded after saying it. He was trying to assure that both of you would be safe, just like he always did.

He held your hand and dragged you to the dance floor. He didn’t let you get that drink you had in you hand. He was trying to act like he didn’t know about the shooter. The only direction his eyes were looking at was the direction you were at. His eyes stared into yours, even the look on his face made you feel safe.

Unfortunately, you weren’t good at this seeming to not know anything. You were curious and the adrenaline was replacing the parts of anxiety as you moved with the music. Your eyes wandered around the room and the ceiling and even stared at the balcony for a few seconds.

The music was cut off out of nowhere, it was clearly not the caller of something good. John took a deep breath, his one reached for his gun. Him reaching for the gun as a reflex was a gift from the Great War.

He relaxed his hand seeing everyone move away from the dance floor safely to drown themselves in alcohol. You could hear whispers about the music coming back. It didn’t matter for you but at least the dancing could’ve kept you out of the gun’s range.

The night was suddenly getting more dangerous. “Let’s leave.” you said, John shook his head. “It'll be suspicious, no.” you clenched your jaw. “Darling, don’t be a fool.” he said, John was going to stand by what he said.

“I’m not going to let you die.” you said softly, he wrapped his arm around you. “I’m not going to die.” he simply said. You were still not convinced that it would be okay.

“I need to find the restroom.” you said. “Wait no, we should stick together.” John told you. You chuckled, “Would you rather me pissing myself here?” John didn't have anything to say. He dropped his arm to the side.

Instead of going to the restroom, you went upstairs to the balcony. You didn’t have a plan when you should’ve. You silently walked in the corridor, you made sure nobody was around. If you noticed somebody, you would just make your way to the restroom instead.

The door to the balcony was now closed. You should’ve admitted to yourself that there was nothing to do and continue John’s plan but that wasn’t how you did things. You were too stubborn for your own good. You wanted to stop the guy yourself.

You were actually under the influence of your strong instinct to protect John. He had always protected you, not because you needed it but because you trusted him to do so. You believed it was your turn to protect him because he wasn’t thinking of acting up on the situation.

You stood behind the closed door trying to listen, there was no music so you thought you could hear him if he said something. You didn’t hear anything so you tried to open the door, it was locked so you kicked the door open.

You thought heels would make it harder but somehow it wasn’t a problem. The door wasn’t strong at all. The door fell down and without a second of thinking you jumped on the guy. He didn’t even have the time to point his weapon on you.

You threw multiple punches at him, he decided to kick you since you were on top of him. The kick hurt you but that wasn’t a time you could stop and feel the pain.

He pushed you far from him but you got up sooner than he did. You were standing at the edge of the balcony, he tried to push you down. When he tried to get your hands on you, you pulled him to yourself. Then you did what he planned to do. You pushed him off the balcony, he and his rifle met the ground of the ballroom.

You ran away, you ran to the bathroom.You were out of breath when you opened the door to the bathroom. Thankfully you didn’t have much of a fight and somehow it was really easy to defeat him. You had no bruises unlike the guy, who had a swollen and red face thanks to your punches.

You got lucky, you got lucky that the guy didn’t expect you. You needed to calm down and go to the ballroom, you have to seem like you had nothing to do with it. You were sure there would be chaos.

You left the bathroom, you slowly made your way downstairs. As you walked down, the sounds of people panicking got clearer. You didn’t hear them before but now it was obvious that you caused panic.

You first thought hearing the sounds was “Oh shit, Tommy’s gonna know about this.” you hoped he wouldn’t be angry about it. You know John wouldn’t be.

You immediately started looking for John, you called his name multiple times, your eyes were looking for him once again. “Y/N!” you heard him call and turned around to look at him.

“Was this you?” he asked quietly, you nodded. He didn’t seem to be pleased, you were scared of his possible reaction. Maybe he was angry about it unlike you thought.

“Good job love.” you smiled a little, John returned a smile. He held your hand, “Would Tommy think the same?” you asked nervously, you valued Tommy’s thoughts a lot.

“Yes, I’m sure.” he said, “Let’s go.” he started walking and you followed him. Towards the gate, you saw the woman from earlier, looking bitter.

You got to your car, you assumed you were going to see Tommy before going home. “Are we going to Tommy’s?” you asked, John shook his head at the moment you heard the car start.

“No, I telephoned him. He was the target, when we turned up instead of him, we became the target.” he simply replied, he took his eyes from the road to look at you. “They didn’t care if it was Tommy, they were looking for any Shelby.” you replied and he nodded.

“Who was it?” you asked, “Doesn’t matter, we’ll deal with it later.” he replied. You smiled a little, “Thank you.” he continued. You smile got bigger, so did his when he thought you weren’t looking at him.

You drove home, got to your children safely. John talked to Tommy then later Polly on the phone. You didn’t listen, it wasn’t your business.

You were proud of yourself, this was something you didn’t do before. It made you feel good, you were still hoping the guy was alive. You weren’t a savage after all but you liked the feeling of knowing you could solve a problem like this. You went to bed with John by your side, after such a long time, you needed a long sleep.

#john shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders oneshot #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders x you #john shelby fanfic #john shelby oneshot #john shelby x reader #john shelby x you #john shelby x y/n

114 notes · View notes

devilrainbunnie · 4 years

Text

._ anthurium pt 2 _.

tomura shigaraki x fem!reader

1/X/3

CW: anxiety trigger, manipulation, cheating, mentions of alcohol, mentions of depression and mental health (minors DNI)

a/n: I could not get the second part idea out of my head, I’m also going to try to write properly instead of doing all lowercase for practice. I’m used to doing lowercase but, whatever.

Tomura sprawled out over the black couch in his now empty, and lifeless apartment. His eyes were locked to the ceiling above him, though he was looking at nothing in particular. There was an unfamiliar feeling inside of his chest he had never felt before. Never in the mans life had he ever felt, or thought the way he did now. All his life he had done nothing but take, hate, use and abuse everything in this world-- so why couldn’t he stop feeling this heavy weight of regret within his body? Why did the corners of his eyes prick with hot, salty tears? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about you? In his mind, he blames you for this feeling. If you had just stayed, and let this continue, he wouldn’t feel like this.

But deep down he knows, that this is all of his fault.

He hurt you, constantly. Because you had always been there, accepted him, and coddled him, he never expected you to go anywhere. No matter what he did, or no matter what he said to you. He had hurt you in the past, many times. You always stayed. That made him believe you were okay with everything, or that’s at least what he told himself to make what he did not as bad. He never saw you crying, he never saw you actually upset. He thought your sometimes pestering and anxious ways you tried to confront him were nothing but annoying, not that you were silently begging him to love you and see he was breaking you. Or maybe he just didn’t want to see it. He didn’t even think about how it was affecting you. He was selfish, when all you were was selfless. You’d given everything to him, after Kurogiri was taken, you took care of him. Fed him, comforted him, made sure he was holding it together. Even before that, you tried to stop him from scratching at himself, you made sure he ate more than just take out, and junk food. You made sure he slept every night, showered every day. You helped him keep his things tidy.

You gave him something he had never had; love. You gave up everything to be with him, and you made sure to always put him above yourself, even when you shouldn’t have. He realized up until recently that he made the biggest mistake he would ever make. He lost the one person who would’ve dropped everything for him, for someone who was nothing but a good fuck. Someone who was manipulating him, someone who quite literally used their quirk to make him believe what he was feeling was genuine.

Tomura hated himself for it, he felt like a fucking garbage can. He lost his everything. He lost his love, his life, his happiness... all for some sex, and higher ranks.

He tried a couple times to release his pent up emotions by turning to the girl, but he felt sick any time he put his hands on her. Everything came crashing down to him, and it didn’t exactly happen immediately. The first time it hit him, is when Dabi tried to kill him.

...

The day after you left, Tomura was furious with you. Believing you had betrayed him, deceived him, and that he was going to unleash hell the next time he laid eyes on you. He slammed doors all night long after he found your note, drinking some sake and staying up until the sun rose. That morning he had a meeting, he got ready and wore his usual new outfit, a fancy black suit, with a long black trench coat and fur lined at the hood. Something you had actually helped him pick out, even though he whined about it being itchy against his face and neck constantly. He preferred his big hoodies, skinny jeans and converse, but now that he was a leader of such a professional group-- he was expected to look the part.

He adjusted himself in the mirror, putting on the singular artist glove, and flattening out the wrinkles in his suit. In all honesty, he just wanted to go to bed, and sleep away this angered feeling but he decided against it. Tomura needed to be professional.

He stepped out of the apartment, his hands in the pockets of the thick trench coat. A migraine beginning to settle into his head at the bright lights of the building. His eyes squinting, and blinking rapidly to adjust. He mindlessly strolled over to the elevator, and waited until the doors opened. Staring at his fancy black dress shoes, thinking to himself how stupid this all was. Soon the elevator arrived, and he stepped inside. It was empty, just how he preferred it, leaning his head back against the cold metal framing of the cart as it went upwards to the room he planned to have the meeting.

Soon he arrived on the floor, stepping out of the metal box, and walking into the large room the meeting was meant to take place. As soon as he opened the door, all eyes were on him. He walked to take his place to speak, when he heard a familiar raspy voice make a comment towards him. Tomura, having absolutely no patience for his shit, decided to speak out. “Is there a problem, crispy?” he sneered, taking his seat on the couch, scooting himself in to get comfortable.

“Yeah, there is a big fucking problem. Not that you would give a shit though, fucking prick.”

“Excuse me?!” Tomura snapped, sitting up to look at Dabi standing in front of him.

“You fucking heard me you nasty street rat. We have a fucking problem, and you’re lucky we’re inside because I wouldn’t hesitate to torch you alive right now.”

“What crawled up your ass and died?” he scoffed.

“Y/n. You fucking pushed her away. Y/n could be dead right now for all we know and it’s all your fault, because you just had to be selfish and fuck someone who is quite literally using you.” Dabi snapped, a little bit of blue shining from the insides of his closed fists. He was seething with rage, the tension in the room was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.

“She left on her own accord dumbass. If you’re so concerned with her, then go find her yourself. Stop talking about her. I don’t have time for this shit. I did nothing--”

“That’s the thing crusty, you did. You fucking cheated on her, pushed her away, made her cry, and treated her like shit. Do you know how many times I had to see that poor girl looking like she was barely hanging on by a thread?” He sneered, Tomura rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Don’t fucking act like you did nothing wrong. All of us tried to talk to you about cheating on her because we never saw Y/n and when we did, she looked fucking hollow. I don’t know how many times Twice or Spinner tried to talk to you about it, and you’d shut the door in their faces.”

“As I said, she left on her own accord! Quit talking about this--”

“He’s right, Tomura-kun. You need to take responsibility for this, she left because of you. She didn’t just abandon you, you pushed her to her limits and she left because she felt like she was no longer wanted by you. Why can’t you just take responsibility? I thought you were better than this Tomura-kun.” Toga stepped in, his words hit her hard. Toga was like your little sister. She loved you the most out of anyone in the league besides Twice, any time she could, she was right at your hip. “I-I... I miss her so much.” Toga said quietly under her breath, feeling herself start to tear up.

“Fuck this!” Tomura said loudly, slamming his fists down against the couch, and standing to his feet.

“You don’t get to just fucking walk away from this!” Dabi screamed at him, which was really the only time they ever heard him get upset. Dabi marched straight at Tomura, launching his fist straight to his face. Tomura grabbed his wrist with his gloved hand. They began to restrain one another before Dabi started slowly inching flames his way, and Tomura’s glove began to slip off intentionally. They were both pulled away separately. “I’m gonna kick your ass for this soon enough you grimy fuck! That girl was the only person in the league I actually enjoyed! Fuck you! I’ll fucking kill you!” Tomura realized how much he was acting like an older brother to you, and how truly sad everyone looked. You were part of their family, and he had made you leave. The rest of the day was a blur to him, he spent it drinking too much sake, playing games, and at some point crying.

The next days, he was angry and couldn’t process his emotions without some alcohol in his system. After a while, it hit him way too hard, and sleeping at night was nearly impossible. The next weeks all he did was mope around, and hate himself. He didn’t do anything like he used to anymore, besides stuff with PLF, he just took it upon himself to waste his days away locked on the couch or bed.

...

Tomura rubbed his face with four fingers, turning to his side to stare out of the large window, watching the way the moon shined into the room. He imagined your silhouette sitting at the window watching it to, like he often saw when he came into the room. This time instead of being annoyed at your presence, he wonders how he could fix things if you never left. Would things ever even be seen properly if you hadn’t left?

He whines out loud at the thought, wishing you were there to tell him it’s all okay, and comb through his hair with your soft fingers like you used to. He wants to sleep, but he can’t.

“I miss you. I’m a fucking idiot.” he softly murmurs into the air. Looking over to the anthurium plant that was in its usual spot that you loved so much, you had that plant longer than you were with him. Most of the plants in the room were long dead by now, but the anthurium was thriving. It gave him the smallest bit of comfort and relief, that somewhere, you were alive and okay. He wondered if you’d ever come back, even just for the plants. He smiled at the thought of you again, and he reached to the floor to pull up one of your old tee-shirts you left behind. A simple black one, and it still reeked of your familiar, comforting scent. He nuzzled his face into it, absorbing the comfortable feeling it gave him. Imagining you just being here again, right back into his arms like he wished. Like everything was okay again. The thought gave him comfort, as he closed his heavy lidded crimson irises that begged for the release of slumber. To dream of a life different than the one he was faced with. One with you in it.

In another life, I guess.

^^^

The last month was a tough one for you, you left everything behind. No plan in mind but to get as far away from Tomura as you could. You managed to get through the run down city of Deika somewhat okay, even though there was rubble covering the entirety of the streets. You would’ve been left with cuts and bruises because of how hard it was to climb over certain spots, but luckily your quirk saved you from that. Your eyes were dry by the time you reached the end of the city, it dawned on you there that you were finally free from the pain you once felt. It didn’t completely go away, but the familiarity of your surroundings was unknown, and that gave your mind some clarity. There was no pain here, nothing around you reminded you of him. It was uncharted territory, a place to make your own. Sure it was just a mostly deserted pavement road surrounded by some trees, and houses that were more than likely empty. There was nothing left to do but go forward. You walked down the empty pavement road until the sun began to rise, and still no signs of any civilization. It was empty, lifeless, and dull, but you were happy. Free. From time to time you’d stop to fix your shoes, find somewhere to relieve yourself or drink some water.

You were hoping to find a bus, or a motel before you got too tired. You stopped for a moment to check the small pocket watch you had with you in your bag to see that it was almost seven in the morning. But you kept on, and even though your legs began to feel like jello-- you soon were coming upon a new city. One that looked full, lively, and different.

Instead of just hopping on a bus, you decided to find a motel to shower, unwind and sleep in a warm bed. As you stumbled upon one, paid for you room and stripped yourself of your clothes, you immediately crashed to the bed. Sleeping for far longer than you wanted to, but needed to.

For a while it was a lot of traveling, trying to come up on a plan, and your money was running low. You were free, but there was still a cost. There you were, eating some cheap, cold soba outside in the rain in Musutafu. It was midday, and there was a lot of people out on the streets going to and from work (or school, who knows), the streets were lined with cars. heroes were on patrol everywhere. It felt good to be back somewhere you were used to, even if there was nothing for you there to feel stable. The jacket you wore was fairly thick, but didn’t keep you the warmest. You sat underneath a small bus stop shivering while eating something that made your hands go numb. Some of those that passed you gave you dirty looks, eyeing you up and down, assuming you were just another dirty beggar enjoying a meal someone else paid for you. Internally you felt ashamed of yourself for having to live like this, but it was all for a purpose. Let them stare, what do they know?

Soon your noodles were lessening, and you had finished your soba. After you took the last few noodles, you grabbed all of the trash you had sitting around you, and walked over to a trash can outside of the large law firm you were outside of. Placing it inside, and walking away before you heard something behind you. “Y/n?” a voice called from behind you, not registering at first that it was familiar to you.

You turned your head to look at the person behind you. It was Giran, in the flesh. Standing there with an umbrella over his head, and cigarette kissing between his lips. “Giran?” He flopped his grey locks out of his forehead. He looked exactly how you remembered him, gapped tooth, nice looking clothes, beautiful gold rings decorating his fingers, and the little glasses of his you always tried to steal from him.

“Doll... what the hell are you doing all the way over here? What happened? Why do you...”

“Why do I look like this?” You raised your brow, he shamelessly nodded. “I’m homeless, that’s why.”

“Why? What happened for you to be homeless?”

“I... I left. Things happened, I just-- I needed to leave.” you stumbled over your words, not really wanting to tell him the full story.

“I have a feeling there’s a story there you’re not telling me.”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you about it another time. Well, it was good seeing you, I’ll leave you to it--”

He hastily cut you off, not letting you walk away from him. It was obvious to the both of you that you were running from something, and probably going to run off to another city alone again. “Wait!” you turned to him, raising your eyebrow to him. “I was just heading home, come with me. You shouldn’t be out here alone, doll.”

“I don’t want to impose... Really, I’ll be fine--”

“Y/n. You are homeless, I want you to be safe and sleep in a warm bed. You aren’t imposing sweetheart, I’ll take care of you. I ask nothing in return besides that you fill me in at some point about what happened. I don’t wanna hear any no’s or but’s coming from ya, you’re not sleeping out on the streets anymore. Let’s go.” he said shamelessly. Giran was always good with looking out for you, you came to him shortly before going to the league looking for work as a healer within a group. You found yourself intrigued by Shigaraki, and Giran of course being the gentleman he is, asked you if you were sure a million times. Telling you that no matter what happened, he would watch over you, and take care of you. He’d always cared. You hastily agreed, he patted your shoulder comfortingly.

You followed him closely back to his home, the umbrella doing little to prevent water from falling all over you. Soon you arrived to his beautiful home, and quickly settled in. He allowed you to take a shower, took all of your clothes to run through the washer, and gave you some of his spare clothes to wear in the mean time. The hot water soothed your sickly cold feeling skin, the musky mint smelling soap soothing your senses. For the first time in a while, you were relaxed.

After taking a shower, and setting up in his guest room, Giran came into the room. Eyeing you carefully as you sat in the white cotton sheets in his baggy undershirt and basketball shorts. Your wet hair sticking to the back of your head. “Hungry?” he asked. “I’m about to order takeout, what sounds good?”

“Curry, and taiyaki. Haven’t had either in so long.”

“An interesting combination, but I’ll see what I can do. Just relax for now, feel free to hangout in the living room. I got a TV and some books. Do whatever you feel, though.” he grinned at you. Patting the doorway before turning to walk away.

“Giran?” you called out to him.

“Yes?” he replied putting himself back into view.

“Thank you, for everything. I hope I can make it up to you one day.”

“Don’t worry about that now doll, all I care about is keepin’ you safe.” he smiled a genuine smile, which you returned. It was nice to be surrounded by so much hospitality and kindness. He stepped away from the door frame once again to let you do whatever it is you wanted to do. That night you both shared a meal, chatted, and went to bed. He let you take some books into the guest bedroom for you to read whenever you wanted. You felt at ease, like you were finally safe and grounded. You didn’t have to rely on Tomura for anything anymore, you had yourself.

Even though deep down, you missed him. It had been ages since he last held you, kissed you, or even looked at you properly-- but you still missed it. All of it. You wondered if he was doing okay, if he was still with her, or if he even cared if you left. Honestly, you doubted it, he probably would’ve taken a couple days to even realize something was even slightly off. You didn’t regret your decision, but part of you would always miss him.

Always, and forever, love him.

Over the next month or so, the routine was generally the same. Giran learned about what Tomura had done to you and why you were homeless. He decided to let you work with him in his office, you mostly would just organize his files, greet clients (usually ones he needed help convincing because you were the little office eye candy), cleaning around the office, and just overall being his assistant. He respected you, cared for you, and got you back to your feet-- without expecting a thing from you. The two of you were growing closer, and you were nothing but thankful to him. Sometimes the two of you would dress up super fancy to go to meetings for very high up clients who couldn’t be seen anywhere near where Giran worked out of safety for the two of them. It was a quite relaxing life, and you were growing used to everything.

There you sat in your usual spot in Giran’s office, filing some paperwork that needed to be put away. Your office was a little room attached to Giran’s main office, small but comfortable. You’d spend most of the day in there until it was lunch time, or special cases where he needed your charm to make a client more comfortable. You were lost in the groove of the routine that often came with these tasks, listening to the music playing from your laptop speaker that was low enough to be able to hear anyone talking, and not be heard by anyone but you. From time to time stopping to play with the button on your blouse. Giran insisted that you dressed formally for the job, which consisted in business formal attire. Like right now, you were wearing a black button up blouse, dark maroon pencil skirt, tights, and black mary-jane high heeled shoes. A cute little choker chain on your neck to show some more class, and matching simple earrings. You looked formal enough to be doing the job, but also cute enough to just go out in the outfit.

After sitting, and filing for what seemed like hours, you decided to stretch. Getting up from your chair, and popping your limbs. Walking into Giran’s office cautiously. You didn’t hear anyone with him, but you never knew. You lightly knocked on the door frame to get his attention, his face was downwards as he read over some documents at his desk. “Hey bossman, how’s it goin’?” You asked him, leaning into the open frame. His head turned towards you away from the desk, a small smile present on his features.

“Good, good. Just readin’ over this real quick. You need me doll?”

“Oh don’t flatter yourself, I just needed a bit of a break, and you also shouldn’t be stretching your neck out like that. You might hurt yourself.” raising your eyebrows playfully. He scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Well, it’s almost time for lunch. How about you go out and get us somethin’ to eat? You hungry yet?” he asked pulling a cigarette from his pocket, and placing it on his mouth. Grabbing his metal lighter from the desk to light it, taking a long drag before exhaling the smoke slowly out his nose.

“Hmm... maybe, I’d be okay with getting us something.”

“One sec.” he replied, getting up from his seat to walk to his large trench coat that sat in its place on the coat rack in the corner next to the door. Digging in the pocket of it for something, which he soon found. He took a drag on the cancer stick once more before returning. “Here’s my card.”

“Thanks.”

“Also, you look beautiful today Y/n.” he admitted, leaning against his desk in front of you.

“Are you implying I don’t look beautiful every other day?” you retorted, feeling your face warm up with bashfulness.

“Never, doll. Just thought I’d make you smile.” he leaned towards you. Pulling his cigarettes from his lips to press a kiss to you forehead, your stomach fluttering wildly. Sometimes his little affirmations of affection made you go insane, you sometimes wished you had the confidence and stability to just grab his collar, and kiss him. Sure, he was older, but he was attractive. There was no doubt there, and the feelings were mutual. But you assumed neither of you wanted to ruin what was already going on. “Now get on, it might rain within the next hour. Wouldn’t want you to get wet.”

You smiled, placing your hand on his cheek in an assuring way before walking to the coat rack to grab your warm coat. Turning back to him before exiting the office, a soft smile present on your lips, muttering a quick good bye before opening the door.

Soon you were back with take out bags on your hands, coming up upon the door of the office, knocking, before taking a step in. Happy to see Giran again, and eat your lunch. As your eyes registered upon the desk in front of you, you felt your heart drop into your stomach. Your hands quickly becoming sweaty as your gripped on to the plastic bags you held on to for dear life. There was that familiar light blue colored mop of hair sitting in the chair adjacent from Giran. He was wearing a black trench coat you hadn’t seen him wear since he exchanged his wardrobe for all of the suits, his back was to you, but even then you could still immediately tell it was him. His voice rang in the air, and died quietly as he recognized Giran’s distressed face.

“Giran, what...” he asked, but let the words fall off his tongue, turning his head to look into your direction.

Without waiting, you dropped the bags of food on the ground, turning to open the office door. You quickly walked to the elevator, smashing the buttons on the wall to step in, just wanting to get away from him. You were scared to face him, you refused to, and luckily the buttons outside the elevator dinged, and it opened, you looked back to the office to see Tomura opening the door, catching your gaze. “Y/n! Wait! Please!” he called after you as you rushed inside the elevator, smashing the buttons to close. Your arms and legs trembling violently as you waited for the door to close on him.

“Stop! Y/n please let me-- hey stop!” he called after you, his foot steps and voice growing closer as the door began to close. When it almost came to a close, you saw his panicked red iris, he sounded so distressed that it made you almost want to open up the door, and let him in. But at the same time, you were trembling. You knew he worked with Giran, but you never expected to see him again. Giran tried to promise you that, but he also warned that things were unpredictable, and that he would do his best to keep you safe. You felt tears welt up in your eyes that you tried to blink away, knowing that he most likely was going to beat you to the lobby and confront you anyways.

You loved him.

But could you even forgive him?

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki fanfiction #tomura shigaraki x reader #giran x reader #giran x reader idk?? kinda??#shigaraki angst #tomura shigaraki angst #angst #bnha au #bnha fan fiction #mha fan fiction #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki #tenko shimura #this is kind of trash i am so sorry #please forgive me i just wanted to post something

272 notes · View notes

bybdolan · 4 years

Text

ANYTHING THEY WANT TO HEAR [based on cowboy like me by Taylor Swift and this edit] Word Count: 4225 ; Rating: T+ ; TW: slight mention of corruption of minors ; AO3 PLAYLIST

“I'm trying to save my money when it comes to small things like that, you know.” She pushes her sunglasses up. “This thing has an expiration date for me.” “What do you mean?” “I'm getting older, Jack. My beauty and my youth are my currency, and they won't be mine forever.” He looks at her for a very long time. “I don't think you'll ever not be beautiful,” he says after a while, and Isis knows he actually means it. His voice is almost plain when he's being honest, it's so different from his usual act.

read below the cut.

“May I have this dance?”

His voice is dark and low in all the right ways and for a moment Isis is almost lured into his sweet web, but then she remembers how he talked to the old lady with the sapphire ring earlier and she knows that he wants something from her she isn't willing to give him. So instead of answering, she lazily stretches her back like a cat in the sun and takes another sip of her champagne.

“Dancing is a dangerous game,” she replies after a while, and it's almost a bored sigh.

He laughs and exposes a perfect row of white teeth. “Cynical, aren't we?”

“Takes one to know one.”

Her eyes scan the crowd and she catches the eye of a man who is looking at her over the shoulder of the woman Isis assumes is his wife. Isis looks away. This is only her second day here. She has to give the men time to take her in first, let them see her exit the pool in her wet swimsuit and cross her long legs while waiting at the bar; so when they finally get to undress her, it feels like a relief, like unwrapping a gift you have been waiting for. It makes them feel special, to think that they of all people charmed her. Isis knows that men like that.

“You know that he's a married man?”

Isis smiles. “Hasn't stopped me before. It's their choice, not mine.”

She turns back to the man beside her. He's very handsome, all dark skin and dark hair and dark eyes. There's something rugged about him, as if he was a statue somebody had left unfinished, and Isis has the sudden urge to put her hand on his cheek and feel the roughness of his beard against her palm.

He reaches out his hand and Isis takes it. His long slender fingers wrap tightly around hers.

“Jack. Nice to meet you.”

“Isis.”

“Did your parents give you that name?”, he asks, and she laughs and shakes her head.

“No. I did.”

“What's your real name, then?” He lowers his voice and Isis has to smile because she knows what he is trying to do. There's a glimmer of disappointment in his eyes when she doesn't lean in to hear him better.

“It was a church name. A good church name for a good church girl.” She enjoys the sight of Jack's white-teethed grin for a quick second before she turns away.

“I'm sure that's what you are,” Jack says, his voice still low and dark, and it sends shivers down her spine. He's good. If she talks to him for too long, he might get her where he wants her, but Isis isn't willing to give him that satisfaction. So she puts her now empty champagne flute on a tray a waiter carries past, rolls her shoulders in a way she knows makes her shoulder blades look good, and gives him an apologetic smile that he will know is fake.

“Well, Jack, it was nice meeting you, but good girls like me shouldn't talk to young men for too long. It gives them ideas.”

Her high heels are softly clicking on the tennis court floor as she is walking away and she can tell that Jack is looking at the silky skin of her back, exposed by her sequined gown, and for once she actually feels good about it.

The gentle wind that blows across the town square tugs at Isis' napkin and her blouse, but she doesn't mind it because the breeze is making the heavy heat slightly more bearable. Jack is sitting across from her, Aviator sunglasses up in his dark curls, head thrown back as he enjoys the cool air.

“Had I known how awful this heat would be, I would have gone to England,” he groans, and Isis smiles.

“I personally prefer sunshine over constant rain, but that might just be me.”

“Of course you do.” He grins. “It allows you to wear the skimpy bathing suits you love so much.”

Isis rolls her eyes at him over the rim of her sunglasses, but she doesn't actually mean it. “If you don't like me doing that, you have done a very bad job at showing it.”

Jack chuckles and looks up into the blue sky again.

They have been spending some time together these past weeks. It's beneficial to both of them to be seen together occasionally, in situations that suggest they are romantically involved. When Isis goes out with an older man later in the day, his ego is soothed by the impression that somehow, Isis chose him over Jack, and it's the same with the ladies that Jack dines with. Isis is aware of the way they look at her. Most with jealousy, some with desire. Isis feels sorry for the latter.

Of course they sleep together sometimes, secretly, and Jack always sneaks out of Isis' room when they are done, leaving her alone in the big, cold bed. She enjoys the arrangement, it is nice to do something just for her own pleasure, without submitting to others' wishes or expecting monetary gain from it. As much as they publicly exploit their sympathy for one another, their friendship – though Isis wouldn't necessarily call it that – is genuine.

“Do you think that store over there is selling an English newspaper?” Jack asks and Isis follows his eyes to the small shop across the square. She shakes her head.

“I doubt it. But why don't you just wait until we get new ones at the hotel?”

Jack shrugs.

Every week or so, there is a fresh stack of newspapers on the receptionist's desk, and Jack is always the first to buy one. He spends the entire morning standing around somewhere, hair dishevelled, completely engulfed in whatever news he's reading, and Isis knows he actually cares about the articles because there is a spark in his eyes that isn't there when he is reading Albert Camus by the pool.

“Why does it interest you so much?” She cocks her head to the side and drinks her Espresso.

“Because I care about what's going on in the world,” he replies, “I actually wanted to be a journalist when I was younger.”

It surprises Isis. For some reason, she automatically assumed Jack was like her, with no aspirations besides getting the most out of what they were doing.

“Is that why you started doing this?” She makes a vague gesture with her hand. “To get money for college?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “I wouldn't sit here with you if that was the case.”

“Then what was the reason?” She doesn't know why it suddenly interests her so much.

“I didn't want to go to war.” There's a moment of silence. “All my friends got their drafting letters and none of their weird tricks to get out of it worked, so I figured the only way to not get shipped to Vietnam if my number was pulled was bribing the officers. And since I didn't have the money myself, I had to find somebody to pay for me.” He picks up his coffee cup, but instead of drinking he just stares at the dark liquid. “I borrowed a suit and snuck into the fanciest bar in town and somehow managed to get this widow – her name was Rebekah – wrapped around my finger. When my letter came, she gave the officer a thousand bucks to let me off the hook. I couldn't fuck her while being dead in the jungle, after all.”

The silence between them suddenly feels as heavy as the heat. Jack finally drinks his coffee, then his eyes go to Isis.

“What about you?” he asks. She looks away, gaze fixed on the child playing with a stray cat by the fountain in the middle of the square.

“I just wanted pretty dresses,” she says plainly. “My parents were very religious in an almost puritan way, my sisters and I weren't allowed to do anything that was deemed a distraction from our faith. I hated it. I wanted to be like the other girls in school. So whenever I could, I would take the bus into town and look at the dresses in the shop windows or flip through every fashion magazine I saw. And one day this guy came up to me in the streets and told me he'd buy me the dress I was looking at if I did a little favor for him.” Isis looks back at Jack, eyes all cold and icy through her tinted glasses. She puts her chin up, even after all those years. “I wore that dress like an armor. I felt like fucking Joan Of Arc. It was a fuck you to my parents and my church and my teachers and everybody else who thought they could control what I wanted in life.”

The wind blows her hair into her face. It sticks to her cheeks and her lipstick and Isis combs it back into place with her fingers angrily. It's an unusually rough motion for her.

“And then I just went with it, I guess. Always on the lookout for men who were willing to pay for my attention. It's so easy, you just look pretty and tell them anything they want to hear and that's it.”

Jack nods slowly, fingers toying with the white paper napkin tucked under his cup. “That's one of the reasons I didn't go to college with the money I made. I was scared of not being any good.”

Isis looks at him and her features soften. “That's a stupid reason for not trying.”

Jack gives her a crooked grin. “I guess.”

He looks at his hands and then at his wristwatch and makes a face. “Fuck, I've got to get going.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

Her choice of words makes him laugh. “Yes. The blonde lady who always carries those expensive leather handbags, I'm sure you know her.”

Isis nods. “She looked at me this morning when I sat with you during breakfast and I'm surprised I didn't drop dead right then and there.”

Jack laughs again and runs his fingers through his hair. “She's the jealous type. I'm sure she'll be willing to do me a lot of favors if it only means I won't look at you for a few days.”

“You won't manage that.”

“Maybe.”

They both grin.

“If you are planning on ignoring me,” she says, “You should at least pay for my coffee.”

He shrugs. “I guess it would be the nice thing to do. But let it be known that I always pay for your food.”

“I'm trying to save my money when it comes to small things like that, you know.” She pushes her sunglasses up. “This thing has an expiration date for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I'm getting older, Jack. My beauty and my youth are my currency, and they won't be mine forever.”

He looks at her for a very long time. “I don't think you'll ever not be beautiful,” he says after a while, and Isis knows he actually means it. His voice is almost plain when he's being honest, it's so different from his usual act.

“A lot of people don't think like that.” She looks back at the child near the fountain. The stray cat is gone. She feels a tightness in her throat. “So it would be nice if you could pay for my coffee.” Her voice is a little shaky and she hates it.

Jack silently pulls his wallet from his pocket and puts a bill on the table.

“Thank you,” she says, without looking at him.

He stands up and nods his head as a good-bye.

Isis feels terribly embarrassed and uncomfortably close to him for reasons she can't quite explain, and when she watches him walk to the brown Chrysler he parked in one of the neatly marked spots on the other side of the town square, she has the urge to say something that will make him forget about how unusual this conversation was for them.

“You're really just in this for the fancy cars, aren't you?”

It's a stupid thing to say, now that she knows how untrue it is, but she hopes it's shallow enough to erase what they just shared and make them go back to the sly back-and-forth they've gotten so used to, always vague enough to be fun.

There is relief in his laugh that warmly bounces off the buildings and echoes over the piazza. He throws up his hands in an almost triumphant gesture.

“Damn right I am!"

And that's how Isis knows everything is fine between them. The smile eases its way onto her face without her noticing at first, but when she feels the warmth in her cheeks and in her gut, she bites her lip to make it stop.

Five weeks after his arrival in Italy, Jack gets sick. Isis blames it on a bad oyster, which makes him laugh because she says it in a way that allows no discussion and reminds him of his mother. There are flowers in his hotel room with Get Well Soon!-cards written in fancy ink, but it's Isis who goes to the pharmacy to buy him medicine using her broken Italian, it's Isis who comes to air out his room when he's too tired to leave the bed, and it's Isis who wipes the sweat off his forehead and reassuringly runs her fingers through his greasy hair.

She knows she has better things to do than sitting by his bed and conversing about the topics they only educated themselves about to appeal to the rich folk. The man she has slept with for the past two weeks has flown back to England (not without declaring his love for her in the form of a letter and a diamond necklace), and there are new visitors at the hotel who look at Isis the way she wants them to look at her, and she should be by the pool with her head thrown back and legs curved, or at the bar, touching their shoulders while laughing at the stories they tell. Instead, she is sitting on the cushioned chair in Jack's room with her legs comfortably stretched out, arguing about whether or not Andy Warhol is any good. Sometimes it scares her how much she enjoys his company. She'd rather spend the days with him than alone in her room, she doesn't remember the last time she felt like that about another person.

Her visits get rarer and shorter once Jack gets better and Isis finds a man that takes her to fancy restaurants and buys her flowy dresses in the shops in town, but she makes sure to see Jack at least every other day. One time, as she is about to leave, he tells her to wait and rummages through his bedside table until he pulls out the sapphire ring she had seen on the hand of the lady at the tennis court dance, all those weeks ago.

“For you,” he says, “As a thank you for your time and care.”

When Isis hesitates he cocks his head to the side. "I won't miss it. Blue is more of your color anyway."

Isis lets him slide the ring on her pointer finger and looks at how the blue stone catches the light.

“I'm surprised you actually scored that lady,” she says softly, “I would have bet she wasn't interested in you.”

It's not what she actually wanted to say and they both know it, but they let it slide, and Isis manages to hide how fast her heart is beating until she is alone in the hallway and presses her palm to her chest.

“Do you want me to light that cigarette for you, sweetheart?”

Isis nods and leans over so James can reach the tip of her cigarette with his lighter. She knows that her pose allows him a good look down her dress, and she can tell that he enjoys it.

“Thank you,” she says after her first exhale. The smoke drifts away over the town. The restaurant they are at has a nice view, but maybe she just thinks that because when she looks at the city, she doesn't have to look at James.

It's not that he is ugly – he still has a lot of thick brown hair and some of the bluest eyes Isis has ever seen – but she can't look at him without thinking about his wife, Elizabeth, who had left the hotel last week because she missed their children back home.

Usually, Isis doesn't care about the casualties of her actions, but guilt has slipped into her mind over the course of the past few days. When she told Jack about it, he just shrugged and said he doesn't care, he knows how these people would treat him if he wasn't staying at their hotel but working in his father's garage, and while Isis understands him, her skin is still the same color as theirs and so it’s not her anger to share. Besides, she doesn't feel bad for the men she lies to about her feelings, she feels bad for their wives.

She has never thought much about what it must feel like for them, to be betrayed by the ones they've sworn to dedicate their lives to, be hurt and discarded by the ones they love. Love had been a commodity to Isis, as long as she can remember, and it worries her that the term has started to feel more and more like the vague idea of ‘sacrifice’ she has read about in countless romance novels. It had always seemed so foreign to her, but she kind of understands it now.

“Is there something wrong?” asks James and Isis smiles sweetly and shakes her head. Her mind is trying to replicate how it had felt when Jack kissed her temple last week, when she asked him to stay after they had slept together. Of course he left anyway, but the tenderness of his goodbye kiss made Isis so happy that it frightened her.

“I'm just admiring the view.” She takes another drag of her cigarette and tilts her head in a way that shows off her long, pale neck.

James looks at her and grins. “So am I.”

It takes everything in Isis not to roll her eyes. Instead, she throws her head back with a laugh that bubbles like champagne, covers her mouth with her one hand and puts the other one on James'.

“Oh, stop it, Jac– James!”

The C is a full stop in her throat and she can tell by the look on James' face that he heard it. She intertwines her fingers with his and strokes his thumb to make him forget.

“I’m going back to San Francisco.”

“When?”

“In two days.”

“Why?”

Jack shrugs. “I’m bored of this place. These people. And the heat.”

Isis nods. She knows she would feel the same if it wasn’t for him, but it still feels like he punched her in the gut. She’s not reason enough to stay.

“I just felt like you should know,” he says when Isis doesn’t respond, and she nods again.

“Thank you for telling me.”

There is an uncomfortable silence. Isis doesn’t know what else to tell him, except for the truth: “I’m going to miss you, you know.”

“I’m going to miss you, too.” She can tell that this isn’t all that he wants to say, but he stays silent after finishing his sentence and she wants to grab him by the collar of his stupid yellow shirt and call him a fucking coward. But she doesn’t. Instead, she grabs her book from the table next to her and tells Jack that she has to get ready for dinner.

When he knocks on her door hours later and asks her why she wasn’t at the dining hall, she tells him a lie.

“Come to L.A. with me.” The words fall from her lips carelessly. She had a plan on how to ask him, but then the sunlight made his skin glow even more than usual and suddenly, her words were stronger than her self-control.

“What?” Jack turns around, the look in his eyes somewhere between bewildered surprise and a deep sadness Isis wasn't expecting.

“I'm serious,” she says, voice shaking, “Come to L.A. with me. Or I come to San Francisco with you. I don't care.” She presses her hands into the wall behind her back. “We can live together and sell the other apartment so you can pay for college and finally become a journalist, and I'm sure that I'd find something to do, too, and –”

“Isis,” he interrupts her, and his voice is so gentle that it breaks her heart, “I... Why?”

She shrugs and looks at the shiny tiles on the floor. “I like being around you. And I want you to like me, even though there's nothing in it for me. I've never felt that way about anybody before I met you. And I don't want it to go away.” Her back is pressed against the wall so tightly by now that she feels like the wallpaper is going to swallow her. She doesn't dare to look at Jack.

There is a long moment of silence. Jack looks at his suitcase and sighs. His left thumb is pressed into the palm of his right hand, as if to distract him from pain somewhere else in his body.

“Do you think we can do this?”

It's not a no. Isis feels like she could cry.

“Maybe. I don't know.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

“But what if we fail?” He turns to her and his eyes are filled with worry. “We both haven't done anything besides this in our lives. Do you really think we can just stop?”

“That's a stupid reason for not trying.” She puts her chin up. “The fear of failure. I've told you that before.”

He exhales and his shoulders drop.

“My god, Jack, look at us. Have we ever failed before?”

“This is different.”

“But it's still us.” Her hands are numb by now from being trapped between her back and the wall, but she doesn't care. She feels the same way she felt as a young girl, standing in front of the storefront windows, so determined to get what she wanted.

Jack looks very lost in the middle of his room. It's the first time Isis notices how big it is. “I'm just scared of hurting you,” he says softly.

“The fact that you care is enough for me.”

There's a short moment where neither of them move, as if they were frozen in time. Jack looks past Isis through the window, out into the sky, then back at her. She holds his gaze. She wants this. She wants him. So much that it’s clawing at her from the inside. He should know that.

Finally, slowly, he closes the space between them, wraps his arms around her waist and puts his head on her shoulder. He pulls her away from the wall and Isis feels the blood rush back into her hands. She buries her fingers in his hair. Jack softly rocks her from side to side as if she was a child.

“You know, I've always wanted to go to L.A.,” he murmurs into her neck and his words are echoing in her bones, “The palm trees look very pretty.”

“They are,” she whispers, “They are.”

“I’ve forgotten how uncomfortable these seats are.”

Jack chuckles beside her. “You've been in Italy for too long.”

Isis sighs. “Yes.”

She feels her body vibrate as the plane starts to drive. It will take them to Rome, from there, they will go to Los Angeles. Her stomach starts to twitch, like it always does during takeoff, but there is more to her anxiety today. The rattling of the tires on the concrete and the roaring of the engines drown out her thoughts. She closes her eyes.

“Are you okay?” Jack's voice is as soft as ever and yet she understands him just fine.

“I'm nervous,” she replies.

“Is it because of the plane?”

Isis opens her eyes and smiles at him. It's an unsure smile, flickering somewhere between excitement and fear. She can tell from the look in his eyes that he understands what she is trying to tell him.

He reaches for her hand and starts drawing small circles on her skin with his thumb. The plane lifts off and suddenly everything feels very still and quiet, despite the engines’ constant roar.

Jack's thumb rests on the sapphire ring on her pointer finger.

“I can't believe you're actually wearing it,” he murmurs, “Considering how it came into my possession.”

Isis puts her head on his shoulder. “It was the first gift you ever gave me. It's mine now. It doesn't matter how you got it.”

Jack laces their fingers together and kisses her forehead. Then he turns his head back to the window and they both watch as the plane breaks through the clouds, into the bright sky.

#amy writes #cowboy like me #evermore #taylor swift #now excuse me for i have to scream #ahhh #i can't believe this is my first fully finished story in ages #i'm :')#i love writing #and i'm pretty proud of this #also: fun cameos by other everlore characters #i am a james is a girl truther but :/ i discarded this for this story. sorry queen <3 #this turned out more cruel summer i love you ain't that the worst thing you ever heard than intended #but alas #i'll stop rambling now #have fun!#tw sex mention #tw smoking

132 notes · View notes

spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

The Noiseless Crash of Crumbling Walls

Summary: After Derek and Spencer are paired up on a science project in their senior year of high school, they become the closest, most unlikely friends possible. But what happens when Derek finally finds out what Spencer's dealing with at home? Inspired by the prompt “where did you get those bruises?”

Tags: high school au, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, hurt spencer, protective derek, abuse, friendship, pre-slash, spencer just turned 16, derek is almost 18

Word Count: 4.6k

Pairing: Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Part Two

This is a platonic Derek & Spencer friendship fic because they are minors, but there are seeds being fairly obviously sown for part two of this series which will be set when they are both over the age of 18.

Spencer unfolds the creased piece of paper he’s holding for the eleventh time as he stares up at the house in front of him. He remembers the address scrawled on the sheet Derek Morgan had ripped from the back of his notebook earlier that day perfectly, the spiky peaks of his handwriting and the surprisingly loopy ‘y’s and ‘g’s are burned into his brain, but nerves have overtaken his helpless body. He’s not exactly in control of his actions.

It’s not much but it’s definitely a cheerful house, that much is clear from the brightly lit windows and colourful curtains, the many gnomes decorating the front garden and the carefully planted flowers neighbouring the vegetable patch. One of the windows upstairs is cracked slightly and he can hear 90s R&B floating through the airwaves, accompanied by a female singing voice. The welcome he knows he’ll receive, though, is exactly what’s giving him pause.

A happy home is so foreign to him he has no idea how to behave. He’s used to being the adult, but tonight he has to play the 16 year old he is, and his mask is so dusty and disused he’s worried he won’t be anywhere close to convincing.

Eventually, though, he summons up the courage to make his way up the stony path leading to the bright red front door. A brass knocker stares him in the face, but there’s a doorbell to his right as well, and the choice debilitates him for a moment, leaving him standing uselessly on the front step. He decides on the doorbell, since it’s a little more subtle, and he only has to wait a couple of seconds before the door is being yanked open and a smiling Derek Morgan is right in front of him.

“I thought you’d never come.” His voice is bright and cheery but Spencer wonders for a moment if he’s mad at him. He’d been early when he first turned onto Derek’s road, but his over-thinking and ritualistic obsession over the address written on a scrap piece of paper had made him late.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly, and his desperation to be understood, his clear discomfort in such a foreign environment must be obvious, because Derek’s face softens even further.

“Don’t be ridiculous, pretty boy,” he grins, slinging an arm around his shoulders and leading him deeper into the hallway as he kicks the door shut behind them.

Pretty boy. He’d used the nickname once earlier that day when they were planning when to meet up for their science project, and Spencer had flushed immediately. No-one’s ever called him pretty. He’s an awkward, lanky 16 year old senior who’s far too short for his age; his appearance isn’t exactly conducive to flattery.

The last time anyone had called him by a fond nickname was when he was eleven years old and his mother was still somewhat rational. She’d pulled him close and called him her baby boy, and while some pre-teens might have recoiled from such a name, he simply snuggled closer and tried to remember every second he was wrapped up in such warmth. Five years later, he’s so thankful he did. He replays it most nights before he drops off to sleep.

He blushes again at Derek’s easy affection, trying to relax into the warmth of his house.

“Is that your friend, honey?” A woman emerges from what Spencer assumes is the kitchen, drying her hands on a teatowel. She looks every bit the stereotypical American mother, dressed in casual, comfortable clothes with a warm smile plastered across her face. “It’s so nice to meet you, sweetheart. I’m Fran, Derek’s mom.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” he says shyly, trying to meet her eyes but failing miserably. He can’t help that this whole experience is so out of his comfort zone it’s ridiculous.

“Do you boys want any snacks to take up with you?”

“Are you hungry, Spencer?” Derek asks, and he internally panics for a moment. Yes, is the answer. Yes, I’m so hungry. The only thing I’ve eaten today is an apple this morning. But is he allowed to say that? He examines the both of them and it does look like a genuine offer, but will they guess that something is wrong if he says yes? It’s only six o’clock, though, so maybe he can swing it.

“Yes please,” he dares, “I haven’t had dinner yet.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Fran says, putting her hands on her hips. “You both head on up. I’ll bring up a tray.”

Derek’s room is big, filled with football trophies and posters. It’s so achingly normal that Spencer’s stomach clenches as he gingerly takes a seat on his bed at Derek’s instruction.

“I did some research that will help us with our presentation,” Spencer offers as Derek sits on his desk chair, spinning around to face him.

It had been a shock when they’d been paired up. Derek’s friends had hollered and laughed when their chemistry teacher had paired them together, and Spencer had gone bright red at the humiliation, not that he could exactly blame them. Pairing up the skinny nerd who’d been moved up two grades with the jock who was almost guaranteed a football scholarship to an excellent university later this year had been a rather bizarre choice on their teacher’s part.

It’s not that Spencer minded: along with being the quarterback with a 4.0 GPA, he was also painfully nice. But everyone else certainly did. Every girl in their science class had sent him death glares as Derek had sauntered over to his desk at the end of class, wearing a lazy grin.

“Chill, pretty boy,” Derek chuckles as he pushes himself side to side in his spinning chair. “We got time.”

“I have to be back home by 9,” Spencer says sheepishly. He’s sure most people in their senior year are allowed to stay out later than that, and he hopes against hope Derek thinks it’s only because he’s sixteen and not that he has to get his mother into bed and try and force her meds down her throat so she won’t wake him up in the middle of the night convinced the shadows in her room are government spies.

“Still three hours. Anyway, I’m sure my mom can drop you home,” Derek shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. Besides, we have weeks until we have to present. Why don’t we spend tonight getting to know each other? I feel like I should know a little bit about my project partner, especially if we’re going to be working together for the rest of the year.”

“The rest of the year?” His voice squeaks anxiously but he can’t help it, Derek’s completely catching him off guard.

“Yeah. Ms Farron keeps partners from the first project together for every assignment that year.”

This is news to Spencer, but he tries to keep calm. It’s a good thing, right? Derek has always been friendly to him, and he’s intelligent, too. It’s unlikely he’ll fob all the work off onto him. But being taken advantage of and subsequently left alone is what he’s used to: ‘getting to know each other’ is decidedly new territory. Spencer’s head is spinning.

“Oh.”

“So, pretty boy,” Derek grins, giving himself another 360 spin, “tell me what a 16 year old is doing in senior year.”

“I got moved up two grades back in elementary school,” he explains, grateful that this is at least a rather impersonal topic. “My teachers wanted me even higher but two grades is the maximum our school district allows.”

“I guessed that much,” Derek points out. “Why were you moved up two grades?”

They’re briefly interrupted by Fran’s delivery of a delectable spread for them to feast on. Spencer reaches for a cracker and dips it in some cream cheese, but as soon as he’s swallowed his first bite, Derek gives him a look that tells him he hasn’t exactly gotten away with it.

He sighs. “The last time I was tested, I had an IQ of 187,” he admits, looking down at his worn sneakers. He’d expected to be told to remove them, but he’s glad he wasn’t. His socks almost certainly have holes in them, and laundry isn’t something he can afford to do often. “And I have an eidetic memory.”

Derek lets out a low whistle. “Damn, I knew you were a genius but that’s some next level shit,” he says, before popping a grape in his mouth. “You’re going places, Spencer Reid.” He’s saved from having to fight his blush too hard by Derek moving swiftly on. “Your turn to ask me a question.”

Spencer takes a second to think before deciding to push the boat out, to ask something he actually wants to know instead of playing it safe. “You’re popular, star of the football team, get straight As,” he starts slowly, not meeting Derek’s eyes. “What makes you so nice? You could easily join in with your friends and be another asshole jock pushing me into lockers.”

When he looks up, Derek’s face is an array of emotions. “Kindness costs nothing,” he says seriously, and the intensity of his gaze surprises Spencer. “I saw my pops shot to death in front of me when I was ten and I got my ass kicked every day in freshman year, believe it or not. I know what kindness can mean to a person just as much as I know what cruelty does to someone.”

Spencer doesn’t really know what to say to that, but he knows that he’s finally relaxed a little. Derek’s stark honesty and vulnerability, as much as he doesn’t know quite the right way to react, is refreshing to him, and it’s made the icon of their school seem much more human.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Spencer says quietly.

“Thanks, man,” Derek says, a half smile crossing his face. “What about your family life?”

Spencer swallows another bite of his cream cheese and crackers, his empty stomach thanking him for finally filling it. “My dad walked out when I was ten,” he admits, treading as carefully as possibly. “It’s just me and my mom now.”

“I’m sorry. Are you and your mom close?”

How does he answer a question like that? They’re close in the respect that Spencer cares for her and spends every free moment he has with her. But he also holds his breath every time he turns down his street, half expecting to see his house up in flames, and they’re going hungry this week because she threw most of their groceries in a nearby river after convincing herself it was all poisoned. They don’t exactly have a typical mother-son relationship.

“Something like that,” he mumbles, stuffing another cracker into his mouth. Derek clearly takes the hint that he doesn’t want to elaborate and moves on.

They spend the rest of the evening taking it in turns asking one another questions, ranging from simple ones like their favourite colours to deeper conversations around their future plans and biggest fears. By the time 9 rolls around, they’re lying next to one another on Derek’s bed both facing the ceiling as they trade questions back and forth. Fran’s dinner tray is now covered in crumbs, her carefully prepared spread having been demolished by two hungry teenagers.

Their assigned topic, Enthalpy, Entropy, and Free Energy, hasn’t even been touched, and Spencer can’t find it in him to care. He could throw together a perfect presentation the night before if he needed to. Right now, getting to know Derek Morgan seems far more important. Ironically, the boy he’s only really started to get to know three hours ago is probably the person who knows him best in this whole world, and the thought makes his chest hurt.

The jittery nerves that had consumed him at the start of the evening have dissipated into a calm companionship, and he can’t believe how comfortable he now feels. He doesn’t want to leave, but he has to take care of his mom; she’s already been on her own for so long today.

As if on cue, Fran knocks on the door, poking her head round. “Would you like me to drop you home, Spencer?”

He feels guilty accepting, but the last thing he wants is a twenty minute walk home through the streets of Chicago in the pitch black December night. “Yes, please.”

Derek comes with them for the short drive, and Spencer feels a little embarrassed as he points out the apartment block he lives in. It’s a shitty neighbourhood and his building is crumbling, but it’s home and it’s the cheapest they can afford on welfare. He ducks out of the car and shoots them both a grateful smile.

“Thank you for driving me home, Fran,” he says. “And thank you for a nice evening, Derek.”

“No problem, pretty boy,” Derek winks. “I’ll find you at school tomorrow and we’ll sort out another night to meet up, yeah?”

The smile the Morgans put on his face doesn’t fade until he opens the door to his apartment and reality brings him crashing back down to earth.

⭐️

Over the next few weeks, Spencer Reid gains his first friend. They finally end up actually writing their presentation and naturally, they get an A+ but Spencer’s anxiety that Derek would want to stop hanging out with him once the project that had brought them together was behind them ended up being for nothing. Derek had fist-bumped him as they’d walked out of their classroom. “Come over tonight?” he’d asked, and once Spencer had recovered from his shock, he’d beamed and nodded excitedly.

As Christmas comes and goes, they continue their bizarre friendship. Spencer runs up to Derek’s room as soon as the door is opened, and dives under the covers on his bed, always freezing cold. The first time Derek had cuddled Spencer, he hadn’t been able to stop smiling. He’s seriously touch-starved, and it’s only more apparent from the way he craves contact with Derek. He’s ridiculously thankful that the older boy is so free with his affection, not consumed by the same toxic masculinity that seems to plague the rest of the football team.

It’s nearing February when Derek asks the fatal question.

Spencer had whizzed home after school and made sure his mom was okay before running over to Derek’s, breezing past Sarah on the staircase and diving onto the soft, clean bed sheets. He’s sometimes jealous of all the home comforts his friend has access to, but he does his best to tamp it down. It’s not like it’s Derek’s fault that he’s well-loved and cared for.

“Whoa, pretty boy,” Derek chuckles as he spins around from where he’s doing homework at his desk. “Where’s that shy boy who sat right on the edge of my bed only two months ago, hm?”

“You prefer confident Spencer and you know it.” He moves up the bed a little to sit with his back against the headboard. He’s never become so comfortable around a person this quickly before but there’s something different about Derek.

“Can’t argue with that.” He gets off the chair and moves to sit next to Spencer on the bed, lifting his arm to let the smaller boy cuddle close. Spencer sometimes has nightmares that the boys at school find out how affectionate they are with one another and call them gay after which Derek doesn’t want to hang out with him anymore. (Secretly, he thinks he might actually be gay, but he won’t tell Derek that. Just in case.)

“Can I stay for dinner?” he asks. It’s a moot point: Spencer always asks if he can stay and the Morgans always say yes, but he doesn’t like assuming, especially since he knows how expensive food is. Not that Fran has ever complained about an extra mouth to feed, though. The dinners at Derek’s house are always a family affair, full of laughter and hearty, homemade meals and Spencer likes pretending he’s one of them, just for a little while.

The guilt that he’s leaving his mom for so long eats him up, only eased by the knowledge that she usually sleeps the afternoon away, worn out by a manic morning. He has no idea how to navigate this anymore. It was easier when the only person he had in the world was his mom, but now he has Derek and his family. And as much as he loves his mom and doesn’t mind taking care of her at all, spending time with Derek doesn’t automatically trigger gut-eating anxiety and heart-wrenching misery.

“Of course you can stay, don’t be ridiculous.” Derek elbows him playfully. “You don’t need to ask every night.”

“What if one night you don’t want me to stay, though?”

“I thought I told you to stop being ridiculous?”

Spencer can’t help but smile at Derek’s relaxed, easy grin. For some reason this popular football player with the world as his oyster and a million friends chooses to spend every evening with the nerd who’s two years younger than everyone in their year. For some reason, Derek chooses Spencer.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Derek asks the question. “Why don’t I come over to your place instead one evening?” It’s a casual suggestion, there’s nothing really behind it. “I’d like to meet your mom and see your bedroom. If you’re gonna make fun of my football trophies, I need some revenge material.”

Spencer freezes. He has no idea how to respond to such an innocent proposition. Derek takes his stunned silence as reluctance simply cured with a little more persuasion. “Besides,” he continues, “I feel bad that you always have to run home first before coming over here. It’s like a twenty minute walk.”

“I don’t know,” Spencer hedges, trying to buy time as he comes up with a cover story. “My mom is really particular about our space and she doesn’t really like visitors. I’m not sure your mom could spare you a family dinner anyway.” He pushes Derek playfully, hoping to God he’s even half-way convincing.

One glance at Derek’s face tells him he isn’t buying it, but he can clearly read Spencer’s troubled anxiety expression so he doesn’t push it. “Okay, pretty boy,” he says, relaxing back into the bed, “we’ll stick with the Fran Morgan dinner delight for now.”

Something tells him he won’t get so lucky next time.

⭐️

Spring is just starting to show her face the next time it comes up, and this time it’s completely Spencer’s fault. He shouldn’t have gone over to Derek’s. He should have made up an excuse and stayed in his shitty apartment with his mom, but he couldn’t help it. He was sore and desperately sad, and all he wanted was Fran’s comforting shepherd’s pie and a cuddle with Derek. So he’d made his way home, checked his mom was still sleeping before limping over to the Morgan’s.

He’d concealed it pretty well all day, but energy is seeping out of him and the pain is only getting worse, not helped by the decent trek across town.

He has a key now, so he lets himself in, hoping to avoid Fran until dinner time. Luckily, he’s quiet enough to not disturb her baking in the kitchen, so he makes his way slowly up the stairs, hoping Derek is not as perceptive tonight as he usually is. He’d briefly considered using bullies as a cover story if it came up, but Derek has spent almost every moment he could at school with him the last few days, he wasn’t out of his sight long enough to really encounter anyone cruel enough for it to be a viable story.

“Pretty boy,” Derek greets him, not turning away from the maths homework he’s finishing up. It gives Spencer a little extra time to make it to the bed like he usually does. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Spencer sighs. “A bit tired. You?”

“Training was rough today so I’m sore as shit, but otherwise I’m fine. Better now you’re here.” He turns to smile fondly at Spencer, finally locking eyes on his pale, sallow skin and defeated expression. He scrambles to try and make himself look slightly less terrible, but he’s not quick enough. “You sure you’re good? You don’t look it.”

“No, seriously, I’m fine,” Spencer tries to persuade him. “Just tired as I said. Can we watch a movie while we wait for dinner?”

Derek doesn’t look even close to convinced, but he gives in and brings up netflix on his computer. Spencer collapses against Derek and lets his eyes close as the film they choose plays across the laptop screen, but he must fall asleep because the next thing he knows, he’s being shaken awake by his friend and he’s in a completely different position.

“Spencer, wake up,” he says insistently, and the urgent worry in his tone makes him sit up, wincing when the movement aches his core.

“What? What’s wrong?” he mumbles sleepily, obediently sitting up at Derek’s instruction.

“Pretty boy,” Derek says, sounding teary and a little desperate, “where did you get those bruises?”

He freezes for a second before glancing down at himself and realising that as he’d slept his shirt had shifted, revealing his black and blue stomach. How the fuck was he going to explain this? Not seeming himself wasn’t such a challenge, everyone has their off-days after all, but bruises like these aren’t the sort of thing your best friend just drops when you don’t want to explain them.

“I—” He has no idea what to say. Tears spring to his eyes in a terribly unhelpful fashion, and Derek moves closer, wrapping Spencer up in a hug.

“It’s okay, you can tell me, Spencer,” he promises as he holds him so tenderly it breaks his heart. “Take your time.”

He cries for a good few minutes — it just feels so good to let it out — but as his painful sobs draw to a close, he knows it’s time to face the music. There’s no other option. He has to tell Derek. And maybe a teeny tiny part of him actually wants to tell his best friend.

“I haven’t been honest with you,” he confesses, keeping his head buried in his friend’s chest so he doesn’t have to look him in the eyes. Derek’s hand combing through his hair doesn’t falter. “The reason I didn’t want you to come to my place is because of my mom… She’s a paranoid schizophrenic. When my dad left I became her primary carer, and I’m— I’m not doing a good job.”

Derek holds him a little tighter and presses his cheek to the top of Spencer’s head, shushing him quietly. “Don’t say that, I’m sure you’re doing an amazing job.”

“The other night she got confused because she’d refused her meds again. She became convinced that I was a spy there to hurt her. I can usually talk her down from these moments, or at least guide her to bed to let her sleep it off, but this time there was no reasoning. Eventually, she got so worked up that she shoved me backwards, hard. It sent me sprawling face first across the coffee table, and she kicked me twice before considering herself safe and barricading herself in her room.” He tells the whole story through thick tears, shoulders still shaking with pent up emotion. He wishes it didn’t feel so good to finally get off my chest.

“Spencer, oh my God,” Derek whispers, sounding thoroughly shocked. He’s suddenly fearful that he’s going to report Diana, and he sits up, finally meeting Derek’s teary eyes with his own.

“You can’t… you can’t tell anyone,” he begs. “If anyone finds out, she’ll be locked away and I’ll be put into foster care. I can’t do that to her and I can’t lose you.”

Derek takes Spencer’s hands. “Okay, okay,” he soothes, making him calm down a little. “I promise I won’t tell anyone, okay? Not without your permission. But I also can’t let you be beat up by your mom.”

“It’s not her fault,” Spencer says desperately, “it’s not her fault. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, she thinks she’s in danger.”

“I know,” Derek promises him, “I know it’s not her fault, but she still hurt you. Has this happened before?” Spencer’s hung head and refusal to respond speaks for itself. “Okay, listen. I know you need to go home tonight, but come over tomorrow morning okay? It’s a Saturday and we can spend the morning figuring out a game plan and the afternoon taking your mind off it. How does that sound?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Is this… is this why you like being here?” Derek sounds nervous asking the question, clearly not wanting to offend him.

“Before I became friends with you,” he whispers, moving back to hide against Derek’s chest where it’s safe, “I went hungry a lot. We don’t have much money between rent and bills and mom’s medical expenses. I had to hide the groceries because she would become convinced they were poisoned and destroy them, but she got really good at finding them. I had to stop keeping them in my room because she would insist that I was corroborating with the government in trying to poison her.”

“Spencer,” Derek breathes, holding onto him for dear life. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t know about any of this, I would’ve done something, I could’ve helped.”

“I didn’t want anyone to know.”

“I’ll keep you safe now. I promise.”

When Fran comes and asks them down for dinner a few minutes later, Derek points to Spencer’s exhausted form slumped against him and asks if they can have it up in his room. She relents, and Derek manages to get him to eat a few bites of the risotto Fran had made, not leaving his safe cocoon against Derek’s chest.

He insists on driving Spencer home himself tonight, surprising Fran who had her coat and boots on already, but he escorts his friend right up to his door. “If you come in, mom will get confused,” he explains so Derek gives him a long hug in front of his apartment door instead, holding him as close as possible.

“Spencer… you know I love you right?” he asks, expression intense and serious as his gentle hands rest on his shoulders. “You’re my best friend. I’m always gonna be here for you.”

“I love you, too, Derek,” he whispers, giving him another hug. It scares him just how much he means those five little words, all the meanings that dance behind them taking him aback. For now, though, he settles on one more tight squeeze before deciding to not procrastinate the inevitable anymore. “I should go in and see mom.”

“Yeah. I’ll pick you up at 9 tomorrow?”

“Perfect.” His heart does an excited little leap at the thought of seeing Derek again in the morning. As he walks away back towards the elevators, Spencer takes a deep breath before inserting his key into the lock on his door and pushing it open. He only has to go 12 hours without seeing his best friend. He can do this.

His life suddenly seems like it holds infinitely more promise than it ever has. He supposes that’s the power of Derek Morgan.

Part Two

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @hotchgans @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith (taglist form)

#my writing #moreid #derek morgan #spencer reid #derek morgan/spencer reid #derek morgan x spencer reid #derek morgan & spencer reid #derek #spencer #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds writing #moreid fic #moreid writing #hurt spencer reid #protective derek morgan #moreid fluff #moreid angst

60 notes · View notes

beyond-the-birthday-massacre · 3 years

Text

Good Night (#little-butterfly-writes contest submission)

Heyy! I wrote the most fluffy self-insert entry I could muster for the #little-butterfly-writes contest hosted by @little-butterfly-writes! I haven’t written for self-inserts for a long time and I’ve forgotten how fun it is to be self-indulgent :)) 10/10 highly recommend you to write one too! I named my MC Athena so I’ll use that name :)

Fandom: MLQC - Gavin & Athena

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1473

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At last, I could see the light at the end of the tunnel.

The entire company had dealt with the high workload for weeks in order to meet the strict deadlines. The heavy pressure was finally off my shoulders after wrapping up the filming and editing for the big project.

The office became more quiet as the crew members left for the day. Currently, I was one of the last people there, Minor being the other. For the past few weeks, we had always been the last ones. I underestimated him and his work ethic. He would say the same phrase around sunset: “Hey, Athena! It’s getting pretty late. Think we should call it a day?”

Every day, I would encourage him to head out first and every day, he’d insist we both leave together.

Minor watched me lock the front doors, shoving his hands in his pockets. “So! Any plans for tonight?” he asked.

Rattling the handle, I murmured, “Not really…” Suddenly rewatching my favourite shows didn’t seem as appealing as it did when I had been busy. The temptation of procrastination vanished when I needed it the most.

Minor glanced at his phone screen. “That’s great! I’ll see ya later, boss!” With that, he walked away.

“Huh?” I stared at his shrinking figure until he turned the corner of the block. He really zoned out, but I didn’t blame him. His expression held nothing but pride and relief that the project was finally over.

***

When I got home, I turned on my laptop. Although Minor never failed to get me out of the office, he couldn’t stop me from working here. Everything was done but revising some materials wouldn’t hurt. Plus, I should look over the reports that I needed to submit next week.

Frankly, I wasn’t sure how much time passed when I got up to take a long shower. After drying off, I grabbed the first comfortable thing in the closet and realized it was Gavin’s white T-shirt.

Gavin had left for a mission a few weeks ago. The mission was highly classified so I decided not to bother him for the duration of the time. My workload started piling up then and I distracted myself as best as I could. Now that work was out of the way, Gavin’s gentle eyes were back in my mind. When I imagined him smiling, I couldn’t help but do so myself. If I couldn’t see him soon, at least I could meet him in my dreams.

I turned off the light and pulled the covers to my chest, staring at the balcony window as I waited to drift off. There were traces of clouds across the glowing moon and I couldn’t bear to turn away from the serene view. It felt like I was staring at it for eternity until a shadow suddenly appeared. His amber eyes shone against the moonlight and the night wind rippled at his STF jacket, sweeping his hood down.

Before I knew it, I was already opening the balcony door, letting the chilly breeze spill in. “Gavin! You’re back!”

He nodded. Despite the time of day, Gavin didn’t look tired. In fact, with his steady composure and uniform, he looked like he was ready for another day at the Special Task Force. “Mm. The mission finished just now. I wanted to see you,” he said matter-of-factly.

No matter how long I hadn’t heard his voice, it was distinct and recognizable. I didn’t realize how much I missed him until I gave him a tight hug. It was then when I felt a sudden drop of temperature and I withdrew abruptly: “Geez, you’re freezing!”

Smiling, he tugged me close again, stroking my black hair. “Don’t worry, I’m fine. But you . . .” He furrowed his brow, noticing my loose-fitting ‘dress’. Even in the dim room, the familiar shade of red on his ears was evident. He shed his jacket and I tried to stop him, but he managed to wrap it around me.

“You need it more,” I insisted. “You’re gonna catch a cold.”

“It’s alright. I have something better.”

His hand slipped into mine. I couldn’t help but hold it tighter in hopes of generating more warmth for him. I brought him to the bed and bundled the blanket around him.

“How long were you flying? You know it gets colder at night,” I scolded, embracing him as we laid over the pillows. He wasn’t shivering but I held him close, unwilling to let go.

He burrowed into my chest and I could feel his smile through the thin fabric. “I promise to be more careful next time.”

“You always say that! Especially about your injuries. Speaking of which, let me see them.” Before Gavin could react, I yanked the blanket away, inspecting his forearms and his torso.

“Ahem, I’m-I’m okay, really,” he assured, his ears burning bright again when I pulled at his button up shirt. I only found old scars that had already been engraved into my memory.

Gavin brought my restless hands to his face. His gaze towards me never wavered. “I’m telling you the truth,” he said earnestly and kissed the back of each hand. He wrapped the blanket around us, nuzzling into my chest again.

Relief steadied my heartbeat until he looked up at me and spoke in a low tone: “Before I left for the mission, I swore I wouldn’t get injured.” He paused, pressing closer. “Do I get a reward for honouring this promise?”

Whether he was intentionally giving me the subtle, big, ol’ puppy eyes or not, I couldn’t refuse. Brushing his soft, brown fringe back, I pecked his forehead. “There,” I said, a smile playing across my lips. “How’s that?”

He frowned and cleared his throat. “I also made sure not to skip any meals.”

I gave a peck on his cheek.

“I kept my sleep schedule consistent too.”

“Eight hours?”

“Mm.”

“Was it eight hours or not?”

He nuzzled deeper into the crook of my neck, hiding his expression. Gavin’s face seemed to have warmed up since his arrival. I started laughing when he playfully bit me.

“Okay, okay, I understand. Agent B-7 has a tight schedule and he works very hard. Here,” I leaned towards his mouth and he closed his eyes, waiting expectantly. His anticipation made my heart flutter, but I couldn’t resist messing with him. In the last second, I moved lower and pressed my lips to his own neck, nibbling it for good measure and for payback.

His soft groan was barely audible before he pulled me back, pinning me down into the pillows. “I don’t think you’re being fair, Athena. Seems like you’ve forgotten about your own sleep schedule.”

I froze but I tried my best to keep my cool. “My sleep schedule is fine, thank you very much, Officer.”

Feigning doubt, he hummed. “I’m not sure. You’ve been working overtime ever since I left.” He narrowed his eyes, carefully examining mine for reaction. “If Minor hadn’t insisted any earlier, you’d be at the office until midnight every day.”

My eyes widened. “Minor?! Aw, why am I even surprised?” Now to think of it, Minor had started to work longer hours around the day of Gavin’s departure. All this time I was hoping it was because Minor had been engrossed with the Miracle Finder project, not because of a task assigned by Officer Gavin.

“It’s almost 1 am. I should’ve found you fast asleep by now. How do I know if this isn’t a bad habit of yours?” Gavin leaned in, his proximity repelled my fleeting thoughts. His blue and black uniform made him seem so much more intimidating. “So,” he murmured, “are you ready to confess?”

I hoped my face wasn’t as red as it felt, but his grin knocked down my wishful thinking. “Okay, okay. I lied. My schedule is terrible.”

“Mm.” Satisfied, he released his grip on my wrists. “Let me help you fix it. Is this okay?” He cradled me in his arms, snuggling close. “If not, I can count sheep with you again.”

I giggled, recalling that night with all the sheep. It felt like nothing yet everything had changed. Sighing contently, I leaned into his broad chest. His heartbeat was calm, lulling me to drowsiness. “I think it’s working,” I mumbled, “as always.”

Gavin chuckled as he tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. His steady gaze was genuine and pure. “I sleep better when I’m with you too.”

My eyelids grew heavy and with the last source of energy that I could gather, I lifted my head and kissed him. His lips were soft against mine and when his parted in shock, I deepened the kiss. I could hear his heartbeat racing as I slumped against him again.

“There. For everything you’ve done for me.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Final notes: I hoped you like it! A lot of things have changed in the MLQC fandom, but I hope everyone is doing well! Reading/writing anything about comfort characters really helps me so I had fun writing this!

I also write for luciensgunsee in Instagram --- it’s mlqc x reader stuff so if you’re interested in that, do check it out! I might put the extended, uncut versions of those scenarios here in Tumblr?? If anyone is interested, please let me know :))

#little-butterfly-writes contest #mlqc #mlqc gavin #mlqc fluff #mlqc scenario #mr love queen's choice #evol x love #mlqc scenarios #fluff writing #love and producer #mr love gavin #me stuff :))#my writing #my stuff #beyond-the-birthday-massacre

21 notes · View notes

neutron-stars-collision · 4 years

Text

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 5 - A Question of Trust

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Summary: First day in New York brings new challenges and fears. But one thing is certain, your relationship with Neil is changing.

Warnings: Minor cursing.

Author’s Notes: So this is sort of an unplanned early update because I loved what I wrote and had to share it with you. Hope you enjoy this quieter chapter before things kick off very soon...

Also this has been severely inspired by ‘A Question of Lust’ by Depeche Mode so I’ll post the link in another post!

Despite being severely jet-lagged, the next two days, you did not get much rest. You and Neil were thoroughly briefed by the TP on Saturday, and the plan seemed simple: arrive in New York; check into the hotel; research the target (a weapons dealer named Steiner); set up a meeting with Mr. Steiner; rehearse the cover; get intel; leave New York unscathed but with valuable information.

You have received a Glock (just in case), a burner phone with emergency contacts, and a dossier filled with the information about your cover. As far as you have managed to learn so far, you and Neil were supposed to pose as ‘partners in crime’ hoping to get your hands on the mysterious nuclear material. It did seem easy. But that did not help the stress you felt the closer you got to the departure.

Monday morning, you stepped onto the Amtrak train to New York Penn Station and followed Neil to the First-Class compartment. You had two seats with a large table and a window in a relatively quiet carriage. This time, sadly, you have not taken your notes with you and have been desperately looking for a distraction. Neither of you has mentioned the moment on the terrace, and you felt like it was a cause of mild tension. But instead of addressing it in any way, you decided to stare out of the window. After going through the same onboard magazine for the third time, you heard Neil clear his voice deliberately. You looked at him with a raised eyebrow:

“I’m bored” he shrugged and grinned at your eye roll “Want to talk?”

You searched his face for any signs of wicked intents. But he seemed genuinely interested.

“As long as you won’t make me drink again and embarrass myself” you turned towards him with a pointed look.

“I promise” he smiled and leaned onto the table separating your seats

“However I must correct you and say that you haven’t embarrassed yourself on the plane” when you glared at him with disbelief, he added “At all”

“If you say so”

His piercing blue eyes were fixed on you with fondness that made you want to turn away. But you held his gaze until he grinned and asked:

“Excited to go on your first mission?”

“If by excited you mean scared then yeah” he laughed, and you beamed back “Though I suppose if my first outing is with you I should consider myself lucky”

“Oh you’re certainly lucky in that regard” he winked, grinning smugly “I’ll keep you entertained”

The smirk and look in his eyes were far from innocent and you felt your face heat up at the sight. But you did not want to let him win easily.

“I’ve no doubts about that” you stared back defiantly.

Your staring contest finished when he smiled and reached out for your hands that were folded on the table. He squeezed them.

“We’ll manage just fine together, I’m sure. It’s a simple mission” he reassured you softly.

“Can’t say I’m convinced” you looked back sceptically and frowned “I’m a bit surprised you’re willing to go into the field with a rookie”

“TP said it has to be us” he shrugged and leaned back into his seat.

Your hands felt cold without his touch.

“You do trust him enough to do anything he says?” you asked with curiosity.

All that you have learned during the meeting with the Protagonist was still fresh on your mind. You struggled to understand how on earth you could be important to the story. But it was made quite clear that you would have to wait for any answers.

“Yes” Neil’s tone was quite serious “I’ve learnt from past mistakes that he really does know how things will go”

You haven’t missed the distant look of sadness in his eyes. You made a mental note to one day learn the story. He must have noticed your scrutiny as he schooled his features and added:

“And it’s better to listen to him. No matter how difficult it might be” he looked at you with a faint smile.

You did wonder if he thought about the moment on the terrace in that instant. But before you could dare ask, he closed the subject with a definite statement:

“I know for a fact that you’ll be much better than a random rookie” he grinned, and despite feeling conflicted, you smiled back.

Then he quickly changed the topic to New York itself, and you rather enjoyed talking to him about your travels and experiences with other cities. While you were still stressed, when you arrived at Penn Station, you were much less tense. The conversation has distracted you enough to forget about the worries. You wondered if that was why Neil wanted to talk in the first place.

*** You took a taxi to the hotel, which was situated far off from the main city centre. It was a comfortable and stylish four-star establishment with a booking system that did not mind fake identities. Your rooms were on the sixth floor and were joined by a set of locked doors, as you were informed by the receptionist (with a wink). You were not sure what to do with this information but, as usual, Neil’s charm saved you.

“Thank you, miss” he smiled at the clerk and snatched your keys from the counter “It’s good to know” he smirked and walked away.

You followed him to the lift, where you could finally ask:

“What was that about?”

“I suppose she thought that we’re not here for…” he took a moment to think about the right word “Strictly business reasons” he enunciated every syllable “But rather for fun while keeping up the appearances”

Your eyes widened at the implication.

“Right” you didn’t dare think why she got that impression.

Neil chuckled as he led you to the rooms, pausing to hand you the key. Only once you saw him open the door to his room you sobered up:

“Wait, what do we do now?”

“Come to my room once you’re ready. I won’t lock the door” he winked and disappeared into his room.

You stared at the closing door before shaking your head and entering your own room.

He can be impossible sometimes, you thought with fondness and disbelief.

The room was quite big, with a queen-sized bed, a sofa with a coffee table, and a large bathroom. The view came out onto the maze of skyscrapers that you associated with New York. The barely visible sky was grey and threatening with rain. You decided to quickly shower, change into more comfortable clothes, and fix your make-up. All that took twenty minutes and you were quite proud of yourself. You opened the door leading to Neil’s room and hesitated at the second set. Trying the handle you found it unlocked and tentatively came in.

“Finally” he gave out a theatrical sigh from his place on the sofa.

He changed into yet another shirt and dress trousers. You did sometimes wonder how many sets of those he had.

The next thing you noticed was that while you were getting ready Neil has ordered quite a big selection of food from the room service. It has taken the whole space on the coffee table, along with water and teapot.

“Wow” you grinned at the sight, feeling your stomach rumble.

“Thought we might need it” he shrugged and motioned for you to join him on the sofa.

“I know I did” you quickly dove for the toasties before he could snatch them.

He laughed at your enthusiasm for food, but you could not care less at the moment. You felt his fond gaze for a little longer before he too started the feast. After you ate, Neil cleared the table and spread out the dossier along with any files you received.

“So…” you both looked down at the mess of papers and photos “Today we need to get to that bar” you squinted at the name “Benny’s and set up a meeting with Steiner?” you looked up at Neil for clarification.

“Yeah, that’s it” he nodded and picked up one of the documents “We’re a pair of weapon dealers who want to know a bit more about that mysterious piece of plutonium” he explained.

“That’s a manageable cover” you mused while trying to memorise your new identity.

“Well, I was hoping they’d make us fake married or something” Neil retorted innocently, and you glared at him sharply.

“What? Wouldn’t you want to be married to me?” the wounded look on his face made you laugh.

“Sounds horrible” you swatted his arm playfully and reached for another document.

But before you got that far, he grabbed your hand and squeezed it. You met his soft gaze and smiled back, admiring the sparks in his blue eyes. After a beat, he let go of your hand.

“I think we’d be a perfect match” he sent you one last smug smile and got up “We should get going if we want to catch Raul and establish contact” he added.

A perfect match? You observed as Neil put on the tie and suit jacket and considered his words with curiosity. You did like him, there was no denying that. And you felt like he enjoyed your company too. But before you could dwell on it too long, you felt his intense gaze. Caught in the act of staring, you felt yourself blush. But he only grinned and offered you a hand to get up from the sofa.

“C’mon, we need to get going” he ushered you towards your room.

Right, first mission. You took a deep breath and started to get ready. The time has come.

*** The first part of the plan went without any major fuck-ups. You and Neil met Raul at the bar, and he gave you all the information you could need about Steiner. It was clear that you both had to learn your roles perfectly as he tended to be suspicious. After that Neil went away to set up the meeting with the weapons dealer for tomorrow’s evening. All you could do was entertain Raul with random stories from your training which proved rather easy.

Once Neil came back, you both decided to go back to the hotel to get much-needed rest and prepare. The fact that so far everything seemed to go along the plan, made you feel a tiny bit more confident. But nerves were still there, and you could barely contain them when you made it back to the hotel. You lied to Neil that you were tired and shut the door before you could even look at him again.

But after showering, changing into sleeping clothes, and having a cup of herbal tea, nothing got better. You tried lying down in the darkened room only to quickly get up with a pain in your chest and shallow breath. After sitting in the dark and trying to calm down your racing thoughts for close to an hour, you gave up. You put on a cardigan and looked at the door leading to Neil’s room. It was past 1 AM but you had the feeling he was not sleeping. You knew there was no way you were able to rest now. Oh, why the hell…

You tried the handle of the connecting doors and found it unlocked. Of course.

Neil’s room was covered in darkness, save for a bedside table lamp casting a warm glow. You were struck by how neat everything looked, with his suitcase in one corner and clothes folded on the chair. Only the bed was in disarray with papers thrown on it and Neil himself sat in the middle. He glanced up as you came in, surprised:

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“I tried but…” you shrugged helplessly “Just couldn’t get my brain to shut up”

The worry in his gaze made you freeze. He was sat on the bed with ruffled hair and a wrinkled shirt. He was probably very tired. And you were weak and overreacting again. Suddenly you realised what a mistake it was to come here:

“Sorry, I shouldn’t… I’ll go now” you blurted and started to turn away.

You heard the rush of papers falling onto the floor and then Neil’s voice.

“No, stay” he sounded concerned.

Slowly you turned around to face him again, trying to put on a brave face. It was pointless though because he saw right through you. He got up from the bed, scattering all the documents onto the floor. Seeing you hesitate, he crossed the distance and took your hand in his, guiding you towards the bed. That only increased your panic.

“What are you doing?” you tried not to step on all the papers “Don’t we need those?”

He looked down at the pile with a surprised look, almost as though he forgot about them. Then he quickly made up his mind and looked up at you with determination.

“We do. But more so I need you to calm down so get in” he gestured towards the bed.

Your mind was blank. There was so much that could go wrong. But he noticed your uncertainty and unceremoniously pushed you onto the bed. You stared in shock before recovering enough to retort:

“You know I’m pretty sure there are better ways to make a lady sleep with you” You heard him laugh as he collected the pages.

“Certainly” finally he got up and dumped the pile onto the coffee table “But it worked” he shrugged.

Neil watched as you clumsily shifted to sit up with your back against the headboard and then joined you. After a few minutes of awkward silence, you asked:

“Sure you don’t want me to leave so you can go back to work?”

You felt extremely self-conscious in your sleeping clothes, with uncombed hair and tear-streaked cheeks. Neil’s intense gaze did not help it either but before you could even think about getting up, he replied:

“Perfectly sure” he smiled at you softly “Now tell me what’s wrong”

You sighed and let yourself relax slightly, leaning on the pillows. Staring straight ahead at the wall, you explained:

“I felt very anxious and hoped that maybe the shower and tea will help. Nothing changed so I tried to go to sleep but… my chest started aching and I couldn’t breathe” you finished while feeling the tears well up at the recollection.

You felt the bed shift as Neil moved closer and took one of your hands. You watched with curiosity as he traced the lines of your veins to the pulse point on the wrist and held his pointer finger there, checking your heart rate. You felt a nervous flutter at the gentle way he cradled your hand. You were pretty positive he will detect a pulse of 100bmp. After thirty seconds of intense focus, Neil released his hold on your hand and smiled:

“Apart from a very fast heart rate, you’ll be fine” he winked, and you looked down flustered.

But you were not allowed to get lost in shame for too long as he scooted even closer, leaving no space between you, and gingerly placed his arm around your shoulders.

“Is this okay?” he asked, looking at you with genuine concern.

Your breath hitched at the closeness of him, but you quickly suppressed the feeling and nodded. After a few more tense breaths, you relaxed into the embrace, feeling him trace circles on your shoulder.

“What made you so scared?” his voice broke the comfortable silence.

“Think it’s just the idea of the first mission” you admitted “And ever since you and TP told me about the plan and the algorithm, I felt this tension rise and I guess it just hit the fan” sighing helplessly, you let your head rest on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, I probably would have been more concerned if you took all this without questions”

“I guess I reacted that way because I never expected to be important… Definitely not in something of that scale” once you started talking the honesty did not seem to stop “I’ve spent so much time looking for my place in the world and now when I think I’ve found it, I’m not sure I’m good enough”

After your admission, you felt Neil’s embrace tighten. You propped your head on his shoulder, so it was resting in the crook of his neck again, enjoying the warmth and safety.

“You are more than good enough” when he finally spoke you were almost surprised “And I’m not only saying that because I believe in what TP says”

You looked up at Neil and met his earnest gaze.

“Since the day we met and I showed you how inversion works, I knew that you will be amazing at it” he smiled at you softly.

“Even though I nearly passed out in the training zone?”

“Yeah” he grinned at the memory fondly “I just had the feeling that you’re supposed to work with us, with me”

You would swear that his eyes briefly glanced at your lips. But as quickly as the thought entered your mind, he reached out to brush away a stray hair from your forehead and you lost the ability to think entirely. He tucked the strand with care and brushed your jawline with his thumb.

“TP was right, you know” he was looking at you with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

“About?”

“Me taking care of you” he smiled and admired your dazed expression. You could only stare, too overwhelmed with feelings to say anything. And you probably would have kept on staring if it was not for the extreme tiredness that begun to catch up. Before you could say anything, a wide yawn made you cover your face with your hands. The spell was broken.

“Think you’re tiny bit tired” Neil grinned at your sheepish expression.

“No shit” you mumbled and moved to get up, but he kept his grip steady.

“You can stay here” he answered your surprised glance.

You quickly considered the options, admitting that it was tempting. You felt safe with Neil and his presence definitely made you calmer. But it did feel like crossing some lines.

He was still looking at you with that hopeful eyes and that sealed the deal.

“Thanks… for everything” you smiled at him, hoping to convey even a quarter of what you felt through it.

“Always” he grinned back.

You both quietly shifted so that you were lying down with a small gap between you, both staring at the ceiling. After a few quiet moments, he turned off the bedside lamp and turned to face you.

“Good night” you heard him whisper and turned to look at him too.

“Sweet dreams, Neil” you replied while trying to make out his features in the darkness of the room.

“Oh I know they will be sweet” you could picture the sly grin.

And with that, he turned onto the other side. No longer than five minutes later you heard his breath level off and make way for quiet snores. You could not help but smile at the adorable sound. Maybe this night wasn’t so bad in the end.

*** You have not slept so soundly in days. When you woke up, the first thought that came to your mind was that you were being cuddled. An arm was thrown over your waist and you felt warm breath near your ear. Then as the morning fog slowly ascended, you remembered it all clearly. Neil. As though he was reading your mind, a second later you felt him stir and mumble:

“Morning sunshine” he sounded cheery.

Before you could react you felt him brush his lips over your temple. You froze, feeling the flutters in your stomach return with tripled force. Taking a deep breath to calm down you slowly squeezed the hand that was draped over your waist and sat up.

“Hi” you glanced at him only to be astounded by how unkempt and yet adorable he looked.

His hair was completely ruffled, with strands sticking out in every direction. And the shirt and trousers were crumpled to the point of needing starch treatment to ever be wearable again. And yet he still looked good. Especially with that boyish smile and sparkling eyes. One could suppose that you were not immune to him. At all.

“Do you always sleep in that?” you gestured towards his outfit, trying to divert your thoughts.

“No, but I didn’t want to overwhelm you last night” it was that shit-eating grin again “Did you sleep well?” he sat up now too but kept his distance.

“Very well” you admitted with a blush “But it’s late and we should probably prepare” you used the most sensible excuse to get up.

Before you could do that, Neil reached out and took your hand in his, intertwining your fingers.

“Just don’t you dare feel sorry for this” you knew he was serious from the look in his eyes.

“I’ll try” you smiled slightly and used this chance to leave his room in haste.

While you did indeed try not to feel embarrassed about what happened, it was difficult. You were not used to people seeing you as vulnerable as you were last night. But at the same time, he did not seem to mind and that took you by surprise. His kindness and thoughtfulness were certainly not helping in trying to be more objective about him.

You managed to get changed and prepare yourself for the day relatively fast, considering what a mess your thoughts were. Once you were done you grabbed the needed documents from the coffee table and made beeline for Neil’s room without thinking too much. As usual, the door was unlocked.

The moment you stepped into his room you knew you have fucked up. He was there, just in front of where you entered, in a new pair of trousers and no shirt. Your eyes widened when you registered that last detail.

“Shit, sorry! I shouldn’t just come in…”

“No worries, darling” Neil drawled out the nickname expressively.

He looked at you with a grin, clearly enjoying it more than you were. It seemed as though he slowed down the process of putting on a new shirt just to tease you. It worked. You stared at his rather fit body and felt your cheeks grow warmer. He caught your wandering gaze with a wink and held it with an expression that was far from innocent. The knowing smirk told you that he was aware of what he was doing. But still, you held your ground, letting yourself openly look at his toned arms and chest. If he didn’t mind then there was no harm in looking, right?

Finally, he finished the process of buttoning up the shirt, while still keeping his gaze fixed on you. He assessed your expression with one last look and grinned:

“Let’s get to work, sunshine”

You wanted to punch him in that perfect jaw.

#tenet #Neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet imagine #neil tenet fanfic #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #the art of inversion

159 notes · View notes

msoogabooga · 3 years

Text

Wasting Away (Tom Riddle x Reader)

Chp. I - A Sworn Enemy

Warnings- None

Word Count- 2146

Summary- You have singlehandedly decided that Tom Riddle is to be your sworn enemy until the end of time.

A/N- Hello! This is my first chaptered Tom Riddle fic. Hope you enjoy and tune in for more!

•••

Tom Riddle was the loneliest boy that had ever existed. You were certain of it whenever you witnessed him walk alone in the corridors or when he picked at his food in the great hall while everyone around him chattered amongst themselves, leaving him be. Ever so often you take a glance at his parchment paper in Defense Against the Dark Arts, where he sits next to you, and you catch him writing lines of beauty. Words that flow together and create great works of art. That is until he catches you staring and covers his paper with his arm, not before cursing under his breath at you of course.

Oh yes, though you felt a sense of pity for the lonely boy, you swore to hate him until the day he died. It wasn’t always this way, of course. You wouldn’t be so cruel as to hate an innocent peer. In fact, you even thought to befriend him of course. The unforgivable day happened outside on the castle grounds. It had been raining quite heavily that day. You ran through the downpour of the storm as your house scarf floated behind you and your mary janes began to stain from the wet dirt. You had finally reached the shelter of an arched corridor and began drying yourself with your scarf. A sudden clatter startled you as you turned your head towards the direction of the noise. The black-haired Slytherin boy was crouched on the ground picking up a bundle of textbooks and parchment papers he had dropped. He began to grow more frustrated when he realized they had become soaked from the seeping rainwater that came through the window. With a pitiful frown, you rushed over to help him.

“Better the books than yourself,” You said with a smile, acknowledging your rained-out state as you began to pick up pieces of parchment. “The storm came so suddenly. I hardly had any time to rush to safety and, well, this happened. I was playing Quidditch you see. It was a bit cloudy, sure, but not even the greatest prophecies could’ve predicted this storm. You’re quite lucky, though. You don’t seem to have a drop on you, except on your schoolwork of course.” Tom Riddle snatches the parchment from your hands so fast that it leaves you with a papercut on your hand. You wince and take your hand back before shooting him a glare.

“Do you mock me?” He spat.

“I was just trying to help,” you explained with a grumble in your voice. “You didn’t have to be so harsh.”

“What makes you think you are allowed to talk to me?” Tom picks up the rest of his items and stands up. You stood up right after.

“Well excuse me all high and mighty. I didn’t know I needed to sign a prerequisite form before daring to stand in your presence. As I said, I was just trying to be of some assistance.”

“I never asked for any assistance. You’re making me seem pitiful.”

“Or maybe, get this, I was just trying to be nice!”

Tom scoffs. “Nice? Yeah, alright.” He makes a sharp turn and begins walking in the opposite direction of yours.

“What is wrong with you?” You shout. “I don’t even know who you are!”

Tom stops. He began walking towards you once more. You take a step back, unsure of what caused him to turn around. “Of course you don’t. I don’t expect you to. But I know everything I need to know about you. You’re the type of person to befriend a lonely kid because you feel it’s your moral obligation. Because you think that this will help boost your popularity points. Don’t think I don’t see right through you. I see the way your friends whisper and giggle at me in the corridors. You may not think I hear it but I do. So if you think you’re going to make a fool out of me for your own benefit then you’re clearly mistaken. So you can go back to your friends and tell them all about our interaction because I know you will. Now, goodbye.”

He walked away before you even had a chance to respond. You wanted to clarify. To say that you don’t approve of your friends gossiping. That you genuinely meant to help him out. But your saltiness took over and you only replied with, “AT LEAST I HAVE FRIENDS.”

You were unsure if he heard you or not because he had already disappeared from view. But you were satisfied. You knew who he was, obviously. That part was a lie. Tom Riddle was quite infamous for his knowledge in Defense Against the Dark Arts and is an acclaimed member of the Slug Club as well as yourself. You had even made eye contact with him a few times while you had dinner with Slughorn and the rest of the Slug Club. But you never expected this innocently kind looking boy to be so cruel at your act of kindness. You didn’t know much about him but you did know one thing: Tom Riddle was now your sworn enemy.

This is made extremely evident at his increasing side glare while you two sit together in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Not by choice, of course. Assigned seating was never more painful than this moment right here. Still, the most you can do is glare back while everyone silently reads. You open your textbook as a way to distract yourself and flip to the unit you are currently on. Iguanas, iguanas, iguanas. Though you are puzzled as to how they were linked to dark magic, you took down notes anyway. You follow the pattern of dipping your quill in ink and writing line after line. All while you feel the hot glare of Tom’s eyes on the back of your neck. The bell signifying the end of class rings and you take a sigh of relief. Enthusiastically to get out of there, you begin gathering your materials, scooping your textbook in your arms all at once. Tom clears his throat quite obnoxiously enough to gain your attention.

“You miswrote something.” Tom states. You shoot him a dazzled look. “In your notes. I couldn’t help but look at your sorry excuse for parchment paper. It just reeked of misinformation. Sure enough, you wrote down that iguanas were omnivores when they are in fact herbivores.”

“Since when do you care so much about iguanas?” You ask, raising your eyebrow at him. “And why do you even care about what I write in the first place?”

“Well, one, I don’t. And two, I would just rather not be sitting next to the girl who got low marks on the iguanas exam. It would be quite embarrassing to witness.”

“Oh go suck an egg,” You retaliate. Tom Riddle scoffs and leaves without responding to your comment and your best friend, Wendy Slinkhard, replaces him.

You had met Wendy in the Slug Club. She was top of the Ravenclaw class, earning high marks that introduced her into the Slughorn's group. The first thing you noticed about her was the way her doe-eyes lit up every time someone mentioned writing. It was all she ever talked about. Her grand aspiration to become a famous author in the wizarding world. She had quite a euphonious voice when describing her life, casually mentioning the fact that she is indeed muggleborn and unafraid of any criticism. How her entire family is made up of writers and she is thrilled to follow the legacy. She had the most elegant way of describing things you had ever seen, almost like works of poetry roll off her tongue. When you ask how she comes up with these unique words she just responds with, The wizarding world seems to give a great muse to the imagination. Whatever that means, you are unsure, but it seems important enough.

“Well hello there,” Wendy says in her wispy voice. “Seems you have quite a charmer for a partner.” She looks over to Tom Riddle who has just left the room.

“Right.” You reply, getting ready to leave alongside Wendy. “It’s like nails on a chalkboard every time he speaks. I’m telling you, Wendy. You couldn’t bear sitting next to him for an hour.”

“Oh, I am sure of it. I’m not sure if I feel too keen about my partner as well. He is, to put it shortly, not quite attentive. Constantly asking me for notes or an extra quill, it’s quite annoying really! But overall, nothing compared to who you have to deal with. Tom Riddle. I always knew there was something off about that lad. Merlin knows why Professor Slughorn chose him of all pupils for the Slug Club.”

“Well he is exceptional at the Dark Arts, I’ll give him that. He has such a crude way of showing it as well. Constantly showing me up. Making me seem as inferior in knowledge as opposed to himself. A real nightmare.”

“Well, if it means anything to you, nothing good can ever come from being exceptional at the Dark Arts.” Wendy gives a slim smile and nods.

You and Wendy walk alongside each other on your way to your next class. Coincidentally, both of your classes are right next to each other. Though you really do miss having her in the same class. You speak to no one in History of Magic. You just sit alone with your face in your hands, hearing your professor go on and on about some troll war you don’t care too much about. Your quill picks up every once in a while to jot down scribbles of information. Something, something... Troll War. Not the most exciting subject if you were to be honest. But it sure beats suffering another hour with Tom Riddle constantly pointing out every minor flaw in your notes. Something about your professor’s voice sends you into a bit of a drowsy state. The way his words flowed so slowly and sterile. Slowly bringing you closer and closer into a…

“Wow. You look bloody awful.” You jolt awake at the sound of Dahlia Ferdinand looking down on you. She is dressed in her Hufflepuff Quidditch jumper and stands with arms crossed and a smirk spread across her face. You lift your head from the desk and detach a piece of parchment that had stuck on your face.

“How long has class been over?” You ask groggily.

“For about an hour, give or take.”

“She’s joking!” Wendy calls out, running into the room and standing beside Dahlia. She adjusts her giant red glasses and flattens her skirt. “Only a few minutes. No need to be so childish, Dahlia.”

“Oh come on. You never appreciate any of my jokes.”

“Dahlia, you know I hate your immature remarks. They are plain and unfunny.”

Dahlia rolls her eyes. “You must be real fun at parties.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been invited to one.”

“Don’t worry. We can tell.”

You let out a snicker before covering it up with a cough. Wendy, seeing right through you, shoots you a glare before adjusting her glasses once more.

“Speaking of parties…” Dahlia continues, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a green envelope. “Marcella Rosier invited me to the Slytherin common room party tomorrow night. From what I gather it’s going to be a grand event. Her uncle supposedly is bringing in firewhisky from Hog’s Head. Naturally, I expect you two to come with me.”

“Firewhisky, Dahlia?!” Wendy interjects before you can respond. “You know that is very much against the school rules. Not only that but against the law as well. And don’t even get me started on the policy of dorm-hopping in the middle of the night. I don’t even trust that Rosier girl to begin with. I’ve heard a load of terrible things involving her. Why are you even friends with such a person?”

“You know, Wendy, you sound like nails on a chalkboard sometimes. A simple no could do. What about you?” Dahlia responds, now addresses you.

“Oh,” You say suddenly. “Well if you’re going then I guess I’ll go as well.”

“So will I,” Wendy adds on, much to both you and Dahlia’s surprise. “Only to drag Dahlia out and scold her when she gets carried away with the firewhisky which I know she will.”

Wendy and Dahlia glare at each other and you cough. “I promise you, Wendy, that I will keep Dahlia outside range of the firewhisky.”

Wendy nods, satisfied. The three of you go your separate ways. You head straight to your dormitory, ignoring all work assigned for this weekend and your rude encounters with Tom Riddle. You raid your closet and begin the hunt for an acceptable outfit to wear to the biggest party of the semester.

#harry potter #tom riddle #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle fic #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle fluff #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle angst #tom riddle x you

66 notes · View notes

hopelesshawks · 3 years

Text

Physical Fatality Part 9- Cruelty

18+ Hawks x fem, pro hero!reader

Summary: You’re a rising star in All Might’s agency. Hawks is the darling of Endeavor’s. By virtue of your job descriptions, the two of you are supposed to hate each other, or at the very least be cautiously neutral. For a long time that’s exactly what the two of you did. You stayed out of each other’s way and formed little opinion of the other. One fateful night at an HPSC gala changes all that. Based on the album Hopeless Fountain Kingdom by Halsey.

If you don’t want to see Physical Fatality content blacklist #hopelesspf

This story will have multiple NSFW parts so it is 18+ ONLY minors dni

Warnings for alcoholism

Masterlist

“No Hawks.”

“Why won’t you at least let me explain?”

“Because I suspect your explanation for why you ripped my heart out despite, supposedly, still being in love with me is going to piss me the fuck off and we have a red carpet to walk in a few minutes.”

“You always have an excuse for why we can’t talk. We never see each other at work anymore-“

“Hmm, I wonder why? It’s almost like someone’s bullshit got me kicked off the task force.”

“Not my point. I would talk to you at your place but your roommate stops me every time!”

“I always did like Mina.”

“Jesus you’re fucking impossible. I just want to make things right!”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have fucked them up in the first place.”

“I can’t change the past.”

“And I can’t deal with my feelings for you on top of trying to salvage my fucking career.”

“So you admit there are still feelings?”

“How is that your takeaway from that sentence?”

It’s been about three days since the article about you and Hawks dropped. You are about four minutes from a heart attack and you think Hawks may be a maniac but he doesn’t know it. Your ride to another bullshit HPSC event stops and your door is opened to reveal a red carpet and a hoard of paparazzi awaiting your arrival. You and Hawks had just been fighting in your limousine but they don’t know. They can never know. So Hawks steps out and carefully smooths out his designer suit before reaching a hand down to help you out of the car. You take his hand and gracefully step out in your equally designer shoes and dress. You smile at each other as if your love is pure and uncomplicated. You smile at the paparazzi as if they aren’t the bane of your existence. You smile as you make your way into the event as if you aren’t literally dreading it. It honestly makes you feel nauseous. But this is the reality of modern day hero work. It’s as much about image and politics as it is about saving people, no matter how ridiculous you think that is.

You wish Bakugo and Midoriya were here so you’d at least have some uncomplicated friendly faces but they’re probably off doing actual hero work. You get the honor of shaking the hands of wealthy donors to the HPSC and interacting with heroes you’d probably recognize if you hadn’t been black out drunk at the last ranking ceremony. “I’ll grab us drinks,” Hawks sighs in a rare break the two of you have between meeting people. “I think that’s the first smart thing you’ve said all night,” you reply. He resists the temptation to roll his eyes as he tells you he’ll be right back and walks towards the bar. He isn’t gone long before you hear a deep voice behind you say, “I heard you were removed from the task force.” It takes everything in you not to launch Endeavor through the window as you turn to face him. “Unfortunately yes. All Might felt it was unwise for me to be on a task force with someone I was romantically involved with,” you reply as professionally as possible considering you’re still trying to figure out if the satisfaction of yeeting this prick out the window would be worth getting fired. “So I guess your little plan backfired on you then,” Endeavor says smugly. “My little plan?” “Your plan to use Hawks to climb the hero charts and gain insight into my agency.” You stare at the man in front of you and blink at him a few times. “I’m sorry can you just say that one more time?” you ask dumbfounded. This throws Endeavor off for a moment but then he clears his throat and repeats, “Your plan to use Hawks to-“ “Ok yea no that’s what I thought you said,” you say cutting him off. “I know this may be hard for you to hear but uhm, not everything is about you,” you sigh exasperatedly. “I am aware but-“ “No, no. Shut the fuck up, no but’s. There was no plan. I was just dumb enough to fall in love with your stupid ass Golden boy. Some of us are actually content just saving people regardless of some dumb, arbitrary ranking.” “Oh.” A pause. “What the fuck do you mean oh?” “I don’t owe you an explanation and you should watch how you talk to me.” “No one is paying attention to us right now, I’m not watching shit.” “Regardless you risk causing a scene.” “Oh my god, did you share your little theory with Hawks?” you press, and the sheepish look on his face is answer enough but then Hawks returns to your side, two drinks in hand, looking between you and Endeavor curiously. “Am I interrupting something?” Hawks asks with a raised eyebrow. “Babe could we talk privately for a moment?” you ask with a saccharine tone. “Uhh, sure,” Hawks replies. Next thing he knows you’re tugging him away from Endeavor and out of the banquet hall.

It pains him to realize how like and unlike this is to the first time the two of you met. The sly look Kamui Woods gives him as the two of you pass by makes him a little nauseous in all honesty. Probably because if he hadn’t fucked up so royally then maybe the two of you would be sneaking away for the reason the other man thinks right now. Instead he’s sure he’s about to get an earful because of whatever Endeavor had said to you. Eventually you tug him into a supply closet, using your quirk to find and flick on the light switch before closing the two of you into the tight space. He realizes it’s the first time you’ve been this close to him without a camera or another person nearby. “Hawks,” you start and and it hurts. It hurts every time you use his hero name when the two of you are alone. He misses the way his real name sounded on your tongue. He misses the fondness you used to have in your tone when you used it. He misses the way you’d sometimes shorten it to ‘Kei’. He misses it so much so that without thinking he interrupts you to say “Don’t call me that when we’re alone.” You ignore the interruption and that hurts too. “Did you break up with me because Endeavor told you I was just using you?” you ask him and all the air rushes out of his lungs. Finally you knew what he’d been trying to tell you for the past few days since everything went to shit. “Yes, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I never stopped loving you (y/n) but I got scared and I’m so sorry. I never should have listened to him,” Hawks sighs and it feels like a weight off to finally tell you. “So it wasn’t that you didn’t love me,” you start and Hawks feels his broken heart starting to put itself back together, “it was just that you didn’t love me enough to have faith in me.”

Wait, what?

No. No, no, no this isn’t how it’s supposed to go. Everything was supposed to get better once you found out the truth behind the break up. So why, then, do you look so distraught? “No, baby, no that’s not it,” he tries to assure you but you shake your head. “Isn’t it? You love me but not enough to hear out my side of the story before you dumped me. You love me but not enough to ignore the words of a man I’ve never had a full conversation with prior to today,” you point out. “I was just scared. He threatened my career and I just-“ “Just what? Hawks I can count on one hand the number of people who have genuinely had faith in me. That makes it really important to me. I thought I could count you as one of them.” “Hey, that’s not fair. I have faith in you but if you were in my shoes you would’ve made the same decision.” “And what shoes were those exactly?” “The shoes of someone hearing a man they’ve known and trusted for years tell them all the reasons why they’re an idiot to trust the woman they just met a few months prior.” “I didn’t realize I gave so many reasons for you not to trust me.” “That’s not what I meant and you know it. As dumb as I think the rivalry is it’s no secret that the lower ranks in both our agencies still believe in it and up until a year ago that was you.” “You could’ve asked.” “Maybe so but he also pointed out that there’s no way you couldn’t have fucking known who I was considering I’m the only hero with bright red fucking wings on my back,” Hawks grits out and as if on cue his wings are flaring and puffing up in the small space as if to emphasize his point. “Oh....” you trail off.

You have to admit he has a point on the last one. Sure, he could’ve asked. But Hawks never knew how problematic your drinking habits could be. Once the two of you got together you started getting sober so you hadn’t seen a reason to mention it. If he had asked you directly you don’t know that you would’ve been able to tell him the truth and that would’ve seemed to confirm Endeavor’s theory. “Yea, ‘oh’,” Hawks says and you almost wish you could hear more resentment in his tone instead of resignation because you are still so, so angry with him but you’re starting to see his side now and you hate it. At least if he resented you there wouldn’t be as much guilt for the blind rage you’d channeled his way. “That’s the one piece I still can’t make fit to be honest. Why’d you pretend not to recognize me?” he asks and if you didn’t still love him you’d probably give a half assed lie and be done with it. But you do, and he sounds so fucking heartbroken that you decide he at least deserves the truth. “I never gave a shit about the hero rankings. Who cares if you’re number 1 or number 50 as long as you’re saving people, y’know? So I never watched the ranking ceremony on tv and the one year I went in person I got black out drunk beforehand because Monoma was finally in the top 10 and he was being absolutely unbearable and I knew he’d continue to be for the rest of the night. So I drank and now I don’t remember any of it. I literally don’t know what any hero I haven’t directly worked with looks like. I know the names but couldn’t match them to faces for the life of me. Even with your ‘bright red fucking wings’. Bakugo actually gave me shit for it when I realized who you are,” you explain. “Would you have told me all that if I had asked you then?” he asks. “Probably not,” you admit. The kiss afterwards is unexpected but not unwelcome.

Hawks doesn’t consciously decide to kiss you. It’s just one moment you’re admitting you may not have been able to dispel his concerns and the next he’s reaching for you. He doesn’t regret it though. The moment your lips touch it’s like a missing piece of him has slotted back into place. It quickly grows heated and his hands find their way to your waist to reel you in closer and closer until there’s hardly any space between the two of you. He’s missed this so much it’s been a physical ache and he pours every bit of that pain and regret and heartache and love and hope, such agonizingly desperate hope, into the kiss, praying it will convey even a fraction of what he’s been feeling the past few days. Praying that maybe he can reach you and the two of you can go back to the bliss you enjoyed before he let Endeavor get in his head and ruin things. But then he feels wetness on his cheeks and when he pulls back to look at you he realizes you’re crying. “Why are you crying Love?” he asks as he reaches both hands up to cup your face and wipe the tears away. “Because if you feel even a fraction of what I feel when I kiss you, I don’t know how you could ever think it was fake,” you confess and it shatters his heart all over again. “(Y/n), I-“ “I wanna go home.” “Ok, I’ll fly us back to mine and we can-“ “No Hawks. My home. My apartment. I need... I need time.” “Ok.”

The two of you sneak out of the event. The tabloids will likely be flooded with headlines about how you and Hawks are so madly in love you had to sneak away for a supply closet tryst only to realize that wasn’t enough and decide to just bail on the event entirely. They’ll be wrong, of course, but it’s better they run that than the truth. Neither you nor Hawks says a word as he flies you to your apartment. Only once you’re standing in your open doorway does Hawks pipe up. “I have to leave tomorrow for a mission,” he says. “Task force?” you ask, although you’re not sure if you want to know the answer. “Yea. Task force,” he confirms. “Oh.” “Yea.” “Ok. How long will you be gone?” “I don’t know but at least a week.” “So I get a week’s break from the circus,” you say and part of you knows it’s a cruel thing to say, but another part of you says it’s only cruel if he actually cares for you as much as he claims to. “Yea, I guess so,” he says and he sounds so goddamn sad. You’re hurting him. You’re hurting him and you wish you could make yourself stop but you can’t. “Goodnight Hawks,” you sigh and then you close the door before he can respond. He stands staring at the closed door for a long while. You can tell by the shadow underneath the door. Eventually though he sighs and you hear him walk away with heavy, defeated steps.

Which is crueler: Him hurting you unintentionally because he never gave you the chance to explain? Or you intentionally breaking his heart the way he broke yours? You suspect you won’t like the answer so you go to the kitchen to grab a drink and try and forget you even posed the question in the first place.

You told Hawks his time away would be a break. In actuality it was agony. You went to work and then you went home. Bakugo and Midoriya were getting worried but work kept them busy enough you could avoid their questions and their concern and their judgment for the most part. “Why don’t you just talk to him?” Midoriya had asked one day. “She doesn’t owe him shit,” Bakugo had scoffed. “Maybe not,” Midoriya had acknowledged before turning back to you to say “but that doesn’t change the fact that the two of you love each other and you’re the one who decided to fake the relationship to the press. Even if you guys don’t start a real relationship again the least you could do is make sure you aren’t actively making each other miserable.” “I’ll think about it,” you had replied, but you decidedly didn’t think about it.

It’s been two weeks now since Hawks went away. You miss him. You wander into your kitchen, grab a bottle of Cabernet, open it, and are turning to lock yourself in your room when you nearly bump into an unfamiliar man with blonde hair with a single, lightning shaped black streak. “Who the fuck are you?” you ask once you’ve recovered. The man looks shaken by the question and a tad bit intimidated. “I’m, uh, Denki. Your new roommate? Mina introduced us the other day. You said hi, told me not to let Hawks in if he shows up, and then locked yourself in your room,” he explains sheepishly. You have zero recollection of this. You were probably drunk when it happened. “Oh... Well I’m (y/n) in case I forgot to mention it before,” you awkwardly introduce yourself before stepping around him. “See you around I guess,” you call over your shoulder before going back to your room and locking the door behind you.

You’re about halfway through the bottle of wine when it hits you what a sad sight this is. You’re wasting a perfectly good Saturday sitting at home alone and drinking by yourself in your locked room. The press would have a field day if they knew. You go to take another swig from the bottle, you’re far too sober to deal with everything you’re feeling right now, when you suddenly hear the sound of your lock shifting. You dismiss it at first as Mina trying the door to come check on you, but then it suddenly swings open to reveal Denki kneeling on the ground with a bobby pin looking accomplished and a nervous but determined looking Hawks standing behind him. “I thought I told you not to let him in,” you find yourself saying as you try to process what’s happening. Denki shrugs. “Seemed like you two could use a good chat,” he says before walking away. Hawks steps into the room and closes the door back behind him. “We need to talk. For real this time. I just.... Please give me a chance to explain or, or, to just prove to you that my feelings are real or something. Anything. Please,” he begs. Hawks has always been able to play you like a violin, hitting just the right notes to get your stubborn ass to bend, even if he doesn’t seem to realize it. A voice in the back of your head reminds you it’s doubtful he realizes considering all you’ve done is treat him cruelly since that tabloid came out. He deserves some of your ire. He doesn’t deserve all of it. “Don’t you think this is a conversation that should be had sober?” you ask, raising the half empty bottle of Cabernet for emphasis. “You just got off work a little while ago which means that’s the only bottle you’ve been working on. We both know it takes way more than half a bottle of wine to get you drunk,” he points out and he’s got you there. You’re out of excuses and honestly he probably does deserve a conversation. After all, Midoriya wasn’t wrong. You had no good reason to continue to deny Hawks at this point.

“Fine, let’s talk.”

Author’s Note: THIS HURT ME TO WRITE BUT WE OUT HERE. Hawks and (y/n)’s relationship is so complicated at this point and it’s interesting to write but it’s also hard and painful to write because you want them to be happy and in love but there is so much outside of them now that is involved in their relationship. Anyway suffer with me ig 🥲❤️

Taglist [open]: @akkaso @cathy8taffy @eeppff @iikillerkitteh @pixelwisp @pokesosa @lildockel @bread0nhead

#hopelesspf #hawks #wing hero hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n

56 notes · View notes