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weepingvoidpenguin · 3 years

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One of Your Favorites

Jealous Bucky x Reader

Summary: You have an objective. Get Rumlow to confess. Simple enough, right? No. Aside from his usual condescending attitude towards you, Bucky has made it extremely apparent that he doesn’t think you’re capable of - well, anything, but especially not handling Rumlow. And yet, he is the biggest challenge of this entire ordeal.

Warning: T R I G G E R WARNING!! ATTEMPTED SA, DRUGS, language, light smut. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT READ IF SA WILL TRIGGER YOU.

Word Count: 8.3k

“We have good intel stating he’s working as a double agent for HYDRA. Selling information, exploiting tactics, even going so far as to tell them where we’ll be and when.” Natasha scanned the room, making sure she had everyone’s attention during the briefing.

You slouched back in your swivel chair and twisted to-and-fro slightly with your hands gripping the arm rests on either side. It took all of your willpower to act engrossed in her words. And you meant every single drop. You’d been paying attention, sure, but the only issue was the dominating presence two seats to your right and directly in your line of sight to Natasha. You rolled your chair to the left to clear the path for the third time, only for him to block your way without missing a beat. The growl that left your mouth was nearly involuntary. Nearly.

How long would this man act like a child? Despite his graceful and seemingly unsuspecting movements, you were fully aware his placement was intentional. This was not the first, nor did you doubt that it would be the last, time that Bucky acted impudently toward you. Frankly, you’d grown bored of his behavior. It was the same thing everyday. He would act a nuisance during the briefings, speak over you whenever he had the chance, steal the limelight from you and invalidate any concerns or thoughts you shared. The whole charade grew tiring and he had been dancing on thin ice for months now.

You averted your gaze from burning holes through the freshly washed, brown locks and switched your attention back up to the redhead. Thankfully, too, because you managed to catch the end of her sentence just as she locked eyes with you.

“And that’s why Y/N is going to be the one to extract the information from him,” she finished.

You blinked, “Wait, what?”

Bucky straightened his posture and threw a quick glance your way, “Yeah, what? She’s got no heat, couldn’t toast marshmallows if we gave her all day. She shouldn’t lead this, she wouldn’t know how,”

“Well, tonight might be a good time to start learning, then,” Steve chimed in, throwing a wink your way. You smiled and appreciated his aid, not because you needed it but because at this point, you were seething and if you opened your mouth to defend yourself this meeting would go south, quickly. Luckily, Steve always believed you were capable of a great deal of things and knew you strove for more experience so any opportunity to lead or expand was one he thought you should take.

“Besides,” Tony spoke up, twirling a platinum pen between his fingers from across the table, “our little double-agent has always had the hots for Y/N so unless you’re gonna be the one to bat your eyelashes at him and get him alone in a room, Mr. Barnes, we have to use his own flaws against him.” He turned to face you and held up a hand, “Not to say that liking you is a flaw, you’re great Hot-Stuff but exploiting him is our best option indefinitely,”

“Do I have to seduce him?” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and raising a brow towards Nat, trying your damned hardest to avoid the unmistakable glare the brown-haired super soldier was sending your way.

“The only thing you have to do is extract any information on him that you can. Get him a little drunk, catch him in a slip-up or two, take note of any inconsistent stories and be on your merry way,” she reassured, “How you manage to do that is up to you,”

“Ooh, extortion,” Clint chirped up from the far back corner, his hands rubbing together maliciously around an arrow he pulled from his sheathe, something you noticed he did a lot when he was uninterested; be it a person, mission, or conversation.

“No. Not extortion,” Steve shut it down and you chuckled at how Clint’s countenance fell into one of disappointment.

“Not yet anyway,” Natasha mumbled and you sighed as she walked around the room and handed each of you a folder with your individual objectives inside.

“But he’s such a pervert,” you grumbled.

“All the easier,”

The rest of the day was drudged with Nat while she taught the pertinence of body language (both yours and theirs), verbal ruses, and overall ensnarement. You bat your eyelashes until you were certain you would catch enough wind to fly away, smirked enough that your cheeks began to ache and raised your eyebrows ‘til you felt the impending wrinkles on your forehead. By the end of the drill you weren’t sure you were even going to make it to the company party from the migraine creeping its way on.

“How’s the bait coming along?” His voice alone caused you to roll your eyes but you paid no mind while you rubbed at your temples and stood up alongside Natasha.

“She’s not gonna be able to lie to me any time soon but she can flirt her way to whatever she wants,”

“Benefits of targeting a narcissistic misogynist, they don’t think anyone can fool them.” Tony belted as he sauntered into the room with strawberries, offering them out to you while he munched on one.

“She’ll still mess it up,” Bucky countered, “Make someone else do it,”

You plucked the fruit off Tony’s tray and examined it, trying to figure out whether you were going to consume it or use it as a weapon.

“I really appreciate your words of encouragement, James. Unfortunately, they’re not wanted, nor are they needed.” You bit into the fruit and glided towards the door, looking over your shoulder at the super soldier, “So unless you actually have something to contribute, I suggest you stay the hell out of my way while I get the job done,”

Nat walked out behind you and handed you a tiny, skin-colored device meant to conceal itself and you placed it in your ear.

“The conversation is gonna be recorded so we can catch any inconsistencies. We’ll all be able to hear what you’re saying so tread on delicate waters but don’t be afraid to shake mountains if you have to,”

You nodded and opened your door for her to enter your room knowing she’d want to help you get ready for the event. Natasha, shocking as it turns out, enjoys company while preparing for events. She would much prefer to be surrounded by people than be alone. You never had gall to ask her why that is. Or maybe you respected her too much to ask.

An hour had passed, maybe two, but you enjoyed the silence between you both. There was no need to fill the empty quiet when it was so comfortable and welcoming. You two spoke without words at times and that was probably your favorite personal skill. Eventually, there came a knock on your door and you opened to find Wanda with her flat iron and make-up bag in tow. It’d long since been decided that your room was the gathering center.

Wanda helped you finish touching up your outfit and you waited on your bed while they finished getting ready. Nat occasionally quizzed you on certain situations and how you should act depending on the tones and moods of the conversation. You tried to explain that you didn’t have difficulty reading a room but Nat tested you all the same.

“And if he puts his hand on your thigh?” She called out from your bathroom.

“Then he loses it,” you practically sang in response.

You were met with a flying hairbrush and laughed at the onslaught.

“You’re not the only one with that mentality,” Wanda called out as well, her iron glossing over thin strands of hair.

“Nat knows I can handle myself.” You sat up on the bed and went over to your closet to collect your favorite pair of shoes to go along with the formal attire Nat selected for tonight. “What a coincidence that we happen to have a company party the same night we have to extract information,” you hollered over your shoulder, moving aside terribly worn shoes while you scoured for the pair you had in mind.

“This objective has been in the works for weeks now,” Nat released the tendril of hair from around the barrel and pinned it to her head so it could cool.

“Wow, thanks for the heads up, then.” You gripped the desired pair and placed them beside your nightstand for later.

“The plan wasn’t solid until we knew for a fact that Rumlow was coming. It’s a company party so it’s not mandatory but once he heard you were making an appearance, it didn’t take very much persuading,”

You rolled your eyes and plopped back down on your mattress, “He’s so annoying, I doubt I can hold much of a conversation with him,”

“Take a shot or two to ease your nerves, if he sees you drinking it’ll put him at ease too. He’ll be more inclined to drink,” Natasha recommended. “But don’t act too out of character. If you were always curt and short with him and suddenly you start acting over-friendly, he may get suspicious. He’s an idiot but he’s a paranoid one,”

You nodded, taking a mental note to have a half-empty bottle in your grasp when Rumlow arrives. If he thinks you’ve already been drinking, he might also consider catching up.

“Y/N? Not uptight for once?” Wanda sarcastically questioned. “I can’t picture it,”

“Oh, fuck off,” you grumbled and in turn received laughter from the two girls. “Besides, of all of us I’m by far the least uptight. Barnes takes the cake for that one,”

There was a beat of silence that you didn’t register before you were met with a response.

“Ya know, he’s not as bad as you paint him out to be.” Nat unpinned the curl from her head and moved on to the next section, “He’s got some serious loyalty and always willing to volunteer first for everything,”

You lifted your head to stare at her reflection through the mirror, “What are you talking about? He’s annoying and irate and lacks a filter,”

“Mmm, irate isn’t the word I would use,” Wanda countered, looking over to Natasha.

Nat shook her head in response, “I’d lean more towards . . . over-protective,”

“Much better,” Wanda agreed.

You squinted your eyes at their image and felt the corners of your lips turn downwards, “Over-protective? Since when are you two defending Barnes?”

“We’re not defending him, per say.” Wanda glanced over to Nat, “We’re just trying to give you a fresh perspective,”

“You could give me a brand new pair of eyes and I’d still see him the same,” you retorted, now leaning on your elbows due to the strain on your neck.

They ignored the comment, “And he’s only annoying to you,”

“You’re telling me he doesn’t annoy you at all?” You asked, an eyebrow raised.

“More like . . . he doesn’t go out of his way to mess with us.” Nat applied a nude color onto her lips.

“So you agree that he goes out of his way to irritate me,” you stated rather than asked.

“That’s been made very apparent,” Wanda responded. “But you have to wonder why,”

You huffed a little and sprawled back out on the bed just to result in staring at the ceiling above. If you looked hard enough your mind would create pictures from the chaos of the cracks and shapes began to form. Sometimes, when the night lay still and life seemed to dwindle at the edges of your reality, you could swear a familiar face fashioned together and your imagination ran wild with the images you’d see. Some that brought a warmth to your cheeks even now.

You shot up out of bed and shook the memories from your vision. Ugh. He haunts you even when he’s not actively tormenting you. How he’s managed to crawl his way so deeply within your skin you had no idea but you fought for control of your thoughts whenever you caught them slipping into that hellhole.

“Or slipping into euphoria,” Wanda chimed in.

“Wanda!” You scolded, crossing your arms, “Euphoria my ass,”

“Yeah, he thinks so too,” she continued and you chucked the abandoned hairbrush back their way.

“Stay out of my head,” you jokingly sniped at her but was met with a low chuckle.

“I didn’t even have to be in your head to know what you were thinking of,” Nat defended and caught your weapon of choice.

“Are you guys done yet?” You rolled your eyes and stretched yourself out before swiping up the pair of heels you’d chosen and sliding them onto your feet.

“Why? Are you in a hurry to see a certain someone?” Natasha teased and Wanda let out an eruption of laughter.

“All right, I’m done.” You made a beeline for the door and threw it open, “Lock up when you’re finished!” You bellowed over your shoulder and made your way to the top floor of the building where all the parties are typically held.

You didn’t run into anyone on the way up and you used that time to calm yourself, prying inch by inch away from the invasive thoughts that called for you in the darkest hours of the night. But, then again, maybe those tormenting thoughts weren’t that bad? You mean, he certainly IS handsome, very much so actually. And he has the most knee-wobbling smirk you’d ever come to know, not to mention those little tricks he does with his knives always manage to entrance you. God, did he know how to use a knife.

On more than one occasion had you caught yourself staring at how his hands encapsulated the hilt of the blade. How they clenched and relaxed, drawing out some of the more prominent veins on one of the extremities; of course, you were even more so enticed by the hand he hid as well. You’d imagined what it felt like to have such strong hands grip onto your thighs and coax you into spreading them open with just a few teasing touches here and there. You couldn’t fathom the front you’d put up would last very long, he was stellar at pulling reactions from you. He’d see you break under his caresses and he’d degrade you like he always did but this time it’d emit a different response from you, one that made you whimper and shake. At that, he’d probably call you a good girl, he definitely seems the type to switch between degradation and praise, and would press his mouth up just where you wanted it the most. You’d try your hardest to be quiet but damn the way that tongue moved against you and the way he’d pull you harder against his face at each sound of pleasure you let slip past your lips. He’d enjoy it, too. Eyes closed as he devours you, he likes to put on a show for you to watch. Give you a memory that’ll slick your thighs later that night if he hadn’t fucked you into a coma by then. He’d make you watch him and if you dared to close your eyes you’d earn a firm, cold smack on your ass. He knows you like when he uses temperature play. He growls a little too, he can’t help his innate behavior. Then, just as the accumulation is coming to its apex he’d pull away abruptly and kiss you straight on your mouth so you can taste yourself and that’d earn him another whimper which would result in another smack that leads to that cold metal trailing its way to your core and just as he pushes the tip of his finger inside-

You cough and straighten your posture as the elevator door opens. When had you leaned up against the back wall of the elevator? Oh Gods, you could feel the slick at the apex of your thighs and you squeezed them together as inconspicuously as you could in fear that you were producing a . . . scent that would be rather difficult to conceal. But the slick only grew worse when you locked eyes with the person stepping into the elevator.

Fuck.

“That’s what you chose to wear?” He asked, a certain venom in his tone that immediately calmed the ache in your heat.

“And what would you have me wear instead, Barnes?” You quipped back, your body facing forward as he took his place beside you in the cramped space.

There was a beat of silence. Then another. “Not that,” he responded.

“Well I’ll make sure to ask you next time since you have such impeccable taste,” you retorted, your eyes yet to abandon the sight of the closing doors.

You weren’t sure of all the effects of the Super Soldier Serum that had been injected into Bucky and all that it heightened but you prayed to any God that would listen that his hearing wasn’t one of those things. You were too preoccupied with attempting to settle the hot pulse beating between your legs to worry about how loud your discomfort came across.

“What do you look so nervous about?” Bucky’s gruff voice prodded. “You can’t possibly be nervous about the mission considering how big-headed you are,”

You took a deep, long breath and held it to soothe you. Had you not been so previously preoccupied, you’d have given him hell for the insult. “I’m not nervous about that,” you sniped and rested back against the cool wall to satiate your burning skin before lifting your gaze to him only to find him already examining you.

“Of course not, I just said that,” he retorted, bringing a gloved hand to his face to rub along his jaw, “there’s obviously nothing for you to worry about,”

You scoffed, “And why is that, Barnes?” Cue the dramatic crossing of your arms.

“You’re smarter than Rumlow and significantly better trained. Overall, he really doesn’t hold a candle to your ability,” He paused for a second, his whole frame tensing until he remembered to relax, “But that’s not really saying much considering it’s Rumlow,”

You hadn’t noticed you raised your eyebrows until you felt your face fall, “Ah, there he is. You had me worried there for a second, Barnes. Thought you might actually try something new and display common decency for once,”

A corner of his mouth turned up subtly and he shook his head. You trailed your gaze down to his hidden hand and stared long enough to burn a hole through the fabric.

“If something’s bothering you, Dollface, go ahead and speak up,”

You weren’t sure what possessed you to say anything, especially knowing how touchy the subject was for him but the words left your mouth anyway, “I don’t know why you insist on hiding yourself,”

He lurched his head back, your statement seeming to have a physical affect on the man and you mentally slapped yourself for saying anything.

“I’m not hiding myself,”

“But you are,” you interrupted, your thoughts coming out in pools of candor, “you aren’t your hand. You aren’t your past. You are you. Presently. You’re not the Winter Soldier anymore. That’s not even the same hand you had back then. It’s not tainted and neither are you. I say drop the gloves,”

“And why would I care about what you say?” He growled, his eyebrows furrowed together and his neck tight in potential restraint.

The elevator dinged and you looked towards the opening doors, “You don’t have to but they don’t look right with your suit either.” You walked through the exit and sauntered over to the others who had already gotten the party started, leaving Bucky dumb-founded behind you. “I need a shot,”

“Already ready,” Tony quipped up, holding the small glass in the air for everyone to behold before bringing his cheek to yours in mock welcoming, “This’ll up your tolerance for the next hour, try to get all your drinking done within that time-frame,”

You pulled away with a warm smile after faux kissing his cheek, “Finally!” you displayed and threw the liquid back in one swift motion, your face scrunching together against your will.

“Yeah, she’s got a kick to her,” he mumbled and handed you a fruity drink to chase it down with.

You went around and said hi to everyone as you recognized most of those present. You made small chatter with those lesser known and drank the liquid in your hand significantly quicker than you’d like to. You excused yourself after you finished the drink and walked over to the bar, scanning the room as you were handed another glass. No Rumlow in sight.

You headed towards the foosball table and gripped the handles after setting the beverage down on the counter beside you. You flinched as a reflection of light caught your eye and at first you thought your glass was the source. Until your eyes fixated on the reflection’s actual origin. To your far right, and up a few steps you found Bucky conversing with Steve, a dull light emitting from his hand. Not a glove in sight.

“So, where’s your boyfriend?” Sam inquired when he filled the opposing spot.

You rolled your eyes, “Bucky’s not my boyfriend,”

“Bucky?” Sam’s tone chirped up teasingly, a knowing look wearing on his face.

Your grip tightened around the handles and you slowly pulled away to throw the little white ball through the circle, your hands immediately twisting the miniscule players around. Your eyes shot back and forth, your sight never leaving the darting sphere. Sam still managed to win the first point.

“Ha!” He shouted in triumph, bringing his finger up as if to scold you, “Don’t think you got away with that comment either, Y/N,”

“What comment?” you questioned and gulped most of your drink before slamming it back down on the table.

You heard your earpiece come to life with quiet static and you tried to keep your face masked. Rumlow had entered. Not a surprise either, the party was finally starting to pick up now.

Sam threw the ball in and you turned the players meticulously this time, brute strength hadn’t helped you earlier so maybe you should take it slow. Steve made his way over to the table and threw his drink back, the liquid trickling down the side of his face before he wiped it away. Sam won the second point.

“I play winner,” Tony chimed, standing beside Steve.

You made a point to catch up and now you two were tied at three each.

“Best out of five?” You proposed, quirking an eyebrow at Sam.

“If you didn’t want to play anymore you could’ve just said that,” he teased and you smirked at him as Tony made a subtle show of handing you another drink and you finished your second. “Loser takes two shots?”

“Deal.” You nodded, knowing you didn’t have much of a choice as a small crowd began to form around you two. Rumlow amongst them.

Your jaw dropped when Sam shot the ball directly into your goal as soon as he’d let the ball go.

“What the fuck?” You shouted, “No fair! That doesn’t count!”

Thor erupted in laughter to your right and you blinked slowly, staring at the gargantuan man.

“It most certainly does,” Sam shouted back, his grin practically touching his ears.

“Sam, take it easy on her,” Bucky muttered from beside him, quickly averting his gaze from yours and his expression loosened, “The brat hates losing,”

“Brat?” You snarled.

Bucky took a swig of his beer, watching you the entire time and you reeled back the fire beginning to form in your chest just to bring your drink up to your lips and chug the entire thing down. You handed it over to Tony who left to replace it.

“Last point,” Sam stated, “It’s not too late to quit now,”

You shook your head and blinked away the feign distortion you were supposed to have. “Just play the ball,”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he teased and threw the ball in.

You wanted to win. Desperately. But you had a character to play tonight and she was supposed to be drunk. So you hit your hand against the corner of the table just as Sam happened to make the winning point. You grumbled and threw him a glare when Tony broke through the crowd.

“Coming through,” he shouted, handing two small glasses to you while you gripped your knuckles in pain. “Noooo, you’re not getting out of taking these. C’mon, take your punishment,”

“Yes, Daddy,” you grumbled and cringed at your own words when the realization hit you. Whatever. You were supposed to be drunk, anyway.

“Daddy?” Tony quipped and pulled the drinks back towards himself, “Maybe you should be cut off,”

“What?” You argued, leaning slightly on the table with your hand and snatching the drinks from Tony’s hold, effectively spilling some on yourself. “See?” You lifted up the half empty shot glass, “This barely counts as a shot,”

“I’ll get her a new one,” Rumlow offered and disappeared before anyone could argue.

“She really doesn’t need another-” Bucky tried to interject and take the shots from you but you twisted around and chugged down the one full glass.

Water.

You looked up at Tony and his smirk was barely noticeable. But you could tell. Bucky nearly ripped the other drink from you but Tony blocked his path and you exaggerated your next drink as Rumlow broke back into the crowd, shot in tow.

“Here.” Rumlow’s calloused hand held the drink up above you and you stared at him with a questioning look. “Open,” he ordered and the fire burning in your chest fought to destroy everything in its vicinity. You bit your lip in refrain but tossed your head back and opened your mouth.

Static broke over your earpiece. Don’t drink that! Wanda’s voice erupted.

Your eyes widened as the liquid made its way down but you coughed hard to stop whatever you could.

Why? Steve’s voice came through right after.

You choked on the liquid and shut your eyes at the way it burned its way down. You reached your hand out to grab someone’s drink to ease the burning and grasped a tall glass and tossed it back. The burning didn’t ease up and you felt a hand rest on your back.

“Are you okay?” Rumlow’s voice rang out and your skin nearly recoiled from the contact, “How about we get you some water?”

You looked up at him when the burning subsided minimally and nodded your head, letting him lead the way to the bar. He parted the crowd and someone took step right behind you to follow when the presence suddenly died out abruptly. You turned around to check who it had been and found no one.

Why? Steve asked again.

Where’s Wanda? Bruce broke through.

You lifted your head and flitted your gaze around the room until you found the familiar Sokovian on the couch, laying down with her eyes closed. You pulled away from Rumlow but his grip on your hand tightened and his steps grew in haste. You whirled your head to yell at him but the way the room swayed with the movement cause you to shut your mouth in surprise.

Didn’t Tony say you would have a higher tolerance?

“Couch...” you muttered, pointing over your shoulder just in case your target was curious enough to ask but the message was delivered.

Rumlow hoisted you up onto the bar stool and stood on your open side, using his body to keep you from falling over. Or to cage you in.

“I don’t feel good,” You rested an elbow on the countertop and held your head up.

“I can’t imagine you would. You’ve been chugging those drinks like they’re water.” Despite that, Rumlow motioned to the bartender and asked for two more.

You giggled and your head lulled forward with the action. You let Rumlow catch you from tumbling over. Why did your body feel so heavy? Not to mention the way everything around you dazed about. You couldn’t catch a single action, let alone attempt to read Rumlow’s body language. But you did happen to notice the way his eyes searched the room before coming back to you.

“You okay?” You rested your forearm against his chest and pushed slightly to allow yourself a better view of his face.

A small smirk, “Am I okay? What about you?”

You smacked your lips and brought the ice cold glass to your lips. That’s not water. “I’m doing reeaalllyy good,” you drawled.

Rumlow chuckled and pushed you deeper into the chair, “I can tell.” He took a sip, his attention never faltering from your body, “Just be sure to pace yourself from here on out,”

You made a show of cocking your head to the side and letting a smile sprawl onto your face as you studied him.

“What?” he questioned, a curious lift in his brow.

You shook your head gently and kept your gaze on him over the brim of your glass, “You’re just . . . not what I was expecting,”

“And what were you expecting?”

Don’t forget to bat your eyelashes. “Worse,”

“Sorry to disappoint,” he jeered, his attention once again cast throughout the room before centering back on you.

You followed his action but quickly came to the conclusion that moving any pace faster than a sloth was going to make you nauseous and you could barely keep a thought together. Your stomach began to rise in your chest and the fear seized your throat shut. Why couldn’t you hold onto a thought for longer than a second? It was like you were aware of your lack of consciousness but could do nothing about it because any thought or bout of panic phased through just as soon as it arrived.

“What are you so tense for, Rumlow? You know you’re not currently on the clock, right?” You teased, your head leaning on your shoulder as you spoke.

He brought his drink up to his lips and finished it off in three gulps, “I’m not tense. It’s just hard to turn it off sometimes,”

You nodded slowly and pushed your drink towards him, “Relax. You know everyone here,”

He shook his head and placed your drink back in front of you before asking for another beer.

“And two shots!” You shouted to the bartender, throwing two of your fingers high up and instantly regretting how fast you’d done it.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” He asked you, a side smirk beginning to form.

You placed your finger over your lips and hushed, “Shh, I won’t tell if you don’t.” You dragged your lower lip down and his eyes fixated to commit the scene to memory. “Besides, I always feel dumb if I’m the only one drunk,”

He motioned to the rest of the party, “Believe me, Sugar, you’re not the only one enjoying yourself,”

“But are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Enjoying yourself?”

Your skin crawled when he placed his rough hand on your barren thigh, “Absolutely,”

Don’t forget what you’re here for. Don’t let the objective slip. Gods, how the fuck were you supposed to retain anything when you were so sleepy? And why was it so warm?

“Hot,” you mumbled, fishing around in your glass for an ice cube to rub on your face.

“Thank you,”

You threw your head back in laughter and nearly earned yourself an up-close and personal view of the floor had Rumlow not wrapped an arm around your waist and held you steady. Once he was certain you weren’t going to toss yourself onto the ground, he parted your legs and stood between them to keep you rooted to your seat.

All the movement had you spinning and you white-knuckled Rumlow’s cotton shirt to keep yourself grounded to something, anything. Red warning lights were firing up in your chest and you tensed with the way your body buckled to the panic coursing through you. Your heart pounded in your ears and danced across your skin, lighting it on fire and making the room too stuffy to bear. Please, no. Not now. Focus. Snap out of it. Come back, stay back. Your breathing hitched and you looked down at the sensation crawling its way up higher on your thigh. Too hot. Everything was too hot, if you didn’t get out of this now you would never-

“Vision!” You cheered, happy to see your friend.

The presence on your thigh recoiled slightly.

“I’m taking Wanda to her room, seems she’s had a bit too much to drink,” Vision informed and you’d only just then noticed the body in his hold.

“Wanda!” You smiled, admiring her peaceful features as she slept in his arms. You poked at her cheek then jerked your gaze back up to Vision. “What? Wanda doesn’t drink,”

She’s not acting, Sam’s voice erupted in your ear and you flinched at the sound.

Vision’s eyes went from you to Rumlow then back to you slowly, “Y/N . . . are you okay?”

You beamed at him and slowly brought up your thumb. “Good,” you responded.

You followed Vision’s gaze back up to Rumlow and smiled at the agent beside you. You guess he’s kind of cute. In a strange, unsettling way.

“She’s had a lot to drink, so we’re just trying to slow down the pace. Aren’t we, Y/N?” Rumlow looked down at you.

You nodded fervently, “Yup!”

Vision hesitated but knew he didn’t pose much of a threat with Wanda in his arms unconscious, so he quirked a smile and walked towards the hall.

Someone get to Y/N, something’s not right, Vision ordered and you lifted your head up to find him. You could have sworn he just left.

“Here.” Rumlow handed you a glass, “Drink this, it’ll cool you down,”

You stared at the glass in his hold and looked up at him, “You drink it first,” you slurred, holding your finger up at him.

He cocked his head to the side but took a swig of the drink and you watched it go down his throat. You shrugged and grabbed at it.

Do not drink that, Nat ordered from somewhere and you looked around in wonder at who she was yelling to.

Bucky, Sit down! Steve growled.

Like hell, responded a voice you knew all too well.

Your smile grew and you looked through the crowd, “Bucky!” You feverishly called, completely expecting to see him before you. Rumlow’s head lifted instantly, his eyes scouring the area.

“I’ve got this, Pretty Boy,” Tony hastily spoke, “How ya doin’, Hot Stuff?” He interrogated and you reeled at the tone.

“Quite well, thank you,” you responded tenaciously and attempted to take a swig of the drink in your grasp.

Tony’s hand shot out and covered the top, slamming the cup back down on the counter and effectively getting the drink all over your dress.

“What the fuck?” You tried to shout but the words came out heavy and required too much energy to speak.

“You’ve had enough for tonight,”

“It’s just water,” Rumlow defended but Tony paid him no mind.

Your jaw dropped open and you glared at the older man. Who the hell did he think he was? Tony’s stare burned through your skull and despite your irritation, you couldn’t help but wonder why he was so pissed.

“Are you mad at me?” You drawled, lulling your head to the side.

“No,” he responded curtly.

“Am I being too loud or something?” You pushed. You couldn’t imagine you were any louder than any other drunken bastard at this party.

“No,”

Get her out of there or I swear to God I will, his voice hissed into your ear.

Your eyebrows rose slightly in excitement, “Mmm, Bucky,” you smiled and Tony nodded.

“’Mmm, Bucky’ is right. Wanna go see him?” Tony offered, sticking out his hand for you to take.

You fell forward into Rumlow’s chest but shook your head furiously none the less, “For what? So he can tell me I’m horrendous at my-”

Oh shit. Your job. The job.

If only your body didn’t feel so heavy and your mind so light.

You pushed off Rumlow’s chest and glared at Tony, “I can handle myself,” you insisted, a new sort of sober tone making its way through that caused him to do a once-over. “I know what I’m doing,”

“How many drinks have you had?” Tony challenged and you fell silent.

Then you felt a tap, and another and a few more.

“Six,” You said, hoping you’d counted right.

Tony, don’t you even fucking consider it, Bucky threatened.

“You could at least change, recuperate and then come back,” Tony offered and you sighed a breath of relief before nodding.

“Deal,” you agreed, “I’m hot anyway,”

Tony gave you one last glance before turning around and blending into the crowd on the other end of the room.

You looked up to Rumlow who’s gaze was still locked on the sea of people, “Don’t you wish you’d taken that shot now?” you tried to jeer, every last word bringing you deeper and deeper.

“Are they always that intense?” He questioned, not turning his attention to you.

“They can be over-bearing,” you admitted, hand grabbing the water from earlier and pressing it up against your forehead, “They consider me the baby so they’re always criticizing and suffocating until I just wished they’d disappear.” You took a gulp, “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the family and I like that I have a cause but . . . they don’t let me do anything. It’s exhausting,”

You let out a long breath and smeared the condensation from the glass onto your chest. Rumlow studied you then, not just your body but your reaction. He was watching how you dropped your shoulders at the confession and how you faced your back to them to block them out.

You plastered your torso on the countertop and tried to slow your heartrate down. You couldn’t be the only one here unfathomably hot.

“Why is it so fucking hot?” You questioned, fanning yourself weakly.

“There are a lot of people around,” Rumlow offered, “how about we go somewhere else? Tony did say you had to change,”

You peered up at him through half-lidded eyes and meekly groaned in compliance. “Fine,”

You lifted yourself away from the counter and gently placed your feet on the floor. You’d touched the ground faster than anticipated. Had the ground always been so close?

“Don’t worry, I gotcha.” Rumlow threw an arm around your waist and helped you trudge towards the elevator.

Where the hell are you going? Bucky yelled and the sound of shuffling could be heard from his end.

We can’t let you leave with Rumlow, Y/N. We’re not even sure you’re acting anymore, Sam stated.

Rumlow pressed the button when you couldn’t muster the strength to do it yourself. The level that your room was on lit up and the doors began closing. You thought you saw Rumlow wave at someone but the mock smile on his face didn’t make it seem like a warm good-bye.

Your legs had all but given out by the time the elevator reached your shared floor.

“Heavy,” you muttered, letting Rumlow carry your weight fully.

“I know, Sugar. We’re almost there,” he soothed and you conceded to the fatigue wearing you down.

Your head hung low and your arm dangled uselessly at your side. The familiar sound of your door sliding open caught your attention but you did nothing. You couldn’t.

“How . . . know . . . my room?” You questioned, each word causing you to pull from an empty well of energy.

“I’ve been here before.” Rumlow tossed you onto the bed and sprawled you out.

“Oh. Ok.” You tried to turn on to your side but strong hands gripped down onto your ankles.

Rumlow sighed and slipped the heels off your feet, examining the pair like he wanted to wear them. You extended your feet until you felt every muscle in your leg stretch to its capacity and let out a groan of pleasure at the release. Those shoes hurt so bad.

“You seem . . . intelligent, Y/N.” Rumlow dropped your shoes onto the floor and slithered to the side of your bed, standing beside it with his hands tucked into his pockets.

A bead of sweat trickled down your forehead, “Hot . . .” you croaked and he nodded.

“You’re right. It is getting kind of hot.” He brought a hand up to his neck and ripped off the tie hanging around it.

Get the fuck out of my way, a growl erupted in your ear.

We’re going with you, Buck, Steve responded before knocking something over.

“So, what I have a hard time understanding is. . . why you’re here?”

You groaned a weak ‘huh’ but even that didn’t sound right.

“You’re good at what you do, you finish every mission successfully and yet you’re underappreciated.” He took a seat at the foot of your bed and placed one of your legs into his lap, “Why do you allow them to treat you like that? We wouldn’t,”

The shuffling in your earpiece halted.

“We?”

He began to massage your calf and brought your knee up to his lips, peppering light kisses on it. “We could use someone with your skillset, babe. We’d take real good care of you,”

The shuffling started again.

Rumlow had made his way onto your thigh at this point and you let out an involuntary moan when he skimmed over a delicate part on your inner knee.

“Ya like that?” he questioned but didn’t wait for a response. He brought a hand up to his temple and grabbed the earpiece. You figured he just hadn’t taken it out from his earlier shift but when he pulled it apart, you understood why he always kept it on him.

“Flash . . . drive earpiece?” Your weak tone tilted a little. “W-why tell . . .”

“I figured I’d give you the option to leave since you seem so . . . suffocated. If you said yes tonight then I would remind you tomorrow. If you didn’t,” he chuckled, “well, you wouldn’t remember anyway.” His hands trailed to your mid-thigh and you squeaked. “I’m impressed though, I’ve never given anyone else as much as I’ve given you tonight. The drug usually works so quickly on others, but not you. It’s kind of hot, actually,”

Sick fuck, Natasha growled through a ragged breath.

The world around you was slow or maybe it was you that was slow? You couldn’t tell, honestly. But when Rumlow moved as if he could predict your actions before you could make them, you wondered whether you were moving at all.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon,” Rumlow sighed.

You shook your head, or thought you did but despite the way your body was live-wired, it remained still against all desire.

Fight. Move.

You managed to push your legs shut but his hand slithered between and spread them open similar to opening a door, but this required much less force.

“Kill,” You threatened and the sinister smile that crawled its way onto Rumlow’s face was vile enough to sink your heart into your stomach.

“Kill is fucking right.” Someone snarled and your door was ripped from its hinges.

Rumlow’s hand jerked away from your body and Bucky seized his open palm, intertwining their fingers and pushing Rumlow’s so far back that they touched the back of his own hand. The cracks were sickening onto themselves but had you not been so weak you would’ve turned from the sight altogether. You really couldn’t fathom how his fingers were still attached at all.

“Lay another hand on her and you won’t be able to use it again.” Bucky spit.

Despite Rumlow’s pain, the sinister smile remained sprawled on his face, “You should’ve heard the noises she made,”

Bucky’s grip tightened and the bones in his palm broke next, “I did,”

Natasha flew in right behind Barnes but completely dismissed the two and headed straight for you with a needle in hand. Your eyes shifted from the needle to Nat’s face and back again until she stabbed it into your upper arm. Ouch.

“Wha-”

“Shh,” Natasha hastily hushed, “Keep your strength, you should be back to normal soon,”

Steve came behind Nat and scooped you up to lead you out of the havoc going on in the room. Nat turned her focus to Bucky and reached over to grab the earpiece from Rumlow. Who knows if his nose will ever heal back normally. You held one finger in the air as Steve stepped over the splintered door.

“Goddamit, Y/N,” Steve huffed, jogging towards the elevator and pressing the floor that led to the infirmary.

“We won,” you croaked out, a small smile on your face and Steve shook his head.

“I’m never going to hear the end of this,”

Steve looked you up and down for bruises but couldn’t find any and you promised you weren’t lying to him when you told him Rumlow did not get very far in his ‘advances’ at all. You had to swear the mid-thigh was the worst that it came to.

Bruce was the one that took a few blood samples and made sure everything was reversing back to normal. Apparently, as soon as Rumlow took you to the bar Tony handed Banner the shot glass that Rumlow gave you and Banner ran analysis on it. The cure was pretty easy to find.

After being given strict orders to lie down for the next hour or so, it had been decided that Rumlow was to be turned in considering all the evidence required to make the arrest was in the flashdrive and everyone was to gather together for a ‘family night’. Whatever the hell that meant.

You were in the middle of debating which movie to pick with Steve when the infirmary doors flew open.

“Where is she?” Bucky nearly shouted upon seeing Bruce.

“That’s my cue.” Steve stood up just as Bucky rounded the corner, “If you need anything me and Banner will be right over there,”

You smiled and thanked him then turned your attention to the super-soldier who just arrived at the foot of your bed.

He didn’t say anything for a while, just looked at you. No, not really. Not at you but through you. A few painstakingly slow seconds went by that way.

“You owe me a new door,” you joked, a half-smile on your face.

“Are you okay?” He asked, finally registering your presence.

You nodded slowly, “I am,”

Then a few more seconds.

Bucky turned his gaze down to his hands, both of them barren and on display for the world to see, before shifting his weight between either foot, “Did he- did he touch you?”

“Not really. Just really liked my legs for some reason,” your attempt at another quip didn’t reach Bucky. He stared back up at you waiting for an answer, an honest one. You sighed, “The damage is more mental,” you admitted, now you were the one not able to look up, “I didn’t like being in this altered state of mind. It’s invasive and . . . scary. He could’ve done things, much worse things but it never got that far or that bad. It was more realizing that I wasn’t completely conscious or present and having that state of mind be taken advantage of, that mostly frightened me. Ya know?”

“More than anyone,” he answered immediately.

You looked back up towards him, finally making eye contact, “But I’m fine now, really. Just a little spooked. Steve wants to do a movie night tonight and I would actually prefer that over being alone.” Your eyes fixated on the way his hands clenched and unclenched on the bar by your feet, “If I’m alone then I’ll get stuck in my head about it. Besides, I consider this a hard victory with a few bumps in the road,”

He chuckled, lulling his head a bit, “You’re too stubborn for your own good,”

You shrugged, “Maybe. How’s Rumlow?”

Bucky hissed and moved over to the side of the bed where he took a seat, “He’s unconscious. And has a hand that he’ll never be able to use again. But other than that, he’s fine,”

You chuckled and Bucky watched how the laugh met your eyes. He liked that look on you. It was one of his favorites.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You questioned once it fell silent between you two again.

“You called me Bucky earlier,” he remembered.

You scoffed, “I call you Bucky all the time,”

“Not to my face,”

“Not to your face,” you agreed, a teasing smile dancing on your lips and Bucky had one that mirrored yours.

“It was nice. Hearing it, I mean,” he admitted and a wave of warmth made its way to your face.

“I see your hands are exposed,”

He looked down as though he weren’t aware that he’d taken off his own gloves, “These bad boys? A friend of mine reminded me that I’m not my past. I’m my present. Why hide my growth?”

You twiddled your thumbs together, “She sounds smart,”

Now he scoffed, “Oh, it wasn’t a girl, it was some old buddy of mine.” He quirked up a brow, “Unless the person being a girl would make you jealous because in that case it was most definitely a girl,”

You fought against the natural tug at the corners of your mouth, “Is she at least pretty?”

“Stunning,”

“Smart?”

“Genius,”

“Good at her job?”

“Amongst the best,”

“Then consider me jealous, Barnes,”

Bucky chuckled and you watched how the laugh met his eyes. You liked that look on him. It was one of your favorites.

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balillee · 4 years

Text

tommy's character gets far too much shit.

hi tumblr. i'm gonna need a few bitches to spread this post everywhere, essentially because i want someone, or just tommy really, to see it. so if you really want, you can screenshot it and post it on twitter, reddit, link it everywhere - go absolutely buck wild. i know he reads the VODS comments a lot, but they're chock full of people just insulting him, his character, his writing and everything about his story in the dream smp simply because they don't understand it and because they refuse to acknowledge his character's perspective (mainly because they only care about the pig). reading that many critical comments on something you've created can only make you feel worse about it eventually, and in light of all the awful techno apologist takes on his character, i wanted to basically just word vomit about how wonderfully crafted c!tommy is, as well as compile some other tumblr posts about his character.

there is a massive fuckin community of people who enjoy the character of tommy, because the character is incredible. i myself have made post after post after post commenting on and analysing tommy's character because i find that there's so much to pick apart. but that enthusiasm for his character only seems to be found on tumblr. reddit and twitter seem to hate his character, the VODS seem to be filled with comments from people who only care about techno's perspective (and treat techno as a reliable narrator, which, is the furthest thing from the truth - that guy lies through his teeth all the time), and the smp wiki is a hellscape of godawful takes and mistruths, not even on just tommy's character.

c!tommy is brilliantly acted and brilliantly written, and almost everything he does is either justifiable or has been rectified or admitted as a mistake. you can clearly make connections as to where he got his conclusions from. you feel what his character experiences, as a member of the audience, vividly.

if you look in the more objective sense, c!tommy, and this is especially in the context of him being the youngest character, is a scapegoat. people claim he's awful and destructive when in reality he's a lot less destructive than most characters on the server. a moment that comes to mind is where he diverts schlatt and quackity's attention from pogtopia by breaking part of the flag in manberg, and then replacing it so as to buy tubbo some time - he literally monologues after it about how he doesn't want to destroy but instead rebuild, and how he feels as if nobody else seems to understand that.

his arc in season two was incredible. it was very character driven, and it gave a spotlight to his motivations. at the start we see him in new l'manberg, and he's enjoying his time there, he's skeptical of his friend's presidency, but his main goal is to get back the discs so that he can stop dream and eliminate that threat. he made one screw up that didn't even matter to george, and he paid for it tenfold, even after dream had spent a while with puffy griefing the server and framing it on tommy - what tommy and ranboo did was convinient. then, in exile, we see c!tommy straight up get abused. he's gaslit and conditioned into being c!dream's friend, and in his brain he teaches himself that those acts of abuse are moments of bonding, and it eventually brings him to the point of wanting to end his own life - he's been torn away from his friends and his support system, and nobody will visit him consistently anymore because they only showed him pity, and all he had left was dream, who had hurt him.

but he doesn't die there, because while he didn't understand the full gravity of it back then like he does now, he recognises that dying isn't an escape, and he can beat dream, even if he doesn't know how. so this is where he goes to techno's place, and here's where the fandom starts to misinterpret the situation wildly.

it's the problem similar to when your parents tell you that they're owed something back because you put a roof over their head, despite that being Not How It Works. techno took tommy in and severely mistreated him emotionally. sure, and i understand this, c!techno is a bad communicator who isn't really that empathetic to anyone who isn't phil or wilbur, but that doesn't excuse the blatant lying to c!tommy's face, the guilt tripping, the friendship buying and the degrading. the day before the festival, tommy finally does something violent in his interrogation of fundy, and only then does techno tell him,,,,

that tommy's not equal to him, that techno doesn't respect him all that much, and that they're not friends.

from techno's perspective, and at the time, this was viewed as a positive development in their relationship. oh, he's starting to warm up to tommy! this friendship could really blossom!

no. from a more objective standpoint, what techno has just said to tommy is : 'i respect you only a little bit more now, because while you're starting to act more like me, you're still annoying and a burden.'

and i haven't even touched on the whole 'erasing the words 'Destroy L'manberg' from techno's to-do list' thing, because that instantly refutes the point of 'techno was upfront with his intentions the whole time' - because he wasn't! he may have said it the first time, but you also know what else he did? he repeatedly told tommy that they'd 'air the details out later' whenever the discs were brought up, and from a tommy viewer's perspective at the time, it was framed as if techno was no longer going to do that.

and i also haven't dared touch the 'i would have fought them all for you', because that's major guilt tripping if ever i've seen it.

so, the day of the festival comes, and here's where c!techno and his apologists completely misread c!tommy's thought process, and why he makes the decision he does.

tommy instantly regrets valuing the discs over tubbo, and it's framed as the culmination of tommy having become all the people he said he would never want to be like. and what does he immediately do? he tells tubbo to give up the disc, and he sides with tubbo. he puts his value in his friends, and, by proxy, l'manberg. and when he betrays techno, he tells him 'i'm sorry'.

from a more objective standpoint, tommy's time with techno is him valuing the discs over almost anything else. so, in leaving techno to be with tubbo again, he is valuing people above the discs. so when, on doomsday, techno says his 'discs aren't people' line, what he doesn't realise is that he himself fueled tommy's valuing of discs above people when attempting to fuel tommy's vengeance against tubbo and l'manberg. techno doesn't realise that he was an unhealthy presence for tommy, and an even worse influence.

what techno also doesn't seem to understand is that tommy never hated tubbo or l'manberg - tommy recognises, now at least, that his exile wasn't a product of tubbo, but a product of dream's manipulation, likely in part because at the time, especially with dream lying about tommy blowing up the community house, tommy was the only one who could see it because he had experienced it firsthand. so when techno sides with dream, it's like kicking tommy in the teeth.

and i want to mention that betraying someone doesn't necessarily make the person who was betrayed good, or in the right, or even justified, because tommy was entirely justified to leave techno. you know who else was betrayed? schlatt. but i don't see many schlatt apologists around angry at quackity for joining the rebellion.

tommy stole the axe of peace? good. it was a moment of tommy defining his self-worth, instead of having it defined by others. gone is the age of c!techno belittling him and deciding how much c!tommy should be respected. NEXT!

here's a moment i wanted to talk about that will forever be funny to me.

'i am a person.'

techno's very famous line from doomsday. techno says to tommy that discs aren't people, and that tommy should value people, despite not understanding that by leaving techno, he did just that. and what does tommy say in return, which has been omitted from every c!tommy-critical analysis, and every animatic?

'yes you are, but so are we.'

an acknowledgement of techno's hurt, to which tommy has already apologised for. a statement that says 'your hurt does not excuse, nor justify, the hurt you have inflicted onto us.' an acknowledgement that tommy has already learnt the lesson techno seems to be trying to 'teach' him. but you can't teach him anything by destroying.

c!tommy has had almost everything he has ever owned or built either taken from him or destroyed. ranboo even points out that the only two things of tommy's left standing are his house and his hotel, and if i'm honest, his house is dissheveled. it's a labyrinth of terror due only to how many times it's been torn apart. l'manberg being blown up didn't teach anyone anything about anarchy, or about valuing people over possessions. logstedshire being blown up didn't teach tommy to be obedient.

i could honestly ramble for ages about how nuanced tommy's character is and how much depth and complexity there is to his character's process and his relationship with others, but more than that, c!tommy is forgiving. he invites almost everyone who hates him to the grand opening of his hotel - if that isn't an indicator that he just wants friends, and not to be treated like the embodiment of evil, then i don't know what is. he holds grudges, but he doesn't really actively hate anyone, other than c!dream. but, we'll let him. c!dream deserves nothing but to be pummeled into the floor.

tommy doesn't spoonfeed his character nuance, and he doesn't really spell it out for his audience. he'll mention things like trauma and triggers in passing, but a lot of analysis on his motivations has to be picked up from what is said in passing or from what can be seen in between the lines.

i'd be here for hours if i were to talk about everything i love about c!tommy, because honestly he's one of my favourite characters, and there are so many angles you can look at his character from in terms of his age, his relationships with others, his motivations, his personality, his character arcs etc etc. so instead of doing that, i'm going to compile some much more specific analysis posts below to skim through because they highlight so many good aspects of his character.

^^ A thread about the 'yes you are, but so are we' line.

^^ About how shit the VODS comments are.

^^ A comment on how c!Tommy is actually pretty peaceful, and is actually less destructive than most characters on the server.

^^ Possibly the best c!Tommy analysis thread I've ever seen in relation to his trauma, which gives multiple perspectives.

^^ About how c!Tommy is treated as a scapegoat, and how, from an objective standpoint, he is no more violent than any other character, it's just that the little violence that is committed is blown far out of proportion.

^^ Tumblr user flypaw being a bad bitch, as per usual.

^^ c!Tommy being incredibly intelligent, and talking about wanting to rebuild and not destroy. A very underrated monologue of his.

^^ Something short about c!Tommy and c!Wilbur's relationship in Pogtopia.

^^ Less about c!Tommy, more a meta on L'Manberg. Really interesting to think about.

^^ A take on Doomsday.

I'll add some more posts in a reblog in the notes, but if anyone's post(s) is on this and they want me to take it off, let me know and I'll do that for you! Feel free to add your own banger c!Tommy takes or ones that you've found.

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iiraven · 3 years

Text

Odyssey

Pairing: Poseidon!Armin x Reader

Genre: romance, smut

Warnings: slow-burn, minor character death, manipulation, stalking, possessiveness, Yandere behaviour, puppy play, piss play, body worship, throne sex, implied age-gap, oral(male receiving), hair pulling, collaring (without consent)

Word count: 9.8K

Synopsis: Armin’s quest for revenge leads him to you, daughter of a merchant and object of his infatuation.

Author’s note: thank you @bubbleteaimagines for hosting this collab and allowing me to join <3 Also, thank you @onyxoverride for teaching me how to write about pee!

Attack on Titan Masterlist

Present day:

If the river could speak, you wonder what it would say.

In the silence that surrounds the rushing of the water, you’re sure you would hear it. Sometimes, you’re sure you can hear it, but then you remember the dangers of trusting unfamiliar voices. Especially unfamiliar voices in a place like this.

No one goes near the river Shiganshina. And you forget the reasons why much too often.

It’s rocky, slippery, there’s no path to walk on, and the nymphs grow sharp teeth when men approach them, hissing and eyes glowing red. But that’s what makes it perfect for you.

Sasha first mentioned the river months ago, recalling the places on the island that her and her father avoided whenever they went hunting. You hadn’t paid much attention to it until days later, when Connie recounted with round eyes how Floch’s body was found beside the river Shiganshina, mouth full of water and eyes gouged out. You knew you needed to go there yourself.

A pearl necklace is what you stole. And under the guise of going to wash clothes at the well, you made your way south of your small island with only Sasha’s vague instructions and your intuition guiding you.

You could hear the ocean as you walked through the untouched woods, your heart hammering in your chest every time the waves crashed against the island’s cliffs. You weren’t allowed to see the ocean- you weren’t allowed to be around any large body of water, for that matter- but you still knew your island well enough to know that a step in the wrong place could lead you tumbling down the cliff.

You would die before you got to feel the water on your skin and that, you thought, would be the most tragic part.

As your feet began to sink into the muddy ground, you could smell the salty water, and a slight metallic scent behind it that only drew you in closer until you reached a clearing. It was small, crowded with foliage with only a few dead plants on the ground where you could only assume people had attempted to step foot.

And there was the river. It was small, its water emerging from underground before the tide pushed it to the edge of the island- to a waterfall. So loud that it could drown out any noise, any screams. You shivered. For a moment, you just stood back and watched. The water was was green, but so clear that you could still see the fish swimming beside the floating objects. Coins, silver, small statues, and whatever else hopefuls had tried to offer. You pulled out your own offering and whispered a short prayer before throwing the necklace in.

It could have been your imagination, but the water calmed. It was quieter. And, like that, you felt as if the river had opened up its arms to you. Strong arms that you have to be cautious not to spend too long within lest you get trapped.

Thankfully, you’ve learned to read the signs. You know when the river wants you to leave, when it wants you to keep your distance, when it wants to keep you close, and even when it wants you to bathe. Those are the special moments. It’s rare the river is calm enough for you to dip your naked body into, but surrounded by the cool water, you feel like you could stay their forever.

If the river could speak now, however, you’re sure it would tell you to fuck off.

Either that or it would tell you to come back when you have something more to offer its god than a single golden bead from your grandmother’s necklace. Only three are left on the thin string, though you think you might keep the last one to honour her death. After that, you’ll have to go back to offering coins and whatever other trinkets that will keep the god of this river sedated long enough for you to dip your feet into the cool water, maybe take a sip, and then return home before your father realises where you’ve been, much less where you’ve been unchaperoned.

The latter is hardly your fault. Sasha and Connie are too scared to step foot in the Shiganshina forest, let alone the river itself. And you can’t trust anyone else to accompany you, especially the servants whose tongue could slip at the drop of a golden coin. Your father would never forgive you for spending time in the territory of the God of the Ocean or- as he liked to call Armin- the destroyer of seas. And thus, being left alone seems to be the only way.

Well, that’s unless Mr Arlert decides to join you.

The owner of the stable who appeared on the island out of nowhere is the last person anyone would expect to be brave enough to spend time at the river Shiganshina. He mostly keeps to himself, only ever seen tending to his horses or immersed in scrolls of literature and poetry. And yet, he’s here almost as often as you are, almost as vulnerable as you are.

Despite his solitary nature, Mr Arlert has been quick to make himself adored. Mothers swoon over his charm, scholars constantly indulge in his curiosity, and sailors are fascinated by his knowledge of the world and its oceans. He’s no warrior, and already in his late twenties, but he’s still without a doubt one of the most eligible bachelors on Paradis. And, yet, to any marriage proposal sent his way, he declines with a polite “A husband is not what I am fated to become”. Even Annie Leonhardt- whose father Mr Arlert would constantly visit- had her heart broken. But no one blames Mr Arlert, of course, who was there to comfort Annie, to make her realise that she just needs to be a better person, that’s all. It’s not his fault her heart broke, Mr Arlert reassured.

Thinking about it now, you’re amongst the handful of women who haven’t been offered to the tall blond. And with that comes a sigh of relief as you drag your fingers through the water.

It’s not like you dislike him- the opposite, actually- but being with Mr Arlert is like taking the hand of an invisible man in the dark and letting him guide you.

His words constantly have your thoughts spiralling in directions that they shouldn’t be. Thoughts about leaving the island, thoughts about going to the ocean, thoughts about becoming a priestess. Thoughts you aren’t allowed to have.

You fate is bound to the home you were born in, a thick rope tied to your ankle, only letting you go as far as this very river. And Mr Arlert sits beside that rope, a knife in his hand, blue eyes staring into your soul, waiting. You’re not sure what he’s waiting for. But what you’re sure of is that to be taken away from the life you know of is an inconceivable fantasy. The unknown is a dangerous thing, after all.

The small island of Paradis may lie far away from the rest of the world, but their core values remain the same. A woman must grow up to either serve her father or her husband. Your fate has already been decided for you. And, frankly, if it means not having to share a bed with an old man who marries you for your dowry, you’re very happy with taking care of your father until the day that he’ll be put into the ground.

But then there’s always the third option. A woman who serves neither her father nor her husband will serve her god.

You had never been given that option by your god-hating kin. Simply suggesting a future as priestess would earn you at least five lashes, so why… why can’t you stop thinking about it? Your instincts have you blame Mr Arlert, but you know that your fixation began before he arrived on the island; all he’s done is vocalise your thoughts.

As a gust of wind blows the leaves and the salt from the sea gently caresses your cheek, you wonder who your god would be. Do you resonate with Pieck’s beauty, or Zeke’s creativity? Maybe. But as you look into your reflection, you know that your god is no other than Armin, the god of the ocean. The fates must think this is hilarious, but you just want to scream.

“It’s getting late. I wouldn’t want your father worrying about you.”

You jump at the sudden voice, turning around at the familiar face, leaning against a tree with a gentle smile.

“Thank you, Mr Arlert.”

His footsteps are so gentle, as are his apologies.

“You don’t need to thank me. I’ve come to invade your space, after all.”

“It’s not my space, it’s Armin’s. The god is only letting me stay here.”

He smiles a knowing smile, one that you would usually find patronising on any other man. But Armin is charming, too charming for you ever to think that of him. “I suppose you’re right.”

He comes to sit down beside you, taking his usual place at your right- the voice of reason. It’s quiet for a moment, before you remember.

“Lemnos,” you say.

The blond smiles. “I’m not named after a place.”

And you roll your eyes, as you’ve done every time he’s given you a useless hint. “That hardly narrows it down.”

“Well, I can’t make it too easy of a game.”

“You can’t make it impossible either!”

“It seems like I already have.” And you’re not sure if you want to wipe the smirk off his face or just stare at it.

“What about Tree?”

Arlert laughs. “No, but you have one guess left.”

“What?!” You sit up straight, eyes wide. Now you really want to wipe the smirk off his face.

“You have seven guesses, and in the eleven months we’ve known each other, you’ve used up six.” His explanation is calm and rational enough for you to almost convince yourself that the rule has been there from the start.

“Wait- wait. I never knew about this!”

“I thought everyone did. It’s traditional wager rules.” Mr Arlert’s tone is sorry, but you know he’s everything but. So, you cross your arms and pout, hoping that staring him down might at least give you the smallest chance of winning your wager.

He leans forward, mirthful and you feel a shiver go down your spine. “What is it, little puppy, sulking because you’re afraid you can’t win?”

You flush at the implication of your loss- “No- no not at all- no”- before registering his actual words are and only then can you feel the heat rise and you’re sure it’s doing you no service. “I know I can win!”

“I know you can too,” he assures you.

You frown. “Are you being sarcastic?”

It’s his turn to flush. “No, not at all! You can win- the water god favours you, after all.”

And although you shrug, his words stick. They always do.

Before you go home, you pass by Armin’s temple and place at the foot of his statue the remainder of your grandmother’s necklace.

A year ago:

Amrin knew how fickle the gods were and he thought that this knowledge made him impervious to those feelings. He watched how Eren jumped from woman to woman daily, how Reiner picked and chose his battles without a care, how every single fixation a deity would have never lasted more than a year. He thought of how stupid it was to spend a life of immortality indulging in such temporary pleasures. And he looked down on his kin for that very reason.

It was only after one argument too many that Armin finally let it slip. The god of the sea was usually quiet, offering soft smiles, casual conversation, and minimal conflict. That was his only rule: keeps quiet before the gods of the pantheon as he takes his anger out on the humans below. But that day, he forgot about his rule.

Maybe it was the years of silence that caused the Eathshaker’s outburst, or maybe it was just Eren’s bored expression as he talked about his mistresses in front of Mikasa. Armin couldn’t take it. Gathered at a marble table beside all the Olympians, he scowled and told them how stupid they all were.

“Don’t you realise? You’re all wasting your immortality by being so idiotic, so fickle! Everything you touch becomes a temporary pleasure, ruined by your inability to act like real gods.”

He should have stopped; he really should have stopped. But the crack in the glass bridge had been there for years, and now the shards of glass were dropping down into the sea. “You might as well be human!”

The room went silent. Eyes went wide, and mouths gaped, but the gods opted for silence. Every deity wanted to speak up, maybe even draw their swords, but they were more intelligent than Armin was in that moment, which was more unusual than one might think. He had never snapped so violently before. Armin may have been aggressive, but he knew his place. Knew when to be docile. Now, he felt like he could crumble Olympus itself with his rage and bury the Olympians with their dead parents.

The king of the gods, however, leaned forward. His emerald eyes were unmoving, devoid of emotion though his lips tilted into a monstrous grin.

“You’re just as fickle as the rest of us, brother,” was all Eren said.

When Armin lunged at him, knocking the fine glass off the table, it was Mikasa who pinned him down. Arms locked behind his back, all Armin could do was watch as mirth flooded Eren’s face, and the god of the sky laughed. The bastard laughed and laughed and licked the small wound on his hand from a shard of glass. It healed immediately. Even their pain was temporary.

And like he had been doing for the past millennia, Armin found solice in his only rule: if he couldn’t take out his rage on his brother, Armin would take out his frustration elsewhere.

His first instinct was to find a woman, but the thought of seeking out temporary pleasure, from a mistress no less, reminded him too much of Eren. So, he descended to earth, trident in one hand as the other gripped the reigns of his horse and they rode for three days and three nights. That’s all it took for the god of the sea to find what he was looking for- someone deserving of his hatred.

There are many humans like the merchant. But most of their hatred is silent. And when it’s not, blasphemy often falls upon deaf ears. The merchant just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time when his drunk rambles led him up on the deck screaming out Armin’s name like it was venom in his throat, until he could scream no more. He was drunk, but the merchant’s hatred for the god of the sea did not cease when he was sober.

And when Armin heard his name, the god wasted no time calling forth a storm to sink the merchant’s ship. He took care to ensure that the arrogant man watched each and every one of his men be swallowed whole, their bodies only resurfacing lifeless, before the storm calmed.

It took five days for the merchant to swim back to his island.

He never returned to the sea.

As the weeks passed, he relocated his home to help him stay away from any body of water and made sure that his family followed suit.

But Armin followed, and the merchant’s father died weeks later with saltwater water found in his lungs.

Unfortunately, that was not enough to sedate the god of the sea’s need for vengeance. Fortunately, it was not enough to sedate the merchant’s hatred either. The hubris didn’t leave him. Instead, it just grew and grew and grew until the merchant considered himself more of a god than Armin would ever be.

“Oh, oh.” Armin couldn’t help but smile as he watched the man urinate before his temple. “This is perfect, so perfect.”

Armin was going to show his uncaring brother how different he was from the rest of the miserable Olympians. As he stood above the island of Paradis, golden hair blowing in the ocean wind, the god vowed to begin his Odyssey. An eternal Odyssey. A journey that would last longer than the ten fleeting years he had with the Greek hero- a journey that would last longer than the universe itself.

And he knew exactly where to begin. A man’s most valuable possession: his child.

It was only after your grandfather’s death that Armin noticed you. When he first began watching the merchant’s household, under the guise of either a guest or a bird, he had been surprised to learn that the blasphemous man had no wife, nor children. Armin only realised his mistake one night, when you came to lay a blanket on the drunk man’s barely conscious body. The merchant had pulled you towards him, muttering apologies and you had wrinkled your nose before offering him a soft smile. “It’s okay, papa”.

A daughter sheltered from the world, it seemed.

The god had initially thought you were one of the servants. There were only two in the house, and your tasks were all similar. But as Armin began to watch you closer, he saw how you did have a life outside your home with friends, interests, men- a life your father was blissfully unaware of.

The merchant hardly left home- playing the part of the sick man- and you took care of him- playing the part of your dead mother- in a happy sort of agreement.

You didn’t speak about it to your friends, but you detested your doting role. Armin could tell. The way you wrinkled your nose every time your father walked through the door, the eye-roll when you were given a load of laundry. The god couldn’t help by laugh at how pathetic the merchant was that not even his only daughter- his lifeline- cared for him. The merchant didn’t know, of course. Your fake smiles and gentle hands were enough to deceive him, keep him sane. But Armin was going to break that pattern.

The merchant didn’t deserve the care of a woman. He didn’t deserve anything. So, Armin was going to take you away from him.

His initial plan was to kill you. Simple, efficient, quick. And then he thought of dumping your body somewhere far so that the search for you would break your father’s spirit even more. He hesitated, though, he wasn’t sure why, but he did. And then, you changed your routine.

After meeting up with the two individuals you called your friends at the Sunday market- instead of going back home- you carried on walking. Through the houses on the outskirts and into the dense trees, you almost stung your sandal-clad feet twice before reaching a river. The river had no god of itself, but you still threw in an offering and muttered. Stupid human. And then you sat beside the river and- nothing. Your routine was boring, obviously a ritual to let you escape from reality. Yet, he couldn’t tear away from you. The woman at the river Shiganshina was a different one than the woman who served her father. The one here relaxed her shoulders, cursed at the world around her, smiled- albeit randomly but it was real. He decided there that he would kill you tomorrow.

But when, the next day, you led him back to the river, Armin was lost in you again. Lost in your honestly, lost in your need to escape. He wanted to see more, he needed to see more. Metaphorically, of course. But when you began undressing, the pleated robes dropping to reveal soft skin and tender curves, the god of the sea realised that he wouldn’t mind literally seeing more of you. Armin had been with goddesses and nymphs and, hell, even Aphrodite herself, but never had he been this awestruck. He had to hold himself back. Even though the way you were bathing made it seem like you were worshipping him, water dripping from your body, wet hair hiding the swell of your breasts. Armin’s breath stuttered. He couldn’t reveal himself. He couldn’t.

So, he watched, and watched. Trying desperately to take in everything you were from a distance. Armin didn’t count the number of times he visited you before finally decided that killing you was no longer an option. He told himself that his change of mind was progressive. A practical choice to draw out his revenge into the most painful and convoluted Odyssey. To do that, he couldn’t kill you. No. He was going to take you for himself. Armin was going to turn the daughter of the merchant into a servant of the one God he detested.

Putting the thought into your mind was pathetically easy. As you walked past his temple on your way home, an echo of laughter emerged from the marble building. You paused for only a moment, but it was enough for Armin to catch the look in your eyes. It was one of longing, mixed with a curiosity that threatened to pull you in. But you seemed to catch yourself in the act and hastened yourself home.

And so, Armin’s true Odyssey began.

For his journey to progress, he had to meet you. Not as a bird or a horse or through glances as a guest. He had to meet you properly. This was the only way to draw you in, he told himself. The only way for you to submit completely and willingly.

Armin could have forced you too your knees, but he had to ensure that your father watched has his daughter chose Armin over him. And chose Armin you would. Every piece was in perfect place. The fates seemed to have woven a beautiful cloth of gold for the god of the sea.

What he failed to realise was that the cloth was in fact a snare- a trap which he will never be able to escape from.

Eleven months ago:

A short gust of wind had the pears in your thin basket tumbling down onto the rocky ground. You rushed after the fruit, crouching down to pick it up when a shadow appeared, and a hand reached out to pick it up for you. The sandal-clad feet were pale- paler than anyone living on this warm island and the robes a fine, ironed white. He somehow seemed to glow brighter than his clothes, and you purposefully let your fingers graze his as you picked up the fruit.

“Thank you,” you said, standing up.

You were hoping that he wouldn’t catch your staring. But even if he did, you couldn’t tear your eyes off him. He was lean, taller than you but not intimidatingly so and his eyes were like oceans that you found yourself staring into as he introduced himself as Mr Arlert. Just Mr Arlert. The new owner of the stables with a voice so soft, it took a moment before you remembered to introduce yourself.

“Y/N. And thank you, again.” It isn’t appropriate for an unmarried woman to be talking to a man on her own, but you couldn’t help but ask. “Do you have a first name Mr Arlert?”

His smile was contagious. “I do. But names are a powerful thing. I’m afraid I can’t give mine up freely.”

“Oh.” You scrunched your nose. “Can I pay for it then?”

You were dead serious, but the blond man laughed. How can someone look so pretty when they laugh? You wondered.

“I’m serious! I can pay you; name your price.”

Mr Arlert looked down at you, blue eyes twinkling. “I’ll think about it.”

“So, is that a no?”

“It’s a no, for now. One day I’ll tell you my name.”

He was sweet, so sweet, but you still gave him a sceptical frown, nose scrunching and eyebrows furrowing. Mr Arlert in turn gave you a sorry look before his eyes lit up and he pulled out from his brown satchel a small book of yellowed pages and a dusty blue cover, the gold embossing hardly visible. You nose only scrunched further.

“My name is in this story. It’s mentioned few times, but it’s an important one,” he said to you.

You took the book and flipped through the worn pages, immediately recognising the tale of Aphrodite and Ares. The lovers.

Why the challenge? You wanted to ask Mr Arlert but you knew the answer you your get would be too cryptic. Besides, you think, I like a challenge.

“How long do I have?” You asked instead.

“A year and a day.”

“And what will I get if I figure it out?”

At this, he pondered. But it seemed feigned, and you wondered, just for a split second, if the man had planned this from the beginning. But why? This was another one of your questions that went unanswered that day. Because before you could say anything more, Mr Arlert leaned forward and said, “Your reward will be divine”. And he walked away.

Nine months ago:

Life was well after Armin arrived. There was no other way to put it. Your father was confining himself to his room more often than before, and you were finding more opportunities to visit the river, leave the house and, eventually, you met the handsome baker’s son. Jean was kind, a gentleman, but not the arrogant type like most the men your age. You didn’t even feel too much guilt when you thought that spending a future with Jean- taking care of him and his home- wouldn’t be too bad. It’s quite pathetic that your life had been reduced to not being “too bad”, but the idea of marrying Jean sat on the comfortable line between reality and fantasy. Safety.

And then you were visited at the river.

Mr Arlert wasn’t even surprised to find you there, he had just smiled and sat beside you as you clenched your fists and forced yourself to smile back at him. You had always enjoyed him, his company, his challenges, but now it was like he was provoking you. The river Shiganshina was your river, your special place away from the hellscape that was the town. And now Mr Arlert had brought himself and his ordinary life into it.

You pulled your sandals back on, the crease in your brow evident. He clearly couldn’t get the hint. But before you could stand up, he spoke, and you paused.

“I wish I could jump in and swim away,” he said.

Curiosity got the best of you, as it often did with the man.

“The waterfall would kill you.”

The awkward laugh again. It had an effect on you so that your jaw couldn’t help but unclench. “If it means that I get to touch a waterfall, I wouldn’t mind, you know?”

You knew. You knew exactly what he meant. But you didn’t tell him.

“Didn’t take you as the suicidal type,” you said.

“I might get saved, who knows.”

“If you’re counting on me to jump after you, I’m letting you know I won’t.”

“I know,” he laughed. “I was thinking of more of a divine rescue.”

You finally looked at him, and- unsurprisingly- his blue eyes were glued to yours. What was surprising was his unwavering tone, his straight face. Mr Arlert was being serious. Why was he opening up to you this suddenly? So far, your interactions had consisted of him staring, you trying to guess his name, and him continuing to stare. In that order. You knew there was more to him, but it’s only now that you found yourself wanting to seek that out.

“You think Armin would save you?” You didn’t miss Arlert’s smile.

“I’m hoping I’ve gained his favour- done enough for him to allow me freedom via waterfall.”

It was your turn to smile. “You probably have, You’re at the temple often.”

“Thank you.” He blushed and you quickly pushed down the thought of how cute he looked. Sitting beside you, trousers rolled up and feet in the water, Mr Arlert looked more than cute. He looked like he belonged. You weren’t sure how that made you feel but, in that moment, you didn’t mind him entering your world.

“I think you would also be saved if you jumped into the waterfall,” Mr Arlert said.

You laughed. “Is that your way of saying I’m a nice person?”

“Something like that.” He paused. “I think Armin would appreciate your- uh- honesty. You’re like a priestess.” He laughs nervously at your expression. “You know, they have this personal affinity with the water and such.”

You knew exactly what he meant. How a stranger could read you so perfectly, you weren’t sure. But as you hid your smile between your hands, you wondered whether you were prepared to face the fear of the unknown. Maybe, with Mr Arlert, it would be a bit less unknown.

A few days later, Jean was announced missing. A search party was sent out and even Mr Arlert, on his recently acquired brown horse, couldn’t find him.

Present day:

Armin isn’t sure if he likes playing the part of the nice boy or not. Humans are simple creatures who praise him continuously and, without divine responsibilities, there is no need to take his rage out anywhere. But a god is who he is, and every day, he yearns to be seen as one. To be seen as one by you. He watches as you worship him, but you never look at him- not like you do the statues, or even the small river which you think is your only true connection to the god of the ocean.

You both want more, and you both know that, but you only ever admit it to each other when you sit beside that very river. There, in those moments, Armin feels a bit more like a god. Whenever he’s around you, he feels a bit more like a god.

He’s told you before, but your perfect honesty has made it easy for him to unravel around you. He wants to unravel around you in other ways, too, and he wants you to unravel around him. Armin can’t count the number of times he’s sat beside you at the riverside and wanted to do nothing more than to kiss those lips of yours, to press the hard cock that he hides inside of you and watch as your eyes roll back, and you call out his name.

But the God of the Sea is not Eren. Armin will earn you. And he’s very close to doing so. Not Mr Arlert. You have no interest in human men, that much is clear. You yearn for something more powerful. And you’re right. Only a god is worthy enough to stand beside you, lay between your legs, be in your arms. Mr Arlert is simply a means to push you to realising that the god in question is Armin.

In the meantime, he’s been nothing but patient.

It’s only when you come to his door one night, eyes puffy and red, that he lays his hands on you for the first time. He rubs your back as you cry and cry, fat tears refusing stop falling. You tell him about bout your father. About how, since he got better, he’s been refusing to let you out of the house, snapping at every moment and accusing you of being a filthy god-worshipper.

“He s-sai-d- he said we’re ‘gonna move away- said we’re gonna get as far away from the s-sea as possible.” You can hardly speak, though the tears have stopped, your voice still shakes violently. But Armin listens, he holds you close to him and repeats that everything is going to be fine.

You can’t stop thanking him as you leave, and he promises that his door is always open for you. “Whenever you call for me, I’m here,” Armin tells you. “Right beside you, always,” he adds as he watches you walk away.

He’s reached a new chapter of this Odyssey.

Present day:

You suppose your father’s death should have been expected. He was an old man, obviously depressed, and his only lifeline was his daughter who hated him.

You also suppose you should feel guilty. You don’t.

Familiar faces give their condolences and whisper questions of what is to happen to you now. You only pay heed to Sasha and Connie, though, who give you a soft hug before Sasha tells you that her family would be happy to take you in. You reassure her and everyone else that you have a plan, though your best friends are the only ones who seem to believe you.

“I heard Marie has a son who’s single, maybe they can-“

“You’re not actually talking about marriage here are you?”

“Well, the girl is all alone in the world, now! She needs a man to lead her on the right path.”

The old women are wrong, so very wrong. You don’t need a man. You’re fucking sick of men- sick of them all- everything they’ve created and everything they stand for.

What you need is a god.

The head priestess of Armin’s temple in unsurprised when you knock on her door with nothing but a bag and the clothes on your body. Those clothes are burned soon after, along with many of your other things, leaving your old life behind.

She tells you that you’re lucky there’s a place for you. The last priestess left running off with a man, “Which is a cardinal sin”, she makes sure to repeat every-so-often. The head priestess seems to hate men more than you do, sneering whenever Connie comes by.

Sasha and Connie are unsurprisingly shocked at your choice of work and even if they visit almost every day, they always tell you that they miss you. They think you’ve come the temple out of desperation- everyone does- and you let them believe. Because despite cleaning the marble floors or whatever other arduous duty you’ve been given, a smile is never far as you realise that you’re free from man. Indeed, explaining the truth to anyone would be far too difficult.

Well, except one person.

You’ve never missed anyone before. Not with your father keeping you so sheltered for most of your life. But as you push through the Head Priestess’ relentless schedule, you can’t help but miss Mr Arlert. He disappears after your father’s funeral, so you leave him a note at the empty stable with your final guess. You like to think he decided to follow his own path, you also like to think that he too wishes you were beside him, a guide in the unknown.

Present day:

The room is a box of marble, with a throne sat upon a dais at the centre and one fountain at every corner, each one sculped into a horse. The object of your interests, however, is the large bowl of water on the floor in front of the throne.

This is your initiation. You will emerge from this room not as an apprentice, but a Priestess.

You kneel down and lift the pot of clay to your lips. The head priestess kept on repeating how important it is to not put it down until you’re finished. So, you gulp the water down until you can see the image of Armin. You’re the one who selected the pot, with its faded paint depicting Armin and Hange’s fight for patronage of Sina. It’s a powerful image, but when you put the pot down, you come face to face with something very different. Armin is standing in a room-this room, you realise- and crouched down before him is a young woman, looking up in awe. It takes bit longer of a moment for you to realise that the woman is you.

Looking up slowly from the pot, the first thing you see is sandal-clad feet. Golden sandals, just as fine as the robes he wears, draped in perfect waves. The first word you think of to describe him is divine and it’s indeed accurate because-

“Mr Arlert.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

But you know that’s not correct. The man- no, not a man- before you is taller than Mr Arlert, by a foot and a half at least. His muscles are more prominent that the stable boy’s ever were, strong legs visible through the large slit between the layers of fabric draped over the god’s figure. Half of his shoulder-length hair is tied back using a golden pin whilst the rest frames his perfect, perfect face. You can’t help but think that Armin looks nothing like his statues- no medium of art could capture the ocean within his eyes, glowing in the dull light of the room. Then again, the stories didn’t capture the way the god acts either.

“Armin,” you say, this time your voice louder.

Now, you know.

His sad smile is familiar, but there’s something there that never was. “Oh dear,” he says. “I’m afraid you’ve lost out wager.”

Armin can’t help but compare you to a puppy, with large eyes staring up at him from your crouched position and an expression a perfect mix of excitement, curiosity, and shock.

You reach out a hand tentatively, but it hovers in the air between the two of you once you notice Armin’s raised brow. But he doesn’t rebuke you for it. After all, it’s only your first encounter with the god. He can’t expect you to behave perfectly, to adopt the right etiquette- no, he’ll have to train you first. Like he would a baby mutt. The thought makes him smile.

“I’ll accept any consequences, my god,” you say. Your voice sounds so sure of itself, so unlike your usual ramblings, those that Armin could and would listen to for hours. Right now, though, the certainty, it’s laced with desire that sends blood rushing south. You don’t notice. You’re too lost in his eyes to notice anything.

When he places his hand on your chin to hold it up, he can feel you shiver. “Such a perfect little worshipper,” he says. “I couldn’t possibly punish you.”

Armin can swear he sees disappointment in your eyes before he turns around and walks up the dais. The marble of the throne is cold beneath him, but the sight of you looking up at him with such longing is enough to warm him up. Now, Armin is sure you’ve noticed his growing erection because you crawl towards the dais, not yet climbing it, but close enough to see and lick your lips.

“Let me thank you at least, Armin.” He almost groans at the sound of his name. God, he wants to hear you say it over and over.

“Come here.”

And you climb up the dais only to pause before Armin leans forward and grabs your hips. Two lips, as if led by an invisible string, meet. You kiss like you’ve been waiting years for Armin and, in a way, you have. His tongue is inside your mouth quickly and he’s kissing, sucking, letting his teeth gently graze your lips as he revels in the feeling of you. As your bodies lean against each other, you can feel his heart hammering against your own. His chest is stone, but his lips are so soft and your hands find his golden hair. It’s also softer than it looks, and Armin can’t help but let out a moan as you gently tug.

When you pull back, his pupils are blown. “Thank me, then,” Armin says, breathless.

Sitting between his legs, your hand is tiny compared to his cock, and you can’t stop staring at it. Long and somewhat slender, but veiny with a flushed red top- he can see you gulp before you take an experimental lick at him. Armin’s hold on your hair only tightens and you look up at him, doe eyed and seemingly innocent.

“Put it in your mouth, pretty girl,” he says, guiding your head gently. “So obedient- Yes, exactly, just like-ah- just like that.”

But he doesn’t need to push down- no- he lets you set your own pace only because you do it so perfectly, almost as perfect as the wet noises you make. Armin doesn’t have time to be surprised, he’s just able to react fast enough to suppress his own moans so he can hear your wet tongue caress the base of his cock, as your lips create the perfect o-shape to accommodate him. Your drool is everywhere in a matter of seconds- his balls are coated with it, and so is your lap, where the spit seeps through the thin white fabric you call a robe.

“Like a puppy,” he murmurs. And you look up quizzically. “You’re drooling over me like a desperate puppy- a puppy in heat,” he grunts. “You just want to please me, don’t you? ‘S alright, puppy, I’ll let you do that.”

If you could nod your head, you would. Instead, your cheeks burn, and Armin is so lost in the way that you look- not even able to take his entire cock in his mouth- that his hips begin to buck unconsciously. He hits the back of your throat, and you gag at the sudden impact, but he hisses and murmurs “What a good, wet hole. So good, good-”

The earthshaker is afraid that if he speaks any louder, his voice will slur into incomprehensible sultry sounds. But as you struggle to take his cock even deeper into his mouth, he lets out groans that go straight between your own legs. You moan around him, and the reverberations make his head roll back. God, you could stare at him forever. And he would let you.

“Look at me,” he says whenever your eyes go astray. “Look at your god.”

As his hips buck more violently, Armin can feel the pressure in his lower stomach, the impending orgasm and he wants to stop- wants to hold out the way he always has. But he can’t, it’s too much and he just cannot pull out of you. He simply pushes further and further into your tight throat, repeating your name like it’s a blessing. “fuck, puppy, ‘m going to- I’m going to cum down your throat. You want that, do you you’re your god’s cum- ah, fuck, ahhh”-

Pushing your head down to the base, both of his hands at the back of your head, Armin cries out you name and you can feel the warm liquid go down your throat, thick ropes filling up your mouth, some of it dribbling out. Armin reflexively pushes it back in your mouth, ordering you to swallow it all, to show how grateful you are. Of course, you oblige. But before you can even regain your breath, Armin suddenly pulls you off his cock. His pupils are dilated, and he wears an expression- anger? Shock?

“You’re not a virgin,” he hisses, teeth gritting against each other. His breath is frantic, uneven. It’s not a question and you begin to recognise his expression. Rage. “You’ve done this before.”

Fuck.

The God of the sea has his fair share of consorts and mistresses. Some of them virgins- though he never chases them the way Eren does- some of them not, but none have made him cum so fast. He would like to blame it on the year of pining, of restraint, but he knows better. It’s you. You do this him. You make him so wild, so willing, so pliant even.

In that moment, as he looks your worried face, so desperate to please, he thinks that he’ll never be able to let it go. You’ve consumed Armin and he wants to do nothing more than burn eternally. You must understand that- that you exist as his beacon, that’s where you’ll be your happiest, but those thoughts are too complex for a human. You, in your fragile state, can’t understand. It’s alright, he’ll just have to show you bit by bit that you’re his. But to do so, he must first take on the role he’s familiar with. That of the punisher.

“Who is he?” Armin snaps.

“It was only-“

“Who is he?”

You pause. Memories of nights spent together, huddled close and trying to keep quiet already fading. “Berthrolt Hoover.”

Armin’s shoulders relax, “I see.”

His breathing slowly goes back to normal, and, at the back of your mind, you know you’ve signed the young warrior’s death. But your worry is fleeting as Armin grabs you by the neck and hoists you over his knees, laying you down on your stomach effortlessly. “A priestess who isn’t a virgin?”

You look up as see Armin’s familiar sweet smile, but it’s laced with mirth that makes you forget the Mr Arlert he was before. You cry out at the first slap of his hand on your ass, more out of surprise than pain.

“I don’t think the people of Paradis will be very happy to hear that,” he says. “An unmarried woman giving herself away to a pathetic boy.”

Slap!

“I’m sorry!” you cry out. “It was a mis-”

He slaps you thrice.

“No excuses, dumb little puppy. I’m afraid you’ll have to endure this punishment.” His voice is deceptively soft, as if he is actually sorry. And when you look back up at Armin, his face betrays no malice. But it doesn’t show any cruelty either. Instead, there’s a fascination.

Armin has you sprawled across his lap, at his mercy and he is discovering you bit by bit. As a god. His cock twitches and then suddenly he tugs off the fabric of your robes and they disappear.

The way you squirm is half- hearted, and Armin has to laugh. “Embarrassed? Now of all times? I didn’t know you were such a prude. Or is this all just to compensate for the fact that you’re a whore in my temple?”

You shake your head, “I swear, I’ve never belonged to any man!”

Fingers trace the expanse of your naked body, soft enough to send shivers down your spine. “Oh? Really?”

“Yes yes, I swear, ah!” His fingers find your naked ass and they grab onto the flesh, massaging, groping, feeling you. Armin’s other hand rests on top of your head, stroking it gently and you’re so lost in his touch that you almost forget to speak.

“I belong to no man, I never have. Only you. It’s always been you, Armin.”

The god’s eyes widen, and he gently pulls you up from his lap only to seat you on it, upright and, this time, there’s so much more to admire. “You’re right,” he says. Armin captures your lips and this time, it’s longer, rougher. He doesn’t want to pull back, doesn’t want to lose the feeling of your soft lips against his, but his hands have already found your breasts and soon, his tongue joins them. You moan as he begins to lap at your breasts, leaving hickeys and spit in his wake as his finally finds your nipples and begins sucking them like a child as you whine and lean into him.

“You do belong to me,” he finally says, his voice partially muffled as he loses himself in the worship your breasts. “You’ve always belonged to me.”

And you can do nothing more than nod your head as your fingers tangle in Armin’s hair and you’re pulled into another kiss. His hand goes down your body, squeezing every single mound of flesh as if it needs to be touched so that when he finds your cunt, Armin can’t help but smile at how wet you are.

“Already, but I’ve hardly done anything to you?”

What a liar, but you don’t have a chance to tell him before he plunges a finger inside of you. “Oh, puppy, my puppy,” he groans at the contact the same time you moan, pushing your hips against his digits. “You like my fingers like that inside of you?”

“Yes, yes, I do, I really love them- it feels, oh my god, it feels too good!” you grip his shoulders, unable to do anything but desperately buck your hips at the smiling Armin. He knows what he’s doing, he knows that his fingers are giving you just that satisfaction, but it’s still not enough to bring you over the edge.

“Please Armin, please.” You squeeze his shoulders.

“Tell me what you want, tell me, I’ll give it to you- I swear.”

“I want to feel you, all- ah- all of you. I need to feel you inside of me!”

You’re not sure at which moment Armin removes his robes, but as he moves both of your legs so that you’re straddling him, your hands are on his bare, lean chest. The god’s nipples are flushed pink and pert, practically calling to you and you respond by brushing your fingers over them and watching him twitch ever-so-slightly in response. You withhold the urge to take them into your mouth, even as Armin rubs his cock against your cunt, releasing the sweetest of sounds.

He’s already leaking precum and it mixes with your juices so perfectly, his cock being dragged back and forth, only making you gush even more. “So messy,” he mumbles as he uses his tip to spreads your juices across your thighs. At this point, you can practically feel it throbbing, ready to be sheathed inside of you and the whimpers of your desperation echo against the temple walls.

When Armin slips inside of you, simultaneous gasps escape your lips. The god pulls your body closer to his as you throw your head back, stars in your eyes.

“Look,” he whispers. “Look how easily I slip in- it’s- it’s like your cunt is made for me.”

“Armin,” you whisper back. “Armin, Armin- ah- Armin.”

He sinks you down slowly, the stretch hitting every single spot that leaves your legs practically limp. The god is holding you up, whispering his own mantra that you can’t hear over your bliss. Once inside, your eyes look lock with Armin’s and he’s staring at you in a way he’s never done before. You’ve never seen pupils so dilated and the two of you stay like that as if making up for the moments when you should have been connected in this way. An eternity, it seems, the two of you have needed each other.

“I’m your god,” Armin finally says. “I’m your god and- hng ah-” He begins moving you up and down his shaft. “And I’m going to make you cum all over this cock- okay? All over your god’s cock.”

You nod your head pathetically as he lifts your hips and slams them down against his own. He is strong, ruthless in the way he bucks his hips up every time he lifts you from his cock, as if he can’t bare the empty feeling of not having your tight pussy clamped around him. At this relentless pace, you’re sure that the sound of your connecting bodies could penetrate even these marble walls. And yet, you don’t hold back. Thanks and praises spill from your swollen lips and Armin can’t help but lean forward and push his tongue between your mouth, as if he can absorb all of your word. “So good, so good, it’s- uah- I just want more, more of your cock, you fill me up so good!”

Armin can’t deny you. He pushes your thighs to your chest and picks up your entire body to fuck himself. He manoeuvres your body like a toy and as your tongue rolls out and your eyes become glassy, you begin to look like one too. The only sounds coming out of your mouth are incomprehensible, even as Armin attaches his mouth to one of your bouncing tits, you can only squeal.

“Such a good puppy,” he says between kisses. “Letting me use her holes like this. A god using a puppy’s holes- you should be- you should be grateful! Tell me, tell me you’re grateful!”

“I am!” you cry out. “I am grateful!”

“Good girl, good puppygirl.”

When Armin flips you over, you’re sat on his throne and he fucks into you harder, harder than he was doing before, and you swear his moans are louder too. He’s looking down at the movement of your stomach as if hypnotized by the way his cock disappears into you. And, in a way, he is. The fascination of being inside of you- just the idea even- is enough to make him want to cum.

The sudden position has him hitting new spots and the build-up is so fast, you hardly have the time to warn him. “Armin, Armin I’m cum-“

He grabs your face as you release around his cock, body spasming but unable to look away as Armin’s gaze burns through you. “Good girl,” he says. “Show me, show me how you cum. Just like that, just like that.”

He continues to plough his hips into yours and the spasms of your pussy leave him unable to hold back. “Inside of you,” he practically growls. “I’m going to cum inside of you- yes, yes, yes I am puppy. I’m going to cum inside of you and you’re going to show me how you take it yeah?”

You’re too far gone to even register the implications of what he’s saying, but he buries his cock in your warm walls and releases his cum inside of you with a heavy groan. “Just like that, just like that- I’m going to fill you up with my seed, puppy, my puppy.”

Armin feels like he’s emptied his balls- two powerful orgasms which leave his legs shaking violently. And yet, he pulls out of you slowly and stands back up to his full height, cock in front of your face. Almost instinctively, you rub your cheek against it, giving Armin soft kitten licks and he coos at you, stroking your hair. But he doesn’t push, he just holds his cock there and pumps softly as he stares at your fucked out face. Messy, covered in his spit, his hickeys, his bites, his cum- you look perfect, divine. Only one thing is missing. “I’m going to give you everything I have, puppy. And you’re going to take it, okay?” You nod and open your mouth for him and, immediately, a strong stream of pee emerges.

At the bitter taste on your tongue, your eyes roll back, and you spread your legs even wider, a welcome to the mess he is about to make. Armin accepts and angles his cock to release his pee over your chest, then your stomach, and then your already-throbbing cunt. He lifts a foot to rest on the throne and Armin doesn’t think he’s even seen such a beautiful sight in his life.

As if guided by an implicit will, Armin’s foot hovers on top of you and suddenly, he presses against your lower stomach. Your eyes snap back into focus as you whine out for him to wait, wait just a moment “I just had water,” you cry out. “It’s gonna- It’s gonna come out!”

But Armin simply grins. “Let it come out,” he says and presses his foot down harder. “Pee yourself dumb little mutt, be a good puppy for your owner.” The trickle that emerges is involuntary, but Armin’s grin is wider. “Yes, good girl, just like that. Let me see more, let me see more of you.”

The pressure that was holding the bowl of water back broke and you felt the warm liquid against your thighs before you realise what’s happening. Armin practically moans as he watches you whimper and struggle to hold your pee back as it spreads over the throne, the dais, and even Armin himself. He doesn’t stop until you’ve given it all to him.

You expect Armin to disappear.

You’ve given him everything. His goal is complete, you think, he has nothing more to do with you. But, as he has done many times before, the god surprises you. Armin’s body is heavy against yours when he collapses on top of you, but the weight is comforting. Despite the malaise of urine and cum rubbing against both of your bodies, you wrap your arms around the god of the ocean and hold him close.

Even as you close your eyes and lean your head back on the marble throne, Armin doesn’t leave you. Even as you open your eyes back up and see blue ones staring back at you, the look he gives you is so familiar and long hair in such unfamiliar disarray that you can’t help but smile.

He doesn’t ask why. Instead, Armin calls forth a stream of warm water from the adjacent fountain to clean the both of you. It feels like a fever dream the way floating droplets caress your bodies, and when Armin stands you up, his hands not leaving you, the perfume that suddenly envelops you is heavenly.

“Can I give you a last kiss, please?” you ask when your robe appears once again. And Armin leans forward to capture your lips, dragging his tongue on your bottom lip as if to taste you.

It doesn’t feel like a final kiss. You’ve had many of them- Jean, Sasha, Berthrold, your father, and even your mother, though you can’t remember it. This kiss is different. It feels less like a kiss and more like a promise, a vow. a shiver runs down your spine.

“I am your god,” he says and lifts his both of his hands slowly to wrap around your neck. “And you’re my worshipper.” You gasp as a cold sensation spreads around your neck, just below Armin’s fingers. It’s sudden, and heavy and when he removes his hands, yours fly to your neck and there’s a metal band there where there was none before.

“It’s sculpted from Hephaestus’ gold,” Armin says as he strokes his fingers along the metal. But he’s not looking at his gift, instead he looks at you.

“Armin- I- this is. But why?”

For the first time, he can’t read your expression. But it doesn’t matter. You belong to him. You always have, but now you know. And if it takes time for you to understand, Armin can wait. He’ll wait right beside you, always, always there to guide you.

“This is not the end of my Odyssey. My Odyssey is eternal,” he says before giving you another short kiss and disappearing, the warmth of his lips still present.

The gods might not all be fickle, you think, so you just smile sadly. But the gods are all selfish, so you touch the collar around your neck.

A/N: This is my first ever collab and I was- as still am- a bit insecure about how this story turned out so I appreciate all of your support ❤️. I would also like to apologise to my fellow history nerds for the historical inaccuracies.

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keiarchived · 4 years

Text

Freshman Year

stoner!Atsumu x f!innocent!reader x stoner!Suna ft stoner!Osamu

warnings: Drug (weed), gangbang, oral (giving), anal, dubcon, fucking whilst high, university!au, sex tape, cockwarming, corruption kink, sleepy writing

words: 1.8k

To say you were inexperienced, naive and artless, they weren’t wrong. You’re the last person who would cheat on their essay and cause yet another headache to your lecturer. You’re the classic ‘goodie two shoes’ as Atsumu calls you, the same couldn’t be said about both Miya twins and Suna, however.

They are anything but good.

You should’ve listened to those whispers of warnings and rumours that made their way around the campus, how they’re the last people you’d want to get involved with despite their popularity among students. You either love them or hate them, there’s no in-between with valid reasons.

You don’t belong in their world, you know that. But it doesn’t stop Suna from wanting to strip the innocent of you. Maybe it's the way you smiled nervously at him or maybe the glare you gave Atsumu whenever he made those snarky comments, but one thing for sure is that he wants to show you what you’ve been missing.

“Suna...” It almost came out as a whine whilst your head fell back against his shoulder, dark iris swallowing those rings of colours whilst your lips parted delicately with a cute pout. “Hmm? What’s wrong?” He coo, arm resting snuggly and comfortably around your waist as he pulls you even closer to press a kiss on your temple. Chilling at the Miya’s with Suna and his friends has become a regular thing ever since your first proper encounter with him at the party, where your friend ditched you for another guy. Perhaps you should’ve seen through him before accepting his offer to keep your company that night, maybe then you could’ve avoided whatever this is between you and Suna. But would you’ve pushed him away if given the chance?

“Wan’ more...” You whimpered, earning a chuckle from the man as he peppered your cheeks with few more playful kisses before pulling away. “What do you want, princess? C’mon, use your words” Suna love to see it when you’re desperate like this in his arms, staring up at him with those bleary eyes, cheeks flustered and small hands trembling as you grasp at his jacket with wants. “Mmn... smoke... wan’ more of smoke...” You slurred between each hitched breath of yours, feeling a few pairs of eyes glued onto the both of you as Suna leaned closer after taking a drag of his blunt before letting the heavy white smoke slips past your plump lips like weightless velvet. Oh, if only you knew how alluring you are when taking every ounce of the fumes from him greedily. Close enough for both of your lips to slot together, but far away enough for a grin to tug at his lips before pulling away. “Still not used to taking it on your own hm?” Or maybe you just adore these tingles dancing against your skin every time Suna shotguns it to you, as if he’s feeding you his essence in the most sexual way possible.

“Ya babying her too much, Suna. Gonna end up spoiling her.” Atsumu wasn’t wrong, ever since his friend introduced you to an unfamiliar world of ecstasy, he has you wrapped around his fingers like a puppy on a leash. “Why not, jealous Tsumu?” You could barely listen to their conversation as a giggle slipped past your lips, Suna could still remember the time you took your first hit. Trying to copy him only for those bitter smoke tickles your throat, making you cough with tears swelling from your eyes. It was cute though, he praised you for being a good girl, done so well on your first try as he wiped away those tears before wrapping those legs around your waist to give you the fucking of your life and the rest was history.

It was Suna who got you addicted to... him.

“You bet, how come she’s always hanging off your arm when you guys aren’t even together?” Astumu scoffed as shifts from his seat, watching from the opposite sofa with a frown over his defined features. It is unfair really, how you’ve chosen Suna over anyone else. Atsumu would love to slips his arms around you once in a while too, playing with those pretty lips of yours whilst you get drunk of him instead.

Despite no strings attached between you and Suna, shaking your head no as soon as he mumbles softly under his breath, beckoning you to go sit with Atsumu but no — you didn’t want to. “Nnu...Wanna stay...” Instead, your grip tightens on the fabric of his jacket, snuggling further into him until your head is buried at the crook of his neck.

If only you’re sober enough to see the faint but taunting smug smile Suna have stretched across his lips as he shrugged at his friend, guiding you to sit properly on his lap instead with your back facing Atsumu. “Better luck next time.”

God knows how long you’ve been sitting like this, legs folded on either side of Suna’s lap as you rest against his broad shoulder. Pins and needles crawl up your numb legs, shifting with an uncomfortable whine. To think Suna would waste a perfect opportunity like this, you’d be wrong, especially when all if most of his companions are high off their heads to even notice what the two of you’re about to do. “Baby, want my cock?” Suna isn’t subtle about it either, bulge poking at your clothed core. The mention of his cock was enough to have your clouded mind runs wild, grinding against his clothes erection with an eager nod. This wouldn’t be the first time you’ve cockwarm Suna in front of other souls like this, Tsumu would shuffle towards the both of your and join in occasionally. Shotgunning you with his own blunt whilst lazily as he jerks off to your moans and tangle bodies. “What happened to the sweet innocent princess we knew?

As the time you spend with Suna and the Miya twins grew, so did your confidence. Becoming more familiar with the substance than you originally were, however. It was naive of you to think you could do this properly on your own without Suna here to keep you out of trouble because you’re a big girl who knows how to take care of herself. But instead, you have taken a pretty big hit, blame Atsumu. It was his idea to lower the amount of tobacco this time around, instead of feeling the familiar high you have with Suna; this is something way stronger.

How did you end up atop of Tsumu with his cock buried deep inside your dripping cunt, you have no idea. Only remembering fragments of things he had said to you prior to this, “Suna aren’t here is he? Shame. Let me be Suna tonight for ya, baby. Ride me inside, bet I could treat ya better than ‘im, c’mon baby, don’t be shy. It’s not like he’s ya boyfrien’ or anythin’.” That’s all you could remember before a snap of Atsumu’s hips snapped you out of your thought, drawing a meal from your lips. “C’mon, baby. Don’t hide that pretty voice from me now.”

Atsumu’s little plan would’ve been a success if it wasn’t for Osamu, consider it payback. Call him selfish if you want, but seeing his twin brother knocking the breath out of your lungs sparks his jealousy. Sure he could’ve joined in easily but what’s the fun in that?

Suna has been stood by the door for a while now, watching as you desperately bounces on Atsumu’s cock and moaning his name between each of those sloppy kisses. But still, that stoic face remained unbothered, maybe a twitch here and there but nothing major, the completely opposite of what Samu thought he would do. After all, despite Suna saying he doesn’t care nor does he wants you, everyone knows how much he cares for you enough to keep you around for as long as he has. Instead, Suna approached the two of you. Yanking your head up those sweaty locks of yours whilst you could barely register the shift in his eyes, “You knew this was gonna happen didn’t you? Just wanted an excuse to fuck Tsumu.”

He wasn’t wrong, both Miya twins shares the same face and it is hared to ignore their handsome features after all.

Osamu was dumbfounded when Suna positioned himself behind you instead, not only did he not have a good go at Tsumu but at the end decide to join too before prepping your rear end the best way he can before inching in, frowning as he does. “Fuck... just as I expected. You’re so fucking, right baby”

Neither one of them paid attention to Samu before Suna caught him palming at his jeans, only then did he come closer with his cock freed with one hand whilst the other holding a phone and hit record. You should see the way your lips parts whenever you’re close or the complete fucked our expression that suits you so well, no worries though; Samu will keep a good record seeing as how well you take all three of them together with Samu’s cock lodge deeply down your throat, stuffing you full with all ends.

At least this time you are not the only one who’s slurring nonsense as you came, Tsumu was the first one to pump you full of his cum first then it was Samu and lastly Suna. Showering you in praises and kisses before the younger Miya twin decides to take up the aftercare duty upon himself since Tsumu has already blacked out and Suna doesn’t look that far off either with the remaining blunt in his hand.

Samu is the gentlest of them all, washing you carefully as though you’re a glass doll. Having you put on one of his shirts and setting you on the kitchen counter whilst he cooks, earning small nods and hums from you whenever he asks you a question. Samu’s surprise you even managed to hold yourself this well before finally crashing against his shoulder, it was a struggle to get you to eat some food and drink some water but he did anyway.

Only for Suna to snatch you away again with a wave of his hand and a pat on his lap, you practically scrambled out from Samu’s arms and into Suna’s chest. Snuggling comfortably against him with a content smile on your face.

At the end of the day, you are Suna’s precious little princess. He’s the one who shown how to roll a joint, how to smoke from a bong and be a little rebellious. The Miyas twins could hook up with you as many times as they want, but he knows you’d be running back to him as soon as it is over.

Tag list: @m-mortimer @selfishwitch @sleepyrintaro @cxnicalsweetheart

#haikyuu smut #hq smut #osamu x reader #suna x reader #atsumu x reader #osamu smut #suna smut #atsumu smut #hq 🏐#tw’gangbang #tw’corruption #tw’dubcon #tw’drug #this been on my mind while fucking day #been screaming at izzie about it and I’m just #I WAMT STONER SUNA TO WRECK ME

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oriigirii · 3 years

Text

Streamer MC headcannons with the brothers 💞

"You were quite a known face on social media back in the human realm, playing games, doing unboxings, just vibin in general, fans around the globe looked forward to your streams a lot! However, considering the sudden (unannounced) invitation to the exchange program, you had to leave all of that behind out of the blue. It wasn't as bad at first, but you have to admit you do miss the feeling of being able to do goofy shit online. Luckily for you, with the advance technology of Devildom and some spicy magic, the internet had synced with the human realm, and thats when you decided to finally re-enter the streaming scene. How will the brothers react upon seeing your peculiar past time?"

Head empty, No thoughts aside from the brothers just bothering the MC while they stream so here you go haha

Warnings: None, just crackhead energy and a lotta mispellings

Gender: Neutral!

Hotel: Trivago

* [ ಠ╭╮ಠ ] Lucifer *

{How did he know about your career?}

I honestly don't see him as someone who goes on the internet a lot

(He screams boomer to me, change my mind)

He doesn't have the time either, he's too focused on work!

So him finding out is gonna take a while

But! He did find out the hard way when shrilled screaming was heard from your room when he was passing by with some paper stacks in his arms (courtesy of Diavolo)

This man felt his instincts kick in, he ran as fast as he could, papers forgotten, and he immediately slammed your door open. Splinters scattering around, your door definitely damaged, as his eyes held a glare and his demon form was out, wings spread in a threatening display.

He was ready to beat someone's ass as he had thought someone had hurt you in here.

But all hes met with is you, infront of your chair and PC, and a game over on the screen...

To say he was unamused was an understatement cause you just lost your internet priviliges for giving him a heart attack (He said it was because you were being rowdy and noisy but with what you saw you knew that wasn't the case)

Good luck tryna puppy-eye your way to his heart to let you continue streaming lol.

If by some miracle you managed to wriggle your rights back from his hands, he'd warn you not to be so loud next time.

You already learnt your lesson though~ (Hopefully)

{How does he feel about your streams?}

Not everyone's the same, so if you were the shy soft streamer who does more art streams or something akin to a podcast, you can bet that Lucifer will be putting you on while he works, he kinda knows your streaming schedule at this point and if you were running late, he'd force one of his brothers to take over your dish washing duties or any chores you were stuck with

If you were the loud obnoxious meme type, hed still try to watch out of curiosity, and as much as he appreciates that you were getting comfortable here in Devildom with how you laugh and joke around, he still can't approve of it. Its too loud, its much like his brothers energy and he has enough of that already, so he probably doesn't watch as much.

He has countlessly came to your room to shush you and at this point your fans had made a compilation of each time Lucifer had barged in to tell you off

Look he likes it when you scream, but not when hes in the middle of work okay--

At this point, chat has deemed Lucifer as dad and you as their mom/dad.

If he ever catches wind of this he'd definitely be teasing you in private for centuries to come.

Overall fine with it, as long as don't do something stupid on stream.

* ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ Mammon*

{How did he know about your career?}

I would say he found out by him crashing into your streams midway but that's too predictable, hence why you've Mammon-proofed your bedroom during streaming hours!

Thanks to our wizard daddy, you have managed to cast a simple lock spell on your door and as well as a sound proofing

You love your broke idiot, but you did wanna keep the tone of your stream today a bit more chill, you wanted to have a proper Q&A with your fans to hopefully clear any bad vibes around your 3 month disappearance.

When Mammon has learnt your door was locked he definitely was a bit pissy, he knocked on your door loudly even and was calling out for you to let him in, but to no avail.

Bro he's scared.

He usually was allowed to enter, and you usually answered if you did need to be left alone for a bit, so just leaving him hanging got his mind racing and he had to press up his ear on the wooden door to try and hear if you were okay

When this continues on he finally resorts to getting help, but the only one in the house ws Levi, so he kicks down HIS door.

Levi boutta summon Lotan for interrupting him honestly

But as Mammon exclaim you weren't answering and he worried for your wellbeing, Levi rolls his eyes and scoffs,

"Idiot Mammon, they're streaming don't bother them…"

Streaming? why didn't you tell him???

Rude much.

He did huff and now was forcing his way to use Levi's PC for a moment

Can Levi stop him?

Nah.

He was busy on his console, and if he stood up now hed be breaking his world record so he was at a terrible state so he just resorts to threats of him drowning the Avatar of Greed if he does anything stupid on his PC.

He immediately logs in to your streaming platform and he watches for a bit,

You were more dolled up now just to look decent on stream, and he felt this jealousy rise as you interact with your chat, especially to those saying I love you's and stuff, and you even said it back? the audacity! You were his werent you? Were you replacing him with these nobodies?

He huffs as he realized that those who paid got their message highlighted, and thus, he starts donating. (Mind you this was Levi's account...)

"Mcccccc Open the dooorrr"

"Ill behave i promiseeeee"

"Cmon pleaseeee?"

Chat is c o n f u s i o n

NGL, they thought Mammon was a creepy stalker and red flags were being waved everywhere

but as chat was pondering who the hell he was, you can only sigh and look at the camera with that unamused expression, but ugh! you just KNOW hes doing that kicked puppy expression of his, and maybe it really wont be so bad

So you snap your fingers and say, "Okay MonMon, its open, Im giving you 3 seconds"

Mammon wasnt deemed to be the fastest out of his brothers for nothing

As soon as you got to '2', you were already tackled by the white haired male and chat went wild.

Now that you've shown your life in Devildom, maybe its time to introduce chat to your boyfriend no?

{How does he feel about your streams?}

You get paid to sit infront of a camera, do I have to say anything else?

But really though, as much as he enjoys the thought of getting so much cash from something so simple, he prefers the joy of being able to proudly exclaim that he was your first man!

ohhhh he thrives on the salt of your overly attached stans

but for those who fully support you, he always feels so mushy and shy when they say the ship you guys so hard

The fanarts has him WEAK (he may or may not have saved a few)

You usually do streams alone, but now you've allowed the door to be left open to let Mammon join whenever

Chat pogs when he enters with so much confidence, only for it to crumble when you kiss his cheek on stream.

Overall finds it fun to spend time with you, but just dont play scary games cause Lucifer might hang him upside down on stream.

* ▘▂▝ Leviathan*

{How did he know about your career?}

He is honestly the most attached to his D.D.D and he catches wind of almost anything going down in the internet, so your 'revival' being hyped up was something he definitely saw and he was just s wo o o ned

His Henry 2.0? a famous streamer?

Were you truly a blessing gifted upon him or was he dreaming?

He definitely didn't bring it up at first as he didn't wanna make it a big deal, but you notice hes been more in his head lately, and you have tried asking him what it was but to no avail.

You have to corner this little snake if you want answers and he eventually admits that he knew of your persona online and was incredibly shy to ask you to stream with him

He's a streamer himself afterall but maybe he doesnt stream as much as you do nor does he have as large of a following, so his intrusive thoughts attacked him and made him think that maybe since he wasnt as famous he didnt deserve to be in the same stream as you

Please tell him to join you and gib him kiss U3U

He'll absolutely m e l t

But now, as you make the announcement to your viewers and Levi to his, the internet explodes as a special collab stream was hapening between the expert gamer and avatar of envy of Devildom along with the beloved exchange student and streamer of the human realm

Your usual viewers reach between 10-15k, but as you start stream, that number boosts higher and beyond

Before streaming though, Levi was incredibly nervous, he'd picked the games for you to play that he knew you would enjoy with him, but his mind kept racing about whatthe fans thought, he didnt wanna disappoint them

But you had to remind him that whatever they say will not matter in the end as this was merely for fun, this was YOUR stream and you guys were gonna do what you want and nobody can have a say on it. (Maybe except Lucifer)

You usually talk for him with your bubbly personality, and to calm his nerves, he hs your pinky wraped around his where the camera can't see it.

Regardless, his thoughts subsided as you two delve into your stream that lasted a solid 7 hours, you definitely promised your chat that you and Levi will be doing more streams together from now on.

Once the cameras cut and yall are left alone, Both of you collapse on bed, and despite you being asleep already, Levi was just far too giddy as everything dwells on him.

Having a player 2 by his side now had never felt so intoxicating and he as just so lucky to have you.

{How does he feel about your streams?}

He obviously adores it, although some streams he wouldnt join just so he can play games on his own

He's still an introvert afterall, he needs his alone time

But he prefers that alone time with you, his Henry.

So when youre about to go stream, he kinda becomes a bit pouty, but with a simple promise of kisses (and maybe even more if youd like) he would let you go, but his attention would disappear from his game altogether.

He might just end up watching you instead

May or may not, at some point, just chat you and ask if its too late to join you

You do allow him to join you and play from the comforts of his room as both of you can simply play via internet, you give him the comfort to not turn on his mic or webcam either and you have no idea how he appreciates that.

Will definitely fight someone online when they start claiming you as theirs (-cough- stans) Please make sure it doesnt escalate to him summoning Lotan

Although the comments would often get to him, and as much as he can fight them online, he still does find himself pondering if they were true, so you need to give him a lotta lovin and reminder that he is your player 1 and no one else can ever fill that place.

------

Wow 3 brothers this time, what an improvement, anyways hope yall enjoy! I think its pretty clear who I simp for depending o nthe length of each lol, but do let me know if you guys want a part 2 for the rest of the brothers, or even the undateables!

#Obey me #obey me fanfics #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me Mammon x reader #obey me Lucifer x reader #Obey me Leviathan x reader #obey me headcannons #obey me shall we date

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ellana-ravenwood · 4 years

Text

“My fake boyfriend is a billionaire ?!” - Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : After a few shitty weeks of everything going wrong, you somehow find yourself faking a relationship with the one and only Bruce Wayne.

That’s it. I did it. After 3 years posting stories on this platform, I finally succumb to one of the biggest fanfiction cliché of all time haha. The infamous fake boyfriend trope. And I really hope you will like it :

My masterlist : @ella-ravenwood-archives

__________________________________________________

The Gap Year of Disaster

Today, you were an utter mess, and you couldn’t care less.

You know, this kind of days where you wish you would just have stayed in bed ?

Where everything goes wrong and you just want to hide under your blanket and pretend you don't have any responsibilities ?

Well today…Today was most definitely this kind of day.

It was suppose to be your first day at an exciting new job and you were so psyched about it, that you hadn’t been able to sleep all night.

You finally fell into a deep slumber during the very early hours of the day, and…

Of course you woke up late ! You didn't have time to take a shower, or to do your make-up nicely or even to brush your hair. But worst of all you didn't have time to get coffee !

When you got out with your bike….it was pouring outside. Ah but of course, because when one thing goes wrong everything has to follow. Everything WILL go wrong. Murphy's law or some stupid things like that !

It's in those moments you wish you had a car ! Because when it rained in Gotham…It felt like Noah was ordered to built another ark !

So, sleep deprived, soaked, in a bad mood and looking like a mess, you managed, by some miracle, to arrive at your job on time.

Only to discover that this wasn’t at all what you were expecting. It was NOT what was promised to you, which was experience in an exciting workplace and a way to make the most of it.

Instead, it was a desk job where you ran errand for everyone. Amazing.

This was supposed to be your first try at “real life”, this was why you took that gap year from college.

“I want to find myself, find who I really am !” You told everyone around you, ignoring those who were negative and telling you you should finish your study first.

Now, as you were stuck in a tiny cubicle with an endless list of coffee orders you had to get for everyone else, you felt like maybe they were right, and that this wasn’t quite the way you were going to “find yourself”.

Then again, wasn’t it through hardship that this sort of things unlocked ? Wasn’t it with great determination and knowing how it was to struggle, that you were going to thrive ? That’s what they said in TED talks dedicated to “success”...

So far in your life, things had been rather normal. Not particularly easy, but not hard either. You grew up in a small town in New Jersey, no troubles on the horizon. You then moved to Gotham for college as you had a scholarship for Gotham’s University, and as you were about to start your third year you sort of questioned wether or not this was your path...

One of your favorite professor told you to maybe take a gap year. A few semesters off, to think things through. Taking advantage of it to do some soul searching and try to know what you really wanted and...It sounded wonderful !

That’s when you started to have job interviews in many different fields, and it took you three months to finally find something. Three very stressful months of wondering how long you could live off of your measly savings, and wether or not you’d have to move back in with your parents (anything but that !)...Not a very good start to that gap year for sure.

And when you landed what you thought was going to be a great job, things definitely were looking up ! Ah, but the fact that you were chosen while you had NO experience and such, should’ve been your first warning that this was too good to be true.

You were trying to stay positive though. Maybe it was only for the first day ? Maybe their coffee person was sick or something ? It’d get more interesting later ? Yes. Yes let’s keep a positive outlook on everything.

Except right now, as your entire morning was made of you walking up and down the building (the elevator was not working, but of course), to the coffee shop at the corner of the street, and bringing back orders for people, you didn’t feel in the mood to try and stay cheery.

And the worst in all that ? You didn't even get ONE cup for yourself…This “real life” thing was not starting very well.

And so here you were, during your lunch break, looking like a mess, bag under your eyes and still wet from the rain (your trips up and down the street for coffee runs not helping drying yourself off), your morale at its lowest..And…

"That'll be 3 dollars and 50 cents for the large latte with triple espresso shot, m'am."

Catastrophe.

Proof that things could ALWAYS get worst.

As you were looking through your bag, you couldn't find your wallet !

Did you leave it at home ?! Maybe.

People at your work gave you the money to buy them coffee (and not a single tips, bunch of cheapskates). And you didn’t notice you were missing that oh so essential part of your daily life...Your credit card. Or any type of money.

Damn it !

“Um, excuse me miss, that’s 3,50 please ?”

“Oh yes yes, um, you know what I just-”

“Here, miss, you dropped this.”

As you were about to explain that in fact, you didn’t need coffee (even if when you asked for it you might’ve mentioned it being a question of “life or death”), too embarrass to admit you didn’t have the money to buy it, a...very handsome man handed you a twenty dollars bill.

You were a hundred percent sure this wasn’t yours. You never carry lose cash like this. A quick look to his kind deep blue eyes, and soft smile, and you realize...

Oh. Great. A total (very handsome) stranger took pity of you.

You probably looked even worst than you felt. You were about to say this was a mistake, but before you could, he gave the bill to the barista, and left with a last smile to you, taking his own cup of coffee away with him.

Damn. You didn’t have time to say “thank you”. He vanished as fast as he appeared, disappearing in the crowd of the busy coffee shop.

“Here’s your change, m’am.”

“Ah you know what ? Keep it buddy. Thanks for the coffee.”

“Wow, thanks !”

You were pretty sure that barista never had such a big tip, and it oddly made you feel better, to make someone else’s day like that. Your grandma did always say that you found true joy from helping others...

Oh, yeah, ok, you just helped someone out, why was the universe so angry at you ?!

As you turned around and started to leave, almost at the exist of the shop, mood a little better after this nice encounter with a (again, handsome) stranger, and the barista, you see him.

Him. One of the reason you sort of decided to take a gap year.

Him.

Your ex-boyfriend, Eric, who cheated on you with your friend Monica. Needless to say, it wasn’t a good memory. And you hadn’t seen neither him nor her since you left college, especially not since you heard they actually got together.

Your FRIEND. With your BOYFRIEND. And it went on for a while, before you finally discovered it (that day was as shitty as today...).

Oh. And of course Eric wasn’t alone. She, was there too. The one you thought was your friend, and who stabbed you in the back like that. Both of them discarding you like a dirty old sock.

Great. Really. Awesome. This day was going from “bad” to “please kill me.”

“(Y/N) !”

He looks surprised to see you, although also a little pleased. And it makes you want to punch him in the face. You don’t care if it’s because he wished things ended another way, they both betrayed your truth and then never even tried to talk to you again afterward.

You’re not sure you would’ve forgave them, but at least, it would’ve shown they still cared about you in a way. Nobody chooses who they’re going to fall in love with (that, you’d soon discover for yourself). But she was your best friend. And he was with you for over a year.

She’s a little more awkward than him, and smiles, clearly embarrassed. You always knew she was a bit of a coward, if she wasn’t, she would’ve face you, right ?

And that’s when it happened. The decision that would forever change your life.

In this great moment filled with despair and awkwardness.

From the corner of your eyes, you saw that nice stranger who paid for your coffee. The handsome one. He didn’t leave the shop, but instead went to seat at a table that was a little further away than the rest of them.

His eyes were glued to his phone, and you thought : “Well, fuck it, all this can’t get any worst right ?”

You were sort of hoping that, since he had been nice with you once and offered you those twenty dollars without knowing you (although you were very aware it was probably just pity), maybe he could help again ?

Maybe it was the fatigue, the fact you were getting sadder and sadder, that you had a terrible day, and that you just saw two people you loved and who threw you away like you meant nothing (oh but not before being super fake to you, pretending they WEREN’T cheating behind your back)...maybe it was a combination of all of that, that made you act crazy.

But here you found yourself, sitting at that stranger’s table, and saying, as he looked up from his phone clearly surprised :

“How are you guys ? As you can see, I’m great.”

You don’t dare to look at the handsome stranger, and hope he’ll be too stunned to say anything, and you can make your ex-friend and ex-boyfriend feel embarrass enough they’ll leave quickly. But then Monica says something that makes your heart skip multiple beats :

“You...You know Bruce Wayne ?!”

You turn to the man who gracefully paid for your coffee, and your eyes go wide. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. How did you NOT recognize him ?! Of course. Chiseled face, beautiful blue eyes, a suit that was definitely worth your entire year’s salary, a very charming aura...

Your hazy mind full of “fuck this day” didn’t register that THE Bruce Wayne, was the one who helped you out. How did you miss that ? His face had been plastered everywhere in Gotham for the past year, since he came back to the city, in fact.

You hear yourself wish with all your might to be struck by lightning this instant, as the two assholes who hurt you so much are looking at you expectantly and are not about to live (of course, they just met celebrity BRUCE WAYNE !! Could someone be as unlucky as you were today ?!)

And that’s when you hear a chuckle, a beautiful deep chuckle, and finally turn to look at Bruce. He smiles at you, and takes your hand, saying :

“Honey, who are your friends ?”

Your brain go full “ERROR 404″, not quite able to grasp the fact that THE Bruce Wayne just ran with what you were trying to do. How ? How was this possible ? You initially went to sit with him in the hope that Eric and Monica would see you were totally ok and with a hot date, not quite sure still yet how you ever thought this was a good idea and...

It was turning out alright ?!

HOW ?!

“Oh um, I’m..Eric. And this is my gir...This is Monica.”

What a piece of shit. Not even brave enough to call her his “girlfriend” when he cheated on you with her for months and months. You glare at him, unable to stop this gut reaction.

And that’s something Bruce caught.

In fact, as soon as you sat down, avoiding looking at him and nervously looking at those two people, Bruce sort of knew you were in an uncomfortable situation. One that made you take an irrational decision.

And oh, he didn’t like the look Eric and Monica gave you. Like they felt superior as they caught you in a bad moment. Bruce hated, people who thought they were superior to others...

And you clearly seemed in distress and in need of help so...He ran with it.

Bruce had to pretend to be someone he wasn’t enough that it felt natural, to run along with what your hazy mind thought was a good idea.

“Nice to meet you, are you friends with-”

Damn it. He realized he didn’t know your name. Quick thinking saved him, and he managed to keep his tone even, as to hide his hesitation :

“My love ?”

His hand around yours felt warm and reassuring, and you still couldn’t believe that, not only a total stranger, but THE Bruce Wayne was helping you out like that. Especially after you had such a bad day.

Him calling you his “love” made your exes feel very awkward, and they shake their head “no”, suddenly pretending they’re very busy and have to meet up with someone. They leave the coffee shop, clearly stunned, whispering things to each others that you knew were probably : “how did she get a guy like him ?!”

You can’t help but glare at them some more...But then your hand feels cold again, and you realize Bruce let go off it. Well. Duh. Of course he would.

You turn to him, your feature softening, and say :

“Are you an angel ?”

Ah yes. Your defense mechanism. “Humor”.

He chuckles, and says :

“Well, I’m afraid not. My butler would think this is very funny. But thank you.”

Awkwardly, you rub your neck, your free hand nervously turning your cup of coffee clockwise in your palm. You don’t really know how to end this, what : “thanks for that” and leave ?

“Thanks for the coffee. And for um...Saving my ass, just there.”

He smiles, and wow hello white teeth and charming dimples ?!

“You’re very welcome. They looked like they were jerks.”

“Haha oh you have no idea.”

“Glad I could help.”

“Thanks again. Really. This means a lot, especially since we don’t know each others. Well, I know you. Everyone in Gotham does haha. And ok I’m going to leave now, my lunch break is almost over and I don’t want to make this even more awkward.”

You start to rise up, but he holds you back by catching your sleeve, and says :

“Actually miss…?”

“(Y/L/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Miss (Y/L/N), you are kind of saving my life right now.”

“…I am ?”

A flash blinds you. Not a lightning, a camera flash. You turn, just in time to see a guy hastily hiding a camera and running away.

“What the...”

“A paparazzi. Good timing, for once.”

“Huh ?”

You wish you had some witty come back, or would just know what to say. But you’re confused. And this has been a really weird day.

“I am sorry if this will seem forward, or like I helped you wanting something in exchange. But I promise I will make it worth your while if you just sit back down and listen to me for a few minutes.”

You sit back down. More because you’re unsure your leg can still support you in this moment, than because he asked you to. With a smile he continues :

“Thank you. So. Let me explain a little, and again, sorry if this is too forward. If you don’t want to help of course, I would understand. I’m about to ask you something rather odd, I guess. And I’ll clear things up with paparazzis. I also promise I did not help you with your “friends”-”

“They’re not my friends.”

“I figured that much. And I promise I didn’t help you with them and ran with whatever you were trying, just so I could ask you this.”

“Ask me what ?”

“Well, you see…it’s arranged marriage season.”

“What ?”

“Every year, every single rich family try to make me marry their single daughters. It’s a very tiring season, but I’ve never been able to avoid it…I thought about having a fake fiancee before but could never find the right person.”

What he says does not register with you. His clear proposal doesn’t hit your brain. And you just stare at him, waiting for him to keep going. But he doesn’t, and by the way he looks at you, you slowly starts to understand where he’s getting at.

You gasp, now pretty sure this is all a dream (or a nightmare) and say :

“And I’m the right person ?”

“Well, yes. You seem to be a...“normal” person.”

“…Thanks.”

“In that case it’s good. It’s very good. It means that if I’m dating you, a woman that has nothing to bring me, then it must be true love.”

“Wow, stop with the flatteries already mister Wayne, I can’t handle it…”

Ah, your slight wits are back. Good sign that you’re regaining your senses. Everything that happened in the last ten minutes still feel like a bad dream, but you’re back in reality now.

“No no no, I didn’t mean it in a demeaning way ! But it’s just, you’re not rich, and you’re not famous or have political ties. You’re just a regular person. So they won’t think I’m trying to trick them, even if I am, do you know what I mean ?”

“Gotcha. My broke ass person cannot bring you any value, so it must be love and not just an arranged thing they can break. Cool.”

There’s a slight silence. And you find it a little fun, to play a little bit with the famous Bruce Wayne. He seemed so confident and cocky on TV, you never thought you’d be able to make him look so guilty.

“I’m sorry if I offended you.”

He says, clearly meaning it. But you shake your head and smile at him (and oh why does he feel his heart tightening slightly at your smile ?), and reassure him instantly (you feel a little bad, actually, to mess with him while he did just really do a huge favor to you while he had no obligations to) :

“Haha, just messin’ around with ya Mster Wayne. I’m not bothered by it, it’s the truth. I’m really broke, and I don’t think you could find more “regular” than me right now. So, and because you really did save my ass from an extremely displeasing experience back there. And also because you allowed me to see those assholes’ face of surprise and “how did she manage that ?!”, tell me more about your plan, and let’s see if I can help you back.”

And so Bruce starts to explain to you how, every year, this beginning of Fall is the worst time ever, as it’s a moment where everyone seems to want to marry off their daughter. And of course, Bruce Wayne is a good “party”.

The plan was fairly simple. You’d fake a relationship with him, so he could avoid all of this, and in exchange...Well. You’d gain a lot in exchange.

This is how you started to really feel like you had fallen into a “romcom” by accident...You and Bruce, became an actual living trope.

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

“And then when the “marrying season” is done, you can break it off.”

“I ?”

“Well yes, I can assure you you’ll gain quite a rep if you break up with me haha.”

You raise an eyebrow, unsure you like that sort-of overly confident side of him. But you can see something behind his eyes, like a slight unsureness as he looks back at you, trying to see if you’ll agree or not.

“I don’t really need a “reputation”.”

Breaking up with THE Bruce Wayne himself. For sure people would talk about it a lot, and maybe it would help open some doors for you ? But you felt a little odd taking advantage of this like that.

Seeing that he hadn’t convinced you quite yet, he adds :

“Of course, I will pay you.”

What kind of Pretty Woman sort of nonsense was this ?! You were about to protest when he added, realizing how he sounded :

“I mean, you ARE doing me a great service. You ARE going to have to act, you know ? An...actual job ? And I will be honest with you, it won’t be easy, to find yourself in the public eye. I think it definitely justify a salary.”

Put that way, you had to admit that, well, yeah it sort of did. Especially since you knew how crazy tabloids were about Bruce Wayne. Becoming his “girlfriend” would definitely put you on the front lines.

“And it would truly help me tremendously.”

Your grandma always said it : “True joy comes out from helping others !” So. What if you benefit from it a little ? If it helps you financially, and you can get a little network out of it ? First rule of Alchemy (what a weeb) : “equivalent exchange” ! Plus, he did really help you with your coffee, but also with Eric and Monica so...

And hey, this gap year was meant to help you find what and who you wanted to be. Help you go through this little twenty-something crisis. And this ? Living a literal romantic comedy cliche by faking being someone’s girlfriend ? Well, it definitely felt like the kind of adventure that could help you figure things out.

With a smile, you finally nod and shake his hand, not knowing quite yet in which mess you actually put yourself into...

Briefing.

Like every “secret mission”, this one too needed a “briefing”.

A little meeting to put all the rules down, and the goals too.

And here you were, feeling very out of place in a huge conference room in the biggest and tallest building in Gotham : “Wayne Tower”.

The concierge stared at you for a very long time, when you said you were there to see Mister Wayne. No “nobody” like you ever called for his boss.

Suspicious, as it was his job, he called security on you...Until it was finally cleared up that you DID have a meeting with Bruce Wayne !

Both the concierge, and the security guys, stared at you as you left to take the elevators they indicated to you, wondering who the hell had the kind of credentials to go all the way up there to see their boss ?! They didn’t recognize you from anywhere, not a model, not a famous politician or CEO, just...A regular person ?

That was odd. And they noticed, it was odd. Which you assumed was what Bruce was aiming for, but it felt so awkward, to walk through this huge hall under their scrutiny.

You finally arrived on the right floor, and oh look, some more staring.

From his secretary, this time. She was used to see women coming to see her boss. But they’d usually wear Prada, and have plunging necklines full of pearls and fanciness. They weren’t...like you.

You felt like it was easy, to know that you were just a “normal” person. You were definitely not wearing any designer clothes, and you were pretty sure the way you carried yourself made you super obvious.

Hence all the staring. You could clearly see in her eyes, that she was wondering who the hell you were...

She had her answer when Bruce came out of his office, and made a gesture as if he was going to throw his arm around your waist, and kiss you (which made you downright panic). But then, he looked awkwardly at his secretary, and instead just shook your hand.

Something that DID NOT go unnoticed by his secretary.

You saw how her eyes widen, and how she clearly hitched to take her phone out and call everyone...and you realized Bruce did this awkward thing because he knew his secretary, and her tendency to be a little gossipy.

You’d discover later, in fact, that he hired her entirely because he knew if he said something, she would pick up on it and it would help him control rumors and such. Clever.

For the moment though, he took you to a large conference room with huge windows.

“I’m sorry for the weird “hello” back there, I wanted Shirley to think I was embarrassed to display affection to you in front of her. Usually, I do not mind at all. So doing it would make her think that-”

“I’m someone special to you.”

“Exactly !”

He smiles widely as you understood his plan (not sure how you felt about it, then again, that’s why you were here for, making sure you knew where both of you stood in all this), and then tells you he’ll be back in a few minutes.

You have time to feel anxious and stressed before he finally comes back.

“Sorry for the wait.”

“Oh no, I bet you’re a busy man.”

“Yes well. Anyway. Let’s get to it shall we ?”

“Yes.”

“Ok. So. I thought we’d settle sort of a little contract, so neither of us ever feel uncomfortable ?”

“Sounds good, mister Wayne.”

“Yes well first, please call me Bruce.”

“Only if you call me (Y/N).”

Oh and you two were still on the path of “romcom cliches”, with this conversation. He smiles, nods, and continues :

“Ok, then I thought we could-”

And so your fake relationship started, with some little ground rules. Like he could only kiss you after you gave him permission, if you ever felt overwhelmed everything would be called off, etc etc.

Most rules were in your favor, to be honest. And WOW the paycheck he was going to give you for this little farce...Hey, maybe this gap year was finally gonna get interesting ?

Meeting the Little Buddy.

It was sort of necessary. By then, Dick had been his son, officially, for a few months. He wasn’t calling him “dad” yet (and Bruce didn’t particularly want him to, at the time...ah but everything change one day, right ?), but they were already family.

And it was a needed step.

It wasn’t in the little “contract” you made, and honestly you could’ve refused to meet him but...Well, you liked kids. In another life, it felt like you could’ve been a teacher (A/N : AH, like in this story ;) : “Can you be my dad’s girlfriend, please ?” ).

And you’d feel awkward, to fake a relationship and not ever meet his boy.

The first time he saw you, it was at the Wayne Tower, and his eyes widened as he exclaimed :

“Wow you’re so pretty ! Are you Bruce’s girlfriend ? You’re too good for him, you know.”

You could feel your heart melt, how adorable this little guy was, right ? You chuckled, and almost full on laughed as you saw how vexed Bruce was by the comment.

Not that he thought he was too good for you, no, he was just a little unhappy his son was stealing the show, and thought he couldn’t land someone like you...Oh but that, you couldn’t guess at the time, of course.

“Nice to meet you, Dick. I’m (Y/N). And...I’m not really his girlfriend.”

“Can you be mine then ?”

You laugh again. You and Bruce had decided to tell him the truth, Bruce assuring you that kid was good at pretending too. You answer :

“No, I’m saving him from marriage proposal.”

“Oooooh !”

Good at pretending. Dick had no idea what you were on about, but he was very good at acting as if he knew.

It’s only way later, that he finally got it. By then, he already accepted you as : “his dad’s girlfriend”, and even knowing the truth, there was no way to change his mind. And to be honest, out of everyone, little Dick Grayson was probably the most aware of what the situation truly was.

He had a knack, to notice how people felt.

A “family” outing.

Two months in, and it was going GREAT. Faking a relationship was actually pretty easy. All you had to do was hanging out with him (and he was very nice to hang out with), and when a paparazzi was around, quickly kiss his cheek, or hold his hand, or let him put his hand in your hair...All those cute things new couples do.

Today was one such small date.

You could see Bruce was nervous, though.

After hanging around with him that many times, you started to know him a little better. Started to know he wasn’t really that persona he portrayed publicly.

He was actually quite a dork. What a pity, nobody else would ever know his real self...Yet, it made you happy you were one of the few in on the secret.

“Ok, out with it mister, what’s up ?”

He looks at you with such surprise in his eyes, as if it was the first time someone guessed what he was feeling...and, well, yes. It was. It was the first time someone who wasn’t Alfred got it. Someone realized something was on his mind. And asked him about it, didn't just ignore and move on. Actually cared to know.

“I-Um...”

“Well ? Come on, I think literally nothing can surprise me by now, given you know, I’m faking a relationship with a billionaire, and it’s like, my job now.”

He smiles, and he couldn't possibly know how soft his look was, as he gazed at you.

“I...well, people don’t quite believe in us because-”

“WHAT ?! With all the “dates” and kisses and lovey dovey shit we did ?!”

He chuckles at your reaction, loving how honest you always were, and adds :

“The problem apparently is that you weren’t seen with my son yet, so many don’t believe we’re serious.”

“Oh...”

You met Dick. Because it felt like a necessary step to yours and Bruce’s scheme. And you knew he knew this was all fake...But neither of you wanted to confuse the boy in any way so he was kept mostly out of the plan.

“I talked to him, and it’s actually really up to wether you’re comfortable with it or not. I know he wasn’t part of our contract, and I should’ve probably thought about it, I’m sorry. But um...If you’re ok with it, we could..Do things with him, too ?”

Bruce is really nervous; And you’re pretty sure no one but you (and maybe Alfred) ever saw him like that. It’s kind of...sweet. But you let the silence linger for too long and he hurries to say :

“You really don’t have to ! It’s ok if they don’t think we’re that serious and I get some proposals. I can manage ! You’re still a great help right now. It was just an idea. Dick is a very social kid, he would go along with anything and loves to do activities outside. He would be fine. But if you’re not then we can-”

“No. No no it’s...It’s ok Bruce. The few time I saw him, Dick did seem absolutely a peach to be around. And I always have fun with you, so sure, let’s organize a little something and show those bastards we’re totally real.”

You chuckle a little, your smile and carefree face making his heart skip a beat, for some reasons...Bruce also decided to ignore how happy it made him, to know you were always glad to be with him, and instead, he smiled and settled a date.

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

And here you were. In one of Gotham’s biggest park, opening a basket full of delicious sandwiches made by the one and only Alfred. Pretending to have a great family outing.

“Hey, hey look !”

Dick was absolutely amazing, at acting as if you were really a thing. As if you were really a “family”. Right now, he was doing flips and cartwheels, demanding your attention with avidity.

Bruce made sure to always hide his face from pictures (he was GREAT at noticing where paparazzis were hiding, a life of practice, you assumed), as he wanted to keep as much as he could his son’s privacy (especially after he made all the headlines when he lost his parents).

It was quite adorable. And...You were really having fun.

Dick was such a lively kid, and he was full of talents. The food was good, and it was so comfortable around Bruce. It felt so natural.

This wasn't all that bad. To fake being a family. A good use of your gap year, really.

You purposefully decided to ignore the glint in the boy’s eyes. The way you sort of suspected for him, this was getting real, and not only pretend.

You and Bruce purposefully ignored it, actually. And you both felt shitty for it. Because not only were you risking to break that little boy’s heart when it was all over but...It was too hard to accept that maybe, maybe he was right.

And that all of this ? Might’ve not been as fake as you’d love to repeat yourself.

First Official outing.

First gala. You were terrified. So far all you had to do was hang out with Bruce in the afternoon, there and there. It mainly consisted in him buying you coffee, and keeping the addiction to caffeine real, while talking about anything that would come to your mind. The conversations between you two was always fluid and pleasant.

Or you’d go out with him and Dick, to do some fun things like mini-golf or catching a movie. Nothing too big and scary. It was mainly just you guys, no one else.

It seemed like he knew where the paparazzis would be (most likely because he was “anonymously” tipping them off himself), and he’d take you on random short dates when he had time in between his work, slowly fueling the rumors Bruce was not a heart to steal anymore.

And that he was dating a “commoner” ! (He hated this name for you, while you really didn’t mind that much).

And this gala, was what made it completely official. Finally. It was your idea, to take things “slow”, and hang out with him and his son BEFORE hanging out in public areas like this.

It was clever, really. To make it seems like you were trying to “hide” your relationship by being low-key, to then finally announce everything in public like that, at such an event.

Bruce went to get a drink for the both of you, and you were looking around you, horrified at the mere idea that someone would come talk to you.

But for some reasons, nobody seemed to dare. Maybe Bruce made sure that people would leave you alone ? Even as if you were clearly the talk of the evening, all eyes on you, and not even trying to be subtle ?

You knew he did the same with little Dickie. That he made sure he was safe from the paparazzi and that no unsolicited journalist would come around him.

Thinking of it, where was the little one ? Usually, according to Bruce, whenever there was a gala he would spend his entire time near the food table, eating as much as he could, and he would come home feeling nauseous because of it...Haha sounded like Dick alright. That kid was so-

Oh oh.

Who was that sleazy looking gal talking to him ? He seemed so uncomfortable, yet too polite to brush her off...Oh no, she wasn’t one of them, was she ?

Without thinking twice about it, wether it was your place to do what you were about to do or not, you resolutely walked towards them.

“-Think it’s because he relates to you ? As both of you lost your parents in horrific situations, you know ?”

“I-I don’t know m’am.”

When you saw Dick’s distressed face, and his eyes slowly filling with tears, there was no doubt in your mind.

This woman was not supposed to be there, and was definitely not supposed to talk to that child...

This woman was a - shiver of disgust- tabloid journalist.

Your blood boiled as you saw her take a picture of the teary eyed Dickie, and you were standing protectively in front of him before you could even think about it. When you felt the boy clutch to your sleeve, hiding behind you and holding on for dear life, you knew you wouldn’t regret it.

“Can I ask you why you’re talking to that boy, please ?”

“What, it’s illegal to talk to fellow guests now ?”

“Lady, you’re well in your thirties. He’s eight. You have no right talking to him. Not only is it weird, but I know what you’re doing.”

“Oh, and pray tell, what am I doing, lovey ?”

“You’re trying to get a story out of him. And you should be ashamed of yourself. He’s eight ! And from what I heard, you were asking some very disgusting things back there !”

“I-”

“Shut up.”

Your words came out harsh and determined, and the woman was so shocked she stayed silent for a while. You crouch down to Dick’s level, and ask :

“Are you ok, my little buddy ?”

He nods weakly, and then burst into tears as he launches himself in your arms, clinging to you tightly. You turn your head towards the woman, glaring at her so fiercely she doesn’t dare to take a picture of the scene, even as she knows she could sell them for a golden price.

“You should be ashamed of yourself. He’s just a child !”

The woman was about to say something else, something you knew would fuel your anger further, when Bruce arrived, and it was clear from his face that he was not happy.

A quick look to you holding his crying son in your arms, and to the lady with the camera in her hands, and he understand what happened. With a cold voice you never heard him use before, he says :

“I suggest you leave the area now, before I force you to.”

There was something almost scary, in his demeanor. Almost like...No. Impossible. In any case, you didn’t worry about it much, drawing soothing circles with your hand on Dick’s back, trying to calm him.

People around quickly stopped staring as they met Bruce’s assassin glare. It was not secret, that he was very protective of his son. And of his new girlfriend, apparently.

You picked the little boy in your arms (Dick, at the time, was still so tiny), and Bruce comes closer, trying to soothe him too. And it really looked like all this was real...

Dick fell asleep in Bruce’s arms shortly after that, and was still there when it was time for the gala official pictures. Not wanting to wake him up, for once, Bruce allowed people to photograph the boy, as long as they did not frame his face.

He laid his free hand on the small of your back, and just like you got used to those past months, you pretend to be head over heels for him and have one of your own arm around his waist.

“Would you please allow me to kiss you on the cheek, for the cameras ?”

His question is so sweet, softly whispered in your ears. And you felt like a tease tonight, and maybe a little tipsy too. You tell him :

“On the cheek only ? Let’s give them a show no ? Let them forget about what happened with Dick.”

Of course, you’re only joking, but there’s a light in Bruce’s eyes you haven’t seen before and...It disappears quickly. He chuckles, of that low chuckles that would charm anyone in the world, and says :

“I don’t want to force you to do anything you wouldn’t want to. Actually kissing me, I realize, might be too much.”

You know he caught on your joke, but you can’t brush off that light in his eyes that ignited when you suggested to kiss him...You don’t know why, and it feels you’re not controlling your own words, as you hear yourself say :

“Oh because kissing you would be such a horrible thing wouldn’t it ? Oh my, you’re only one of the handsomest man in Gotham, a rather attractive fella, how could I handle kissing you ? So disgusting !”

Your tone is teasing, and a little bit challenging. He catches on that, too. He answers :

“But I am merely here to serve. I will do as you wish. You only have to say the words.”

His smile fills your vision. His face. And the way he softly holds your waist, even as his other arms is carrying his son (the man was BUILT). And you think...Well, fuck it ! It was time for the first (fake) kiss, right ?

Right here, in front of the cameras, where everyone was seeing you. Making it go full circle. Making it “official”.

“Kiss me then, if you dare.”

You simply say. Releasing a breath you were unaware you were keeping in. And he feels his heart squeeze, and as if he’s sweating a bit. When was the last time he was nervous about kissing a woman ?

He couldn’t remember.

And then he kisses you, the flashes of cameras slowly fading away as his lips melt onto yours.

Wow. What a perfect, and nice, first kiss.

As fake as it might be.

Your room.

Your room at Wayne Manor was bigger than your entire apartment.

You and Bruce decided that sometimes, so you wouldn’t raise any suspicion, you’d sleep at the Manor. Paparazzi were so on top of everything, it would seem weird if he was in a “committed relationship” and you never slept at his place.

So Alfred settled a room for you.

Oh. Alfred ! You met him not long ago, and he was the best !

It felt like he could magically guess what you wanted when you wanted it, and magically appeared with that warm cup of tea you craved, or that meal you’ve been thinking about all day.

But beyond that, he was genuinely nice and made sure to make you as comfortable as possible. He showed you around, and his conversation was so pleasant !

You could actually see a lot of Bruce in him. Or, rather, it was evident that Alfred had raised Bruce most of his life, because they had a lot of similar mannerism, and were both kind and caring (Ah, imagine if Superman knew what you thought of Bruce, how crazy it’d sound to him eh ? But of course, that you’d discover way WAY later).

You never went to explore much when it was time to go to bed, too afraid to get lost. This place was huge, and you never quite had a good sense of orientation.

One could only wonder, what would you have discovered if you ever dared to wake up during the night, and explore his home ?

Build a Bear.

Sometimes, Bruce really had to wrack his brain for original date ideas. Ever since he came back to Gotham, his dating days consist of pretending to sleep with every model in the World.

He’d take them to fashion shows, to galas, to charity events...All very public places, unsuitable for a “serious” relationship like he was hoping to make yours and his pass for.

Enter : Clever little Dickiebird, who always had an idea (and who might’ve been the best wingman someone like the Batman needed...that, of course, he’d discover it way, WAY later) :

“You can take her to a build a bear !”

“Build...a bear ?”

“Yeah, you know. You go and you make your own teddy bear !”

“I do know, I took you to get Chester - the name of Dick’s favorite plushie toy now, and maybe with which he slept-. But...For a date ?”

“What ? It’s cute and intimate !”

“Huh ?”

It has been a long time, since Alfred Pennyworth had to hold his laughter in that hard, and try to stay impeccably neutral. And there, faced with his master Bruce, who was known as the “ultimate womanizer”, the “perfect playboy”, and who was currently taking advice from his eight years old son...It was really hard to keep a straight face.

It was also incredibly adorable. Especially how Bruce seemed to genuinely listen to the little one, unaware that he seemed actually way too interested for things just to be for his “fake relationship” to be more convincing.

Not that Alfred was going to tell Bruce anything.

“Dick, you know (Y/N) isn’t really my girlfriend, right ?”

The way the boy talked about taking you to a date, felt to Bruce like he was forgetting this was all fake. And it was important to remind him.

But Dick had to invoke all the efforts in the world to not roll his eyes as to say : “sure she isn’t”, by now, it was oh so obvious to everyone but you and Bruce that there was a very real thing forming between you two.

Instead, he said :

“But you’re suppose to make the public really believe it right ? If you take her to build a bear, I can assure you they will think you guys are the real deal.”

Bruce pondered this for a little bit, and realized that his son was right. It did seem like a cute and intimate date to bring your girl to, even if she was your fake girl...

Ah. Bruce forgot his own words. “Dick is great at pretending.” He is. He really is. Just like right now, he was pretending his idea was completely innocent, while he knew it would bring you two ever so closer.

That whenever you’d see those bears you were going to build in your home, you’d think of one another. And remember fondly of the memory.

And oh. Oh that boy was right.

Your bear was sitting proudly on your couch, and every time you saw it, you remembered how clumsy Bruce had been, filling his own bear up. And how cute he was, carefully thinking of his options.

And every time Bruce saw his own bear, that Alfred, for some reason, settled in the Batcave on the “trophy shelves” (and for some reason Bruce didn’t take it off of it...), he couldn’t help but think how he had genuine fun that day.

Genuine fun, for the first time in what felt like ages. And how your smiling and giggling face didn’t seem to leave his mind, whenever he saw that bear...

Conniving traitors.

“We both agree, he’s in love with her right ? He’s just too dense to realize it.”

“Oh yes, young Master Richard, he definitely is. And he is dense, at times.”

“Should we do anything ?”

“No more than what you’re already doing.”

“Which is ?”

“Which is continuing to push them in the...Right direction.”

“Oh ! I get it ! I’ll keep going Al’!”

“And I’m sure you’ll make miracles, young master.”

Dick’s smile to the old butler was so pure and happy, that Alfred had a hard time keeping his composure once again.

And oh. Oh how he wish they were right, and that his Master Bruce would FINALLY allow himself to be happy...

Rumors and Truth

Bruce was just a tiny bit older than you. 24, according to his wikipedia page.

And you couldn't help but be a little jealous, as you were looking at the page to re-enroll yourself in Gotham’s university, knowing he was done with college.

Then again, he was obviously a genius and would’ve been done faster than you anyway, even if you were the same age, since he finished his PhD just the year before, while most people don't even START their doctorate until they're around 23/24.

Mmmm. Made you think. Was this just yet another rumors about the man ?

Maybe not, after all it was proven he started college at age 14, and in Ivy Leagues ones, all across the world.

From Cambridge, to Oxford, without forgetting La Sorbonne (A/N : by the way, this is canon haha, Bruce really did start college that early and went to many different places, and honestly, is anyone surprised ?).

This wasn't really something you absolutely couldn't believe, compared to other crazy rumors about him. And you knew he WAS smart.

By then, you couldn't count how many things were circulating about him, and how hard it was to know the truth from just plain old rumors.

He had over a thousand lovers, he had MORE than one PhD (impossible, right ?), he had died once but survived somehow, he was part of a cult, he often lost his status as a billionaire because he gave so much money to charities and such, but his companies meddled in so many areas that his bank account was always filled more and more…

Honestly that last part didn't really surprise you. You saw him gave his money away to things he cared about (like education and medical care) without a second thoughts, so the fact he constantly oscillated between "billionaire" and "multi-millionaire" didn't really surprise you, not when you knew him like you did now.

You totally trusted the rumors that said that by now, he gave away more than he currently owned. It sounded like him alright…But how to know the truth from the downright crazy ? Did he really have a PhD or was this just an addition to how special and different Bruce Wayne was in Gotham ? What kind of PhD did he have anyway ? 1000 lovers, really ?!

So many questions. And not a lot of answers. Even if you grew closer (as friends, of course), Bruce was still somewhat of a mystery to you.

He never really tried to dismiss rumors, even the bad ones (unless they touched his son). Which made you wonder if they were true or not. And you really, really, for some reasons, wanted to know more about him...

“Is something the matter ?”

He asks. Oh goddamn you, day dreaming on one of your regular “coffee date”.

You shake your head, sipping on your drink and say :

“Was just thinking about...Tabloids.”

“Ah.”

He frowns. For understandable reasons.

“I was just thinking about wether some rumors were true or not.”

“What do you think is not true ?”

“I don’t really know, and you never really say a rumor is false so it’s hard to know.”

“Do you want to know anything in particular ?”

Bruce knows it’s dangerous, to let you enter his private life like that. There’s a reason, after all, why he never dismisses any rumors.

It helped build his fake persona, and take away any suspicions that he might be the infamous Batman.

But he felt weak, around you. As if he just wanted to please you, no matter what. Sometimes, he felt dangerously close to just tell you : “ask me anything and I’ll tell you the truth”, even if it meant revealing his night activities...

Crazy, right ?

He knew it was. And that he shouldn’t let it happen. Yet here he was, asking if you wanted to know something. Craving your attention. It felt so unlike him. But...You seemed to unlock a certain part of him.

The one that didn’t die with his parents, and remained hidden. The one that was the old little Bruce, full of hope, honesty and happiness. Full of wish for the future...Even if he knew there was none.

“How was college, for you ?”

You hear yourself asking, really wondering if it was true he was 14 when he started, and if it was...How different you guys were, right ? You were 21 right now, and taking a gap year after two years of college...When he was your age, he had already finished a master (or even maybe two).

"My college years were actually pretty boring, and unlike some rumors say, weren't particularly wild. I was really young."

"Ah, I heard the rumors."

"Those are true, I'm afraid haha."

"Afraid ? You're a genius !"

Which is why you found, more and more, his "himbo" persona to be odd. WHat was Bruce Wayne trying to hide ? Mmm…

Bruce recognized that look in your eyes. The look of someone who was onto something, and it was too frightening to let it happen. So he said :

"Yes well, I feel I missed a lot, during those years. Which is why I make it up now hahaha !"

His boisterous laughter seemed genuine, and totally fooled you. You couldn't always be on top of everything eh ? And this, did answer your question about his himbo persona…Oh, Bruce was good.

And he knew it. He trained for years, to make sure nobody would ever even suspect him to be Batman.

But he had to be careful with you. He knew it. It was obvious. You weren't that easy to fool…

The Day Batman saved you.

The fact he had to be careful with you was confirmed not long after. When, as Batman, he came to your rescue.

He should’ve known, that even with a voice changer, and a mask covering most his face, plus a demeanor that was completely different from his usual one, you’d still get suspicious...He should’ve known because he, by then, knew you quite well.

But, what ? Was he suppose to just let you get mugged ?

He couldn’t.

Even if in the grand scheme of things, it would’ve been better, and he would definitely intervene if it got too rough...He couldn’t.

He couldn’t bear the thought of you getting hurt, or feeling distressed.

He knew this was stupid. That he shouldn’t get so attached. That muggings weren’t really his area of expertise, that to stop them, he had to hit the big bosses. He knew. Small thugs weren’t his target. He had a much bigger vision. And rationally, he should be somewhere else right now.

Yet he couldn’t resolve himself to. Because, and that was a dangerous thought and feeling, he was in l-

“Why are we spying on your girlfriend ?”

Dick’s voice takes him out of his reveries, good. It WAS getting dangerous. Still keeping you in his field of vision (you were slowly going back to your apartment, a few minutes still, and he could leave to do other things knowing you were safe and sound in your home), he answered :

“We’re not spying on her, we’re making sure she’s safe. And she’s not my girlfriend, you know that.”

“Oh yeah ? We’ve been following your “totally not girlfriend” since the night started, awfully looks to me like we’re um, you know, stalking her.”

“We’re not.”

“Suuuuuuuuuure.”

Bruce gives an annoyed look to his son, who had way too big a smug face right now, and says :

“The night is calm, if something comes up we’ll go. But right now, it’s alright. And it has been made official, that she and I are a couple.”

“Fake couple.”

“Fake one to us, not to the public eye.”

“Ooooooh !”

Connections were quickly made in the boy’s head, and he understood why they were following her. After all, this was Gotham. And if THE Bruce Wayne had ONE known lover...Well, it was easy to know it’d attract some nasty business.

Dick was about to make a smug remark of which he had a talent for, when it happened. He pointed at you, fear in his eyes, and Bruce focused your way again.

“Stay here.”

“What why ?! I wanna help her too !”

“Because she’s too smart not to put two and two if she sees you with me. She knows us in our day lives. She’ll recognize us for sure, if we’re together.”

“Oh...”

“Just stay still, ok ?”

“Ok.”

Without a second thought, Bruce jumped down in the street down below, under Dick’s worried eyes. If anything happened to you, he knew his dad would never be the same again.

And he knew he couldn’t bear to lose yet another person he cared about. Even loved. Yes. Yes Dick loved you, as if you really were part of his family...

The months of “faking” family outings made it so. Your worst fear happened. Dick was getting attached, hardcore. And he really hoped you and Bruce would figure out you were actually in love with each others before the end of your “contract”, and before his sometimes very dense dad would decide to let you go...

For now though, he was anxiously looking at Bruce making his way to you, after he spotted a suspicious group of men genuinely stalking you.

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

“Hey pretty girl, can we talk ?”

You stop in your track, turning around, cursing yourself for not having the instinct to just take off running. Oh. But you can see at least one of them has a gun. You can’t run faster than a bullet...

“Ah it is you, isn’t it ?”

You don’t answer, knowing what they mean. Bruce sort of warned you against this. But you didn't take his warnings seriously, and here you were, going home at night, something he definitely told you not to do.

You just couldn’t sleep that night, and needed a walk...And here you were.

“You’re gonna come nicely with us, right ?”

“I dont’ think so.”

Uh ? You’re pretty sure that weird robotic voice wasn’t yours. Even if that’s exactly what you wanted to say. And that’s...oh wow.

That’s when you see him. Batman.

Immediately, the atmosphere grow even tenser. And you can see the thugs who wanted to take you with them fearfully looking at him.

“This has nothing to do with you Batman, leave us alone, we didn’t do anything wrong !”

“It has everything to do with me. Leave.”

“We have to-You don’t understand. We have to take her to-”

“Nowhere. Leave.”

Even if he was protecting you, you had to admit that, that dude was frightening. He had his back to you, and even then, he looked so intimidating and tall and broad...

Bruce was tall and broad too. But he was soft and sweet, not scary at all.

“OH MY GOD LOOK OUT !!”

One of the thug had a gun pointed at Batman. Right at his head. He didn’t have the time to enforce his helmet yet, and if he shot around his mouth, he was done for...

A rock coming out of nowhere hit the thug right in the face.

Coming out of nowhere ? To you, maybe. But Bruce knew that this was little Dickie’s doing. “Robin always has Batman’s back”, he said often...

For the time being, the one taking his gun out being knocked out triggered a “fight or flight” reaction in the others, and as two took off running (and were mysteriously hit by rocks too, knocking them out), three decided to attack Batman.

Bad move.

Very bad move.

In a matter of second, it was over.

He turns to you, and it’s hard to discern any emotions with his lighted eyes and mask. He asks :

“Are you alright, (Y/N) ?”

“How-How do you know my name ?”

“Well, you’re Bruce Wayne’s girlfriend, right ?”

There was no hesitation in Bruce’s voice as, as soon as he pronounced your name, he knew he messed up...but he trained himself to think quickly. And this “fake” relationship was a perfect excuse, of course. Everyone in Gotham knew about you two, by now.

“Oh, right, ok.”

You seemed a bit disappointed, and Bruce couldn’t quite understand why...

It only hits him later, as he was going to bed, why you looked like that. And it made hi heart beat widely. Because he was pretty sure that it was because you sort of hoped Bruce talked to “Batman about you...Oh...Oh this was getting dangerous.

But of course, Bruce had a reputation to be the one funding Batman’s gadget (a really good cover for the fact he was actually Batman). So they’d know each others...

But right there and then, as he just saved you, you felt so stupid, hoping that Bruce would’ve talked to you to Batman. Why would he ? How the hell would your name even show up in a conversation between Bruce Wayne and Batman (but oh, if you knew you occupied his thoughts many times, and who he really was, maybe you’d feel less bad ? It was, in a way, Bruce talking about you to Batman, right ?).

You smiled weakly and shyly at this impressive being in front of you, and thanked him one more time. He nods, smiling too (oh ?), and bid you farewell.

Ah. But Bruce didn’t notice your eyes go wide, as he took off with his grappling hook, and you caught the side of his face in a certain light...

Fake ?

"You know, he smiles more when you’re around.”

Dick tells you once, you look at him curiously, as he continues :

“And before you say it’s “all pretend”, let me tell you there’s a difference between this smile and the fake one. Look, that’s how he pretend.”

On that note, he looked at you and smiled widely, exaggeratedly, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. And it was so like how Bruce portrayed himself in public, that it made you chuckle.

It also scared you a little.

Not because there was a possibility Bruce did smile more around you, but because as that little boy was being silly, and now imitating his adopted father further and oh so perfectly...You felt a surge of love for him.

And that wasn’t good.

Because the day, which was coming soon now, you’d have to “dump” Bruce Wayne, you wouldn’t be able to see that little one again...why would you ?

It’d be too weird, right ? Someone like you, once “broken up”, would have no reasons or ways to ever interact with billionaire Bruce Wayne or his son ever again.

That little boy was the sweetest child you ever met. He suffered a great loss so early in his life, and there he was, making you laugh and being nice by saying you made his dad genuinely smile.

It hurt, to know that one day, you wouldn’t see him again. That he’d grow up, and you wouldn’t know what he became.

You were sure he was destined to become a great man, and you wished you could see it...No. No this was bad. This was so bad.

“I mean it you know.”

His little voice brings your attention back to him.

“I think you make him happy. With you, it feels he can be himself. He laughs more, really laughs. And it’s often that he tells me “oh this makes me think of (Y/N)” and calls you. He doesn’t need to call you for the fake relationship thing, right ? Yet he does. That means something. I think he likes you.”

You shake your head, smiling at this little boy’s wild imagination. No way. No way was THE Bruce Wayne falling for you in any way. Were you guys becoming real friends ? Sure. But it definitely stopped there. Right ?

Oh but if only you knew Dick had a knack to see this kind of things, and to guess people’s real feelings. If only you knew, that yes, Bruce was starting to fall for you...It would make the next episode way less painful for you.

“Catch me dead before you catch me catching feelings” - You to yourself, a few days before starting a fake relationship with THE Bruce Wayne.

“Fuck you” - You to yourself, almost six months in faking a relationship with Bruce Wayne.

This was...bad.

Soon enough, you and Bruce will break this entire deal off, you will “dump” him, and you’d go on your separate ways. And...

This was bad.

Why ? WHY COULDN’T YOU JUST HANG OUT WITH THIS AMAZING CHARMING MAN AND THAT’S IT ? Why ? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GET OUT THERE AND CATCH....

Catch...

Catch those body shivering “feelings”.

Not just for Bruce though. But for the little buddy too.

You felt yourself fall for Bruce slowly, and as if it was completely out of your control. But you also felt like if Dick wasn't in your life anymore...You wouldn’t feel whole again. Like he was sort of your son, too, by then.

This was so bad. How did you get yourself in this mess ? What was that FIRST rule you gave yourself when all this started ?

Right, “Catch me dead before I catch feelings”. Damn it.

Thanks GOD the “marrying season” was finally coming to an end. Both you and Bruce settled you’d wait a few weeks after it to make your break-up official, so nobody would be tempted to cancel any wedding plans to try and force their daughter onto him.

And it couldn’t happen soon enough.

Being around him now, faking being in love, was torture to you.

Kissing him knowing he felt nothing. Holding his hand in public while you knew in your heart he was just putting a show still. And hanging out with him feeling that you had absolutely no chance of this ever evolving...

It hurt.

It hurt so bad.

And you were slowly hoping you never agreed to being his fake girlfriend. Being a living cliche, the money and the fame were REALLY not worth the heartache.

So not worth it...

The end...?

"Well mister Wayne, it has truly been a pleasure to be your "girlfriend" haha. Seriously, I had a lot of fun, and a little revenge on life. You know, I saw Eric and Monica not long ago. They tried to become my friends again, knowing I was with you. It was great, to ignore them like they ignored them. You’re right, they’re really not worth it. And honestly I still don’t think we’re even after they hurt me like they did but...In the end, they looked so outraged. Win-win, really. Thank you very much."

"Thank YOU, for playing along and doing more than you bargained for. You really saved me a lot of hassle and…I had fun, too."

Your taxi was pulling in front of the Manor, and honked as he parked. Clearly, not a very patient driver.

"Well, see you around, Bruce ! If you're not too busy, you know…I kinda consider you a friend by now ?"

"Me, too."

Bruce lied. A "friend" ? No, it couldn't cover and explain all his feelings for you. A "friend". How ridiculous.

As you walked away, giving him a last smile, Bruce felt a pang in his chest.

A painful and yet happy one. A longing one. One that told him that "friend" wasn't what he wanted to be…Not anymore…

But was there really a future for you and him ? Probably not. His nightly activities would get in the way. You deserve more than the life he could give you. Being his "fake" girlfriend, you only took part in his public matters. Part in a fake world full of nice things, that was far from his actual life.

"Friend", he wished he could be more to you than this.

But he knew.

He knew that for your own good, he had to stay away. And oh, oh how he wished he could be more than just your "friend" or "fake" boyfriend.

Yet he watched as you walked away. Without doing anything.

He watched you leave, and felt the hole in his heart expand a little more. But didn’t try to catch you, or stop you from leaving.

And your taxi was already far, now. On its way to Gotham.

"So you gonna run after her oooor…??"

Dick's little voice takes him out of his reveries.

“Mmm ?”

“(Y/N). Are you gonna run after her, or stand there looking like a sad puppy for the rest of your life ?”

“I do not look like a sad puppy.”

“Yes you do, and you know it. Come on dad, why are you doing this ?”

This was the first time Dick called him dad. Which didn’t go unnoticed to Bruce. It meant...It meant something was definitely happening. He felt it in his heart. Something that was dangerous. Oh so dangerous.

Hope. Like the “old Bruce” had. Hope. Full of it. Before his parents were murdered in front of him, for no reasons. Meaningless.

Hope.

To have a family again. Ah. But...Being with you was impossible. And Dick would be enough. He would. He was already enough...

“How long are ya gonna torture yourself exactly ?”

That boy was too smart for his own good. Bruce said :

“I’m not. I just...I can’t be with her.”

“I cAn’T bE wITh hEr !! ...Why ?!”

“You saw what happened, when it was made official we were together. She almost died.”

“And you saved her. Your point being ?”

“Dick...”

“Don’t -he takes a mock Bruce voice- “Dick” me mister ! You’re afraid to be happy, and I won’t have it. You gave me another chance to have a family. A dad. And I’m not about to let my dad punish himself for feeling good. You told me yourself my parents would like for me to be happy. Well yours would too, you big idiot ! So now, you listen to me.”

Dick, meaning business, jumps on the stairs’ bannister to sort of be on eye level with Bruce, and says, pointing his finger at him :

“You take one of those fancy useless sport car, and you run after her. Capish ?”

There’s a moment of silence. During which Bruce is unsure of what to do. And then...Then he smiles at his son.

His son.

“Capish”, he simply says, and he rushes towards the garage’s entrance, under Dick’s happy look.

Success.

Bruce’s car was leaving the estate, when Alfred joined Dick at the front door.

“You did it, Master Richard.”

“I hope I did !”

“Oh you did. You did. Thank you. Thank you for taking care of my son...”

Dick turned to Alfred, who couldn’t keep a straight face this time. Small tears gathered in the old man’s eyes, and sweet little Dick did not hesitate one second before jumping into his arms and giving him one of his famous “Grayson special” hug.

It’s real.

Back to square one.

You. A bad day. Looking like a mess (this time not because of the rain, but because you cried a lot). Your gap year almost over and still not knowing who you were. With no coffee, but at least, you had a tub of ice cream.

You already missed Bruce. And Dick. And Alfred.

You couldn’t believe those six months of “faking” would end up meaning so much to you, and feel so devastating as they ended.

You wish you had never met Bruce. And that you’d been ridiculed by Eric and Monica, that your life would still be pathetic...Pathetic maybe, but at least, your heart wasn’t completely shattered.

You don’t hear the hurried knocks on your door, at first. Entranced by your own sadness. It’s only when they become loud and insistant you react.

You really hope it’s not a journalist. They sort of tried to talk to you so many times, since you “dumped” Bruce...You knew he made sure that they’d stay away, but some were particularly persistent.

Including that awful woman from the charity, who was asking Dick those horrible questions. “Vicky Vale”, was her name, apparently. What a witch.

Clearly, the knocking wasn’t gonna go away, so you stood up, settled your tub of ice cream on your coffee table, and went to the door, ready to fight if need be.

But there was no need for fights.

At least, not in the literal sense of the term.

“Bruce ?”

He seems out of breath. Incredible, given how in shape he was. He doesn’t really leave you any time to say anything else, as he blurts out :

“I was wrong.”

He blurts out out of nowhere, and you’re even more confused. Before you could ask what was all this about, he adds :

“I was wrong. When I said you were the right person because you were “normal”. You’re everything, BUT “just a regular person”. You’re the most fantastic woman I’ve ever met. You decided to help a total stranger just because. I know I helped you before, but it doesn’t compare to what you did for me. Especially on a matter that seems so silly to me now. You put yourself in a very awkward position for someone you didn’t even know. In front of the public, for a guy like me. You knew I was a “playboy”, and that I could very well use you. Yet you still put up with it. You accepted my son, even as you didn’t have to. Even as, just like me, you are so young. You were nice to Dick, even if all you needed to do was pretend. You’re...You’re...You’re just something else entirely. It feels like you know me, the real me. Like you can read my very soul. Like you’re the only one for me. I’ve known for a long time. I ignored it because I was afraid of what that meant but...but a certain little one made me realize this was time. It’s time to move on. It’s time to allow myself to be happy. And so, here I am.”

Was this...it ? The point of your gap year ? To discover that finding yourself...Meant finding your soulmate ?

It sounded silly. While at the same time, not. Because you felt it. You felt it deep within you. From the moment Bruce handed you that twenty dollars bill, fate was in motion.

You meeting Eric and Monica wasn’t bad luck. It was the opposite. It was the Universe’s push towards your real Destiny.

Towards Bruce.

“You’re not saying anything. Is this bad ? Or does it mean I blew your mind away ? I’m clearly hoping for the latter...”

Over the months, you discovered how huge of a dork Bruce Wayne could be. Even as if there was often a darkness right behind his smiles. Deep within his eyes. You discovered he wasn’t always this cocky arrogant man he portrayed himself to be while in public. How he was actually pretty funny and oh so empathetic. How...How so many things, the list seemed endless in your mind.

And it only added to everything, that he looked so unsure. And so you smile. You just smile at him. And everything you feel is in that smile.

You don’t even realize you’re holding each others now, and that you’re kissing...

It’s not pretend this time.

A real first kiss.

Though maybe all your kisses until now weren’t as fake as you pretended them to be.

In any case, this, right now, is a real kiss alright.

A real one.

Full of all the pent up emotions. Free of all the fear and hurt you both felt as you realized you were in love with the other one, yet you thought things were all “fake”.

Because it wasn't fake. It wasn’t.

“I love you.”

You don’t know who said it first. You, or him. You felt so in sync, that it didn’t matter. What is sure, is that you both said it. Before you closed the door to your apartment, leading him in.

Before you spend the night in each other’s arms.

Bruce not even thinking about going out as Batman..

For the first time in years, he decided to fully embrace being happy.

“You always told me my parents would wish for me to be happy, well yours too !” Dick said. And oh, he was so right.

By the way, I’m Batman. Surprise.

“It’s not like I didn’t know, you know.”

“Huh ?”

Oh. Oh the delight to see that surprised expression on Bruce’s face. It was quite a rare one, really. And as he finally gathered the courage to tell you who he really was, risking losing you in the process but wanting to show you his full self...

It was particularly delightful.

“Busted you on that night you saved me. As if I wasn’t going to recognized that jawline.”

“Wait, really ? I really thought you bought my lies !”

“Well now, you know not to underestimate me.”

“I...Do.”

A natural smile reaches his face, and he approaches you, pulling you to him, and laying a soft kiss on your lips. Feeling fully accepted and loved, like never before. And he could see you-

“Oh NO EWWWWWW !!!”

You pull away from Bruce’s kiss (noticing his slow grumble, displeased to lose your warmth), and look at little Dickie (your son too, now !), staring at you two, looking disgusted.

“Get a ROOOOM !!”

This makes you laugh. A lot. And oh. Oh how would you ever guess, in that moment, that one day, this “get a room !!” said in such a disgusted tone would be the trademark of your children (SIX OF THEM) whenever they’d see you and Bruce display any sort of affection to one another ?

You couldn’t guess, of course. But even in that moment, as you softly laughed, in Bruce’s arms, while looking at your son now making exaggerated noises and acting silly, you knew this...

This was what you’ve been looking for during this gap year.

This was who you were.

Right there.

At the heart of a loving family, even if right now, it was just the three of you (four, let’s not forget Alfred !).

The end.

_________________________________________________

And here we are. I hope you liked it ? I feel particularly nervous about this one haha. Don’t hesitate to leave a little comment and reblog :), It’s always greatly appreciated, and encouraging :D. Thanks in advance, and see you soon with a new story !

#Bruce Wayne x reader #Batman x Reader #Batmom #Batfam x Reader #Batfam #Batfamily x Reader #Bruce Wayne imagine #Bruce Wayne #Batman #DC reader insert #Richard Grayson x Reader #Richard Grayson imagine #Batman imagine #Batman reader insert #Robin x reader #AU compare to main Batmom #Richard Grayson #fem!reader

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astaroth1357 · 4 years

Text

Long Distance Longing with the Brothers

Want a little angst and sweetness? I love how this turned out and I think it’s a new favorite for me. I honestly should wait to post it... But I have no patience, I love it too much. Weirdly enough, thank Taylor Swift’s new album for giving me this idea. Go figure. 🤷‍♀️

Warnings: Angst, implied starvation

Intro:

The brothers knew it was going to happen eventually. The year can't last forever, and at some point they were going to have to say goodbye to their human for the break… But that didn't make the situation any easier. Nobody likes being so far from the one they love. It was only a matter of time before our boys are reaching a breaking point...

Lucifer

Lucifer has never really had a reason to not to work before… Like, yeah there are those days where things get stressful and he takes a step back, but actually taking an extended period of time to just... not work? A "vacation" if you will? He’s never had the desire. What would he even do with himself?

Well, for the first time in literal God knows how many centuries, he had an answer for that question. He was going to be with MC.

And that's exactly what he told Diavolo when he finally accepted that missing the MC was negatively affecting his work.

He wanted a… "vacation."

Diavolo had never once thought Lucifer would ever ask, and to be fair the man never thought he would either, but he's more than happy to give his friend a few days off to visit his dear human.

Whatever brief hit that his pride took by having to admit that he needed a break was more than made up for by finally seeing the MC again. He knew he missed them, painfully aware of that fact, but just the sight of them waiting to meet him outside the portal was enough to nearly take his breath away…

His first vacation was sure to be paradise.

Mammon

Oh, the distance was killing this poor boy. Any day where he can’t have the MC on his arm feels worse than when he's on a losing streak…

Speaking of a losing streak, he's been stuck in one for a whole month without his beloved partner in crime with him. Did he lose his lucky charm or was he just too down in the dumps to gamble well? Anyone's guess.

Well he got fucking sick of it. He wanted to see the MC, ASAP. But how would he get to the human world…?

It takes a week but he gets an idea. It took another for it to actually trigger.

Like clockwork one of the witches he's regularly in debt to, one that just happens to be a bad gambler herself, summoned him out to give her a little extra luck. Usually, he'd just kick whatever slot machine she’s parked herself at and be done with it but this time he's got to ask… How long does that summon spell last, eh?

He made a new sort of bargain. She gets to take Goldie out for a spin if she gave him some time in exchange… 24 hours to be exact.

He didn't waste a second after striking the deal because he had a lot of flying to do.

The MC probably didn't expect to hear frantic knocking on their door at the break of dawn, nor to find a beat tired and disheveled Mammon leaning outside it….

But he embraced them for all it's worth anyway. If it meant feeling them in his arms again, he'd trade away the whole world if he had to...

Leviathan

He… didn’t do so well with the distance. Like at all. He'd mope around the house, constantly bemoaning how unfair things were. Not even his favorite games can give him any joy because those were the games he used to play with MC…

Sneaking in the occasional video call was pretty much the only thing that could make him smile anymore. Just seeing their face felt like getting a cold drink in the middle of a scorching desert… But he wanted more.

Thankfully, the MC themselves gave him a really, really good idea…

For two weeks straight, Levi seemed to get out of whatever funk he was in to help out around the House… Like, really help out. Suck-up levels of help out. It creeped everybody out...

After a time he finally approached Lucifer and made a simple request. There was an anime convention going on in the human world soon and he'd like to attend…

The ulterior motive for this little visit is practically written on the wall, but he'd been acting so damn unnerving for the past two weeks Lucifer just gave him permission to make him stop.

When the MC agreed to meet him on the opening day, they said they'd be dressed up as someone he'd recognize. Frankly, he was expecting Henry or maybe Ruri-chan but he was completely floored to see them waiting for him dressed in a familiar black hoodie with coral-like horns on their head and a carefully crafted serpent's tail behind them.

To this day he still can't decide what made him happier: seeing the love of his life so adoringly dressed as him or finally feeling their body collide with his after they came running to each other outside the convention hall...

In the end it probably doesn't matter because for that whole day alone, he finally felt like he had everything he could of ever wanted right there with him.

Satan

Satan's not one for idle moping so when he felt that yearning in his chest finally hit a tipping point, he didn't whine. He didn't complain. He got up and did something about it.

Teleportation magic is tricky to master and dangerous to perform even with sufficient skill. One wrong move and you could end up smearing yourself across three different continents…

But like that would stop him.

He pulled out every book he could find on the subject, researched for days, then practiced for weeks. First on books and apples, then on some of Lucifer’s belongings.

He had to keep making new excuses to throw Lucifer off the scent (especially after he started sending some of his shirts away to different parts of the house) but after some time, it finally paid off.

Satan was probably the last person the MC would have expected to see show up in their room randomly one night, sitting casually by a lamp and reading a book like he didn't just master time and space just to come say hi.

But who was going to be all that picky when they could finally shower their nerdy cat-lover in all the love and kisses they've both been missing for months now?

Asmodeus

If you took Asmo at his word, then the sheer depths of longing and despair he was experiencing while the MC was away could far outweigh that of anyone else to ever have existed in the history of all time.

He was the Avatar of Lust, desire was in his nature. Couple that with a burning need to have his lover as close to him as he possibly could and it was safe to say he was losing his mind!

This might have been the reason Solomon finally gave in after his 16th-ish time trying to beg the sorcerer to help him. He really was quite pitiful in this state...

When Solomon told Asmo that he could smuggle him out of the teleportation gate between the Devildom and human world ONLY if he could magically disguised his appearance, he was kind of expecting Asmo to refuse. This was Asmo he was talking about. He honestly thought that he'd rather die than deprive the world of his beauty so selfishly…

The world is full of surprises, ain't it?

No matter where they were, no matter what they were doing, the MC was suddenly mowed over by a "stranger" running at them at top speed like an Olympic sprinter. It’d probably have been pretty scary before Solomon lifted the enchantment shortly after to reveal their demon’s gorgeously familiar face.

Solomon wasn't going to let him stay too long, lest he incur the wrath of Lucifer, but Asmo couldn't care less. Be it a thousand hours or a few short seconds, he could always find a way to make his time with the MC last a lifetime...

Beelzebub

Fun fact, Hell freezes over a little every time Beel says "I'm not hungry…" No. Seriously. A freezing wind blasts across the entire Devildom like the realm itself gets a sudden chill...

So imagine the levels of panic that went through pretty much everyone there when his appetite started to fail him.

It's not like the poor baby could help it, food just tasted so much better when the MC was there that eating without them was like trying to digest actual disappointment… He got tired of trying after a while.

A few days of this behavior were worrying, but when he started to get a little thinner the family went into an uproar, starting with Belphie but soon spreading to the rest of the House as well.

Lucifer's soft spot for the twins may have influenced his decision. I mean, it was awfully generous of him to get Diavolo to approve of an fully sanctioned, planned meeting between Beel and the MC. He probably wouldn’t have offered that to anyone else...

Not that Beel cared about all that background favoritism anyway. Hell, on the day that he was finally allowed to see them, he couldn't be bothered by anything other than holding the MC close and hoping they'd never let him go again.

His appetite did return to him eventually, of course, but as long as he had his human with him even the cheapest street taco tasted like a fine five star-meal.

Belphegor

Frankly, Belphegor was sick and tired of missing people.

Ever since the Celestial War he missed Lilith. When he was stuck in the attic, he missed Beel. And now that the MC was away he was supposed to just sit patiently and miss them too? No way. Not happening. Something about that had to change.

It wasn’t the first time he'd gone to Lucifer in an angry huff, but admittedly he had more ammo than usual...

There was a… discussion between the two. It went on for a couple hours… There may have been some words to the effect of, "Don't you think you owe me?" exchanged…

Honestly, it was kind of amazing Belphie didn't end up in another attic "timeout" by the end of it. But he got what he wanted, so what's to complain about?

With a little persuasion on his part, Lucifer managed to get Diavolo to approve of a weekly visit for the two, SO LONG as Belphie stayed on his best behavior in the human world.

There wasn’t really much worry about him acting up, though, since he'd have his nap buddy back. It would be pretty hard to be a threat to humanity when he was too busy staying snuggled up to his favorite person until well past noon...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

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angsty-omi · 4 years

Text

second best.

tanaka ryūnosuke x reader; tanaka ryūnosuke x kyoko shimizu

genre: angst, heartbreak, cheating

word count: 1.5k

cw: insecurity

She was beautiful. Her silky black hair, perfect nose, nicely framed glasses, and a cute mole on her chin. Anyone could see it, every volleyball team in the tri-state area attempted to get her number. Kiyoko Shimuzu was her name, and you could not help but see the way your boyfriend looks at her.

The three of you went to school together, since primary. A trio, one would call it ever since the third grade. At recess, kids would say, “It’s no surprise that Y/N, Kiyoko, and Tanaka are all partnered together.” and during a specific game of soccer, you accidentally tripped over the ball and skid your knee. You bit your lip hard, trying not to cry in front of everyone. Your eyes were watery, at the fact that your knee hurt like hell and now everyone was staring at you. To your surprise, Tanaka ran over to you to help you up and guide you to the clinic. When you got there, the nurse sat you down and poured alcohol onto cotton balls. Tanaka offered his hand, and you gripped it lightly, with a slight shade of pink on your cheeks. It was a cute moment until the nurse dabbed onto your joint. Then, you tightly squeezed Tanaka’s hand and screamed some very colorful words. That night, your mom scolded you and sent you straight to your room. While you lay on your bed, you could not help but smile at the event that happened that afternoon. This was the start of your attraction towards Tanaka Ryūnosuke.

When you got to middle school, puberty started to hit you like a truck. The rapid growth of hormones made your face acne-infested. While everyone told you it was normal, you could not help but question why does Kiyoko’s face not look like this then? Her skin was clear and had a nice dew to it. The amount of money spent on drug store products could buy you a whole store. Acne was inevitable, already eating at your brain, and planting their seed called insecurity. Tanaka would always call Kiyoko terms like, ‘gorgeous’ and ‘goddess’ while you had what- ‘funny’? The summer going into high school, you decided to get medical help. Immediately, you were put on accutane. You did not want to see anyone during that whole summer, especially Tanaka. Accutane made your face very dry, crackled, and forced you to put on chapstick every minute. Locking yourself into your room all summer, made you lonely.

Sometimes, you could hear Tanaka and Kiyoko walk by your house and hear them say, “Has Y/N ever responded to your texts? It’s like she’s a ghost.” Tanaka asked.

“Nope, she hasn’t even answered to get our nails done, she must seriously be ghosting us,” Kiyoko responded.

You tear up at the guilt of ignoring your closest friends, but it’s hard when you’re in love with one of them and envious of the other. You did not want your toxic mindset upheld against them, so you justified that it was just for the best.

When fall came around, it was back to school. Your first year. The Accutane, though traumatizing, worked. In addition, being trapped in your room all day introduced you to makeup. Looking in the mirror, you actually started to like what you saw in the mirror. You’ve learned self-care and it paid off. Scanning the sheets on the wall, it looked like Tanaka was in your class and Kiyoko was in the honors one.

“Class 2-B” you read aloud to yourself and sat down at a desk. You left the one seat open next to you, just for Tanaka. When you saw him walk in, your heart skipped a beat. He looked different, in a good way. His hair was shaved, taller, and looked more mature. When you waved over to him, he just glared at you and sat at the seat farthest from you. This made your heart drop. Why was he acting like this? Did I do something? Does he not want to be my friend anymore? Questions rambling in your head. During lunch, you headed over to his desk and pulled the chair behind you to sit down. He just stared at you intently, furrowing his brows signifying anger.

“Ryo-channn, look what I brought,” you gleefully rang, knowing that he would never in a million years refuse your mom’s onigiris. When you took out your bento, you grabbed the onigiri with your hand and put it near his mouth. Still looking at you angrily, he took a bite from the onigiri in your hand and looked away from you.

“What’s wrong?” you worried. He did not respond, so you asked again. “You can’t just act like I don’t exist Ryo, especially if you’re eating from my invisible hand.”

“That’s funny, me acting like YOU don’t exist when you ghosted me for three months? I thought we were best friends, Y/N.” Now, you finally understood why he was so upset. Before you could speak up, there was a knock at the entrance, “Ryo, want to grab lunch together?” Kiyoko said in a monotone voice. It seems that Kiyoko too was also mad at you. You could not help it though, you and Kiyoko were basically sisters up until that summer. “Yeah, let me grab my stuff,” Ryo picked up all his belongings and left you in the dust.

That day, you waited for both of them after practice. Kiyoko was a manager and Tanaka was on the team. Two birds, one stone. When they walked out together, they both saw you. Murmuring to each other. You took a deep breath, “Listen, I’m sorry for not texting you guys back and not spending time with you during the summer. I-it’s just that I felt so i-insecure with myself, I didn’t want to bring you guys down with me y’know?” Tears started welling up in your eyes, you continued, “I would hear you guys talk about me when you passed by my house, and it took everything I had to not just run out and hug you guys. But, I couldn’t. I hated myself for the longest time and I was scared that you two would start to notice it. So, I understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore, but you guys needed an explanation.” You sighed and started to turn around and leave. You fell to your feet, with two bodies tackling you down. “G-guys?” your eyes are still watery. Laughter emitted from their voices, “Don’t do it again or else we will kill you,” Kiyoko threatened.

It was the final set, both teams were tied. Yamaguchi was serving and Aoba Johsai hit it back with ease. The rally probably lasted around a minute, but to everyone, it was slowed down. Until, Tanaka passed the ball to Kageyama, and everyone thought he’d set it Hinata. Instead, he setter dumped. The crowd was silent, not realizing what just happened. Karasuno just won the preliminaries. Every student screamed and chanted at them. You and a couple of other people ran down to congratulate. You ran up to Tanaka’s arms and squeezed him. He swung you around joyfully, and you pulled your face back. There was a moment where it felt like it was just the two of you. The adrenaline of winning finally got to you, and you impulsively kissed him. It lasted maybe around a second or two before you finally realized what you were doing. Mortified, you were rambling with apologies.

“Can you please just forget this ever happen-” he cut you off. Warm lips were pressed onto your lips. You were shocked at first but slowly sunk into the kiss. This was the start of your relationship with Tanaka Ryūnosuke.

Kiyoko never spoke about her feelings about her best friends dating. In fact, she hated it. But it was out of character for her to be so opinionated. She could not stand the fact that you guys would cuddle during movie night nor how he would hold your hand during the walk home. She did not necessarily like Tanaka that way, but she did miss the attention he gave her. Who wouldn’t want someone calling you pretty 24/7? And to reject them was a power move. No one would ever know, but he was the reason why her confidence shot up. The confidence to reject handsome men on different teams. All started because of Tanaka. Although, now that he was with you, the flirting stopped. She could feel herself start to become jealous and it started to infect her brain. During practice, Yachi would gush about how cute you and Tanaka were while Kiyoko just had to listen.

“Y/N is too cute,” Yachi cheesed. Kiyoko couldn't take it anymore, “Listen, I am way prettier than Y/N and Tanaka could do much better” it just slipped out. She was surprised at what she just said, and even more surprised that she didn’t even feel an ounce of guilt.

“Like you?” a voice appeared. It was Tanaka. “R-Ryo,” she muttered. “We should talk outside.”

Once they were both outside, Tanaka spoke first.

“You don’t get to do this. You rejected me countless times and now t-that I’m with someone you can’t just profess your feelings for me.” Tanaka hissed.

“I-I know, it’s just- I didn’t realize what I had until I lost it. Imagine how I feel seeing you guys together, the man I love with someone else. Someone who is inferior to me.” Tears welled up in Kiyoko’s eyes.

“Do you even hear yourself right now? Love? Please. You don’t love me. You never will.” He bit his lip sharply.

Silence.

“Then look at me and tell me you don’t love me. Because not once have you said that you didn’t feel the same way, you only said that you were dating Y/N” Kiyoko sobbed.

“You know I can’t do that,” Tanaka whispered. Then, Kiyoko leeched on him, pressing her lips against his. He wasn’t kissing back, but he wasn’t pulling away either. He was conflicted. He was too dazed and decided to just give in.

Little did they both know, there you were watching at the scene. Well, now you were hiding behind a wall, peeking at them, kissing. You could physically hear your heart-shattering. After wiping the nonstop tears flowing on your face, you left.

Grief turned into anger. You threw every picture, gift, and sweater into the trash bag. Your eyes only saw red. Your room was left bare and cold. The bedroom door knocked in a rhythmic beat that only one person did. When he walked in, his eyes gazed at every spot in your room. It was empty.

You looked down at the ground, “I always knew I was second best in your heart.” You whispered, tears threatening your eyes. “What?” His face contorted in a confused stance. “I should’ve seen it coming y’know? But I just thought maybe— maybe he’d pick me.” You continued. He started getting worried, “What’re you talking about?” The fact that he was here, blatantly lying to you, gives you all the answers you needed.

“Please don’t act like that, not with me”

“Act like what?”

“Clueless. Ry-Tanaka,” you corrected yourself. “If you love her, then go for it. But don’t act like you’re still in love with me. It hurts-” Your voice broke mid-sentence.

“It was a mistake,” He pleaded.

“A mistake? No, mistakes happen impulsively. T-This whole thing with Kiyoko was premeditated. All my life, I have been trying to compete with her. Grades, appearances, and even you. And when I had you, I thought, I had won. I won the best prize ever. You. But now-” You dropped to your knees, “I don’t even have you.”

He wiped your tears with his hands, “But you do, you do have me,”

“No, no I don’t,” you denied.

“Yes you do baby, I’m right here. I choose you.”

You were not some decision, you were his girlfriend and yet, he thought that would make you happier. “Nonono, you don’t get it. I don’t want you anymore. These tears aren’t for you, they’re for me. Seeing you kiss Kiyoko? I felt nothing and that scared me. Maybe I wasn’t in love with you, maybe I just wanted to beat Shimizu that bad. Who knows? But, by the looks of it, I did win. I got to you first.” You punctuated every word, prying his hands off your face. Of course, you were lying your ass off. You’ve loved this man ever since that day in recess. Revenge had poisoned your heart though, and you wanted him to feel an ounce of you were feeling.

“We’re done. There I have let you go, now you are free to do anything you want with Kiyoko. Date her or reject her, it’s not my issue anymore.” Tanaka couldn’t even recognize you anymore. Though it was your voice and your physical look, it was like your soul had been drained, and in replacement was someone who was cold and emotionless.

A/N: I’m back! I’ve fixed my writing style so everything is capitalized properly. Requests are greatly appreciated! Just shoot a message. Also, this story was inspired by my drabble and a person actually asked me to write one for Tanaka, so here you go @aestheticno !

likes & repubs are greatly appreciated. :D

#haikyuu angst #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #tanaka x you #hq tanaka #tanaka angst #hq kiyoko #tanaka fluff

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leighlew3 · 4 years

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Source: (x)

I’d say this is it. On top of everything else, I’d say THIS is the cherry on top of definitive proof of Supercorp having been planned/attempted all along.

According to this S2 finale script with unaired moments, Lena had literally JUST left the room after they made future dinner plans together post-Mon-El loss, and then Kara has a talk with Cat in which Cat says love is still ahead for her… wow. Seriously. It’s 99.999% undeniable at this point.

Especially because even if they changed the idea of them having dinner plans and removed that scene, the very next episode on screen in 3x01, we still had the moment where Kara is looking at photos of her with Mon-El, then she tells herself to wake up, sets it aside, texts LENA, who responds with a RED HEART EMOJI, and Kara smiles authentically for the second time since losing Mon-El (first time, also being at Lena during the statue dedication). Meanwhile the romantic-vibe song lyrics “good for me, what I need...” plays over the moment, and then Kara has the strength to move on and go meet her friends. So there’s a character losing one love interest, then another steps up as the obvious next choice/endgame that gives the person hope, as all signs around them also point to it as well, which is a pretty typical narrative set up for writers in situations like this.

They clearly were always trying to set Lena up as Kara’s future love interest/ultimate endgame. Repeatedly. All of these script leaks (on top of what we’ve seen on screen all along as well) just confirms it. That one writer (who co-wrote this 2x22 script and the other one for 3x17 where she actually mentioned “Supercorp” directly on the page) officially confirmed she was rooting for it, and we see obviously was trying to set it up in the writing as well. Which by extension then confirms that someone - either showrunners or execs at the top - have forced them to remove these elements, halt development, go in other directions, or possibly in the case of S5 - delay it - every step of the way. Writers have clearly aimed for Supercorp more than once over the years. And it seems someone has clam-jammed it every damn time.

So now, once again, here we are, back to the same old question… now that the show is ending, if it was a network or executive level clam-jam, are they FINALLY going to let the show go there? Or are they going to dig in their heels just to break an ankle and go out having wasted the ripest element in the show’s entire run - its biggest and most potentially impactful and memorable love story - and being one of the worst queer baiters in TV history, never fulfilling the best and most organic outcome for Kara, Lena, the show and the fans, due only to ego and/or homophobia? Same for the showrunners, IF they’re the hangup instead/also (hopefully not, but who knows)?

Lastly, these scripts made it clear that they were also trying to make it obvious that Mon-El was NOT Kara’s endgame, nor anything remotely close to that. It was simply a first real relationship along the way of her finding her true soulmate. We’ve said all along that she didn’t like him in that way, until she became lonely and saw everyone else paired up, so she pushed herself to finally give him a chance since he liked her and she had nobody else. She even grew to love him, as she admits, but obviously she recognized that she got with him because she wanted to experience a relationship like everyone else had, and that says a lot. Especially when you combine it with her on screen blow up later, where she openly admitted she over romanticized their relationship, and he treated her like crap, and she was obviously glad it ended, and then again when she never gave into his attempts to get with her in S3, and easily let him go yet again in the S3 finale, and barely paid him attention in the 100th.

These scripts just fully confirmed that Kara wants a soulmate/deep relationship, but she never really wanted Mon-El, specifically. She simply desires true love (like she’d told James - wanting her perfect game night partner, which was confirmed in S4 to be Lena, and someone who knew everything about her, which as of S5 is also Lena). I’ve always said that while Kara grew to love Mon-El and was hurt by losing him, she was more hurt by losing the potential he represented of her having a true love, having happiness, etc. And this script confirms that. He was NOT the one, and she’s always known it, which is why she’s never mentioned him since, and barely paid him attention in the 100th except to discuss Lena, and he didn’t even exist in a world where she and Lena were partners.

The whole “Karamel vs Supercorp” of it all really shouldn’t even be up for debate anymore. They have made it clear, time and again both on screen and in these unaired script pages, that he is not Kara’s soulmate nor endgame. So unless the show decides to go against their own history and character development out of absolutely nowhere and pull something out of their arse at the last second that won’t make any sense and would send bad messaging and upset the bulk of their remaining audience, it won’t (and shouldn’t) happen.

Meanwhile, again, they’ve also made it clear, time and again both on screen and in these unaired script pages, that Lena is Kara’s soulmate and endgame.

So let’s see what they do with that. Throw it all away? Or soar, and finally fulfill the story they’ve been telling all along, while also make history, by letting Supergirl finally have what she’s always dreamed of: true love. And Lena. Because those two things are one in the same, per their own narrative.

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aliwritesfic · 3 years

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The Night Shift Part 6 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

Summary: It's Saturday, your dickhead boyfriend is out of town, an old friend is in town, and it's time to get drunk!

Warnings: Drinking, mention of drug use, crippling self doubt

W/C: 4.3k

Spotify

Part 1 Part 7

Somehow, the week went exceptionally well. You bugged Frankie each day for the photo he promised you, and each time he grinned and told you that good things came to those who waited. On Wednesday you received a call from the vet telling you the kitten was going to be fine, and she would be put up for adoption when she was old enough. You were initially crushed that the kitten wasn’t going to be yours, but told yourself it was good she was bound to go to a good to a family. You couldn’t give the kind of life a cat deserved.

But most of all, you were almost unreasonably excited for the weekend. You bounced with excitement every time you thought about it - hell, even things with Kurt seemed to be going better. He had planned a hunting trip up north with a few of his friends, and would be gone from Thursday til Monday. He had brought you a bunch of flowers when he ‘broke the news’, not your favourite kind but it was the thought that counted. An entire four days to yourself was more than enough incentive for you to almost force him out the door on Thursday afternoon. With a kiss and a packed lunch and a promise to call, he was gone and the apartment was blessedly empty.

Even better, your best friend Sara was in town.

Fifteen minutes after you watched Kurt’s car pull out of the apartments parking lot, watching the window carefully to make sure he didn’t come back, you called her.

“Can we do something on Saturday? Get drunk, do bad things, anything?” You said by way of greeting.

“Oh hell fucking yes, I’ve been waiting for you to be fun again!” Sara said. You knew that was a not so subtle jab at how much you had changed since Kurt entered your life. You ignored it, like you usually did.

“Saturday sound good to you? I work Friday night and I can’t take it off.” More like you didn’t want to take it off.

“Saturday sounds fantastic. There’s a big fight night happening, and I wanna watch some hot sweaty guys pummel each other.” Sara said. “We can get drunk at the same time. Also I can get some molly if you want.”

“I’ll think about it,” you said, not entirely opposed to the idea of spending the night high as shit. Especially if Kurt wasn’t going to be there to yell at you for it.

“Let me know, sooner rather than later so I can sort it out with my guy,” Sara said. “Anyway babe, I’ve gotta jet, I’ve only got five minutes left on my break and I haven’t eaten yet, love ya!”

“Love you too,” you said, meaning it with your whole heart. Out of all the friends you once had, Sara was the only one who had stuck around after you started dating Kurt. At first, you had choked it up to jealousy, convincing yourself all your other friends were envious of your perfect relationship with a perfect guy. Now looking back, you could see what really happened: you had ditched them. Completely and utterly. Kurt had taken up all of your time, convincing you to stay in when you had plans to go out, telling you that the girls you would have trusted your life with only barely put up with you and it was just so obvious to anyone with an outsider's perspective that they didn’t really like you. You were grateful for Sara, more than words could say.

~*~

Saturday came quickly, and before you knew it, Sara was slamming her fist on your door, a bag stuffed with alcohol slung over her shoulder.

“Bitch!” she screamed in greeting when you finally opened the door, still wrapped in your towel from your shower. She was already dressed, in a tight gold 70s style jumpsuit that made her dark brown skin look like it was glowing from the inside out.

“How do you manage to look so good all the time?” You said, stepping aside to let her in.

“Witchcraft,” Sara said, pulling a bottle of prosecco out of her bag and popping it open. “And like, this whole thing took me all day. Why aren’t you ready yet?”

“I’ve been sleeping all day,” you said, plucking the bottle out of Sara’s hand and taking a swig. It was cold and crisp and filled your partly empty stomach. You continued to take small sips as you got ready, occasionally asking Sara for her girly wisdom on what to wear. She picked out your outfit as you applied makeup. It felt almost foreign, using something other than a mascara and brow pencil. The use of colour and shimmers almost felt like breaking some unwritten rule you had created for yourself since dating Kurt.

“What happened to all your fun clothes?” Sara whined, going through your wardrobe. You shrugged, carefully applying bronzer. Honestly, you weren’t sure. Sometimes things just went missing - you didn’t really question it anymore.

“I’m a miracle worker.” Sara declared after almost fifteen minutes of searching. You looked up at her, then at the small bundle of clothing in her arms. She grinned and flung the pile at you. You held up a black pleather skirt that you hadn’t worn in almost a year, and a black body suit that dipped low in the chest.

“Christ,” you muttered.

“What’s wrong with it,” Sara sounded exasperated, like she had been expecting this from you.

“It’s just-” you hesitated. “I’m not going out to get dick, you know? What’s wrong with a pair of jeans?”

Sara rolled her eyes. “What’s wrong with a pair of jeans? I’ll tell you what: everything. You don’t have to have dick as the aim of the night to look cute. You can look cute for yourself. You know just as well as I do that skirt makes your legs and ass look amazing, especially when paired with the shoes I’ve brought for you. Plus, if someone out tonight decides you look cute enough to buy you drinks, then even better! Because free drinks! You don’t have to fuck them as a thank you, you can just turn around and walk away. So, get dressed and stop complaining.”

You considered Sara’s words for a moment. She was right. After you changed, you admired yourself in the mirror. Your ass really did look amazing, and the strappy black heels that Sara had loaned you accentuated your calves magnificently. Sara stood next to you, arm linked through yours, almost a foot taller in her platforms and with her afro teased to the high heavens.

“God, we’re sexy,” she murmured, taking another swig out of the bottle. “You’re absolutely wasted on Kurt.”

You didn’t bother with your usual retorts to that kind of comment. She’s wrong, you’re lucky to have someone to love you like that at all, no one else would want to if they got to know you, you told yourself. It’s what he had told you over and over again, the words searing themselves inside your brain to repeat each time you began to truly doubt with him.

You finished off the prosecco while you waited for the Uber to arrive, enjoying the warm buzz it left you with. Sara whipped out her phone and began to take photos of the two of you. At first, you shied away from the camera, the words Kurt had said once in a throwaway comment, surely not designed to hurt but did anyway, rang in your ears. You don’t look very good in photos, why do you take so many? After that, you would spend hours staring at old photos of yourself, the flaws that were invisible now glaringly obvious.

Tonight though . . . Tonight you felt pretty. You posed for the camera, following Sara’s instructions as best you could. You took photos of each other throughout the entire ride to the venue where the fight night was taking place.

It looked a little shabby on the outside, overgrown hedges snaked up the walls, covering the windows. A smoking area was off to the side, crowded with people. The inside was even more crowded, with bodies pushing up against the horseshoe shaped bar and surrounding the ring. Two women were in the ring, both bloodied and swinging.

“God there is just something so arousing about hot people consensually beating each other up,” Sara said, unable to tear her eyes away from the ring.

“Babe, you’re drooling,” you joked, stepping in line for the bar.

“I can’t help it, I have an overactive salivary gland,” Sara sighed, tearing her eyes away. “At least my dentist says so.” You grinned at her and ordered three vodka sodas each. It was a tradition with the two of you that you would always order three drinks at a time. Less back and forth, you had reasoned. Although, usually as the night progressed, three drinks were downed in the same amount of time it took to drink one, so it really cancelled itself out in the end.

As tradition warranted, you and Sara cheersed and swallowed your first drink in one breath.

Several more fights occurred, the divisions eventually changing from women’s to men’s. Neither you nor Sara paid much attention to the first few fights: “amateur hour” Sara had said to you “I’m waiting for the good stuff.”

The good stuff, it turned out, started almost an hour and 5 drinks after you arrived.

“Next fight, King V Miller!” The announcer shouted into the microphone to the cheer of the crowd. Sara’s head shot up as if she could sense the sudden change, and she grabbed your hand, tugging you closer to the ring.

“Oh, my god look at him,” Sara said, gesturing to the ring. You knew instantly which one she was talking about. He was tall, with shaggy blonde hair and lean muscle corded over his body.

“He’s pretty spry,” you said, and instantly cringed. Spry? Really?

“I wanna fuck him tonight,” Sara said. Then her voice took on a determined edge. “I am going to fuck him tonight.” Manifestation, Sara called it. If you told the universe what you wanted, the universe would deliver.

Apparently.

“I am going to get more drinks,” you told her. She nodded, not tearing her eyes away from the fighter. You went to the considerably less crowded bar- it seemed like everyone was now watching the fights- and leant against its sticky surface.

You shouted your order over the noise of the crowd, and scanned the bar as you waited. Most faces were familiar in the way that you knew when you had seen someone before, but you didn’t know when or where. That was, until you landed on one dazzlingly familiar face, standing almost right next to you.

“Frankie?”

~*~

Frankie startled at the sound of his name. He looked around, expecting to see one of the boys or maybe an old work friend from the mechanics. The last person he expected was you. But there you stood, looking so good that he was momentarily lost for words.

“Frankie!” You said again, with a huge grin on your face this time.

“Hey!” He grinned back, “what’s a girl like you doing in a dump like this?” His tone held a flirty edge, one he wouldn’t dare have used if he hadn’t already had several bourbon and colas.

“Oh you know, I plan on accosting the winner tonight of all their prize money and taking off into the night, never to be heard from again,” you accepted three drinks from the bartender as you spoke. “What about you?”

“My friend Benny is fighting tonight. He’s actually up right now, the blonde one.”

Your jaw dropped. “No way! My friend wants to fuck your friend.” You pointed your chin towards a tall black woman, dressed like she had wandered out of Studio 54. “Is he single? Can we play wingpeople?”

“He is, we can.” Frankie nodded confidently. Maybe it was the alcohol controlling his brain, but any excuse to spend time with you seemed like a good excuse. “How should we do this?”

“Does your friend Billy-”

“Benny.”

“Benny stick around after the fights?”

“Yeah, he gets free drinks,” Frankie said. You nodded approvingly, taking a sip of one of your own drinks. Frankie watched amazed as you somehow held the two others in one hand, your fingers curling around the hard plastic cups.

“How do you do that?” He asked.

“Do what?”

“Hold your stuff like that,” he gestured to your fingers. You looked down, confused.

“Whatta’ya mean?”

“With your fingers.”

“Oh! Um, I dunno, I just do.” You shrugged and placed the now empty up on a random table, and started on the next drink. It occurred to Frankie that you were well on your way to being very, very drunk.

The crowd cheered loudly as Benny knocked out the other guy with a bloody grin. Frankie whistled his support and Benny caught his eye, saluting tiredly. Santi also caught his attention, and even across the room Frankie could see the wicked grin form on his face. Frankie looked away quickly, not willing to give the bastard any ideas.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Frankie asked, trying to keep his voice casual.

“Some stupid place doing some stupid hunting,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “Fuck him anyway he never lets me do anything fun.”

“What do you mean ‘lets you’?” Frankie said, his brow furrowing.

“I mean, he’s a controlling dickhead!” You said, then slapped a hand over your mouth. “Don’t tell him I just said that! Please!”

“I won’t, I promise,” Frankie said.

“Just forget I said anything,” your voice had taken on an almost desperate edge.

“It’s forgotten,” Frankie lied. He didn’t know how, but he was going to bring it up later. The idea of your boyfriend ‘not letting’ you do something had taken root in his brain, and somehow it made him furious. He took a deep breath, counting slowly to calm himself down.

“Who’s that guy who keeps making faces at you?” You asked, gesturing across the bar. Frankie sighed.

“Santi.” Frankie rolled his eyes at his old friend and waved him over. His curly hair friend bounded over, flashing you with a brilliant white smile.

“Well, hello there,” he said, winking at you. “Santiago Garcia, but you can call me whatever you like.”

You smiled sheepishly and gave him your name, “I work with Frankie.” Santiago’s grin widened at this piece of information, and Frankie groaned internally.

“You’re the girl Frankie told me about.”

“Chatting shit, I’m sure,” you laughed, but Frankie didn’t miss the questioning glance you sent his way when you spoke.

“Santiago was the one who took that photo I told you about,” Frankie said quickly, not wanting you to get the wrong idea. You nodded and leant over towards Santi.

“He keeps promising to show me but he’s yet to deliver,” you said, winking at Frankie. His stomach jumped, breath caught in his throat. He knew you were joking but he couldn’t help but feel like he had disappointed you somehow.

“That’s my fault,” Santi said, “I keep meaning to get him a copy but since he’s sleeping all day I haven’t been able to.” You nodded and turned to Frankie.

“I should go find my Sara before I lose her for the night,” you said, looking at Frankie. “Come find me - I mean, us later? With your Benny?”

“Yeah, of course,” Frankie said, watching as you disappeared into the crowd. The urge to grab you and kiss you grew with every second, but he restrained himself. He wasn’t that kind of guy, and no amount of drinks would make him think it would be a good idea to do that to someone. Let alone you.

~*~

Frankie’s head was cloudy with alcohol, he couldn’t stop thinking about how good your ass looked in that tiny skirt, how he wanted to plant his face directly in your chest.

“Fucking hell, get a grip,” Santiago said, shaking his friend by the shoulder. They were back in the locker rooms, Benny was buzzing with his win. He and Will were going their post match ritual of smacking each other on the back and releasing loud “woo”’s.

“I’m fine,” Frankie insisted, and Santi scoffed.

“You’re full of shit,” he said. “Ironhead, tell this idiot he’s full of shit!”

“You’re full of shit, Fish!” Will said automatically. “But what’s he full of shit for?”

“He’s in denial about pining for the chick he works with,” Santi said. “Look at the poor bastard, it’s written on his face.”

“Fish, you’ve never been good at keeping a straight face when it comes to emotional crap,” Benny said. “All other stuff, you’re great. Just not when it comes to matters of the heart. Or the dick.”

“You should’ve seen the way he was looking at her,” Santi laughed. “And the way she was looking at him, making bedroom eyes at each other.”

Frankie rolled his eyes, ignoring how the last comment made his heart leap. “You’re all stupid, she’s just a work friend saying hi. Nothing more.”

“Full of shit!” Benny cackles. “Look at his blush!” Frankie groaned. They were right about him at least. He had it bad for you.

But that didn’t matter. You had a boyfriend, and even if everything Frankie found out about the guy made him resent him a little more, he couldn’t change that one important fact. And he wasn’t stupid enough to ruin the beginings of his friendship with you over a stupid fucking crush. He just wasn’t.

Benny showered, singing You Belong With Me and switching out the pronouns as he did. The man was an unashamed Swiftie, claiming that she had a song for every situation. Frankie pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep swig of his beer. Will sat beside him and nudged him gently.

“What are you gonna do?” he asked.

Frankie frowned. “What? I’m not gonna ‘do’ anything. She has a boyfriend, end of story.”

“Sorry to hear that man,” Will said, sounding sincere. He knew Frankie wasn’t the type of guy to wreck someone else's relationship for purely selfish reasons. “You’re a good man.”

Frankie wished he wasn’t.

Benny changed into his regular clothes quickly, and said something about needing a drink. The four of them left the locker room and made their way to the bar, and Frankie couldn’t help but look around for you. When he couldn’t see you, he bit back the slight disappointment that sank in his stomach. Benny brought a round for the group and they found an empty table to sit at. The employees of the bar were dismantling the ring to make room for a dance floor. Loud, thumping music started playing and within moments the floor was packed with bodies.

“Frankie! And Frankie’s friends!” Frankie looked around at the sound of your voice, which was high with excitement. You bounded over, clutching the hand of the friend you had pointed out earlier. You introduced yourself and your friend Sara to the group and pulled up a chair for you and Sara each. Frankie didn’t miss how you placed Sara’s chair next to Benny, or how Benny was staring at Sara with his mouth slightly open. He also noticed with a slight pang how you sat yourself between Will and Santi, directly across from him.

What he didn’t was how much you kept looking at him. Lucky for him, Santi and Will noticed plenty.

You and Sara spent a few hours with the group, until a not so inconspicuous Benny and Sara both disappeared, Sara throwing a wink towards you as she left. Will left not long after, saying that his bed was calling his name. Santi stayed a little longer, flirting with you much to Frankie’s annoyance. To his credit, he didn’t show you the catfish photo. Frankie wanted to show you that one himself, when you were both sober.

“I better head out,” Santi said as it rolled past three in the morning. “I’ve gotta babysit Lee tomorrow, and you know how hyper he is.” He turned to you and kissed your hand. “It was the deepest pleasure meeting you, don’t be a stranger. Frankie.” Santi raised an eyebrow and shot him a meaningful look.

“Good night,” he said a little forcefully, shoving Santi towards the door, mainly to get him to stop flirting with you. He knew the flirting was just incentive to spur him into some kind of action with you, but it wasn’t going to work.

“Your friends are nice,” you said, struggling to connect the straw of your drink with your mouth.

“They’re assholes most of the time. They’re just nice to beautiful women.” Frankie regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. Shit! Now she thinks I think she’s beautiful. She is! But she doesn’t need to know I think that! Frankie finished off his drink to avoid looking at you.

“I’m attractive til they get to know me,” you said with a snort.

“What makes you think that?” Frankie asked, confused as to how that could work.

“I don’t think,” you said, “I know. It’s a fact. One that cannot be argued.”

Frankie was about to argue with you about this when you turned away, stumbling as you did. She’s super fucking drunk, Frankie thought, grabbing your arms to steady you. Your skin was so much softer than he anticipated, sending a jolt through him. He let go quickly, mouth going dry as you beamed up at him.

“You saved me!” You declared, then finished your drink quickly, emitting a small burp. “To thank you, I must give you a token of my gratitude. I know! A drink! Three drinks for the kind sir! And three for me!”

“Jesus, how much have you had?” Frankie asked, laughing.

“Only a little bit,” you shrugged and thought for a moment. “Maybe like, a dozen vodka sodas and some shots and also half a bottle of prosecco. And also a teeny tiny bit of molly, but that was hours ago, so it’s basically gone.”

“Maybe I should walk you home,” Frankie suggested gently, amazed that you were still upright let alone getting served. You shrugged.

“I can just get an Uber or something, it’s fine.”

“No, no, don’t waste your money, let me walk you.”

You looked up at him with slightly unfocused eyes. “Yeah, okay.”

The cold air outside hit the both of you like a wall. Stars scattered across a moonless sky, leaving Frankie wonderstruck for a moment, until he noticed the goosebumps on your arms. Without a second thought, Frankie took off his jacket and placed it gently around your shoulders. You looked up at him, a surprised look on your face.

“Frankie, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, so, I have this friend, right? And she’s been dating this guy for years now. They live together, no kids or anything. But she told me a little while ago that she’s been feeling . . . trapped.”

“Trapped?”

“Yeah. Like, she doesn’t think she loves her boyfriend anymore. At least, not in a way that she should. And he’s so mean to her, too. He doesn’t hit her or anything, but he’s also not super nice to her, and-and she doesn’t always know what she did to deserve it. She doesn’t know what to do.”

“Can she leave?” Frankie suspected you weren't talking about a friend, but he didn’t press beyond what you were willing to tell him.

“Not easily, I don’t think. She doesn’t have enough money for her own place and- and she’s afraid.” Your face flushed.

“What’s she afraid of?”

“Being alone. Unloved. She doesn’t have any family or anything and her boyfriend is the closest she has to that. So um, if she was your friend, what would you say to her?”

Frankie was thoughtful for several moments. He didn’t want to fuck this up. If his suspicions were correct, you were talking about yourself. “Well, first of all I would tell her that her boyfriend is a massive dick, even if he doesn’t hit her, boyfriends shouldn’t make their girlfriends feel like shit. I would tell her to talk to her friends, ask for their help. I would also tell her that being alone doesn’t have to mean lonely, and it certainly doesn’t mean that she’s going to be unloved.”

You nodded thoughtfully at this. Frankie took this as a good sign. “She can’t know for sure what her life will be like, but my guess is that it will be better if she chooses to leave this asshole.”

The rest of the walk was spent in silence. Frankie knew you were thinking about what he said. He too, was lost in thought. Trying to figure out a plan to help you in any way he could. All too soon, you arrived at your apartment building.

“Thanks for this,” you said, taking off the jacket and handing it to him. Frankie nodded.

“You needed it more than me,” he said simply. “I’ll see you at lunch tomorrow?”

You nodded, and then as if you weren’t entirely sure if what you were about to do was a good idea, you wrapped your arms around him. Frankie stiffened for a moment before hugging you back, holding you to him tightly, breathing in your scent of perfume, sweat, and alcohol. You were warm and soft and everything in him was screaming don’t let go.

“Thank you,” you whispered in his ear, and he knew you weren’t talking about the jacket.

Taglist: Taglist: @hnt-escape @sharkbait77 @1800-fight-me @annathewitch @darnitdraco @frankiecatfish @punkerthanpascal @nakhudanyx @gracie7209

#the night shift #frankie x reader #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier

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ladyeliot · 4 years

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Exceeding expectations

Valentine’s Day (Masterlist)

Request: Anonymous: Hey this is for the Valentine’s Day promps! Tony, ⚡️, enemies to lovers, 4. & 11.

4. “I bought a dress, shaved my legs, and put makeup on. I refuse to be stood up.”

11. “Cupid just shot me in the ass with an arrow!”

Pairing: Student!Tony Stark x Fem!Student!Reader

Summary: All your life you have been focused on your studies, for you that was all that mattered, but during your third year of university things take a sharp turn and love appears in your life.

Warnings: College AU. SMUT ⚡️

Word count: 7254

A/N: This is very long! It has gotten out of hand. Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

At the age of thirteen you had discovered that love, or rather what adults used to call love, because you barely knew what those four letters meant, doesn't always bring you happiness. Jason Filton had sent you a note in the middle of Biology class informing you that you were no longer dating and that his new girlfriend was Sarah Rickman. After reading it, you threw the paper over his head as hard as you could, making all your classmates laugh and you ended up in the headmaster's office. At that moment you decided that love was rubbish, as well as everything else that had to do with it, so you chose to dedicate your life to more important things, such as your studies, and that's how you got a place in one of the best universities in the country.

For the first two years of aeronautical engineering you abhorred any distraction that would make you lose track of your own path. No parties, no conversations of more than ten minutes with anyone that weren't helpful to your future, no going home for holidays, it was all a waste of time that tended to break up your daily routine. Your university lifestyle tended to be unconventional, and unconventional didn't tend to go unnoticed in those places, and it didn't help that you were a year ahead of everyone else and your grades were above average. It seemed that everything stood in your way, but you used to overcome obstacles with great ability, you didn't let anything get to you, especially coming from society.

In the third year things changed, you were offered the possibility of taking two parallel degrees, as many subjects were validated, there was no evidence that you accepted, so in your weekly planning began to appear subjects of mechanical engineering. At no point did it ever occur to you that this choice would bring with it some murky consequences that you did not have in mind. A smarty-pants is not always well accepted in a class when there is already a person who occupies that position, there he was, the cause of all your future ills during the university year ahead, Tony Stark.

It's not that you hadn't competed with people like this before, well, you'd never really come across someone like this before, he was worthy of analysis, one of a kind, any student of psychology or even anthropology would be willing to do a doctorate on him. Although he obviously wouldn't come out of that research alive.

A week after attending those classes, you discovered that he was the same age as you, so he was also advanced in Mechanical Engineering, but the most surprising thing was that he already had a PhD in Physics, which made you wonder what you were doing wrong. Even so, the most curious thing is that he hardly paid any attention in class, he spent the whole time chatting amicably with his colleagues in the back row, but every time he was asked he answered the professor's questions correctly and wittily. He was a scholar, and that got on your nerves, although it was easy for you to hide it.

You avoided getting in his way at all times, but it was very easy for him to do so whenever you were in class, and one point in your favour was that when classes were over you used to lock yourself in your bedroom, and you were lucky that your classmate hardly ever came around, so those 15 square metres were all for you. But even so, the biggest drawback of your third year was not the competition with Tony Stark, it was someone else, James Barton.

James was a boy who shared some Mechanical Engineering classes with you, he was a year older than you and it was more than evident that he was a real inconvenience, because from the first day you entered the Micro/Nano Engineering Laboratory and he sat next to you, you knew you were in serious trouble. You felt the same as when Jason Filton at the beginning of eighth grade invited you for an ice cream in the cafeteria, that's right, that was the closest thing to love you had ever felt, that's why you knew you were in serious trouble.

During the first few months there were no clear developments, mostly because you never noticed any interest on his part. In your case, you hid with all your might the excitement you felt every time Tuesday morning came and you had to share a lab with him, the last thing you wanted was to look like a desperate high school teenager every time you saw him. But by magic, or perhaps fate, things gave you an incentive for your relationship as classmates to evolve.

Apparently James had been down with the flu for a week, so he was unable to attend class that Tuesday, it was obvious to you from the first moment you saw his empty seat. Therefore, Mr. Gregory thought it appropriate, since you always sat next to him, that you could bring him the material he had offered during that class. You were grateful that he thought there was at least a friendship between the two of you, it was an incipient one for you. You were a little reluctant at first, mostly because you didn't think it was appropriate to introduce yourself to him in his dormitory when you had barely spoken a word to each other beyond a morning greeting and a goodbye when you left class, but you chose to accept it as a personal challenge.

It was not complex to find out which dorm you were staying in, nor to find out which room you were in, the complexity was in making proper social conversation, as your social skills were far from what any young person could wish for. Nor did the male gazes cast upon you as you entered the building and began to walk down those corridors to the third floor help, you didn't know if you were in a dorm, a circus or a petting zoo. It made you wonder how those people had managed to get a place at MIT.

You positioned yourself in front of the wooden door with a set of papers and notes from Mr. Gregory's class in your hands, replaying over and over in your mind how you could start an ordinary conversation, but before you could knock on the door someone behind you thought you needed help so with his knuckles he rapped on the wood.

"If you don't knock no one will open the door," said a boy flashing you a friendly smile, perhaps the first you had ever seen in that place, as he continued on his way.

"Come in!" exclaimed a voice behind that door, you knew at that moment it was James.

Taking a breath you slowly rested your hand on the doorknob and turned it slightly, leaving only a small gap to put your head through.

"I'm sorry," you began, "I don't mean to intrude. I'm just dropping off the notes and materials Mr. Gregory gave in class today. He thought they might come in handy for next week's class."

James was lying on the bed, you found that the atmosphere was a little heavy with sweat mixed with his particular scent with hints of cinnamon, but the moment he discovered who his visitor was he sat up and started to pick up some tissues that were scattered on the sheets.

"God... I'm sorry, this is a mess," he said, taking the wastepaper basket in his hands and stuffing everything he could find into it, his tone totally congested.

"No, don't worry about it," you added quickly, stepping into the room. "Don't mind me, I was just coming to bring you the notes and I was just leaving."

"I'm sorry," he repeated, collapsing back onto the bed from flu-like exhaustion.

"That's all right," you gave him a small smile and put the material you had brought on the desk nearest his bed. "I guess you'll understand everything, but if you don't understand anything or need anything at all you can tell me."

"Thank you very much," he said leaning back against the wall, "I appreciate it."

You nodded smiling at him, thankful that the situation hadn't been too complicated, at least so far, so you decided not to push your luck and head for the door.

"Wait," he exclaimed as best he could behind you, causing your footsteps to stop and you to turn back to him. "Would you like to go out for a drink sometime?"

During those moments you were trying to process his request to buy you a drink the dormitory door opened with a thunderous bang against the wall, bringing you face to face with your beloved Mechanical Engineering partner.

"Oops, sorry, am I interrupting something?" he said curiously, contemplating you both gradually.

"Could you not give those bumps every time you come in?" complained James almost incomprehensibly due to congestion.

"Sure mate," having said that he gingerly closed up and walked over to his bed, picked up a book, lay down and pretended to browse through it.

"So?" James looked back up at you waiting for an answer.

It had all happened so fast that your mind had not yet come to terms with the situation, but all you had to do was say "sure", "yes, I'd love to" or "of course, that would be fine", but you only managed to nod with a small smile.

"That's a yes?" he asked trying to clarify your intentions.

"Sure," you managed to say between nods, which managed to extract a smile from your partner. "So... I'll see you next week in class. I hope you get better."

To your surprise you had overcome that personal challenge with great talent, you knew that if your sister were present she would award you the medal for bravery, not only for having talked to a boy, but for having managed to get a possible future date with great elegance, and without hardly expecting it. But what you didn't realise, or at least not until first thing on Wednesday morning, was that you were in for some curious comments from your opponent about the previous day's events.

"So you're going out with Barton," he said almost before he sat down behind you. "I thought your social life was limited to striking up a conversation with the lady at the post office one Sunday a month."

Over time you had learned that the best thing you could do was to ignore that annoying little voice that sat behind you every Wednesday and tried to interrupt you every time you were offering an explanation during class. It was the best way you had found to get through those first few months with him.

But it wasn't all that simple, especially when you and James started a friendship that developed into something a little more serious just before the Christmas holidays. Like any other relationship where two people are attracted to each other the search for intimacy is normal and ordinary, during the third year of university you were lucky that your roommate was practically a ghost and you found the best place to have your own intimacy, because obviously you didn't know why Tony Stark was always in his bedroom, and when he wasn't he used to appear at the most inopportune moments, and worst of all without knocking.

"Are you crazy?" you exclaimed, hiding under the covers. "Don't you know how to knock?!"

"Oh, come on! It's nothing I haven't seen before," he said throwing himself on his bed. "Don't worry about me, I don't care."

At those moments you didn't know whether to get up and cross his face or just not show up there anymore, because things didn't stop there, he used to drag out the subject at hand and make inappropriate comments to you in class, such as "I hope you used protection" or "you forgot your bra" or "if you need any advice you know you can ask me for it". It was quite frustrating, because there was little you could do about it, just ignore him or else he would come over the top.

Apart from that everything seemed to work perfectly with James, or at least that's what it seemed to you, the two months that you had been together things were coming together without forcing them, you met every now and then to go out to eat, you took advantage of the moments you were alone to study and sometimes things generated moments of intimacy, it was the closest thing you had had to a love relationship, although your experience was very basic in that matter in question. So basic that you barely understood a lot of things and you could be very naive about anything to do with social relationships.

Discussions started to become your daily routine, they all came hand in hand because of your clashing characters, he used to have a very evolved social life, three times a week, he even skipped some classes because of the hangover that the night before he had self-inflicted, although you accepted his lifestyle, you didn't share it at all and his constant initiatives to integrate you in his environment didn't usually turn out as he expected. So a constant back and forth ensued from then on, which brought out a character you didn't like.

You began to hear rumours, which you tried to avoid, so as not to get caught in the net. These rumours ranged from whether James had hooked up with Nancy Skelton the night before to whether he had taken her to his room. So every time you sought an explanation he seemed to find himself sufficiently unwilling to offer one. The same thing happened on Valentine's Day.

You had been ignoring the rumours that were torpedoing your ears for two weeks, James had sworn and swore to you that nothing that was going around the halls of the college was true, that he hadn't done anything with anyone at the frat party. You, like an innocent fool, accepted his words, letting yourself be carried away by those green eyes that knew how to make your legs tremble. So that meant that the Valentine's dinner was still on. It was the first time you had bought a dress for a special occasion on your own, you didn't choose to take risks, black was always welcome and straps too, although you really did take risks with the neckline, and with the reddish lipstick. In short, you wanted me to discover that you could also become Nancy Skelton for a night, but apparently I didn't feel like checking it out. You waited for twenty minutes in your room for him to come and get you, but you thought something must have happened, so you headed off to find out for yourself.

Again, as if you were in a circus attraction, and you were the main attraction, you rushed through the corridors of the male dorm with whistles, sexist comments and cheers behind you. It was Thursday night, which meant that the party had started early that evening and most of them had traded blood for alcohol. You knocked on the door, waited a few seconds but no one answered, knocked again, but the case was ignored so you tried to turn the doorknob, but to your surprise the room was locked.

"What the hell?" you asked yourself.

Totally confused you look at your wristwatch, expecting to have got the time wrong, but no, it was 8:35 p.m. just thirty-five minutes later than you had arranged. You stood there for a couple of minutes waiting for him to appear out of nowhere, but the most you could find was one of his mates running past you in his underwear.

"Hey! Do you know where James Barton is?" you exclaimed trying to find an answer.

"In the common room!" he shouted without turning to look at you.

Looking like a complete idiot for not having considered that fact you walked back through the hallway in embarrassment in the direction of the common room, from where laughter, shouting and anything else that involved a group of boys with beer bottles around them was emanating. When you appeared through the door frame there was little time for your presence to be noticed.

"What have we got here?!"

"Oh my god, is this my birthday present?"

"Shut your mouths you idiots!" James stood up from his seat and walked towards you, with a subtle wobble in his body and his eyes completely rolled back in his head. "Is it time already?"

"It's actually been forty minutes," your arms were still crossed preventing his body from approaching yours. You could smell the stench of beer all over him, even his shirt was stained with a few drops.

"All right, all right," he said abandoning the bottle on a bookshelf. "Let's go."

Unable to hold on, and under the watchful eyes and laughter of his companions he offered you his arm, but lost his balance and fell to the ground, right at your feet. You took a deep breath and began to let it out very slowly, but you barely flinched, you couldn't believe what was happening to you at that moment. James tried to get up as best he could and stood back up in front of you, pulling his shirt back on.

"Come on," he made a second attempt.

"No, no James," you said in the most serious tone you could rescue from your broken insides. "I'm not going anywhere with you. But you know what, I bought a dress, shaved my legs, and put makeup on. I refuse to be stood up. So I'm going to take advantage of the reserve we have." You uncrossed your arms for the first time and pointed your finger at him. "Ah! And in case you haven't made it clear, it's over between us."

The cheers went up like you'd just scored a touchdown in the middle of the national finals, but you just kept your composure and got out of the place as quickly as possible. You were so pissed off about the situation, as well as yourself, that you felt the sting running through your veins. You asked yourself over and over again how you had been so stupid as to get into this situation, you, but you couldn't find a coherent answer. You assumed that smoke must be billowing from your head as you cut your way through the labyrinthine corridors to get out of the building as quickly as possible, but just around the corner the one person who could complicate things appeared.

"Hey!" he exclaimed behind you, picking up his pace and coming up beside you. "I was thinking, why go to dinner alone when you can have good company?"

You turned your head to the right, flashing him the most incoherently terrified look you could extract from yourself at the moment, but Tony didn't seem to care enough because even that didn't stop his grin from being wiped off his face.

"Are you kidding me?" your footsteps were rather light. "Oh, of course not! Do you really think I'll accept you coming to dinner with me?"

"Do you have someone better to go with?" his arrogance was pushing you over the edge.

"Of course! Me, alone," you said walking down the steps of the dorm and stepping outside.

"Really, by yourself on the most romantic night of the year, in a small Bistro in downtown Boston?" he said without breaking away from you. "That sounds really sad," he paused. "Do you have a car?"

"Welcome to the world, I don't need a man to go out to dinner whenever I feel like it and there are taxis," you walked as if you were going to miss the train of your life.

"Alright!" Tony definitely seemed to give up and fall in behind you, "See ya!"

You were so upset at the time that the only thing on your mind was to head for the campus taxi rank, and so you did. You were lucky that there were a couple of taxis waiting, so it didn't take you more than fifteen minutes to get to the door of the Bistro, located in the centre of Boston. The place was really charming to anyone's eyes, its round tables were perfectly placed to offer a cosy dinner to any of its diners. The candles offered that romantic air that anyone could want on that night of the year, and the aroma of traditional dishes was wafting from inside, whetting anyone's appetite.

You looked outside through the glass windows to see the couples who seemed to be enjoying a really lovely evening, it was at that moment that your spirited idea seemed to wane, for now it didn't seem to make much sense to go inside and dine completely alone under the watchful eyes of the waiters who wondered what had happened to put you in such a situation. The metre who stood at the door waiting to receive his customers watched you, for you were only a few feet away from him.

"Do you wish to wait inside, miss?" he asked with a pleasant smile.

"No, I..." you shook your head as if to leave.

"I'm here baby," a hand took hold of your waist. "Sorry it took me so long, it's impossible to park in this area."

As you heard that voice and felt that hand on your waist you knew immediately who it was, caramel coloured eyes accompanied by a wide smile were looking at you right next to you, you were about to give him a push if it wasn't for the fact that that metre opened the access door to the place and the last thing you wanted was to make a scene in the middle of the street.

"Did you have a reservation?" asked the waiter, checking the list.

"Yes, under the name of James Barton," said Tony, barely letting you speak.

"By all means, follow me," he began walking among the diners arriving at a small round table just outside the window, where he didn't take a second to light the candle that adorned the table. "Will you have something to drink in the meantime?"

"Yes, what wine do you recommend?" his way of waving his hand embarrassed you, he seemed to want to pretend to be knowledgeable.

"Oh, we have a Château Montrose, which goes perfectly with the meat tastings," he informed her.

"Perfect," nodded Tony, opening the menu.

As quickly as the waiter left, your attitude changed, expressing all your feelings with your face.

"Are you crazy?" you whispered, leaning towards him so that no one else could hear you. "Do you have any idea what that wine might be worth? But more importantly, what the hell are you doing? What are you doing here? What is this?"

"Oh come on, you know if I hadn't come you'd be back in college right now, don't you?" he cocked his head to the side and smiled at you, "Besides, the wine and dinner is on me, just enjoy the night."

"Enjoy the night? With you? Really?" you frowned, it was unbelievable to you that this was happening, but at least he'd had the courtesy to ditch those rock band t-shirts he used to wear and that messy hair, he'd shown up in a white shirt and black peg trousers.

The wine soon arrived and you'd be lying if you said it didn't help the dinner go more smoothly, allowing you to chat like two normal people. You found it hard to let go of that stubborn attitude you have inside you, but when you managed to put it aside you came to discover that Tony could be a lot of fun, even if he didn't share your sense of humour. You spent two hours discovering similarities in each other and also many differences, but it was a fruitful conversation, for the candle that lit the centre of your table was gone. You surprised yourself by observing more than once the features of his face, his honey-coloured hazel eyes, his upturned nose, his full lips and the way he smiled that seemed to bring out your colours every time he did it. But you blamed it all on the bottle of wine you had finished between the two of you.

When they brought the bill he barely allowed you to look at it, as he deposited his american express and smiled proudly at you.

"How about now...?"

"Shall we go back to campus?" you cut him off by stepping outside with a smile you couldn't keep off your face and pink cheeks.

"Well, actually, I was thinking..."

"I'm exhausted," you cut him off again, draping your jacket over your shoulders. "Besides, we have a class first thing in the morning."

" Okay!" he exclaimed in a melodious tone shoving his hands into his pockets. "Then we'll go back to campus."

In three minutes you found yourself sitting inside a red Porsche, which was going at a speed well above what you were used to. From the speakers came the sound of the Australian rock band AC/DC, but without knowing why Tony stopped the music.

"What's wrong?" you asked looking at him quizzically.

"I thought you didn't like it," he shrugged. "You were very quiet."

"First of all, I was listening, I like it," you began, "and secondly, in case I didn't like it you don't have to indulge me, this isn't a date, or anything like that."

"All right," he gave a half-smile and turned the music back on. "So this isn't a date..."

You smiled quizzically at his last words, trying to assume that it had been the alcohol that had given you that little smile and not your subconscious that seemed rather pleased by the last two hours you had spent together. During the drive you couldn't help but laugh when you discovered his imitations of Angus Young, the lead guitarist of the band you were listening to. But the situation changed when the Porsche pulled up right in front of your dorm, but before you had even taken off your seatbelt your door was open and Tony's hand was waiting to help you out.

"Thank you..." you whispered a little reluctantly. "Oh, you don't need to come with me, I think it's rather late, so I'd better..."

" Okay," he nodded smiling, again that wry smile that you knew was going to cause you to either want to come along or not.

"Alright," you said giving up and walking towards the inside of the building. "Don't even think about making a sound."

"Please, I'm all grave," he said behind you as you walked up the stairs, but he didn't keep his word as a stumble caused the sound to bounce all over the stairwell.

"Tony..." you reproached him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he raised his hands in his defence.

Within a minute you had reached the door leading to your room and the awkward moment of saying goodbye was upon you, face to face.

"Okay, well... I guess thank you very much for... dinner and for walking me to the door," you nodded without knowing why in a slightly nervous tone.

"It's been my pleasure," he bowed, his voice sounding utterly confident, the opposite of yours.

"Great... so, I'll see you in class tomorrow," you rummaged through your bag to find your room key and when you had it in your hand and looked back up at him you discovered Tony's gesture biting his bottom lip, so your mouth let out, "or maybe..."

Why the hell had you blurted out those three words, 'Or maybe...' 'Or maybe what?' Your unconscious was working and coming alive in you, your inner self was saying that you didn't want to part with him so soon and that you couldn't wait for him to come into the room with you.

"Or maybe?" a half-smile came to life on his face, showing you part of his tongue running subtly across his upper lip that made your heart race. But finding that you didn't know what to say in that instant, he added, "Are you inviting me in?"

"I..." you looked a little hesitant, but found the courage to face the situation, "Only if... you feel like it."

There was a few moments of silence in which your wives seemed to be electrified.

"All right, but first I think you should know something," he added, breaking the moment of sexual tension that had built up. "The James rumours are true. I caught him and Nancy in our bedroom," he paused and tucked back a strand of hair that had come loose. "I should have told you before."

Why did you feel as if you knew deep down that this event was true? Maybe because it only took you three months of being with James to find out what he was really like, a total prick. But the funny thing is that when you took in those words, the sexual tension returned, making you forget everything he'd told you.

"Okay," you nodded with a blank stare, "So does that mean you don't want to come in?"

Again he made that arrogant smile present again that even as he brought his face close to yours to catch your lips did not disappear. He wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, crushing your body against the wooden door, preventing you from escaping from that place if you were planning to do so. It was really infuriating, to have his lips between yours and still feel the need to have him closer. You were so lost that the key slipped from your fingers, catching Tony's attention and he opted to pull away from you and bend down for it, you hated those seconds, but instantly you discovered his hands roaming the nakedness of your legs along with his lips rediscovering that new area.

"Come on Tony," you begged, resting your hand on the doorknob so as not to give in to his touch as it slowly crept up your thighs. "Open the door."

With a small nibble on the inside of your left thigh he pulled himself back up to your height to force your lips together as he tried his best to open the door as best he could in the dark. You felt the door offer you passage into a room dimly lit by the moonlight coming through the window. Tony closed the door behind you regardless of the noise he made in doing so.

" Damn it, Tony," you said, pulling away from him.

He took the opportunity to pull your dress up to your waist and wrap your legs around his waist to direct you towards your bed. The position is really intimate, but your head wasn't in the right place to dwell on it at the moment, there was practically nothing romantic about what was happening or what was going to happen in a few minutes. During the ride you opted to get rid of the black dress that seemed to be burning your skin by dropping it to the floor, revealing your naked body only covered by a pair of black panties.

"Shit. Cupid just shot me in the ass with an arrow!" he exclaimed finding his gaze at the level of your breasts.

Tony's body collapsed on the mattress, unable to take his eyes off your body, he maintained an upright, seated position, straddling him. Your gazes connected, in your eyes there was nothing but tension and lust, the passion of two young university students who needed to let off steam as soon as possible. However, inside you both hid a sense of nervousness that you kept from coming out.

Although you'd had sex with James before, you weren't exactly an expert on the subject, but something inside you was working, making it seem like you had no problem with it. In Tony's case you had heard things, but you didn't know how much of it was true or not. Still, Tony's kisses trailing his mouth down your neck were methodical, the way he brushed his tongue, bit into your neck and finished by pressing a soft kiss seemed to transport you to paradise, just as it did him, as you could see it in the hardness forming between your folds. A moan escaped your lips causing your hips to move gently to feel more firmly what was hidden in his trousers.

"Oh, god, do that again," Tony uttered against your ear in a completely gnawed tone of voice.

As if it was a command you were incapable of refusing, you did it again. His hands gripped your thighs firmly and his lips lingered on your breasts for the first time, brushing his lower lip over your right nipple, letting his intense breathing fan it. Your back arched bringing your breasts closer against his mouth, likewise your fingers found themselves stirring his hair. Tony simply played with his tongue against you offering equal attention to both breasts, making sure it was pleasurable, and he assumed he was succeeding thanks to the sounds coming from inside you.

Your hips kept making circular motions pressing against him trying to relieve the need that had built up in your core. Tony seemed to feel the same need so he parted his lips from your breasts and made a sudden movement grabbing your waist and trying to flip you over on the bed, trying because in the process he caused your head to hit the bedside table next to the mattress.

"Shit!" he exclaimed with a surprised look on his face, but your reaction generating a giggle in you, calmed him down expressing a smile. "I'm sorry, baby."

"It's okay," you say finally taking the position he wanted, lying down on the bed and finding Tony's body on top of yours.

You feel his lips moving over your skin again as he undoes his shirt, uncovering every part of his back with your fingertips. Your whole body was being a mess, the path of his tongue was heading south, his fingertips formed circles around your navel and his mouth had a clear direction, you felt it when his fingers brushed the top of your panties. All you could do was keep your eyes closed with your head on the pillow, bite your lower lip to stop the curses coming from inside you and press your legs against each other.

"Open your legs," he whispered against your skin and then placed a kiss on your lower belly, making all your nerves want to explode. "I'll be gentle, promise."

You feel those words crash against your skin, and as if they were a switch they are able to make your legs open subtly giving way to the fabric of your underwear sliding down your thighs. Tony decides to take his time until he manages to extract them through your feet as he doesn't take his eyes off your completely naked body exposed before him. He slid his fingers around the inside of your legs to again run his lips up and down them so that his hands were free to free himself from your trousers.

"Do you have...?" he asked moving his kisses up your thighs.

"What...?" the word almost came as a plea from your lips.

"Condoms," he said against your skin.

Something in your brain clicked, bringing you back to consciousness in those moments, you lifted your head off the pillow and looked directly into Tony's eyes that were practically over your core in those moments.

"Are you telling me you don't have any condoms?" you asked with a frown, a little gruff at the situation you were in.

"Well, I wasn't really planning on ending the night like this," he lifted his face with a smile from between your thighs, but as he watched your head fall frustratingly against the pillow he added, "Okay honey, don't worry, I'll take care of everything."

As quickly as he uttered those words he managed to get your lower limbs onto his shoulders, meeting again between your thighs. That was the first time you discovered what lips on your clitoris felt like. Your frustration was fully replaced by pleasure, a pleasure that made every part of your body tremble. You really didn't know how you could have missed this for so long. Your hands were fixed on either side of your body gripping the sheet tightly, but there came a point when you couldn't let him pull away from you, so you curled your fingers in his hair. Right now you had Tony Stark kissing and licking your most intimate part and all you could think about was that his movements wouldn't stop.

"Please... Don't stop," you urged between moans, feeling two fingers thrust inside you at your words.

You find yourself in complete disbelief, you're a mess, and you can't help but open your eyes and look at the one causing the disaster, who just like you was a complete mess against your intimacy. That action, along with the speed of his movements inside you and his moans against you, causes all your senses to connect and decide that the time has come to explode. You drop your head back down onto the pillow, arching your back in an attempt to establish a closer connection with him. You're exhaling, screaming his name between your moans without thinking about who might hear you. He continues to consume you, sucking you in as he brings you to full orgasm. Your limbs slowly manage to steady their movements, until the euphoria inside you ends with a soft moan.

Tony subtly withdraws his fingers from inside you as he leaves his wet kisses around your thighs, searching for your gaze amidst the mess of sheets that existed around you at that moment. He finds himself climbing up your body, kissing every part of it gently until he reaches your face where he catches your lower lip between his teeth.

"I told you, I'll take care of everything," he added with a half-smile. "And I think I've managed to exceed expectations."

"It's possible," you kissed him again finding your breathing much calmer. "That means it's my turn now."

With more skill than he did, you were able to get his body underneath yours in an instant, causing his tongue to come out and lick his upper lip. It was obvious that he was tremendously proud of the job he had just done, thanks to how well you had let him know with your facial and guttural expressions. But now it was your moment, discovering that your needs had not yet been fully satisfied and that you had a burning need inside you to feel him in you. Your kisses moved from his lips to his neck, taking on the taste of his perfume. You exerted just enough pressure with your teeth to profess from his throat his sweet gasps that were filling you with madness.

The path of your kisses was present on his chest, which rose and fell because of his accelerated breathing. He was soft, sweat was present on him from the previous exertion, but you hardly thought that fact mattered to you. Your tongue had reached his lower abdomen with great skill, the evidence of which was that Tony had chosen to lose eye contact with your actions and now looked a complete mess biting his knuckles. If it had been any other time you would have enjoyed the scene in front of your eyes causing him to beg, but he had been so good to you and you were so eager to kiss what was hidden by his briefs that you wasted little time in sliding the fabric down his thighs and releasing his erection.

You had been in that situation only once before in your life, so you opted for a marked subtlety in bringing your lips to his tip and licking it clean of his pre-cum. Luckily for you the noises coming from Tony were a map for your movements. you just start by testing the ground, tasting it, feeling it deep in your throat.

"Don't stop, whatever you do. I like that, a lot," his hand wrapped through the strands of your hair as his gaze focused on you.

Those words ignite your movements, you circle his shaft with one hand, accompanying the movements, you find that it intensifies his panting and generates a slight movement in his hips that causes him to thrust his erection deeper against your throat. You bring your free hand to his hips instilling a show of confidence and acceptance of his thrusts, which causes Tony to increase his speed.

"Shit, I'm so close, keep going -," his frantic tone could barely finish the sentence.

You felt the hand disappear from your head allowing you to withdraw right then and there, but his desperation was also shared by you, and just as you had orgasmed against his lips as you couldn't hold him inside you wanted to feel him as much as possible. Throbbing moments later inside your throat, accompanied by curses accompanied by your name coming from inside Tony. His hand returned to its proper place, dropping subtly to your head, enticing you to follow his movements.

Your lewd movements stopped over time as you noticed his limbs returning to their normal function and his breathing resumed its normal rhythm. You withdrew, offering her a soft kiss on the tip, and connected your gaze with hers, which strangely seemed a little embarrassed.

"I hope the walls are thick," you commented with an arched eyebrow.

He merely took in your smiling face and intertwined his fingers with yours to bring you closer to his height. He placed your bodies sideways, intertwining your legs, and with his fingertips he wiped the droplets of saliva from around your lips.

"So... would you say I've exceeded expectations too?" you asked, caressing his bare arms.

"I don't know," he said hesitantly. "I need more than one round to find out."

His half-smile lifted again, in no doubt that that had been the best sexual experience he'd had to date, because not all rumours are true.

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