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tom-whore-dleston · 3 years

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How would _______ react to you writing smut for their characters

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x fem!reader, Simu Liu x fem!reader, Tom Holland x fem!reader

Genre: smut-ish headcanon

*18+ only; please do not consume if you are younger than 18 years old*

Warnings: mention of smut (explicit and non explicit), implied smut, sexual tension, a lil bit of fluff, reactions vary between the three guys

*Please note that you are responsible for your own media consumption. If any of these warnings trigger you or make you uncomfortable, please do not read!*

Summary: You are dating one of Jordan’s Top 3 daddies and they find out you write smut for their Marvel characters.

Word Count: 1743

Notes: Thought I would let out some uncensored thoughts I had about my Top 3 finding out reader writes smut. I may be in the middle of midterm szn but that ain't gonna stop me from being my usual w word self 😂😂Thank you to the lovely and magical @magicxc for beta reading! I was literally brainfarting over simple things but I am grateful for your insight 🥰😘 also can we talk real quick about how gd fine these men look lol they really do be my muses :') i forgot to watermark my collage so don't steal or I'll cry

Tom Hiddleston

Tom finding the smut you have written about Loki was a total accident. While your laptop was getting repaired, you were forced to use Tom’s over the next few days. During that time, you casually browsed Tumblr and other websites alike. You oftentimes forgot that Tom’s laptop was not your own. Without thinking much about it, you closed his laptop before hopping into the shower.

While you showered, Tom jumped onto the bed belly first and opened up his laptop. His original intent was to check and respond to his emails. That was until he found something that was only meant for your eyes. He was puzzled to find a document that looked like a short story. Curious, he continued reading what you have written so far.

Twenty minutes later, you walked into the bedroom, freshly cleaned and only in your towel, when you stumbled upon Tom lying on the bed, his blue eyes fixated on the laptop in front of his face. That was when you remembered you forgot to exit out of your doc of the President Loki and TVA Loki threesome fic you were in the middle of writing.

You were ready to pounce on the bed to yank the laptop out of his reach. Sure it was his laptop, but he was also looking at your smut about his characters. That all changed when your eyes laid upon Tom, realizing his typically sweet face was glossed over with mischief.

“Tom,” you began, “let me explain-” Tom shook his head and shushed you with a calloused finger.

“Well, darling, I knew you really enjoyed the show, but I had no idea you enjoyed it this much,” Tom chuckled. “Is that why you were upset that I cut my hair and dyed it back to brown?”

Your mouth fell agape and sweat trickled from your body even after showering. Tom took note of your reaction, a laugh bubbling from his chest. He scooted closer to you at the edge of the bed, wrapping his hands around your towel covered body.

Tom pushed you onto the bed gracefully, switching positions with you. You bit your lip as he towered over you and trapped your wrists above your head with one of his strong hands. His other hand gently stroked your cheek, his hard knuckles contrasting against your silky skin.

All of a sudden, the towel unraveled from your body, revealing your naked form. Your legs naturally spread open for him, revealing your already wet cunt to him. Tom licked his lips, the bulge in his pants becoming more apparent through his jeans.

“Such a dirty girl,” he growled as if Tom had completely immersed himself into Loki. “Can’t decide which of me she wants.” At that point, all traces of Tom had left in his face, voice, or body language. It was all Loki. Not that it bothered you one bit.

“Would you prefer the TVA variant? Or the President variant?” he inquired before grazing his teeth against your earlobe. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer him. Only a faint moan escaped your lips. His signature Loki laugh filled the room, his blue eyes darkening into an ocean storm.

“No matter, I will still have you writhing for your god,” your boyfriend hissed before drinking up your famous last words with a fiery kiss.

That night, he managed to incorporate both TVA Loki and President Loki in bed. At one point, you may have accidentally screamed for Loki rather than Tom. Fortunately, that didn’t stop Tom from pounding into you over and over acting as the two Lokis. You were also able to finally finish the threesome fic the next morning, thanks to Tom’s hands on inspiration.

Simu Liu

The keys of your laptop clicked away as you typed away at your newest work. You had spent the last three hours working on a Shang-Chi smut. An extremely dirty thought randomly popped into your head after watching the movie. You had no one to discuss it with so writing was your best outlet to unleash those ideas.

You were so laser focused on wrapping up the sex scene that you didn’t hear heavy footsteps trail into the kitchen. Simu just woke up from a nap and comes into the kitchen wearing only a pair of gym shorts

Writing your fics while Simu napped was the best time for you to write because he wouldn’t know about the filthy thoughts you had about his character. Even though you and Simu had pretty open communication, writing smut was one thing you preferred to keep to yourself. Especially since that smut was about his character.

The corner of your lips curved upward and you giggled to yourself as you finished writing the climax of your piece. No pun intended.

“What’s got my pretty girl smiling like that?” Simu interrogated while trying to read your face from behind the laptop.

“Huh, what?” you muttered with a puzzled expression. Simu chuckled softly when you met his gaze.

“Is there another meme of me? I wanna see-”

You slammed your laptop shut, trying to hide your expression. Simu jumped in surprise and confusion.

“Oh it’s nothing,” you lied, shrugging off his wonder. “Just work stuff.”

“Yeah, you were smiling over your editing job that you were complaining about hours ago. C’mon, babe, I’ve seen a lot of memes about me and it only makes my skin thicker. Just lemme see.” You tried to protest but he snatched the laptop from your grasp with ease. Damn his strong arms and fast instincts.

He opened the laptop and the screen blinked, displaying the white screen with the words of your x-rated Shang-Chi piece. Simu balanced the laptop in one hand while angling the screen for easier reading.

You wanted to be upset that he was reading something that was only meant for your eyes, along with the eyes of many strangers from your blog. The thing was, you couldn’t even bring yourself to stop him. You just watched everything unfold. Your eyebrows tightened into a thin line as you chewed on your lip, questioning if you were ready to let him into your secret world of fanfiction writing.

His eyes scanned over the written work, widening at how it progressively got filthier. He smirked deviously, rereading a particularly nasty part of the fic. Was he actually liking what you wrote about his character? You tried to reach for your laptop but he scooted away from you, sitting in the chair across from you.

“This one is my favorite part,” he cleared his throat, “‘Shang-Chi yanked your panties off with his teeth, your arousal still sticking to the fabric even as it slid down your legs.’” Both yours and Simu’s cheeks warmed up as he read that line aloud. He hummed in satisfaction and lowered the top of the laptop so he could get a better look at you.

“Well, it looks like I did a good job as Shang-Chi if you’re all hot and bothered by him,” Simu taunted, licking his lips. You knew the gears in his head were turning and you tried to avoid his gaze, which only egged him on, a smug smirk plastered on his face.

His arms extended out as if preparing to give you a hug. “Come here, baby. There’s nothing to be shy about.” You reluctantly walked to the other side of the table. The first thing you notice is the apparent bulge poking through Simu’s shorts.

Your pussy clenches around nothing, staring at his package through the thin material. Simu pat his thigh, motioning you to sit on his lap. As you did, your breath hitched as your now wet slit brushed against his hardening cock. His lips hovered over the shell of your ear, his next words causing you to shudder.

“How about you show me more of what is on that dirty, little mind of yours. I want to know all the things that turn my pretty girl on.”

Tom Holland

“Hey, love, you know the site Tumblr right?” Tom asked randomly during Sunday brunch. This caused you to choke on your mimosa, thankfully not causing a scene in the middle of the restaurant. When Tom asked if you were okay, you just heaved a giant breath and nodded.

“Yeah, I know what Tumblr is,” you responded, taking another sip of your mimosa to ease your anxiety. “Why do you ask?”

“So one of the mates sent me one of the blogs on there. This one blog in particular writes these fun little stories about me...well, actually, my characters. I believe they’re called fanfiction, right? Anyways, some of the stories they write are really...ummm what’s the word...graphic. In a sexual way.”

His rambling only increased your anxiety. Luckily, it was a bottomless mimosa so you refilled your glass with the pitcher of juice and champagne.

“Really?” you paused nervously, your heart pumping outside your chest. “What’s the blog?”

Tom showed you the screen of his phone.

Fuck!

The blog he was referring to was your own. You had the blog way before you started dating Tom. In fact, you were one of the most popular fanfic writer blogs on the site. Once you started dating Tom, you made it your mission to hide all traces of your blog from him. How could one of his friends have found it?

“Oh, cool!” was all you could muster up as your blood ran cold.

“Yeah, actually, it’s quite flattering. No offense, love, but I do receive a lot of sexual comments, but to write a story- I mean, fanfiction- about me. It’s interesting. I should read it to you and we can-”

“No, no, that’s okay.” You chugged the rest of your mimosa. You proceeded to refill it and take another sip. Meanwhile, Tom was oblivious to your nervousness.

“You know what, if it’s alright with you, I should write to this blog. Tell them that their writing is so good that it has inspired me to be better in bed-”

You slammed your palm flat on the table. Tom jumped in his seat at the loud noise.

“Tom, stop talking.”

“I’m sorry, love, did I go too far?”

“Tom, that’s my blog! I wrote those fanfictions about you!” Tom stared at you in disbelief. You sighed, sinking into your seat.

“I had that blog years before I met you. When we started dating, I didn’t want you to know about it because I thought I would scare you away. I didn’t want you to think I was just another fan.”

Tom reached his hand out for you to grab. You eased against his touch, warmth flooding to your cheeks.

“Seeing that you liked the stories so much, I guess I had nothing to be ashamed of.” You laughed, setting down your glass.

“Of course, you have nothing to be ashamed of. I love them even more knowing that you wrote them for me. And now, I know exactly how to please you.” He motioned your waiter over to your table, requesting the bill.

“Think you and I should reenact some of your works when we get back to the flat, yeah?”

*Thanks for reading :) Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. Your responses are what keep me motivated to write. However, please do not repost or translate my work anywhere.*

#tom hiddleston #simu liu #tom holland #tom hiddleston headcanon #simu liu headcanon #tom holland headcanon #tom hiddleston smut #simu liu smut #tom holland smut #rpf headcanons #mcu headcanons #tom hiddleston x reader #simu liu x reader #tom holland x reader #smut #fem!reader #reader insert #no y/n

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czenzo · 2 years

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Young, Alive, Together

[ao3]

summary: Lockwood & Co are called out on a case regarding the tragic end of a young couple—on Valentine's day, no less. Lucy and Lockwood learn once again that hiding emotions from a poltergeist is harder than you may think.

words: 4363 rating: T note: I cannot believe I got this idea on Valentine's day. my brain couldn't have been kind enough to give it to me a couple of weeks in advance so I could post it on Feb 14th instead of some random day in March? how rude

Edit 11/01/23: I've rewritten this fic! It's been almost a year since I posted the original version and I feel I've improved as a writer since then. This post contains the original version, but if you'd like to read the newer one, here's the link!

“Those biscuits… any particular reason why they look like that?”

“Holly made them,” I replied between bites, “for Valentine’s day. They’re heart-shaped.”

“Yes, I can see that. They look vile.”

“Is it insulting my baking?” Holly said, a single neatly plucked eyebrow arching up as she eyed the half-open rucksack beside me. Inside, the skull jar sat peacefully, though the ghoulish green ectoplasm swirling around inside it was the complete opposite. It pulled a face at her, eyes boggling and tongue lolling.

“No, no.” I didn’t know how to elaborate further.

We were sat in the living room of a cozy home that currently belonged to a sweet old couple, munching away at Holly’s homemade (and surprisingly, not overly healthy) biscuits over our thermoses of tea. I was sat on the middle seat of the larger sofa, with George on one side of me and the skull on the other. Lockwood and Holly were lounging in two armchairs on either side, leaving us surrounding a small coffee table in a neat semi-circle. Opposite me, a fireplace sat glumly, missing the light and warmth of the flames that presumably occupied the space often. For now, though, the room was dim, and only the faint glow of the ghost-lamps outside faintly illuminated the space we sat.

“Those were excellent, Hols,” Lockwood said, dusting his hands and lap of crumbs.

George hummed in agreement. “Shame we didn’t think to bring more with us.”

“At least there will be some left waiting for you when we finish this case,” Holly beamed, clearly enjoying the praise. I said nothing. The biscuits were delicious—if I’d tried making them, I’d have probably forgotten a crucial ingredient or step, or, if not that, ended up burning 35 Portland Row to the ground. I was content to leave the baking to Holly.

“Speaking of,” Lockwood leant forwards in his chair, forearms resting on his knees, “we should get back to the case. We’ve taken our readings and adequately observed the building, and time’s getting on a bit now—no doubt we’ll start to see some activity soon. George, would you mind giving us a refresher on everything?”

“No problem,” George produced a thin manila file from his duffel bag. Inside were a couple of newspaper clippings, and one or two official-looking documents. He rested them on his lap, and paused to clean his glasses on the hem of his jumper, as he always did when he was about to reveal information. “It’s a simple enough story, really. A young couple by the names of Eden and James Finch were childhood sweethearts, and essentially sped through all the relationship milestones in impressive time. Moved into this house at nineteen, were wed at twenty, and by twenty-one were expecting a child.

“Unfortunately things took a turn, thanks to Daniel Redding, a jealous lover of Eden’s who had it out for them since he’d been rejected by her. He saw them out and about on Valentine’s day, and it must have been the thing to push him over the edge—they were found dead in their home the next day, and all the evidence pointed to him. This all happened a decade ago, though. Strange that they’ve only just started causing trouble now.”

“Ah, that’s… certainly quite the depressing story. I’m assuming he was jailed?” Lockwood said after a short pause. We all looked a shade paler after George’s account; though our job came with the guarantee that we’d eventually become numb to most grisly tales, there was occasionally a particularly sad one that managed to get under your skin. Years of training meant I’d learnt to quickly shake it off, however.

“For life, yes.”

“Poor things. At least they went together,” Holly said.

Lockwood was silent for a moment, his face pointedly blank.

“Anyway,” he hit his knees and stood up, “best get started. The coldest spots were found in the attic, so that will be our starting point. We’ll set up our chains in there and use it as a base, and keep an eye out for any apparitions. If nothing is of note there, we’ll branch out and explore the house again. Sound good?”

Of course we all nodded; Lockwood wasn’t our leader for no reason.

Ten minutes later the four (five, if you counted the skull) of us were in the attic, laying out a circle of chains. It was only a single ring, with George and Lockwood presuming the ghost(s) to be tame enough to not require any more.

“It looks as though the attic’s been rummaged through a fair amount,” Lockwood mused once we were all inside the iron circle. “Could be that the old couple unknowingly disturbed a Source in the process.”

“Most likely,” George said, pushing his glasses up with a stubby finger.

We’d positioned our circle close to the hatch through which we entered the attic, allowing for a quick escape if need be—though it was unlikely to happen. Lockwood’s plans for making a swift exit were only ever set in motion once plans A to E had failed, and the chances of that happening on such a seemingly simple case were slim. Though, I suppose, one can never be one hundred percent certain on such things.

But when you’re with Lockwood, you tend to feel considerably more optimistic than usual. He exudes such confidence and gusto while working you can’t not feel influenced by it, even without you realising.

Opposite our circle sat an array of boxes; some lay haphazardly open, and others were sealed tightly shut, with a small collection of random objects and trinkets strewn about. The old couple that called for our help in the first place had mentioned that they were in the process of clearing out and freshening up the house, which was probably why the attic was in such a state, and Lockwood was almost certainly right about them unintentionally disturbing a Source.

How we were expected to find a single Source amidst that huge pile of bits and bobs, though, none of us were quite certain.

“That vase looks rather sinister,” a familiar voice rang through my head. “Or, ooh, no, that garish frock just reeks of spirits, don’t you think? Can’t believe that was ever in fashion. It boggles the mind.”

“Thank you for the hilarious running commentary,” I replied blandly, in a hushed tone. My three colleagues didn’t spare a glance at me, being completely used to the skull and I’s frequent and sardonic conversations, but I could have sworn I saw the corner of Lockwood’s mouth twitch upwards.

“Well, someone’s got to fill the silence. I’ll soon go insane if I have to keep sitting here quietly while you all look wistfully on at that miserable pile of boxes. Go and search through them, or something!”

“We’re waiting for signs of psychic activity first,” I gently kicked my rucksack with my boot. “You know that.”

“Boring.”

“Sensible.”

It continued blathering on, but after spending so much time with such a talkative companion I’d learnt to tune it out at will, even without bending down to switch the lever that would cut off all sound from the jar. That being said, however, I really needed to focus, so I nudged the lever with my foot anyways and soaked up the subsequent silence.

Lockwood held a casual stance, observing the whole room and occasionally checking his watch. His sunglasses hung from the front pocket of his coat; he’d had to use them earlier when we explored the master bedroom. The death glows inside had been intense, he’d said, but he had seen many much worse. It didn’t escape our notice that it was odd for the bedroom to lack psychic activity—it struck us as very odd, in fact, that the old couple reported that they slept in that room every night, and had never experienced any phenomena. It was only when going through the attic had they been spooked enough to give us a call.

Still, Lockwood’s sunglasses remained unused up here. Odd, yes, but not completely out of the ordinary.

I, meanwhile, was using the absence of the skull’s commentary to make use of my inner ear for other means; instead of listening to the skull babble on, I could listen out for any attempts at communication from other, more important spirits. I honestly wanted nothing more than to go up to the boxes and make use of my Touch, knowing full well that if the Source was in fact there, I could locate it—but Lockwood was cautious, and wanted to avoid being jump-scared by any apparitions. Inwardly, I found it ironic. Lockwood took more risks than any of us, yet used every inch of his prerogative as our leader to avoid the rest of us doing the same. Specifically me. My Talents were growing stronger day by day, but Lockwood consistently held me back. I understood why, of course, but it didn’t dim the intense craving to develop my skills further.

But I digress. I obediently stayed within the confines of the chains, keeping my ears open to any spectral sounds. George was going over the papers in the case file for the hundredth time that evening, presumably just to pass the time, and Holly was somehow managing to look very pretty and perfect despite being stood waiting for a deadly ghost to appear.

Which it did, eventually.

It was not long after eleven when the lantern in the middle of our circle suddenly went out. Naturally, we all leapt into action, spines straightening and hands darting to find purchase on the hilts of our rapiers. Our Talents were being used now more than ever.

A few moments passed, and nothing happened, though we didn’t allow ourselves to relax. Things were only just starting.

“Oh, there goes that lovely vase.”

It was only after all the kerfuffle did I realise I’d never switched the lever again, and the skull couldn’t possibly be audible, as the jar was meant to be completely shut.

I was just ever so slightly distracted by what was happening on the other side of the room to make note of that. The vase that the skull had kindly pointed out went from resting atop of one of the boxes to being flung to the side and shattering against the wall in a matter of seconds. Peculiar, considering no one had touched it.

Lockwood hissed a curse. “Poltergeist!” And then another, considerably stronger than the first.

We were quickly up and adjusting our iron circle, adding another chain to boost our defences in rapid time. In that moment I was rather glad I’d obeyed Lockwood and refrained from exploring the boxes; though I did take a second to wonder if I should have tried doing so while we were taking readings earlier. By then it was obviously too late to change a thing, though, so we leapt into Lockwood’s Plan B (Plan A was to corner the ghost and cover the Source, which by then seemed redundant in this situation): use our defences to subdue the ghost until we could decide on our next course of action.

One badly lobbed salt-bomb from George, however, seemed to anger the spirit, if the sudden gust of wind that blew our chains out of shape was anything to go by. The chains still remained linked together in a loop, but were swept under our feet so fast it was a wonder any of us stayed upright, though the noises that came out of us as we fought to stay standing were unflattering, to say the least. We were left out in the open now, chains strewn behind us in a sad looking squashed shape that was far too small to fit all four of us. It wasn’t worth risking turning our backs to the room to fix it; we had two options. Keep fighting back, or flee.

Lockwood and Co don’t flee. (Swift retreats from the top of a burning building into the Thames don’t count.)

Rapiers, however, can only get you so far when tackling a ghost that doesn’t manifest into a physical form, so instead of using them to fend off the spirit, we had to use them to stop incoming trinkets from hitting us squarely in the face. George had once again taken to lobbing salt-bombs across the room, knowing that his terrible aim wouldn’t affect a thing, because there was nothing to aim at.

Around us, the room began to shake.

Poltergeists are always the most awkward spirits to deal with—just take one look at the state Aickmere’s was in after our lovely little case there. There’ll be countless pictures of it in the papers down in the archives.

“Lockwood,” Holly panted, not a hair out of place yet, “it seems to care more about you and Lucy than it does me and George.”

“Does it?” Lockwood swiftly dodged a glass trinket dish. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Yes, because it’s throwing more stuff at you. We’ve only had a couple of things lobbed in our faces.” George said, looking much more rumpled than any of us.

“It must be repulsed by his face. Holly also reeks of essential oils. No wonder it doesn’t like the two of them.”

“Look through the boxes then,” I called out as I unclipped a salt-bomb from my belt and chucked it in front of me, “we can distract it—right, Lockwood?”

Lockwood grinned at me, teeth gleaming as usual. Dust from the beams above us had settled in his hair. “Took the words right out of my mouth, Luce.”

Our teamwork for the night probably peaked right about then; George and Holly snuck over to the piles of boxes and began rummaging through them, while Lockwood and I continued synchronously slashing elaborate shapes in the air with our rapiers. Lockwood took to calling out to the spirit at one point, effectively riling it up and ensuring the other two would go unnoticed.

“Young…”

“What?” I called out to my rucksack, which sat behind us against the wall, having been blown by the gust.

“What?” it replied irritably. “I didn’t say anything. Maybe pay more attention to your surroundings, eh?”

“Alive…”

“There it is again!” I cried out, dodging yet another thick, dust-riddled book that had been chucked at me.

“What do you hear, Lucy?” Lockwood sounded further away than when I last heard him. I spared a glance to my side to find the disruption caused by the poltergeist had led him further out into the room. It was separating us, slowly but surely.

The rumbling and creaking of the beams and floorboards around us almost rendered the spirit inaudible.

“Free…”

I spat out a curse and tried to focus my inner ear once more. The skull was being uncharacteristically silent, and it unnerved me.

“Hurry it up, George!” Lockwood called out.

“We’re going as fast as we can,” was George’s reply, sounding very flustered.

“Go faster,” Lockwood said, though he was much quieter. My hearing was focusing more, shifting from our world and tuning into the Other.

“You have…”

“I can’t—I don’t know what you want,” I stumbled to the side; the room’s tremblings were becoming more intense. “You can tell me.”

“Careful, Luce,” Lockwood’s stern tone carried across the room.

“Young… alive… together…”

“You can tell me.”

“Free… together…”

A buzzing rose up around me, my senses were overcome with the din. The room seemed to shake less, now. Lockwood’s voice sounded quieter, though I could still faintly hear a cry of pain from across the room. Was that him? Was he okay?

“Together… He took it from us…”

“Who? Daniel?” Blood pounded in my ears.

“He took… everything… from us…”

“You can—you can tell… me…” My body tingled; numbness flooded my legs, rooting my feet to the floor.

“You have… you… have… it…”

Had my grip on my rapier loosened, or were my hands so numb I simply couldn’t feel it anymore?

“Young…”

Young. I still lay awake in bed sometimes, in the late hours of the night, terrified for me, my future, my life. I was still so young. Not yet eighteen, yet out here risking my life on a regular basis. Throwing myself into life or death situations, all for the sake of others.

“Alive…”

Alive. Alive? How long would that last, I wonder?

“Free…”

“—cy.”

I vaguely considered how human that second voice sounded.

“Lucy.”

How alive it sounded.

“Lucy!”

Off in the distance, I could hear footsteps. Heavy. Approaching me fast, though they still felt far off. I was surrounded with nothing but that buzzing, energy swirled and stormed around me and my heart was pounding, full to the brim with emotions that may or may not have been mine. I was jealous (why was I jealous?), sick with envy and hatred and regret (regret?), bursting with sorrow and mourning and loss, I was lost, I was alone, where was he, where is he.

The buzz reached a crescendo.

Then everything stopped.

I opened my eyes—I hadn’t realised I had closed them—in time to see a porcelain vase pause mid-air, inches from my face, then fall to the ground, shattering into hundreds of shards at my feet. Dazed, I looked up to find Lockwood a few steps away, rapier reaching out not quite far enough to have stopped the vase from hitting me.

Why had it stopped?

“Found it,” George—I think it was George, I was too busy trying to control the trembling that racked my whole body to pay full attention—called from across the room, though his voice sounded miles away. My ears rang.

“Lucy,” Lockwood’s voice rang clear through the dense air that seemed to surround me. “Lucy.”

I felt his arms wrap firmly around me. His cheek rested on my head, his breath was hot against my scalp. He held me tight, as if preventing me from crumbling to pieces like the vase at my feet.

I exhaled a shaky breath and leaned into the touch. My eyes felt wet, and despite everything, I inwardly scolded myself for it.

“There’s a poem on the back,” George said, carefully flipping over the framed painting that sat atop the kitchen table, confined within one of our silver nets.

“A poem?” Holly asked over her shoulder, busying herself with making four cups of tea.

“Mm.” George rubbed his glasses clean on the hem of his jumper once again. “A love poem, if I’m not mistaken.”

We were in the kitchen of the old couple’s home, and after arranging a few softly glowing lanterns around the room, had settled at the table. Holly was providing refreshments, George was still inspecting the Source, and Lockwood would have normally been rummaging around the cupboards to find some snacks (read: biscuits) to perk us up after such a draining case, had he not been firmly at my side. He’d been glued there since Holly had lain the silver net over the painting up in the attic.

“It was a Valentine’s gift.” George nodded to the back of the frame, where underneath the handwritten poem were three lines that read:

‘Happy Valentine’s day, Eden.

With all my love,

James.’

“I still don’t understand it all,” I said, still somewhat shaky. “Poltergeists don’t communicate verbally. I shouldn’t have been able to hear anything.”

“Maybe it wasn’t the poltergeist,” George said, lifting his mug of tea to his lips, and wincing when it turned out too hot to yet be drinkable. I frowned. My head was killing me. I’d switched the lever of the skull’s jar on the way to the kitchen; its voice was so grating it amplified the pain in my head tenfold every time it opened its mouth. I relished the quiet.

“What I think,” he continued, blowing on his tea, “is that both Eden and James returned. One was the poltergeist, and the other, a more generic, weakened spirit. You were hearing the second one. Disturbing the sentimental painting was enough to rile them both up and get them angry over their unfortunate end with Redding.”

“It sounded as if they were jealous?” Holly said, mirroring George as she tried to cool down her tea. I merely held mine, savouring the warmth that radiated through the ceramic. Lockwood hadn't touched his.

“Jealous?” I blinked, slowly.

“Jealous,” she repeated, this time slower and less certain. “You said it was talking about you being young, alive, free, together, and such. That poor couple was killed at a very young age. They had their whole lives ahead of them. It makes sense that they would envy someone who has what they used to, no?”

“We're all young, alive, and free, so to speak, though. Makes you wonder why they specifically targeted Luce and Lockwood,” George said, though his eyebrows were raised alarmingly high, and his gaze refused to avert from his tea, which, if I knew anything about George Cubbins, meant he full well knew why, but for once didn’t want to open his mouth.

Holly hummed and sipped her tea. She seemed pleased that the old couple had some green tea in their kitchen.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Lockwood broke his lengthy silence and heaved a sigh, lowering the ice cubes wrapped in kitchen roll from his forehead. A trinket had caught him and gashed his skin, though it was unlike Lockwood to let something like that happen. He was more skilled with defensive rapier techniques than any of us. “We finish our tea, then that”—he gave a pointed look to the painting—“goes straight to the furnaces.”

A blanket of silence fell upon us, broken only by the occasional clinking of spoons or the sipping of drinks.

After what felt like an eternity, I eventually raised my mug to my lips.

The tea was cold.

I was perched on the edge of my bed, watching the street below through my window with the skull peacefully sat on the sill nearby. It occasionally cranked out a comment or two, insulting passer-bys’ appearances or even occasionally mine. I didn’t blame it. It was the day after the Valentine’s case, and I was still looking worse for wear. Touch had always been a tricky Talent, and the effects of feeling another’s emotions so intensely never failed to take a toll on me. I’d even declined some of the extra biscuits Holly had left over, I didn’t have it in me to eat anything. My eyelids felt heavy, I was still wearing my clothes from the night before, and my hair was almost certainly sticking out in at least five different directions, but my bed was comfortable, and people-watching was a mildly entertaining pastime, so I was content for the moment.

A soft knocking resonated from behind me.

“Yeah?”

“It’s just me,” came Lockwood’s voice, becoming louder as he carefully opened the door. “I wanted to check up on you.”

“I’m fine. Nothing a bit of sleep can’t fix.”

Lockwood visibly wilted, with pity in his dark eyes. “Mind if I come in?”

I shook my head and rubbed at an eye. “God, I probably look worse than Flo on a regular day right now.”

“Nonsense,” Lockwood laughed softly. He moved to stand beside me, and considered the view from the window. A lengthy silence fell upon us.

“Luce,” he eventually spoke, “I wanted to apologise. For last night.”

I squinted up at him. “Why?”

“The poltergeist,” he sighed, “it targeted us. You.”

“It did,” I slowly nodded, confusion evident on my features, “but it’s nothing you need to apologise for.”

He gently shook his head, hair falling out of place and covering a brow.

“They targeted us—you—for a reason. They,” he took a deep breath and kept his gaze trained on the window, “they envied us, just like Holly said.”

“I don’t”—I shook my head and slowly stood up, turning to lean on the windowsill and face him—“I don’t understand. Honestly.”

“How dense can you get?” the skull murmured.

Lockwood looked at me.

I looked at him.

Our gazes flicked down a couple of inches.

It took a lot of willpower for me to stop staring at his lips.

Beside me, the skull retched.

“Oh.” I said, stupidly.

Lockwood exhaled sharply through his nose and averted his gaze to frown out of the window.

“I’m sorry. Poltergeists feed off of emotions, everyone knows that. I underestimated the severity of our case, and in leaving my emotions unchecked, I put you in danger.”

“I could say the same to you, though.”

“Yes, but I’m the leader.”

“And?”

“Luce,” he sighed, running a hand through his unkempt hair and looking back at me. “You’re making this very difficult.”

“It’s what I live to do, Lockwood. You should know this by now.”

He laughed, and his nose crinkled.

“True. I shouldn’t expect anything less from Ms. Carlyle.”

“Don’t call me that. It reminds me of when I first joined and you were weirdly formal with me all the time.”

“You didn’t like it?”

“It’s not that, but”—I awkwardly shifted my weight between my feet—“it just felt… odd.”

“My apologies,” he breathed. We were stood closer, though I couldn’t tell which of us had moved forward. “I won’t make a habit of it.”

“I should hope not, or I’ll start calling you Mr. Lockwood. Or Tony, maybe?”

“God, don’t even joke about that.”

I laughed, and when I opened my eyes, he was closer. I glanced at his lips again.

“Lockwood.”

“We shouldn’t—” he sighed, “I shouldn’t—“

“Then let me,” I murmured, and closed the gap between us.

He hesitated for a moment, then slowly snaked his arms around me. My hands found purchase on the back of his neck, where my fingertips brushed against the fine hairs at his nape.

I felt light on my feet, and warm—oh so warm. The burdens of the night before melted away as my eyes fluttered closed.

From beside us, the skull continued to retch.

“Sick in the head, I tell you. No common decency. Exchanging saliva in front of an audience? Mortifying.”

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood & co fic #lucy carlyle #anthony lockwood #locklyle #czenzo.fic

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ethanesimp · 3 years

Text

WHEN YOU’RE GONE // D.D.

Pairing: Mob Boss! Damiano David x Mob GN! Reader (it was originally written with a fem! reader so please let me know if you spot any slip ups on my part)

Summary: Soulmates are already a difficult concept to grasp and things don’t seem to get any easier when you like a person who already has a soulmate.

Word Count: 9.8k (it’s so long lakjd)

Warnings: Swearing, death and mentions of it, injuries, angst -lots of it-, it’s a mob fic so violence, smoking, Damiano being kind of an asshole? Me probably using swear words in italian wrong... Just read with caution pls

Masterlist // Taglist link in bio

A/N: If you’ve seen this before, it’s probably because this has been written and posted on my other blog @pparkersbitch as a Tom Holland fanfiction at the beginning of the year (which has now been deleted). It’s the same person and I’m not stealing anyone’s work :) I just like it and wanted to bring it back. I did add/modify some tiny details though. The idea is probably dumb, but I’m sharing anyways.

Taglist: @gretavanfleetlove @superchrystaldrug @reputationdamiano

“This isn’t how I wanted to start my morning,” Your best friend mumbled in a tired voice. You could barely hear him from where you were standing over the sounds the old -and surely broken- coffee machine kept making and the music playing from his phone.

“Well, sucks to be us, huh?” You chuckled and poured coffee on both of your cups as you did a small dance to try and shake the tiredness off your body. You handed Damiano his cup after preparing his coffee the way he liked it, a teaspoon of sugar with a splash of milk, and walked with him to the large office down the hall, “I don’t get why Ethan and Thomas can’t do this instead of us.”

The room was always cold and you seemed to forget about it most of the time since it still slipped your mind to wear a sweater or hoodie over your thin pajama shirt. You grabbed one of the blankets from the small black couch on the corner of the room and wrapped it around your body as best as you could with your free hand.

You sat down on the chair next to him to have a better look at all the papers and files he had spread out on the desk, “What exactly are we looking for?” You asked with furrowed eyebrows. All those documents were enough to keep you occupied for the whole day if you didn’t work fast enough.

“We are looking for any leads to the drug cartel or its leader. Really anything that can help us find them,” Damiano explained and took a sip of his coffee as he opened the first file.

You had been trying to track a drug cartel ever since they infiltrated your warehouse and stole some of your products. Damiano’s father had been at both of your necks ever since it happened as if it had been your fault instead of the incompetent guards that were supposed to be guarding the entrance at all times, “I’m sure these are people we’ve made deals with in the past, they wouldn’t have been able to break in otherwise. We’ve always been far too careful for this to be a mere coincidence.”

He removed the gold ring from his ring finger and left it on the jewelry bowl you had placed on his desk. You had known Damiano David and his family for years. For as long as you had known him, the band on his ring finger had been gold, and you hated it.

That stupid little gold band was a silent reminder that he had met his soulmate and there was nothing to be done about it. For months you had silently hoped and prayed for Damiano to be your soulmate, but any illusion or wish you had of it happening, had vanished the moment you saw the gold ring on his finger for the first time. You later discovered he avoided wearing it on his hand because it put his soulmate at risk of being found, but he still kept it close to him at all times by using it as a necklace.

You avoided wearing yours for an entirely different reason. The black ring and all the stares and words of pity that came with it were saddening and something you didn’t need. While gold was a reminder of love and good luck, black was a reminder that your soulmate was no longer alive and you were doomed to spend the rest of your life alone. You were sure the band had been black for most of your life, or at least that’s how you remembered it.

It was safe to say you were jealous of Damiano’s soulmate, Marlee. Not only was she one of the most beautiful women you had ever met, but she got to have perhaps the most amazing man by her side until her dying day, something you could never have in any way that wasn’t platonic.

You successfully ignored it most days, which wasn’t so hard to do since you had better things to think about most of the time, but nights were always the hardest. In your loud and chaotic life, there was a speck in time where everything quieted and calmed down. During those few hours was when you’d break down and grieve for the person whose name you didn’t even get to know. You’d cry for being stupid enough to fall for someone who wasn’t only your best friend, but who also had a girlfriend.

“Damiano, Y/N?” Marlee’s sweet voice interrupted your train of thoughts. You had been reading the files consciously enough to notice anything unusual, but you had paid no mind to anything else until she walked into the room. You smiled politely at her and waved.

She walked up to Damiano and he immediately closed all files with any sort of photo that might be too graphic for her to look at. Marlee cupped his face and pressed her lips to his for a few moments that felt like an eternity to you, watching everything from the side as a feeling of jealousy invaded your senses. You did nothing but look at the painting on the wall until they stopped locking lips, which took a bit longer than you would’ve liked.

“Did you two find anything?” Marlee asked once she pulled away from Damiano. He gave her a look you knew as ‘I cannot tell you anything about the mob to keep you safe’. She had been involved with the mob’s administration for most of her life, only after she met Damiano and her father united his mob with Damiano’s did she stop working.

You had been brought in as a replacement of sorts once Marlee stopped doing any mob business per Damiano’s request. His parents had saved yours from a legal accident, which left you in debt with his family, so you didn’t have much say on whether you’d join the mob or not.

Something you were grateful for was that Damiano always kept your hands clean. No matter what business it was, he made sure to keep you out of any sort of situation in which you’d have to hurt or get hurt by another member of the mob. Most people that worked for Damiano didn’t have the pleasure of knowing him as the lenient and caring individual he was around you.

You excused yourself after spending a few more minutes flipping through the files in search of something but ultimately found nothing. It was supposed to be your free day, or at least that was what Damiano had promised. Apart from that impromptu search for information at 5 am, he promised he’d have Ethan, Vic, or Thomas help with anything he needed.

That was why you took the liberty to lock yourself inside your room and put your phone on silent. You desperately wanted to catch up on all the hours of sleep you had lost in between those early morning duty calls and coffee runs. No matter how much you enjoyed spending time with Damiano, you still missed your normal sleep schedule.

When you woke up a few hours later, the house was completely silent. The usual chatter coming from the kitchen wasn’t there, neither was the noise of Vic repeatedly firing bullets at the targets in the garden to practice her aim like she did every morning or the soft sound of Thomas softly strumming his guitar as he tried to piece an unplanned melody together with the assistance of Ethan’s drumming.

It wasn’t a Sunday, which meant they weren’t away visiting their families. They were all supposed to be home. That last thought made you nervous and you couldn’t help but wonder if something had happened while you were asleep. Being in the mob, you knew a lot of unexpected things happened all the time and you had to be prepared for them all.

You walked to the door, determined to investigate what was wrong. Your hand was already firmly grasping the doorknob and you were about to undo the lock when someone knocked harshly on the door, startling you.

Without hesitation, you jumped back and reached for the gun stuffed in one of the drawers nearby, “Y/N? You awake?”

You let go of the drawer’s handle and your tense body relaxed at the sound of Victoria’s raspy voice, “Fuck, Vic, you scared me,” You spoke as you opened the door to be met with her panicked blue eyes. Your eyebrows furrowed at her worried expression, but before you could ask, she grabbed you by the arm softly and dragged you out of the room.

Once you were in the hallway, you finally heard everything with a lot more clarity. The faint sound of glass clinking before falling to the floor, Thomas’s exasperated shouts, and Damiano’s complaints. You looked at Victoria, expecting an explanation.

“I don’t know what happened,” She began, “One second he was alright, then at like 9 AM Ethan and I heard them fighting. She’s gone and Damiano’s locked in his room, won’t let anyone in. Thomas is trying to get him to talk while Ethan looks for the keys.”

You walked past Victoria and ran up the stairs. Damiano’s room was right above yours. Upon walking up to the third floor of the house, you saw Thomas repeatedly knocking on Damiano’s door. Once he heard footsteps and spotted you, it was like relief washed all over him at the sight of you.

“Do you mind trying?” He asked, “He’s been asking for you,” Thomas added with a sigh as he brushed his messy hair out of his forehead. You nodded and got closer to the door once he got out of the way.

With hesitation, you knocked on the door and patiently waited for a response, which arrived only after you knocked once again, “Vaffanculo, Thomas! Which part of your tiny fucking brain cannot understand that I want to be left alone?”

You flinched at his words and took a long breath as you gathered the confidence to speak up, “I-It’s Y/N, Dami,” You said, loud enough for him to hear you from where he was. You were expecting rejection; if Damiano didn’t want to talk to people who were as close to him as siblings, why would he talk to you? Sure, you were one of his best friends, but he’d known Thomas for longer than he—

Your thoughts were interrupted when Damiano opened the door and quickly dragged you in before slamming it shut once more. For the first few minutes, you stood in silence while Damiano faced the door. You couldn’t see his face or his eyes, so you had no idea what could be going through his mind, so you focused on your surroundings instead.

The room was a mess, but not more than it usually was. What alarmed you was the shattered glass on the floor as well as the drops of blood that stained the white floor. You looked back at your best friend and noticed that it was dripping from his hand.

“Damiano,” You called, “Amore, your hand,” He turned to look at you and that’s when you finally saw his red and swollen eyes as well his tear-stained cheeks. His gaze softened once his eyes fell on yours. He choked back a sob and turned away from you once again.

If his hand hadn’t been bleeding, you wouldn’t have hesitated on wrapping your arms around his neck and trying to comfort him. Instead, you ran to his bathroom to grab the first-aid kit. After years of being in the business, treating Damiano’s cuts and injuries wasn’t anything new to you, but you were oblivious as to why he was in such a state in the first place.

Being the person he was, Damiano had learned to conceal his emotions incredibly well to protect himself, even around the people he trusted the most. You had only seen him that shaken once when something had gone terribly wrong. The fact that Marlee was gone too only gave you a worse feeling. The fact that her clothes were all gone from the closet didn’t ease your worried mind either.

Damiano was sitting on the bed patiently waiting for you to return. Once you did, he avoided your gaze and said nothing as you examined his hand. The cuts were all superficial and would surely cure on their own in a few days, which was why you only focused on removing the tiny shards of glass that had stuck to his skin with a pair of tweezers.

Once that was done and you had cleaned the cuts, you wrapped a bandage around his hand once and secured it with a small piece of tape. You sat in silence for a while, you didn’t comment on the sobs that would escape his lips every once in a while or the tears that had started falling down his cheeks.

Instead, you waited until he was ready to say something, “I don’t even know how to tell you this,” Damiano mumbled. His eyes stayed glued to the floor. He seemed… embarrassed to look you in the eye.

“I was finally going to do it this morning, N/N,” He said as a sigh escaped past his lips and he took a small velvet box out of his pocket. He didn’t have to say what was inside the box because you knew exactly what it was. Damiano had been planning on proposing for months, but there was always something that managed to get in the way of completing his goal.

“She went to the bathroom and had left her phone on my bedside table. I was going to get the ring and Y/N… I-I swear to God I didn’t want to look but the messages kept coming, one after the other, the fucking phone wouldn’t stop making noise. Cazzo, she was the one feeding information to the drug cartel and Lord knows to who else,” He said those words in one breath and you had barely been able to catch them all. Damiano threw the box at the wall angrily and from the noise, you didn’t doubt there’d be an indent there.

“I asked her about it and you have no idea how much I wished she’d deny it, but she didn’t even try,” Damiano cried. Unexpectedly, Damiano turned his body around to face yours and wrapped his arms around your waist while he buried his face on your neck.

It took you by surprise, but you said nothing. Instead, you focused on rubbing circles on his back and whispering soothing words into his ear. Part of you knew there was something else going on, even if you didn’t ask. You hadn’t seen Damiano cry in a long time and even then you saw nothing more than just a few tears rolling down his cheeks. What happened with Marlee had truly driven him right to the edge and he couldn’t keep in everything he had been trying so hard to hide.

In the four months that followed, you didn’t see Marlee once. She never had the guts to return after Damiano found out about everything she had been doing behind his back. At first, he had been utterly destroyed by her absence, it pained you to see him shut everything and everyone out with the lame excuse that he had work to do. Every single time he did so, you’d quietly sit down and help him despite his complaints.

He got better though. Once enough time passed, he healed, but all that love he had once felt for her was now nothing more than pure hatred every single time her name was mentioned. You knew better than anyone that it wasn’t the healthiest thing to do, but it didn’t matter how many times you told him so because it never truly changed much.

As for the mob, things seemed to calm down once Damiano and Ethan were able to track down the leader of the drug cartel and get the stolen products back. Everything was too good and too quiet. While your four friends enjoyed all that peace, you couldn’t help but worry about something being wrong. It was a silly thing anyway, there was nothing that gave you even the slightest confirmation that your worry wasn’t just fueled by paranoia, not a single thing.

You should’ve been grateful instead. Your sleep schedule had gotten acceptably regular and there was no more working from 5 am to 10 pm every single day. You also had time to finally sit down and read the books that had been sitting on your untouched shelf ever since the start of the year, just like you were doing at that very moment while the boys were playing poker in the basement and Vic was on a date.

Damiano walked into your room eventually, still smelling like the cigarette he had just been smoking minutes back. He couldn’t help but scrunch up his nose as the smell of lemon incense burning hit his nostrils.

You looked up and giggled at his disgusted expression, “You cannot be disgusted when you were the one who walked into my room smelling like cigar and beer,” Damiano rolled his eyes and plopped down on the bed next to you.

“Incense is bad for you,” You shot Damiano a killer look and closed your book. He gave you a funny look back and then put his attention on your book, “What are you reading anyway?”

You hummed and showed him the cover. It had a beautiful yet simple design, which accurately represented the story hidden in between those pages, “Okay so, it’s the story of these people that all get invited to this island. They’re all summoned there for different reasons but it turns out they all have this common enemy. It’s terrifying because they get killed off one by one when a children’s lullaby plays. I truly cannot explain it enough to do justice to how intense this book is.”

“Oh and before that I got to read the most wonderful romance book! It was apparently the first book written where soulmates weren’t a thing and it was just a piece of art. Beautifully written, made me cry for hours too.”

Damiano smiled and you could almost see all the gears turning inside his brain, “Wouldn’t it be amazing?”

“What would?”

He shrugged and propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look at you, “A world without soulmates, where you’re not bound to someone since birth.”

You sighed and turned to look at him, “It’s our own fault… being bound, I mean. No angel from the heavens came down to tell us we have to love our soulmate as anything more than a close friend, you know? It can be purely platonic, we’re just stupid.”

“Were you ever able to fall in love with your soulmate or was it just platonic?” Damiano asked. You never talked much about soulmates with him. He still didn’t know your soulmate had been dead for as long as you could remember.

“I never got to know them,” You smiled sadly and showed him the black ring you had gotten used to wearing around your neck, carefully tucked under your shirt to stay unseen. His mouth fell open as he grabbed the ring and inspected it closely. It was the first time he had seen a black ring.

“I didn’t know… I’m sorry,” Damiano let the ring go. You shrugged and waved your hand to silently show it wasn’t too important, “I thought you guys were separated or something.”

You shook your head, “Mom says the ring turned black when I was six, but I don’t really remember so I just like to pretend I never had one in the first place… I don’t know.”

There was a question on the tip of your tongue, but you didn’t want to ask it, as intrigued as you were to know the answer. You hadn’t talked about her ever since she left and he’d most likely avoid the question because he truly wanted to keep her name out of his mouth. Nonetheless, he noticed your hesitance because you suddenly got too silent.

“You can ask, you know? I know I just touched on a sensitive topic, so…” You nodded. Both of you were lying on your backs, looking up at the ceiling which had some of those glow-in-the-dark stars and planets you had glued when you first moved in to feel less lonely.

You hummed softly as you tried to find the right words. You didn’t want to be too straightforward with your question in fear of upsetting your best friend even though he had asked you the same question minutes earlier, “Did-did you ever… you know, fall in love with her?”

Damiano thought about it in silence, you had probably caught him off-guard with your question, “No, not really. Not in the way I was expecting at least. You know truth be told, I was a bit disappointed. Don’t get me wrong, she had this angelic look to her, she was a stunning girl. I just- there was nothing we had in common other than being soulmates. For years I had seen my parents act like they shared one mind and just thought the same things. I always imagined it’d be like that for me too.

“My expectations couldn’t have been further from what it truly was like. Honestly, I’m not even sure which part of our relationship was true anymore. Now that I look back on it, I’ve realized most of the things she did or said were just to get information out of me.”

It was weird to hear him say all that. As a person who always got to look at the way Marlee and Damiano interacted with one another, you would’ve never expected Damiano to feel that way, “And,” He continued, “I was expecting it to be someone else.”

His last confession made you turn around to look at him. It was the first time he had admitted that, probably because of the beer he had been drinking while playing with his friends.

“I know it sounds terrible but… I met her and this other person on the same day, almost at the same time. I didn’t notice my ring had turned gold until much later. I had only been with them both and people I already knew. I thought it had been the other person until she told me her ring had changed too. Meanwhile, the other one said nothing. Now I realize it would’ve been impossible for them to be my soulmate.”

It might’ve been because he was telling you all those things and you felt safe to admit what you felt, or maybe because you were tired of bottling it up for so long. Either way, you spoke up, not caring if you’d regret it later, “It’s not as terrible as you might think.”

“Look, I’m not bound to anyone. The black ring gives me the freedom of loving someone else. I never met my soulmate so there’s no guilt in being with someone else. It’s supposed to be a perfect thing, Dami, only it isn’t. I know a lot of people who’re also blacksouled,” You hated using the word. It was usually how people would refer to those who didn’t have a soulmate anymore, “And I fell in love.”

“T-that’s great!” Damiano replied, “Why didn’t you tell me? I mean, not like you’re obliged to tell me anything just because we’re friends but I-”

You interrupted his rant, “I fell in love with someone whose soulmate’s still alive.”

“So what? You said it yourself. Are they together?” He asked. You told him they weren’t. If only he knew you were talking about him… He’d probably run away and never speak to you again, “Then fuck it. Fuck the rules and everything else society has to say.”

“It’s not that simple, Dami. I truly wish it was, but it isn’t,” You wanted nothing more than for the conversation to be over. If it went any further, you knew you’d spill every single thing. It had gotten far too hard to conceal your feelings when you were close to him. Now that you were talking about them, it’d be even harder.

You got up and walked to your bookshelf, where you started accommodating your books as an excuse to avoid being so close to him, to avoid his curious gaze. Even if they weren’t together anymore, you knew Damiano would reject you, that was far too obvious. Even if he felt the same, after what happened, it’d take Damiano a lot of effort to ever trust someone in such an intimate way, even if that someone was you, his best friend.

“Why? It is that simple. If they’re not together, what’s stopping you? You’ll never know what could happen if you don’t try,” You turned around to look at him, fists clenched by your sides, “Listen Y/N, I know you’re scared of relationships and everything they involve but you cannot let that sto—”

“Fine then, I’m in love with you! I can barely breathe when I’m around you because my love for you is so suffocatingly strong, and I can’t think straight either! You and your stupidly handsome face drive me insane. How’s that?” You admitted, interrupting his small speech midway, too irritated to process what you had just said. Once you did, your hand flew to your mouth and you shook your head. You wanted to say it wasn’t true, no, it was nothing more than a lie to get him to stop poking his nose into your love life. Except it wasn’t and, if you were being honest, no part of you wanted to hide it anymore.

Just like you expected, he said nothing. Damiano stayed silent for a few seconds before getting up and walking out without another word. He slammed the door on the way out so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if the door separated from its hinges.

For the weeks that followed, Damiano avoided you as much as possible. You were still his right-hand person and needed to be present at every meeting and would have to discuss any type of business with him. It used to be your favorite part of the day when you got to sit in the meeting room with Damiano and discuss plans to make the mob prosper, now it was nothing but uncomfortable because you’d do all the talking while he looked at you as if his biggest desire was to carve your heart out with his pocket knife.

While you understood that he was still mad at Marlee and wanted nothing to do with her, you didn’t understand why he was treating you that way when you had nothing to do with it and weren’t to blame for the stupid shit his ex had tried to pull. You thought he knew that you loved him far too much to ever do anything to jeopardize his safety. Yet again, he might’ve assumed the same thing about Marlee.

You walked out of yet another unsuccessful meeting with Damiano and slammed the door as hard as you could to let him know how much his childish behavior annoyed you. Ethan was standing close to the door and you could see the shadow of a smile that was threatening to break out and illuminate his face, “Don’t you dare,” He raised his hands in defense and bit his lip to try and hide the smile that would just annoy you further.

“You two are starting to act like two teenagers and it’s fucking pathetic,” Thomas chimed in from where he was sitting on one of the couches.

“Yeah? Tell that to your friend who is giving me the silent treatment like a fucking toddler! I just want- I need to have a serious conversation with him,” You admitted and sighed as you fell on the couch right next to Thomas, head in your hands to try and cover up the tears that were threatening to spill down your cheeks.

Both men stayed silent as they watched you, Even though you could feel their stares, you decided to focus on not crying instead. The truth was, the longer Damiano spent ignoring you, the more you regretted telling him what you had been bottling up for years, it had been a mistake there was no coming back from. Unless he decided to stop acting like a kindergartener, things would never go back to the way they were.

It was frustrating to think that your friendship would go to shit just because of your confession. Being rejected by him wouldn’t have been a big deal if he had actually stayed in your room and spoken like the adult he was.

“For the record, I think he’s acting like an idiot because he’s scared,” Sighed Victoria, who had just walked into the room with an ice pack placed over her hand, “I know it’s been a while but, give him time. He’ll come around or I’ll make him, I promise.”

You gave Victoria a tight-lipped smile and nodded. You hoped more than anything that it wouldn’t have to come to getting locked up in the same room as Damiano to get him to speak to you.

Except… as more days passed, you feared it would most likely have to be that way because he was still saying nothing to you. He had only spoken once and it had been to call you out for being doing everything wrong while looking through some important documents when you were, in fact, doing everything just like he had initially requested. Now, not only had he been giving you the cold shoulder, but he had started acting like a complete jerk around you too.

You tried to distract yourself by focusing on all the work you had pending, but it wasn’t working. Every single day, no matter what you were doing, your mind still wandered back to the brown-eyed man and his stupid face, his stupid hair, and stupid smile.

Even as you stood in the middle of the kitchen, your thoughts made it difficult to bake the cookies you had been craving all week. You had started to work on the second batch after the first one came out disgustingly salty because somewhere along the process you had mistaken the salt for the sugar.

You hated how bothered you were by the whole situation. It had affected you way more than you would’ve liked to admit. Truth be told, you had never felt sad about his rejection because it was something you had expected ever since that attraction for him first settled on your brain. It was the way he was treating you that got on your nerves.

That was mainly the reason why you were so thankful for being alone in the house at that very moment. Apart from a few security guards here and there, you were completely alone. You allowed yourself to relax for a split second and connected your phone to the speaker system in the kitchen. You started playing one of your favorite playlists before getting back to making cookies the right way this time.

You softly swayed your body along to the music as you dumped all the ingredients on the large bowl in front of you. As you poured the flour in the bowl and mixed it with your hands, you noticed Damiano standing by the door. For some unknown reason, he scared you so bad you accidentally tipped the bowl and made a mess of the counter.

A frustrated sigh escaped past your lips and you threw your head back, feeling defeated and irritated, “I’m sorry,” Damiano spoke up hesitantly, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You shook your head and wiped your hands on the apron you had tied around your waist, “It’s fine,” You turned around so your back was to him and started wiping the counter with a damp towel.

“You deserve so much better…” You heard him speak up over the music. His words caught you by surprise. You turned around to look at him but said nothing. You could tell he was nervous by the way his hands trembled by his sides and the way his jaw was firmly clenched.

After a few minutes of hesitation, Damiano started walking to where you were. He placed his hands on the counter by your sides, leaving you trapped in between the counter and his body. You looked into his dark eyes to maybe try and guess what was going through his mind.

You breathed in so deeply your chest hit his. You gulped at that and tried to control your trembling hands without looking away.

“What you said the other day, did you mean it?” Damiano asked, without hesitation this time around. Your eyes widened.

“I-I… What?”

“Just answer me Y/N, please,” Damiano pleaded. He looked so desperate to know the answer, which only made your blood boil. After weeks of silence, of glares and being a jerk, he dared to just show up and demand answers?

You shook your head and pointed your finger at his chest, “How dare you?” You took a step towards him, which made Damiano take a step back, “You have no right to show up like this and ask me to give you answers after how much of an asshole you’ve been.”

He seemed taken aback by your truthful words, but you didn’t care. If he wanted to know how much truth had been behind your words that night, he’d have to hear it all, “You know I’m your best friend and you also know I’d keep up with anything you do because that’s how much I care about you, but can you stop it? I know I was stupid for telling you because of what you just went through and I’m sorry, but please don’t keep giving me the cold shoulder. I just want to fix this.”

After a few minutes of silence, you shrugged and, like it was the simplest thing in the world, spoke up, “And yeah, I meant every word.”

Your expression softened as you waited for any sort of reaction from Damiano. You expected something similar to what had happened the day you first told him. No part of you expected him to cup your face with his warm, calloused palms to bring your face closer to him once again.

Neither did you expect to feel his soft lips pressed against yours, or the feeling of his soft hair as you brushed it back with your fingers and your eyes slowly closing as you basked on the joy and pleasure his soft touches caused.

Damiano was gentle as he held your face in between his hands, almost as if you were made of glass and he was afraid of breaking you into pieces if he didn’t hold you delicately enough. That kiss felt so intimate, like nothing you had ever felt before. Everything from the way he held you to his slow movements and touches was so much better than you could’ve ever imagined.

When he pulled away, he left you completely breathless, wordless. There was nothing you could possibly say after the way he had kissed you, so you waited for him to find the right words instead.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Damiano mumbled. He still hadn’t let go of your face, “You truly deserve better. You are so beautiful, so perfect. I’m so sorry for being such an idiot and hurting you, ignoring you. I just- I know I cannot love you as you deserve. Believe me, I want nothing more than to have you close to me all the time, to kiss your lips until you grow sick of me, but I can’t,” His voice was starting to crack as he said those words to you and you knew it was because of how he saw your face fall.

“No, no, shut up and listen to me,” You pleaded and placed your hands on top of his. You gave them a soft squeeze and let your forehead rest against his, “I know it’s hard for you to trust after what happened with her and I know it’s not going to be easy, but believe me, I’m willing to try if you are, Damiano.”

“You were that other person,” He confessed and got closer to kiss you once more, with as much passion as the last time. You were too concentrated on the smell of his musky cologne and the faint taste of vanilla chapstick he had surely stolen from your room to respond to his comment.

His hands fell from your face and comfortably rested on your hips as his lips attacked yours. Damiano pushed you against the counter and kept savoring the moment as if it were the first and last time he’d kiss you like that. You hoped for your sake it wouldn’t be the last.

Damiano pulled away reluctantly and unexpectedly lifted you up so you’d sit on the counter. He stood in between your legs and intertwined his fingers with yours.

“Remember when I told you about the person I met the day I met Marlee?” You nodded, “That was you... Ever since I met you I’ve felt this inexplicable attraction towards you and it’s been driving me insane. I couldn’t believe it when you told me you loved me because I’ve done nothing to deserve it.”

“You’ve done so much to deserve it, so so much,” You mumbled and brought him close to you to kiss him for the third time. It was such an addicting feeling and both your heart and mind were screaming to feel it again.

That time around, Damiano didn’t hesitate to lift you up once more, he carried you to his room and locked the door.

—

It had been a few weeks since your conversation in the kitchen. Things returned back to normal after that night. Other than your relationship with Damiano, things were the same again. You had to go back to working at ungodly hours of the morning thanks to some suspicious activity Ethan had noticed. Apparently, one of the oldest members of Damiano’s mob had tried to establish a deal with an unknown subject but had been caught before he could accomplish it.

This put you both on edge because there was someone out there desperate to break into the mob and finish it for good. At first, you thought it wasn’t more serious than whatever had happened with Marlee, but Damiano’s father proved you wrong the moment he brought you, their most loyal employee, in for questioning.

It had been nothing too serious, at least not in comparison to what you had heard others say. In your case, it had been done mostly as a standardized protocol, to stop others from thinking there was some sort of preference or special treatment towards you just because you worked so close to Damiano. You knew almost everything Damiano did, so you were possibly the greatest source of information outside the David family and their small circle of friends.

“Amore?” Damiano asked softly as his hand caressed the exposed skin of your waist. You had been cuddling in bed for almost two hours with the excuse that you needed a break after all the hard work you’d done, “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

You turned around to be face to face with him and pressed a kiss to his freckled nose, “Not much. I was just remembering I need to get my ring resized again. I tried putting it on a few days ago and it didn’t fit anymore.

Damiano frowned at your words, “Your soulmate ring?”

“Mhm,” You responded simply and let your head rest on his chest. You enjoyed the feeling of warmth his body irradiated, it was soothing and the soft sound of his rhythmic heartbeat never failed to make you feel calmer.

“Soulmate rings don’t need to be resized, ever. Not that I know of, at least,” Now it was your turn to frown because, as far as you remembered, you had always gone to get your ring resized by a family friend who didn’t live too far away. No one had ever told you it wasn’t necessary.

You pulled away from his embrace and reached for the bedside table where you had been keeping the ring for the past few days. Once you turned back around, Damiano looked confused and almost scared, “Just, out of curiosity, tesoro. Have you ever taken off the ring and left it like far away for longer than a few hours?”

A giggle escaped past your lips at his silly question, “It’s just a piece of jewelry, Dami. Of course, I have, several times.”

You laughed nervously once you saw his horrified expression. Damiano was starting to scare you, but you knew better than to say something because you’d end up looking like a fool if he started laughing and told you it was all a joke. Except, it didn’t seem like one.

“Please get dressed and meet me in room five, okay? I might be going insane but I just need to make sure I’m not,” Before you could ask any questions, Damiano had already grabbed a pair of pants and a t-shirt and disappeared into the bathroom to get dressed.

You tried not to think much about his weird questions and got dressed quickly instead. You grabbed your cup of tea, which had already gone cold, and walked to meeting room five.

You opened the door and were surprised to see all your friends already sitting around the small table you’d use for informal meetings. Thomas and Victoria looked tired and Ethan’s long hair was tangled and messy. That gave you the impression that Damiano had most likely woken them all up for your impromptu meeting.

They all looked just as confused as you felt. There were a lot of questions you wanted to ask, but Ethan beat you to it, “Okay, now that we’re all here can you fucking explain why you had to wake me up? Please.”

“Have any of you three—,” Started Damiano, referring to Thomas, Victoria and Ethan, “—tried to take off your ring for a while but have started feeling sick and weird?”

Thomas and Victoria looked at each other, confused, but nodded. Ethan did after a few seconds of thinking about it, “Yeah, there was actually this one time I went on a date and I didn’t want the girl to see the ring had turned gold, so I left it at home. Thirty minutes later I was puking everywhere. I didn’t really understand why but someone at the Soulmate Centre explained rings are an extension of the soul and they need to be close to us at all times and there are actually records of people dying after losing their rings. Why?”

Damiano looked at you and raised his eyebrows to silently ask if he could share the information with the other three guys. Once you nodded, Damiano spoke up, “Y/N doesn’t need to have it close to them and they need to get it resized every once in a while.”

Ethan shrugged his shoulders, “That’s as far as my knowledge goes. I don’t know. I think the best thing you can do is go to the SC.”

You sighed but nodded. Ethan’s explanation had started to freak you out. What if there was something terribly wrong with you? What if you were born without a ring and your parents lied to you all your life?

—

After having a short conversation with Damiano in private, you decided to follow Ethan’s advice and go to the Soulmate Centre that was only a few minutes away from your house. He wanted to go with you or send someone to watch over you but had accepted your petition to go alone after you told him it was a private matter and you'd tell him all about it once you got back.

So there you were, on the reception of the SC, with your sweaty hands intertwined together as you tried to ignore all the dirty looks people were giving you. Everyone around knew exactly who you were and most weren't one bit pleased to see you there. While some didn't hesitate to look at you like they wanted to kill you, others were afraid to do so.

Those few minutes that passed until the lady at the desk called your name were some of the most uncomfortable of your life. Some part of you hated having the mobster title because that usually gave people the wrong idea and drove them to hate you even if you could proudly say you had done nothing illegal or violent in your whole life. You had to admit the mob wasn’t an ideal job to have morally wise, but you had found a family inside those four walls others doomed to be cursed.

You walked up to the lady. She had what you could interpret as a nervous smile as she stood behind the desk, patiently waiting for you to tell her what had brought you there in the first place. You were hesitant to communicate your issue because you were mortified of finding out a truth that should probably stay hidden.

You reached back and unclasped the chain the ring was looped through. You left it on the counter and smiled softly as you shyly spoke, “So uh, good morning, ma’am. I was hoping you could take a look at my ring, I’m slightly concerned there was something wrong with it.”

The lady nodded and removed the ring from the chain. She inspected it closely for a few minutes before nodding her head towards one of the rooms that said ‘only employees allowed’. She started walking towards it with a quick step and you saw no other choice but to follow right behind her.

She opened the door and quickly closed it with a lock once she verified you were inside, “Listen, the only reason I’m not turning you over to the authorities is because you don’t strike me as someone stupid enough to walk into an SC with a soulmate ring like this.”

Your jaw dropped in surprise at how direct she was being. For a second, you noticed her face fall before she realized it was best to keep a face that communicated seriousness instead of begging for your forgiveness or whatever people did when they pissed Damiano off.

“I don’t know who gave this to you or in which illegal market you bought this but if a higher authority sees you with this, not even Damiano David could save you from the consequences of sporting a fake ring,” She said. You honestly didn’t know how to respond because panic had started to drown out any coherent thought that tried to form on your mind.

You didn’t even try to disguise your panicked expression that time around. Instead, you focused on regulating your breathing and trying to keep all your emotions at bay before you lost control and began to hyperventilate. The other woman noticed your distress almost immediately and led you to sit down on one of the couches.

After you took a few deep breaths, you looked back at her, eager to ask thousands of questions, “How can you know they are fake?”

She sat down next to you and put the ring on your palm, “Look at the inside,” She demanded while pointing her finger to a spot on the inside edge of the ring, “They usually have something engraved inside, a code that only repeats itself twice. Whenever one loses their soulmate, this code vanishes. Your code is still there. I also used a detector to confirm my suspicions and it detected nothing.”

“And with… with that code, can you tell me if my soulmate’s still alive? Or who they are?” The older lady looked at you with pity in her green eyes and shook her head.

“Unless this is the original code engraved on the real ring, there’s not much I can do for you other than telling you how your soulmate is. I need so much more information to ever give you a name,” You nodded in understanding. All you needed to know was if they were alive, that’s all you wanted.

She took your nod as a sign of approval and disappeared into another room. While you waited, you couldn’t help but secretly hope they were dead. You wanted all those weeks of bliss you had spent with Damiano to last a lifetime. He knew everything about you, from the number of scars scattered around your body to what book you had read the most times. No soulmate could learn that about you until years after meeting each other. Besides, it wouldn’t feel right. The Gods had already been too cruel for not making him your soulmate, but now that he wasn’t with Marlee and you knew he loved you just as much as you loved him…

She walked out of the room and cleared her throat to catch your attention. You were thankful for her interruption because you were mere seconds away from bursting into tears of distress. She looked nervous to tell you what she had found out, but the way you looked at her made her spill the truth without any warning.

“Your soulmate is still somewhere out there, alive.”

—

Damiano clutched his side with his hands as every type of curse word spilled from his mouth, “Thomas! Dammit Thomas, where the fuck are you?” He screamed and pushed the ache in his throat and side to the back of his mind as he limped towards the table where his loaded gun was placed, ready to be grabbed and shot.

Things had been perfectly fine just ten minutes back. He had been drinking and playing pool with the boys in the basement. They were all laughing and messing around when Victoria heard the first gunshot. Thomas had been quick to dismiss it as one of the guards practicing his accuracy like they did every once in a while, so they went back to playing the game.

Then they heard it again and again and again. In that time it took the four men to walk up the stairs, people had already successfully broken into the house and they were shooting at anything that moved. The blood-red snake symbol all these people had on the masks that were covering their faces was one he had grown far too familiar with. These were the people Marlee had been conspiring with and they had managed to overthrow every single line of defense in between them and the front door.

Damiano had been in his room fetching a gun when a smoke bomb was thrown into the room. It had stopped him from seeing the person who shot him. Thankfully enough, their vision wasn’t much better either, because the bullet only grazed his side. It was still painful as hell and blood was pouring out of the wound, but it wasn’t going to be anything deadly.

He finally got ahold of his gun after minutes of feeling around the table to try and spot it with the low amount of vision he still had. Once Damiano had it in his hands, he raised the scarf he was wearing to cover the lower part of his face to try and lower the quantity of smoke he inhaled.

He walked out of his room and into the hallway, still holding the gun firmly ready to shoot it at the first person he saw with that red symbol. Damiano opened the door to every room on the third floor. He had to shoot at one or two people before walking down to the floor below. The first room he opened was yours. His eyes went wide as he remembered you were still supposed to be at the SC. Damiano cursed under his breath. He needed to warn you not to come back but to go to your parents’ instead. Damiano opened the tracking app first, a precaution he had been insistent on taking just to make sure you both knew the other was safe.

“Fucking hell,” Damiano mumbled as he saw that blue dot with your name above it was right on the same spot as his. You were back home.

Every thought of investigating each and every room to make sure there was no intruder flew out the window and instead he focused on trying to find you. Everything had turned chaotic on those few minutes he had been in your room, which was why it had gotten harder to get around without finding someone waiting on almost every corner for him to appear.

Damiano heard a piercing scream that made his blood go cold. You were in danger somewhere inside the large home and he desperately needed to get to you, to make sure you were safe from any danger. He knew his friends would be perfectly fine, they had their guns and several types of weaponry close-by, but he knew you didn’t. You always refused to take a gun or dagger with you whenever you went out and if they had caught you right when you had just gotten back… you’d most likely have nothing to defend yourself with.

There was no doubt in his mind that you were witty and incredibly smart, not to mention agile and great at coming up with plans on the spot, but he still needed to make sure you were alright.

He got down on the first floor and his eyes met with a pair of blue ones he knew far too well. He let his eyes trail down to her carmine-tinted shirt. Marlee smiled at him and trailed her thumb along her jawline. That’s when he noticed her hands were also red and she had also left a trail of bloody footsteps from his office to where she was standing. His office.

Damiano didn’t hesitate to point the gun at her leg and pull the trigger. He then aimed for her other leg and shot it. She fell to the floor as an agonizing scream fell from her parted lips. Damiano was satisfied now that her stupid smile had been wiped right off her face.

He quickly ran to the office and opened the door. What he saw inside made time stop. It made all those sounds go silent. It made him feel like there was no floor beneath him to stand on. You were lying on the floor, a dagger piercing your chest.

You looked panicked, sad, like you wanted to do nothing but scream and cry, which you had started doing the moment you saw Damiano walked into the room. He didn’t know if your reaction was out of relief or if there was something else that concerned you, apart from the obvious.

“Damiano,” You spoke up weakly, The sound of your raspy voice was like a slap back into reality. He didn’t waste a second to fall to his knees right by your side. Damiano cupped your face with his trembling hands and brushed your cheek with his thumb.

“Shh. I’m here amore, I’m here,” He responded voice barely above a whisper, “I just need to find something to press against this wound I— something…” He stood up, ready to look for a rag, bandages, anything to stop the blood from rushing out of your body so quickly, but you stopped him.

You wrapped your hand around his arm and with all the strength you had brought him back down, “No hey, stop,” You mumbled, “Unless she happened to study every major artery, vein or has awfully perfect aim, I’ll be dead in minutes.”

He shook his head and wiped the tears that were starting to fall with the back of his hand. He was not giving up. Damiano was not going to let you die, “Wait, no, no. I can do this,” Damiano took his sweater and scarf off. With the help of his scarf, he applied pressure to the wound, careful not to move or dig the dagger further with his movements.

You shook your head and Damiano couldn’t help but cry harder at the desperation and panic in your eyes, “Please, Dami. Stop it, there’s no use. I-I just want you to hold me, please.”

He wiped his runny nose with the back of his hand and nodded repeatedly as he careful cradled you in his arms and moved your head to rest on his lap, “Everything’s going to be okay,” Damiano mumbled and left a long kiss on your forehead, then another one on your cheek and a last one on your lips.

You cupped his face with one of your hands and wiped the tears with your thumb. There wasn’t much left to say, not like you’d be able to talk even if you tried. Instead, you offered him one last sincere smile with all the energy you had left.

He watched in horror as life slowly started to drain out of you as his ring simultaneously turned black. Damiano sat there for minutes after you were gone. He cried and let every frustration, confusion, and pain escape his body with a loud scream.

Damiano didn’t let go of your body until Victoria and Thomas had to forcefully pull him away and let someone else take care of you.

—

Ethan didn’t walk into the room until he made sure every single intruder had been killed, except for Marlee, because Damiano had asked to keep her alive. When he did walk in, all he saw was Damiano with a folder in his hand and multiple pieces of paper scattered around the desk in his room. He looked pale, mortified by everything he was reading. The long-haired man didn’t understand what had gotten his friend in such a state of shock until he walked closer and looked at what seemed to be a contract.

You were Damiano’s soulmate. All your lives you had been tricked into believing you weren’t meant for each other. Your parents had made you believe you had no soulmate and Damiano had been fooled into thinking Marlee was his. You had gotten right to the bottom of it all and the secret would’ve gone to the grave with you if you hadn’t left the papers lying on his desk and if he had left his ring on the pocket of his jeans like he usually would. But now it was far too late to do anything about it.

#damiano david x reader #damiano david x y/n #damiano david x you #damiano david fanfiction #maneskin x reader #maneskin fanfiction

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thefallennightmare · 3 years

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Hard to Love [1/?]

Pairings: Chris Evans x Reader

Words: 1060

Warnings: this story will have mentions of abuse, mental and physical so please read at your own risk. Some swearing, angst, and a good amount of fluff. Maybe some smut if I’m feeling frisky.

Summary: After moving to a new town all on her own, Reader would do anything for a stable job and income. Even if that means housekeeping for one of Boston’s eligible bachelors. What she didn’t expect was finding herself falling in love with him and him finding out about the past that she was running from.

A/N: Well, I couldn’t help myself. I’ve had this idea for a Chris Evans fic for awhile now and if I don't get this written soon, I’m gonna bust. As always, let me know what you all think and if you would like to be tagged! I’m unsure of how long this story will actually be.

My car idled in front of the three story home, nerves racking my insides as I counted all of the windows. Doubt filled my veins, wondering if this was actually the best idea. I shook my head, knowing that I didn’t have any other choice; I needed the money. I had been living in Boston for a few months now and even though my night job paid well, it still wasn’t enough to pay all the bills.

I had answered an ad in the paper, a top notch and very secretive ad, and when I called about it the lady on the phone said that I would have to sign some legal documents IF I was offered the job; I needed to be interviewed of course.

With a few quick deep breaths, I scurried from my car and up the front steps, not wanting to be caught in the sudden rain that had started falling from the sky the second I pulled up.

Maybe it was God sending me a bad omen, telling me that this job wasn’t a good idea.

Before I could find myself running back to my car, I softly knocked on the door and waited patiently a few seconds for someone to open up.

“Hi, you must be Y/N!” A petite blonde answered the door with a room brightening smile. “I’m Laura.”

I nodded. “I’m sorry I’m a few minutes late, I’m new to the area so I’m still trying to find my way around.”

She waved me off, allowing me to step inside. “No problem at all. Please come in and make yourself comfortable. Would you like anything to drink?”

I shook my head. “If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly type of job am I interviewing for? The ad said we would go into more details in person.”

Laura nodded, motioning me to follow her throughout the house. I could help but gawk at the size of it and all of the expensive things that cluttered the home; in a good way.

“The main job is you’ll be the housekeeper. Coming twice a week; one day to clean and the other to do laundry. The pay is very good and you can choose your schedule and what days you would like to come.”

“It already seems like I’ve got the job,” I semi joked.

“Your background check cleared and you had a lot of positive recommendations from past employers.”

At the mention of a background check, my shoulders went rigid with fear, wondering exactly what she had found. I had to remind myself that she said it was all clear, not finding anything suspicious from my past. And I wanted to keep it that way.

“You mentioned on the phone that I would have to sign some legal papers?” I questioned as we entered the kitchen.

I was jealous that she was able to cook in this kitchen every single day.

Laura nodded again. “Giving who you’re cleaning for, you need to sign an NDA.”

I couldn’t help the confused look that spread across my face.

“I’m not working for you?”

Laura shook her head.

“It’s a Non Disclosure Agreement,” she informed me. “Basically it’s saying that whatever happens here or what you see or hear, you cannot tell anyone. You can’t tell anyone who you work for either.”

“Who exactly am I working for?” I questioned once we came to a stop in an open living room.

There was a man leaning against the couch, his broad shoulders and back facing us. His hands were sprawled over the top of the couch and I marveled at the veins that popped out with every movement. Once he heard us walk in, he looked up, his eyes piercing into my own.

I sucked in a breath when it finally hit me who exactly I was going to be working for.

Chris Evans.

“Hi, you must be Y/N?” He smiled while extending the hand that I found myself staring at.

I nodded.

“Hi,” I mumbled, shocked that he was who I was going to be working for.

My hand felt so small in his and the slight roughness of his palm scratched my own.

“I’m sure my assistant Laura gave you all the details of the job?” Chris asked while crossing his arms over his chest.

Assistant?

I found myself letting out a breath that I didn’t know I was holding when I realized that they weren’t dating, she was only his assistant.

“Uh, yeah. She mentioned that you would need me two days a week but I could choose what days.”

Chris nodded. “Whatever hours work best for you too. It’s only me and Dodger so we really don’t make that big of a mess but it would be nice to be able to keep up with the house.”

“Of course,” I smiled. “I do have a night job but this one won’t interfere with it. What’s the earliest you would like me here?”

He ran a hand over his beard in thought. “Let’s say 10 a.m?”

“Works for me. I would just have to be done by 6 if that works for you?” I questioned.

Chris smiled that eye crinkling smile that made millions of women swoon over him.

“Can you start tomorrow?” He asked.

I nodded, a little too eagerly in my opinion. “Yeah. Thank you so much, Mr. Evans. I really appreciate it.”

He waved me off. “It’s not a problem. You’ll be helping me a lot. And call me Chris.”

“Chris,” I muttered his name on my lips, loving the way it sounded.

My mind was far off in thought as he said goodbye and I started following Laura back to the front door.

I never would have expected that when I chose to move to Boston that I would be working for one of it’s most eligible bachelors. The only thing that worried me was the past that I was running from; afraid that it would find me and catch up to me. I needed a new life, far away from my old one, and I was able to find it here in this quiet suburban town. Everything was slowly falling into place and I couldn’t help but smile at the many different thoughts I had about my new boss.

Tomorrow was going to be fun.

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans and reader #chris evans smut #chris evans angst #captain america #marvel #chris jamal evans #christopher evans #reader insert #chris evans x y/n

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free-pancakes · 3 years

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A Fire in the Shadows

LeviHan - Avatar the Last Airbender AU fic

Characters: Levi, Hange, Erwin, Mike, Nanaba, Moblit, Kenny, Zeke, Sasha, Jean, Armin, Kuchel, Porco, Pieck

Summary: Levi, the nephew of a fire nation captain, stumbles upon a ragtag group of 5 known as the Scouts, formidably known for foiling the plans of local fire nation control, living in the forests a few miles north of Ba Sing Se.

Chapter 5: Interconnected Chapter 4: The Fire from the Shadows Chapter 3: Bonds Chapter 2: Trust Chapter 1: The Scouts

(crossposted to ao3)

CH 5: Interconnected

A 10 year-old Hange sat by the edge of the river running right outside her home, listening to the happy quacks of little turtle ducks swimming by. She smiled as she molded the fire in her palm into a small ball of flame, tossing and kicking it back and forth to herself. Erwin walked quietly towards the river, and stared at Hange from afar. He couldn’t help but watch, mesmerized at the finesse of her movements—she was a natural, more adept than even the adult firebenders he knew, at just 10 years old. She was just a kid, but she was skilled beyond her years. He was so proud of her, but admittedly, a little jealous. He looked down at his hands, sad that he wasn’t gifted with the ability to bend an element. He lowered them and shook his head—despite this, the pride he had for his best friend far outweighed any sadness he felt being a non-bender. He’d always stand by her side.

“Hange, I got the stuff you asked for.” He pulled off his backpack and shook its contents onto the grass—a metal funnel, metal clamps, and wax adhesives. Hange’s eyes glowed with fiery excitement as she squealed with joy. “These are perfect!” She gathered the supplies and ran towards the house. “Come on Erwin, race you back to my room!” She sprinted ahead, and Erwin laughed as he ran to catch up with her.

Hange ran into her home, tracking dirt all over the wooden floorboards. “Hange dear, come on, I just mopped the floor!”

She disappeared into her room and yelled, “Sorry, Mom! I got a super-top-secret-urgent project to work on!”

Before she could ask Hange to come back and clean up her mess, she turned around to find Erwin already sweeping up the dirt.

“Oh Erwin, you’re so sweet, you don’t need to do that!” She gently took the broom out of his hand and ruffled his hair. “Go join Hange, don’t worry about it,” she said softly.

“Thanks for having me, Mrs. Zoe,” he politely nodded his head and walked into Hange’s room, closing the door gently behind him. He looked down to find Hange busy producing a tiny fire at the tip of her index finger, welding the metal to the rest of her contraption. Erwin knew better than to talk to her while she was engrossed in conjuring up her newest invention, so he put his backpack down on the floor and sat neatly across from her. He stared up at the wall, at the same picture frames he always looked at whenever he waited for Hange to finish her latest project. The picture was that of a man who resembled Hange’s father, his arm around a young Avatar Roku and a few other people, all of them smiling together.

According to Hange, the bespectacled man in the painting was her great grandfather, a good friend of Roku. Beneath this was a picture of Erwin’s grandparents arm-in-arm with Hange’s grandparents and all of their friends. The picture below that was one from a few years before either Hange or he was born, showing his and Hange’s parents laughing together, and in the center, a beautiful woman with long, black hair and the most gentle eyes. Generations… lifetimes of the most powerful firebenders, yet the most kind people were displayed there before him, and it was almost crazy to think that he and Hange, along with their new friends, Mike and Nanaba, were probably next in line to join that wall—a wall displaying both genuine friendship and deep loyalty to the peaceful and harmonious land the fire nation once was. Erwin smiled as he remembered his father’s words to him one night not too long ago—“Friendships really do transcend lifetimes.”

“Success!” Hange held the contraption in her hand, a mess of metal tubes swirling into a metal funnel at the end. Before he could ask what it was, Hange was dragging him by the hand and climbing out the one window in her room. “Hurry up ya slowpoke! Before my mom or Moblit hears us!”

They ran towards the small barn marking the halfway point between their houses. Hange walked along the edges of the barn to a spot in the dirt marked with a small scarf of hers. “Here! Help me dig, Erwin!” They used their hands to scoop piles of dirt out, deep enough to fit the end of the funnel under and inside the barn.

“Ok! Can you stay right here and listen to me through the pipe? Tell me how clear the sound is.” Hange ran around the corner and into the barn, and began to speak and whisper, alternating between the two. Erwin’s eyes widened in shock at the clarity—even Hange’s whispers were audible through the pipe. “How did she even manage to do this?” he thought to himself. Now they could listen clearly to their parents’ secret meetings, and he was quite excited with their new tool.

“From the look on your face, I take it that the acoustics are perfect, no?” Hange smiled deviously, and Erwin returned it. The two friends happily bumped fists. “Now we can hear about their next mission without taking turns pressing our ears against the wall!”

Ever since she and Erwin stumbled upon a meeting about a year ago, their minds became hyper-fixated on discovering their parents' work and uncovering the secrets behind it all. Since they were probably the two most dangerously curious kids of all the fire nation, it was only natural that they’d figure it all out eventually. They had spent the past year trying to listen to the group meetings in the barn, and learned all about their missions. Ridden with curiosity, the two eventually found years of hidden documents containing information on their families, kept in boxes under faulty floorboards of their homes.

When Avatar Roku mysteriously died nearly 100 years ago, his group of friends awaited their friend’s reincarnation as a child from one of the air temples. But after the fire nation attacks on the airbender monks, they feared the worst. The world began to tip out of balance, and when no avatar seemed to appear in the earth kingdom, they wondered whether the avatar was gone for good. But among Roku’s friends, hope was not lost—they passed down their stories from generation to generation, and as the fire nation grew in power, the Zoe family was the face of those defending from the inside, attempting to do what they could to restore balance. They became the crux of movement within the shadows of the fire nation, thwarting plans of conquering villages and cities of the world, keeping as many citizens and innocent people safe from fire nation soldiers’ violence. Their numbers have dwindled over the years from fighting for their cause, and most of them eventually moved into the earth kingdom colonies to help out the villages more closely, though a few stayed behind in the fire nation to continue retrieving intel from the inside and kept correspondence with any information gleaned.

Hange was quite keen on listening for more every week, confident in her desire to follow in her family’s footsteps. As much as Erwin shared Hange’s excitement, part of him was deeply concerned about Hange’s safety. Out of the families that moved out into the earth kingdom colonies, she was the only firebender in their generation, and he was afraid that she’d have to take on too much responsibility and carry the brunt of the work in order to live up to their families’ names. But they were only kids, right? He waved away his own worries—it’s not like they’d have to join in on this right away. Their parents didn’t even know that we found out about all of this yet.

-------- When the sun just began to set, the two friends snuck their way back to the barn under the calm, orange glow of the sky. They crouched down at the spot where they lodged Hange’s invention through the ground and listened in—but to their disappointment, the adults were simply chatting and enjoying each other’s company. “Booooring,” Hange sighed. “Maybe we should just call it a night, huh Erwin?” As Erwin readied himself to walk Hange home, he overheard the quiet closing of a door and a new voice sound through the pipe. They locked eyes and quickly threw themselves down to press their ears close and listen.

“Kuchel!” Hange’s mother exclaimed, and they heard the soft sound of sniffles and happy cries of the reunion.

“KUCHEL??” Hange exclaimed loudly.

“Who’s Kuchel?”

“My mom’s friend! Her best friend!” Hange clasped her hands together and jumped around in excitement. “Oh I’ve always wanted to meet her, she sounds so nice and—“

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Hange and Erwin spun around to see Hange’s dad staring at the two of them and eyeing their little listening device. “Eavesdropping now, are we? You might have made something where you can hear us loud and clear, but did you consider the possibility that we could hear YOU loud and clear from the other side?” Erwin and Hange nervously laughed at his words—they really did forget to consider that. He bent down to look at Hange’s creation and his facade of playing “bad cop” parent melted away quite quickly, and he turned to his daughter and chuckled. “So how did you make it?” As the two Zoe’s babbled on about the intricacies of Hange’s ideas, Erwin continued to listen into the barn.

“Oh yes, Kenny’s alright, as annoying as ever, telling me we should give up on all this and that my son and I should just move out here with all of you. But how else would we get more intel without me on the inside?”

“But you can move in with us! We can adjust. Our plans can change! Kenny’s right, it’s probably safer for you to stay here. On top of that, I’m sure your son would love to meet Erwin and Hange,” Hange’s mother answered.

“I’m sure he would. He’s very quiet and doesn’t really have any friends. But I have no doubt they’ll all meet someday.” She smiled at the thought of Levi making new friends, but her smile slowly transitioned into a concerned frown. “It might have to wait a year or two, though. I don’t know if I trust Zeke anymore...”

“Well what do you mean by that? Hasn’t Zeke proved himself to us?” Erwin’s father asked.

“I’ve seen him spend some more time with Ozai recently. I can’t put a finger on it... but I think something in him has changed. I think we may be able to trust him for now, but we’ll have to see.”

The doors of the barn slammed open, revealing Hange’s father holding Hange in one arm and Erwin in the other. “I think we found our culprits!”

Mike and Nanaba’s parents burst into laughter, while Hange’s mother and Erwin’s father darted looks of deep disapproval at their children.

Hange’s dad playfully threw the two down into the pile of hay that the horses were working on, who seemed to neigh at them in disapproval. Hange and Erwin lost themselves in a fit of giggles that simply lightened up the room from the bleak conversation about Zeke. The rest of them began to catch up again and reminisce about the “good old days” while Erwin and Hange pet and fed the horses.

A few hours later, Kuchel made her way over to them, and the two suddenly felt shy, falling quiet.

Erwin’s eyes widened in recognition as she sat close to them. “You’re the beautiful lady in the picture,” Erwin accidentally whispered loud enough for Kuchel to hear.

Kuchel laughed, “You’re Erwin, right? You’re the spitting image of your father, and from what I hear, the only person smart and strong enough to keep this one under control right?” she said as she looked over to Hange.

“What, me?” Hange questioned. “Yes, you! Come here, dear,” she waved Hange towards her and gently pulled her glasses off, and wiped them clean with her sleeve, and carefully pushed them back onto Hange’s face. “And you’re the infamous, reckless Hange Zoe, correct?” She laughed, and Hange was simply mesmerized by her kind soul and the loving twinkle in her eyes.

After warming up to each other, Hange soon begged for stories from Kuchel about how all their parents became friends and both she and Erwin eagerly listened. The three of them talked for what felt like hours, until Erwin and Hange could barely keep their eyes open, their sheer curiosity and interest in Kuchel the only thing keeping them awake enough to listen.

“So that’s the sign of you all being undercover firebenders right?” Hange asked sleepily as she pointed to the little charm peeking out from pocket of her skirt. Kuchel was startled by her question, and sighed in defeat. “Well, neither of you should know anything about this until you’re old enough, but it was silly of me to think that you two wouldn’t figure that out by now being the nosy little kids you are,” she said with a small laugh. She pulled out the charm to show them. “When the time is right, we’ll all pass them down to you. It might not be as significant now—it was once used to prove that you were one to be trusted, but now that there’s not too many of us left...” Erwin noticed the hint of sadness that showed in her eyes.

“Well, it‘s still important, something to remember who you are and where you came from. Whenever you look at it, I hope it brings you peace and reminds you that it’s our responsibility to bring back stability and light to our nation, no matter how dark it may become. But who knows, it still might be important in recognizing who is a friend or foe someday. Whoever holds one is someone you can trust—I can promise you both that.”

Hange asked, “Kuchel, will we ever get to meet your son?”

“I have no doubt you will,” she said with a smile. “Hopefully soon. I think you both would be really good influences on him.” With a yawn, Hange asked one more question.

“What’s his name?”

But before they could hear Kuchel’s answer, both of them were fast asleep. Kuchel smiled lovingly at the two. She gently pulled off Hange’s glasses, pocketed them before picking her up. She chuckled at the sound of her snores as Hange’s face leaned against her chest— “Just like her mother,” she thought and suppressed full-on laughter. She then whispered quietly into Hange ear, hoping it would somehow register in her heart, despite her being asleep. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Hange. And.... I can’t wait for you meet Levi someday. Don’t let his little scowl fool you—he has a good heart.” Kuchel beckoned Hange’s mother over to pick up Erwin. “Come on, let’s go put these two to bed.”

-------- Levi could not believe Erwin’s story. But... there was no denying the description of his own mother.

He remembered the day before his mother died, and her words that morning echoed in his mind, “Levi, did you know that some friendships are strong enough to transcend lifetimes?” He wondered if that applied here—an explanation as to why his bond with Hange ran so deep, and why he felt like he’d known Erwin, Moblit, Mike, and Nanaba for much longer than he actually did.

They had been interconnected this whole time. As much as it frustrated him that knowing this would have made their meeting 3 years ago much easier, he felt a wave of happiness fall over him, and he was absolutely overwhelmed from head to toe.

“So, you’re Kuchel’s son.” Erwin remembered her kind eyes and gentle voice, and began to laugh.

“Oi, what the hell are you laughing on about?”

Erwin continued to laugh and started to wipe tears from his eyes. “I was just thinking about how you’re just...well let’s just say I never thought Kuchel’s son would turn out to be such a small, angry man.” He laughed, along with Nanaba and Mike. Levi grumbled but couldn’t help but let out a tiny smile.

After their laughter died down, Levi let the information sink in a little along with the situation at hand. “I didn’t know you met her...” he sighed. It seems there was a lot he didn’t know, and he wished he could turn back time and ask his mother everything.

Mike asked, “What did happen to your mom anyway? I know you said she was gone but...”

“She died after she saved a child from a house fire. My uncle and I were gone training for a weekend. I was only 12 at the time,” Levi said as he stared down at the ground.

“Since you and Hange are the same age... that must mean she died around the same Zeke betrayed everyone and had fire nation soldiers kill our parents,” Nanaba said quietly.

Each of them held their parents’ charms tightly in their hands. All was silent except for the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze and the crackle of logs from their campfire. Dusk quickly fell upon them, the glow of the moon peeking through the light cloud cover.

Erwin’s eyes softened as he looked at Levi. “Well, we got some work to do, don’t we? Hange and Moblit are in trouble—I can only imagine what Zeke wants to do with them.”

Levi looked up at Erwin, noticing a minuscule flicker of worry in his eyes. “My bet... is using an Agni Kai versus Hange as public display to destroy anymore hopes of internal rebellion.”

The other three furrowed their eyebrows at this, gritting their teeth in anger.

“And... killing the last firebending Zoe would be the ultimate symbol of crushing any hope that may be left.”

Levi stood up and looked out into the horizon, in the direction Zeke and Kenny escaped the night before. He had a good idea of where they might be, but the exact coordinates of that base was kept hidden from everyone except for high ranking officials. However, knowing Hange, he had utmost confidence that she marked a way for them to find her. They'd just have to figure that out—and soon.

Levi balled his hands into tight fists and fierce determination flickered in his eyes.

“Well, we’re not gonna let her face Zeke alone, are we?” he whispered, not taking his eyes off the horizon.

--------

As Hange’s screams grew silent, Armin breathed a sad sigh of relief—either they stopped torturing her or she finally just passed out from the pain. Either way, she at least had some respite. He looked at the thick wooden bars of their cell, cross hatched like a solid net, trapping them inside. He could only assume that at least one guard was standing watch outside the metal door about 8 feet away from their cell—the only exit point in the room. How in the world were they supposed to get out of this mess? And more importantly, why were they targeting Hange? Where were the rest of the Scouts, anyway?

He turned back towards Moblit, “Hey so... what happened? How did you get captured?”

Moblit used his sleeves to wipe at his tears, revealing his swollen eyes, filled with a terrifying swirl of anger and hopelessness. “They ambushed us, Zeke and Kenny. They set everything on fire and we didn’t stand a chance—and they told us...” He looked down, tangling his fingers in his hair anxiously, like he was trying to pry the memories out from his mind.

“Told you what?”

“That Levi led them to us, and...that he was a firebender and... that he’s Kenny’s nephew.”

Sasha and Armin’s jaws dropped at the news, and Jean looked away, as he knew Levi’s secret. He wrestled with the possibility that he might have made a mistake in trusting him. “No... there’s no way I made the wrong call,” he thought.

“I’m not sure if I believe it, though. Hange was very adamant that we should trust Levi.” Happy memories of his relationship with Levi came rushing relentlessly into his head. “No, I don’t think we should stop trusting Levi.” He paused. “After that, the next thing I knew, I woke up restrained on the komodo rhino, and then saw all of you.”

“Moblit, why did they only take you, and no one else?” Sasha asked.

“Well Hange and Levi were in Ba Sing Se that night. And I think they were just using me as bait.”

“But why not any of the others, why just you?” Armin asked. “It doesn’t make any sense. Couldn’t they have just taken Erwin since he leads the Scouts?”

Moblit sighed. “I guess I better just fess up and explain everything, right? All of this would be easier if we were just on the same page.”

He fished a small, metal keychain from his pocket, a fire nation emblem etched into it, matching the one stitched into the red tapestry behind him. He held it up for them to see.

--------

A dull pain ached against the left side of Hange’s face, the skin around her eye throbbing alongside her steady heartbeat. She felt a warm hand pressing a dressing over her left eye, and saw strands of black hair hanging over her. She blinked her right eye, confused as to why she wasn’t still in the barn back home, laying in the hay next to Erwin and Kuchel.

“K-Kuchel?” Hange croaked.

She was answered with a soft whisper, “No, I’m sorry, I’m not Kuchel. My name is Pieck.”

“Oh…” Hange sighed, wishing she could return to dreamland, back to her old, yet comforting memories.

A harsh, gruff voice sounded from the dark corner of the room, “Kuchel’s been long gone, dearie.” From the shadows, Kenny stepped out into the light next to Pieck. “My dumb sister died saving some stupid kid a long time ago.” He peered down at Hange and scoffed. “Didn’t think she’d go that way, to be honest. I thought she’d at least have gone doing the pathetic work your parents and her other friends got into.”

“…Sister?”

“Yeah, my dumb old sister. What, the genius Hange Zoe hadn’t figure it out yet?”

“Sister… then… you’re Levi’s uncle??”

He let out a chilling laugh and began clapping—pathetic applause at her realization. Kenny stepped closer and bent down, staring right into Hange’s face. “Zeke told Porco to do much worse than what he ended up doing to you. You’re lucky I happened to walk in and stop him—what kind of self-respecting uncle would let his wonderful nephew’s girlfriend suffer right in front of him?”

Hange felt her brain short-circuit at his comment. “Oh I know how my nephew works, I saw how he looked at you after your cute little group took down that fire nation camp in the forest. All of you trying to be like your parents—their work was pathetic and so are you.”

Hange tried to make sense of everything and it was difficult to concentrate against the throbbing pain in her eye, but she quickly focused on the situation at hand—no need to show him weakness at anything he decided to say to her. She wasn't sure if she could trust him, though his tone seemed genuine underneath the rough exterior. She laughed to herself--she knew how to read and communicate with Ackermans.

“Their work wasn’t stupid, you pathetic old man,” Hange retorted.

Kenny laughed. “I told my sister not to get into that business. World’s gone to shit anyway, why not just live for yourself at this point?”

Hange began seething at this response. The only reason why she didn’t burst out flames at Kenny was because she was completely disoriented to her surroundings. Sadly, she figured she’d kiss her left-sided vision goodbye. Plus, she didn’t want to injure the girl next to her, as she was clearly very kind, tending to enemy’s wounds. “Maybe if you actually joined your sister back then, you could have helped them!”

“Well maybe if they all just gave that up, none of them wouldn’t have died and left you all as orphans. Have you ever thought of that?”

She stared back at him and spat as she spoke, “Well if you’re arrogant ass is ‘living for himself’ then why the hell do you care about that, and why would you decide to lay your loyalty to Zeke?” Kenny stepped away to make sure no one was within hearing range in the corridor. He walked quickly back towards Hange and leaned down close to her face.

“Listen here, little girl. My loyalty is to no one but myself. Zeke is simply offering the best deal I’ve gotten over last few years—we’re protected among his crew, plus the money’s good. And don’t get all disrespectful now, you’re lucky I didn’t let Porco take out that other eye of yours!”

“Or maybe you did it to keep Levi safe too, you DO care about him don’t you?” Hange teased.

Kenny scowled and grumbled at her comment—Hange stifled laughter as she now knew where Levi got it from.

“You’re delusional, Zoe. You’re just like your parents.” He turned around and slammed the door behind him—the metal reverberating around the walls of the room, the force causing her sensitive eye to throb again. Hange winced in pain.

Pieck held a cold compress to Hange’s face, and she sighed in relief. “Thank you,” Hange breathed out.

“Of course.”

Hange looked curiously at Pieck—“So, why are you helping me, anyway?”

Pieck answered softly, “Hange, I know what Zeke wants to do with you. But I don’t want him to go through with it.”

Hange held back the fear in her heart. She abandoned her curiosity at Zeke's plans with herself for a second--she needed to clear up other information with Pieck first.

“Why?”

“We’ve been friends since we were kids, and… I think he’s truly lost himself. This isn’t him, and it hasn’t been him in a long time. A lot has happened, Hange, and I think you’re just unfortunately stuck in the midst of it." She peeked out the doorway for any listening ears, and sat back down, whispering to Hange.

"There are guards everywhere though, and I can’t just let you out, plus your friends are still trapped somewhere in the building, and I don’t know exactly where. All I know, is that we have a decent amount of time before Zeke returns. In the meantime, rest.”

Hange breathed a sigh of relief—she was ridiculously lucky, she thought. Her mind scrambled to put together all the information she’s gathered and started on mustering up a plan to get everyone out of here safely. But one thing was really bothering her—was being friends with Zeke enough for this girl to help her, a Zoe, a target of the fire nation? There had to be something else--could it be?

“Pieck, can I ask you one more thing?”

She nodded, inviting her to continue.

Hange nodded back, “Is there any more reason why you’re trying to help me?”

Pieck smiled—Hange was just as sharp as the rumors told. She reached into her pocket and held out a luck charm, identical to everyone else’s, the fire nation emblem shining brightly back at Hange. Hange closed her eye and laughed, feeling nothing but hope and happiness. She wondered if Levi felt the same way at this same moment--after all the events of the past few hours, she thought it'd be quite likely that Levi, Erwin, Nanaba, and Mike were likely revealing their charms to each other right around now. It was about time.

#i apologize in advance for how boring this chapter is #a lot of this is just self service lmfao #does it move the plot?#maybe?#is it mildly interesting?#possibly?#how many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop?#the world may never know #levihan #levihan fanfic #hange zoe #levi ackerman #hanji zoe #snk #aot

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iamdunn · 3 years

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Miraculous Flash Forward part 9: A New Dynamic

A Miraculous Fan-Fic

Written by

AJ Dunn

Adrien couldn’t wait to get back home and start making preparations. The trip to Paris hadn’t gone as badly as he was afraid it would. In fact, maybe he and Marinette could put their past behind them finally and start a life together. He had agreed to stay for the wedding since Marinette had gone through the trouble of making his Tux for him, and Nino wouldn’t have let him leave, he would have released Alya on him and that was frightening enough considering she had Trixx to back her up. Plus, Luka had Sass and he really didn’t need that kind of drama in his life. Honestly, he was happy he went. Even Nino saved a place for him after 5 years, in this case, the place of best man.

“I will.” She had said. The memory of her words played in his mind as they swayed around the dance floor. She had agreed to be his roommate in Shanghai. She swore she didn’t want him to leave her and that she truly did love him. Plus, losing her roommate meant she was looking for a new one. He was certain though that his studio condo wasn’t going to be sufficient for them. She would need her own room and considering how flustered he made her, he would need a private room so she didn’t lose herself whenever he walked around without a shirt on.

“Yeah, no more hanging out in the seating area in nothing but a towel,” Plagg said to him as they prepared to leave for the airport.

“Who knows, I might occasionally forget and well…”

“You’ll be quickly reminded when she walks through the walls to get away from you.” Plagg laughed. Adrien laughed too imagining her overdramatic reactions. Adrien’s phone rang.

“Are you sure about this Adrien?” Felix said. He had told his cousin he would need to upgrade his suite and asked for him to get him in touch with the management company.

“Absolutely,” Adrien smiled. “I wouldn’t want her getting a cheap apartment, that neighborhood is bad news, besides, she still doesn’t speak Mandarin and I can’t have her getting lost here again can I? OH, and I am going to tell her about us.” His words came out so quickly he hoped his cousin would agree and not snap at him.

“Do you trust her that much?” Felix sounded shocked. “Having her move in with you is one thing, but this affects us both.”

“Yes, I do. Besides, if this is going to work, her and I can’t have secrets between us.”

“It’s a shame she didn’t have a twin sister.” Felix scoffed.

“What?” Adrien teased.

“Nothing, never mind… shut up.” Felix snorted. “I’ll send them a message to call you.” He hung up.

The flight back was a sleepless one as Adrien reeled over the idea that Marinette was coming to live with him. This will change everything. He tried to sleep but, listening to music, even tried doing some reading. Sleep didn’t come until he was back home in his own bed. He wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep when his phone rang.

“Mr. Graham De Vanily?” the voice came over. “Ah, Mr. Graham De Vanily called and said you wanted to renegotiate your lease.” Adrien refrained from laughing.

“Adrien please.” he laughed, “And my cousin, he’s just Felix.” It is still funny when people see them together, and they have the same last name, but then call each other cousins. A thing that had always been fun. “Yes, I want a larger unit.”

“I’m afraid the only unit we have available larger than the one you are in, is our 3 bedroom two bath unit at the opposite end of your floor.”

“That’s perfect.” He refrained from using his cattish terminology with such a business call. Although the excitement in him wanted to so badly.

“Fine, I shall send the paperwork over immediately, I assume you want to make the transition before the end of the month? As that is when your lease is due to renew.”

“Yes of course.”

“Please get the paperwork back to us promptly.” A ding came through his phone the second he hung up. It was an email from the property management containing the digital documents that he needed to Esign and return. He made haste to finish the paperwork before heading out to see Cheng Sifu and check on the temple. The sky was clear as Adrien made his way home from Cheng Sifu’s restaurant with a sack of leftovers and a few grocery items he had bought on the way. By grocery items that meant cheese for Plagg. While Camembert wasn’t available here, Manchego had become his replacement.

They leaped from rooftop to rooftop not worried about remaining unseen as he had before the reunion. It felt freeing to just be himself and not hide anymore. His students already called him Laoshi Mao, though they didn’t know why it wasn’t Laushi Adrien. Well, Mao sounded a lot better. He slipped through the balcony door and wondered what their new apartment would look like. He was sure all of the units on this floor had a balcony. His phone ran just as he entered the apartment and before he transformed. It was a video call.

“Hello M’Lady,” he answered in his most cattish tone. She giggled then began swatting away at some unseen thing, most likely the Kwami’s.

“They’re all excited to be moving and they have been trying to pack for me.” She giggled again.

“Well, I am Pawsitively feeling clawssome about it too, M'Lady.”

“You dork.” She laughed. “Detransform and feed Plagg.” She said playfully.

“As you wish.” he let his transformation go as Plagg darted into the bag and began tearing at the plastic wrapper. “Hold on, this guy… “ he set the phone down and tried to wrestle the package from the nearly rabid creature. “Hold on, let me open the package at least, you’re going to kill yourself.” Marinette laughed at the ordeal. It was certainly going to be interesting having so many Kwami’s around.

Adrien reached over, picking up the phone again as Plagg stole away the now open package. “You’d think I starve him.”

“So, how was your day?” she said in a melodic tune.

“It would have been better if you were already here.” He said holding up a clear plastic container containing remnants of the Crab stew which had become one of his favorite dishes. The container had Cheng’s restaurant label on it.

“Did you tell him?” Her face went into a look of concern.

“I’ll have you know I am a cat of my word,” he said nonchalantly.

“Adrien?”

“Of course not.” A look of relief as she wanted to surprise him. She even insisted that her mother and father keep their tongue too. Threatening not to write or call for a week if they did. They were so happy for her to be moving to Shanghai, not to mention in with Adrien. Their faces lit up as they began discussing nicknames for grandkids. Adrien found the whole conversation unnerving at first but when he saw the looks on their faces, the pure joy, he felt grateful they were such wonderful people.

He still hadn’t talked to Emelie despite her condition improving. Amalie maintained the radio silence as well after Felix had threatened to cut her out of his life completely if she didn’t give Adrien space. Though, Adrien hadn’t told Marinette about all of that mess yet. He was afraid it would scare her off and he wanted her to enjoy her time here before bombing her with it.

Weeks had gone by as Adrien packed up his studio and shuffled all of his stuff into the new apartment. The Apartment opened up into the foyers, with a partial wall separating it from the living room. The kitchen to the right just like his old apartment had a counter divider with two bar stools on the living room side. The marble decor was the same as his old unit, taking into mind the carpeting in the living room stopped before the bar stools. The coat closet next to the front door was slightly deeper like a mini walk-in. There was a small dining table situated by the windowed wall in the kitchen. It was twice the size of his last kitchen.

He found the stairs to the loft in the same place however instead of an open bedroom area there were four doors. One was a bathroom and the other three bedrooms. The master bedroom, being nearly the size of his last unit, had its own bathroom with a walk-in shower and jet stream tub. The second and third bathrooms were on either side of the bathroom. Adrien decided to move his stuff into the smaller of the two rooms closest to the stairs so that Marinette could have the main room with her own bathroom.

It only took him a week to clean out the old unit and clean it even though professional cleaners would be in to clean it properly. The unit was unfurnished but the furniture from the old unit was bought by Amelie so he had a few bell boys help him move it into the new unit. He had only to buy a bed for Marinette before she got there. He had Sabine pick out some furniture online and he ordered it.

The two weeks flew by faster as he spent more time at the temple tutoring the youth. As well as his daily chores there.

A video call with Marinette came in very early in the morning, though it wasn’t that early where she was at. She had just arrived at the airport with her parents who were seeing her off. Her bags were checked and she was standing in front of the windows overlooking the runway.

“I can’t wait to see you, Princess.” He said enthusiastically as he lay in his bed. He tried to not let her see he was in bed or that he didn’t have a shirt on, she’d be a mess and end up missing her flight.

“Did I wake you?” She looked guilty

“I wouldn’t have missed this call for anything Princess, you better get on that plane you let me down now.” he winked at her.

“Don’t worry, that was her boarding call. We are putting her on the plane right now,” Tom said. Adrien chuckled as they hung up the phone.

“I’m just surprised you love birds are going to be in separate rooms.” Plagg teased. “How long is that going to last?”

“Hey, you have your own room now, what are you harassing me for?” Adrien teased him.

“Actually that is going to be Marinette’s sewing room, right?” Plagg had a point.

“I mean, when she gets here, you can start staying in the miracle box with the others.”

“Too cramped. I need to stretch my legs and be free.” Plagg folded his arms behind his head as he hovered over the bed. Adrien copied him as he lay in his bed. His phone ran again, this time it was Felix.

“I’ll be coming to Shanghai today, I am at the airport now.” He sounded rushed.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” Adrien asked. It meant he would be on the same plane with Marinette. His stomach balled up.

“A last minute showing of some new designs and they can’t seem to be able to agree on one.” Felix said something to the boarding clerk. “I need you to attend with me.”

“I have classes, I can’t cancel them, plus I am now tutoring some of my students.” Adrien complained. It made things worse that he wouldn’t be able to spend time with Marinette.

“I’m sure we can arrange the viewing for after your classes or before. What time is your fist class and last class….” He paused. “You know what, we can discuss that when I get there.” his voice had changed from rushed to pleasant and happy. Damn, did he see Marinette, is he sitting with her? Adrien’s anxiety tightened on his chest as he laid back against his pillow.

After a long and nerve wracking day, Adrien stood at the airport waiting for both his cousin and his...friend? He hadn’t bothered to change his clothes after he finished at the temple, so he was still dressed in his yi-fu. He decided to wait near the baggage claim so he could help grab her luggage. Felix would likely have one bag and it was probably a carry on. Adrien saw her bags first and grabbed up. She had a lot as he had expected, they were pink with darker pink polka dots, no surprise there. As he finished loading them on a luggage cart he heard Felix’s voice.

“Are you serious Marinette, that would be great.” Felix sounded excited, a tone he didn’t use very often. Adrien could feel the heat in his face as he tried to compose himself before turning around to greet them.

“Adrien.” Marinette exclaimed as he turned around to catch her as she leaped into his arms. He spun her around holding her tightly and making a big show of it. “Look who found me on the plane, he wants me to come with you two to the fashion showing this afternoon.” Adrien feigned a smile. While Marinette was the fashion expert between the three of them, he wasn’t sure if his cousin’s intentions were pure, or if he was competition.

“So, I hope you got that sare bedroom made up for me…” Felix leaned in to whisper. “Brother.” Adrien’s face burned even more now, said spare bedroom was right next to her room and well, was empty.

“Sure, if you don’t mind sleeping on the floor.” Adrien laughed as they loaded up in the car. Felix pulled out his phone and made a call.

“I need a spare bed set up in the Graham De Vanily room, you’ll know which room.” Adrien was amazed at how resourceful his cousin was. This is why he is the primary controlling party for the company. The ride back to the apartment in the Taxi was cramped with Marinette wedged between Adrien and Felix. Adrien, being clearly larger than his twin, though not too much. Marinette let out a loud yawn so Adrien threw his arm over her shoulder and pulled her head into his chest casting a possessive glance to Felix, who simply smirked back to him.

The Bus boys carried her bags to the suite.

“I don’t know about you two, but I am famished.’ Felix said, “Shall we step out for dinner?”

“That sounds great, we should go to Thousand Delights?” Adrien smiled at her excitement.

“Are you okay to go, Marinette,” Adrien asked “You were nearly falling asleep in the plane, you might need a nap.”

“Nonsense. She’s fine.” Felix swooped a hand over her shoulder and led her back to the curb. “Shall I call a driver to come get us, less cramped than a taxi.” Competition is then. Adrien scowled.

“If my accommodations aren’t sufficient for you, COUSIN,” Adrien slid his arm around her waist tugging her to his side and out of Felix’s hands. “You are welcome to make your own. Felix’s smile was one of mischief as he let his arm fall from her shoulders. Her face froze in a ‘what just happened’ expression. A few minutes later a mini black limo arrived and the driver moved quickly to open the door.

“Lady’s first.” Felix insisted then slid in after her. Adrien ran to the other side to let himself in next to her. Once again, Marinette was trapped between the two, though Adrien focuses on the fact, she would be staying with him when Felix returned to Paris.

“Where’s your ring?” Adrien finally asked, having noticed his hand free of it when his arm was around Marinette.

“I uh, Amalie,” he choked. “They want yours as well to get them refinished or something.” Adrien slipped the ring off his finger and handed it to Felix.

“I don’t know what Amalie and Emelie want with them, but they have no meaning to me.” Adrien turned to the window.

“Ooookay.” Marinette’s voice broke through the awkwardness. “Amalie? Emelie? Not mother?”

“It’s a long story.” Felix said, patting her knee.

“Well, tell me tonight, when we get back?” Marinette’s voice was so sweet. Adrien was glad didn’t didn’t stumble over her words like she did when they were younger, now he could have a real conversation with her and actually know the true intentions of her words.

“We will have plenty of time to talk about that Marinette,’ Adrien smiled at her as he put his arm around her shoulders again, “But let’s just have some fun first,” He kissed her forehead, casting a glance to Felix. The thought of telling her made his stomach clench and he could tell it was difficult for Felix too. Not exactly something that comes up in casual conversation.

Cheng Sifu was excited to see him, but his confusion over the “Cousin” kept him constantly glancing back and forth between them. Felix and Adrien smiled at him, then they both laughed.

“Cheng Sifu, we get that all of the time, our mothers are identical twins as well.” Adrien didn’t mean to add that, but it was too late.

“What he means is, we share the Graham De Vanily twin genes.” Felix to the rescue, casting a scowl at Adrien. “Which means.” smiling at Marinette, “When we have children, our wives will bear us twins.” Adrien caught the wink in his eye.

“Well, I don’t think we need to worry about you having any children any time soon Felix,” Adrien leaned back in his seat as his empty bowl sat in front of him. He wrapped an arm around Marinette, “You have to have a girlfriend first.” He gave Marinette a gentle squeeze and a smile.

“Oh.” Felix said, putting his napkin down on the table. “And you do? I thought she was just a friend?”

“Yeah, she is.” Adrien smiled at her. “A girlfriend.” He placed a quick kiss on her startled lips. Making a show of it before Felix could question if he even had a chance. Adrien knew Marinette had loved him since day one, even though she only knew the facade his father created, but he loved her for her.

“I see.” Felix’s tone seemed to have a playful melody to it. “I’m happy to hear that.” Cheng Sifu began to play his happiest of songs on his accordion.

“I always knew the two of you would be together someday.” A joyful tear fell down his cheek.

#miraculous fandom #miraculous chat noir #ladynoir #adrienette #miraculous ladybug #marichat #miraculous world #felix graham de vanily #Adrien Graham De Vanily #miraculous fanfic

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fromthefishbowl · 3 years

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People who complain about Ao3 don’t remember what sites like ff.net were like

Every few months, a bright-minded Tumblr blogger peeps up with the never-heard-before: “Ao3 is a completely amoral site. If they want to prove to us they have a moral backbone, then they need to purge X, Y, and Z tags, and then create a team of mods who will regularly check the stories that are reported because since now there aren’t tags that tell the readers about X, Y, and Z, these goddamn perverts will slip through the cracks and create toxic environment in which children shouldn’t be” take, and the posts routinely receive thousands of notes.

Well... let me tell you how things actually work on sites that don’t use tags but have a team of mods that checks the authors and stories that are being reported.

I’m a fandom old: even if I’m young, I began reading and writing fanfics back in September/October 2012. I’ve used a site that was basically ff.net’s twin, Wattpad, and then Ao3. I was there, when Wattpad slowly turned into a money-making farm and implemented micro-transactions and ads. I have seen how these platforms evolved and who they were protecting, and it really doesn’t matter how much you whine and complain about Ao3, but it’s the only platform that actually protects both its writers and readers in equal measure.

According to the many theories made by people who have already forgotten how actually lawless fanfiction sites were, having mods would solve all the problems regarding the “moral issues” presented by Ao3. In their opinion, mods would be these perfect creature who never take sides and are always impartial, ready to defend ThE cHiLdReN from the evil, amoral content. They’d scrub the site clean from the “toxic” and “dangerous” content in order to create a wholesome environment where parents and kids alike can happily frolic together.

In truth? Nothing about mods ever worked like that. No one is able to be completely impartial, and some people only need to be given an ounce of power to lose their minds and do as they please.

On the site similar to ff.net, people were encouraged to report all the stories that didn’t strictly follow the rules of the site, including the ones where the spelling wasn’t as great as it should’ve been. It wasn’t rare to find that users had reported an account or a story simply out of revenge, because said author hadn’t commented their work favorably. If you were a fandom favorite with a lot of readers, it was also possible to find in your DM box people asking you to report and ask your readers to report someone, even if you had to make up things in order for the report to go through.

Thankfully, mods were extremely lethargic (I love the idea that people think that they’d act briskly and not sleuth around the site, posting stories with their modding accounts in order to receive a higher number of comments), so most reports ended up in stand-by, catching proverbial dust, for years and years, until everybody forgot about the report itself as well as the story, the author, and whatever had happened there.

But when they acted? Ooooh, and here’s the interesting part, because there were three options!

The story was taken down, the account banned, and the only thing left of them would be a notice from the mods that they had been stricken because they had done this, this, and a little bit of that too. But do you know who was usually hit, by this? Smaller writers, writers whose stories didn’t pull in a lot of views and comments, people who were “forgettable”. It also happened a lot with writers who would put themselves against bigger authors by writing negative reviews for their stories;

The mods closed an eye because the people and storied reported where at the top of their category in a very trafficked fandom. There was a case in which people were so distressed by the presence of a very specific story (Jewish girl falls in love with the Nazi guard that abuses her while she’s in a concentration camp), that the headmistress of the site had to write a special comment that could be viewed by all the people who were going to review that story that said that there was no reason to leave a negative review nor to report it to the mods, as it followed the rules of the site (it didn’t, but it brought in a lot of views and attention to the platform, so... it could stay!);

The mods would hunt the authors on their social medias too and ban them from the site because they’d been rude. It happened more than once, that an author was reported or they were the ones reporting, and have found themselves submersed in insults by members of the mod team on their Facebook page. Two cases:

An author was accused of having plagiarized a story written by another, more famous, user. The author denied, and asked for proof of it. The mod taking care of the case didn’t offer any, but deleted their story and blocked their account until they said they were sorry to the more famous user. In order to have their account back, the author said they were sorry to the famous user, but on their Facebook page wrote that it was a crock of shit: they hadn’t copied from that person, and the fact that the mod hadn’t offered any proof of it was suspicious enough. The mod saw that Facebook post, sent them a DM with nothing but insults, and then banned them permanently because they had been rude to the administration;

An author posted a story, and two other users plagiarized it. The author reported both stories and waited a week for the mods to send them a DM telling them to screenshot all the passages that had been copied and put them all in a document because they didn’t have time to read three different stories. Although the author complied, they wrote a post complaining about this lousy job on Facebook. The post caught the eye of another moderator who blocked their account and told them they wouldn’t have had access to the site unless they apologized to the entire team of mods, to the users they had accused of plagiarizing their story, and took down the Facebook post. In the meanwhile, the first mod was caught chatting with one of the two other users on the forum. The author didn’t back down for another two weeks, when the headmistress of the site herself showed up and told them she would’ve been the one to take care of the question. In the end, although it was clear that the two users had copied the author’s story, the author still received nasty and threatening messages from the entire mod team because of that Facebook post, to the point that they decided to delete their stories and their account altogether and move to another platform.

This is what happens with mods that are always asked to answer to reports and to take care of stories personally: authors are not protected against anything unless they are big enough to be an attraction people subscribe to the platform for. Fics with “moral backbone” issues were left up if they had the views and the comments for it.

And the readers? Well, the readers used to get the short end of the stick too, as those sites didn’t have a tag system and there wasn’t a way for them to know if a story contained something they didn’t like to read about, nor a way for them to “obscure” the ones that did. Finding specific things was a mess too.

This to say: you need to curate your own fandom experience. You are in charge of what you read, and it’s not my place to take care of the children and make sure that everything they put their saintly eyes upon is wholesome. Ao3 is the only platforms that allows the readers to have an absolutely complete control of what they consume and that allows the writers to warn the readers of every single issue their story can contain that might trouble them. Learn to curate your own fandom experience, rather than spending your time whining about “moral issues” and “think of the children”, coming up with ideas that are simply not doable on a massive site like Ao3.

#ao3 #discourse #fandom experience #purity culture

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pain-somnia · 4 years

Text

Title: Take Me Now, I’m In Too Far Rating: M (for sexual content) Disclaimer Playlist Art Credit: @inknigella (used with permission) Day’s Notes: I have recently updated this fic on Patreon. It is one of three fics of mine exclusive to Patreon, but here’s a chance to read Part 1 of my “exes as roommates” AU. This fic is dear to me in almost the same way Kingdom For Two is. The fic started as a simple Roommates AU, but then was molded into something else when I decided to add the fact that they were exes. I wanted to write about two people that love each other a lot but growing up and becoming “real” adults made things difficulty. If you would like to give this fic a chance and enjoy Part 1, you can find Part 2 & Part 3 on Patreon. Here is a link to the tag for this fic. I have opened up the $1 tier permanently for access to exclusive fics and early access to publicly posted fics, but I have other tiers with different perks. One of the perks for certain tiers are PDFs that contain exclusive art that will only be found in full on my Patreon (or in some cases Cj’s Patreon). The above banner was created with a preview of one of the many works Ink has provided to help bring my work to life.

I hope you all enjoy the first part of this fic and consider becoming one of my patrons 😊

Part One

She was going to kill Karin. And her stupid boyfriend. She was going to kill Karin and her boyfriend and then take back the armchair she let them have as a moving-in-together gift.

Sakura wasn’t that surprised when Karin told her she was moving out. She had been spending so much time at Suigetsu’s apartment, it was as if she had already moved out months ago. It was only a matter of time before the two of them would officially move in together.

Karin had been considerate and had found her a new roommate before she gave her the news. And although Sakura wasn’t too keen on the idea of living with a stranger—a man at that—she was willing to put up with it for her friend’s happiness.

At least for a few months while she looked for a new place if possible.

Unfortunately for Sakura, she couldn’t set a day to actually meet her new roommate before he was set to move in. Their schedules conflicted most days so Karin went ahead and took care of all of the necessary paperwork and was present when he moved in. With how things had begun, Sakura assumed she wouldn’t meet her new roommate until her day off.

She hadn’t expected to run into him as she was leaving for work at the bakery at three in the morning and he was coming home smelling of booze.

She definitely didn’t expect to see her ex-boyfriend holding a key to her apartment.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Sasuke muttered, running a hand through his messy, jet black hair.

“You’re my new roommate?” Sakura scoffed, wringing her hands in the scarf she was attempting to put on on her way out. “How did you not know that I was Karin’s roommate?”

Sasuke looked at her impassively for a moment, as if mulling over what he wanted to say before pushing past her and saying, “I’m going to bed.”

“What? We’re not even going to talk about this?”

“If we start now, you’re going to be late for work,” he called back to her without turning around. “Can’t have that can we?”

Sakura scoffed but couldn’t retort. He was right. If she missed her bus she was going to have to wait for the next one and it would cause her to be late.

She wanted nothing more than to bang on his bedroom door and demand that he come out and speak with her. How could he just go to sleep!?

“We’re talking when I get back!” She shouted, grabbing the front door. Sakura waited but there was no response. She growled in frustration and slammed the door behind her on her way out.

“Have you been taking your anger out on dough again?” Ino commented dryly between page flips of a cake catalogue, pointing out cute designs to the toddler sitting on her lap and cooing.

Sakura rubbed her temple with the heel of her palm and sighed. It was one in the afternoon and she had spent the day busy working on custom orders. At the moment she was sitting through a consultation with her childhood friend who needed to order a birthday cake for her son, Inojin. She had tried to throw herself into baking and packaging orders but now that there was a slow down where it was only her and two of the shop clerks, her mind was free to think about how her ex was now living with her.

“You know how Karin moved out and found me a roommate?”

“Uh-huh, it was kind of unexpected. Isn’t it a little early though? They’ve only been dating for━”

“Sasuke is the roommate she found me.”

“Holy━sorry, honey.” Ino interrupted herself and covered her son’s ears. “Holy shit!”

“I wanted to call her and chew her out but in her defense, she doesn’t know he’s my ex-boyfriend.” Sakura slumped in her seat, took a fork and dug into one of the cake slices she brought out for tasting. “When I did get a chance to talk to her earlier, she said that apparently Suigetsu is best buddies with him and Kiba. Kiba and Sasuke were rooming with their friend Shino but the lease was coming to an end and Shino was moving away for a teaching job and Kiba decided to move in with his fiancée. So━”

“So Sasuke needed a new place quick and conveniently Suigetsu knew a place close enough to his workplace and with someone that desperately needed a new roommate.”

Sakura tossed the fork over her shoulder in defeat and dropped her head into her hands. Ino reached over and patted her arm in a comforting manner.

“I give you guys two weeks.”

“Two weeks for what?” Sakura lifted her head up to narrow her eyes at Ino. “Before we kill each other?”

Ino covered Inojin’s ears one more time and said, “Two weeks before you’re fucking.”

“Ino!” Sakura sat up, looking affronted, hand clutching the front of her apron.

“You guys used to go at it like rabbits,” Ino gave her a sly smile, “and it’s not like you guys broke up because you grew to hate each other.”

“That was years ago, Ino.” Sakura rolled her eyes and pushed the cake slices closer to Inojin. He immediately sank his fingers into the cake and ate from his hands. “He’s probably moved on anyway.”

“It was the stupidest break up.”

“I know it was, but we were so busy and our schedules never aligned. It was frustrating.” Sakura sighed and stared off into space. “It’s been four years…”

Ino took out some wet wipes and cleaned Inojin’s chubby fingers. “So what are you going to do?”

Sakura shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Ino looked at her incredulously. “You’re just going to live with him and not do a thing about it.”

“I didn’t even notice he was there for three days already.” Sakura shrugged again. “And our schedules never sync up. I really don’t think it will be an issue.”

“Unless he brings someone home,” Ino said the words slowly so Sakura couldn’t miss what she was telling her.

“He’s not as insensitive as that.” Sakura crossed her arms in front of her chest. The action was to get as close to hugging herself without actually doing it.

The truth was that the Sasuke she knew wasn’t insensitive. But she didn’t know this Sasuke; a Sasuke that was twenty-five instead of the twenty year old she knew and loved.

The new apartment was a lot closer to the tattoo parlor he worked at than his old place. It was one of the things that sold him on it when Suigetsu mentioned that Karin was moving in with him and leaving her old roomie without. That and the washer and dryer included in the apartment which meant no more paying at a laundromat or to use the communal laundry center.

Sasuke wasn’t too keen on sharing a space with a woman he didn’t know but Karin insisted that his roommate was clean and quiet and that with her work schedule he wouldn’t be running into her except on Sundays when her bakery was closed.

Bakery.

That was the first sign that had him want to put the pen down and walk away. Because baking is what she wanted to do for a living. But what were the odds that Karin was talking about her? There were tons of bakeries in the city and Sakura didn’t own one the last time he checked.

But that was five years ago when she was nineteen and too young. She was still pretty young to be a business owner but with Sakura’s tenacity there was a highly likely chance that she would have her own shop. And wasn’t that one of the reasons she had been saving every penny she could when she started working?

Shaking his head of all of those thoughts, he had signed the documents that would transfer him as the new leasee replacing Karin.

It wasn’t until he was moving in that Sasuke found out who exactly Karin’s roommate had been.

Suigetsu and he were bringing in boxes while Karin gave him a tour of the apartment when he saw the photos on the wall. Anyone could dye their hair pink but what were the odds that another pink haired woman around Karin’s age would have gone to Catholic school for high school and wore the same uniform that Sakura used to prance around in.

“Sakura is pretty sentimental so she has photos all over the apartment,” he distantly heard Karin explain as he examined all of the photos that were lined up in the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Come check out the bathroom. It’s pretty big ‘cause the washer and dryer are set up in there. There’s a door to block out that area from the toilet and shower cabin for some privacy. It’s frosted glass but you can’t really see what’s going on on the other side.”

Karin hadn’t been friends with Sakura when the two of them had been dating so he couldn’t fault her for not knowing but Suigetsu did know that Sakura was his ex.

An ex he was still kind of hung up on.

Which is why after work he headed to the bar with Kiba and Tamaki, Kiba’s fiancée. They were supposed to celebrate him finding a new place but after Kiba asked why Suigetsu wasn’t there, Sasuke explained that he was banned from their usual bar for a few weeks because he let him move in with his ex without warning him.

If he was lucky he would never have to run into Sakura while he was living there. Because wasn’t that the cause of their breakup before? With her busy culinary school schedule and apprenticeship and then his work at the parlor running into late at night, they barely saw each other.

So stumbling in slightly drunk and a little high at three in the morning, Sasuke didn’t expect to see her on the other side of the apartment door in the middle of bundling up for the November cold.

Sakura still looked like she did at nineteen but different at the same time. Her face had lost most of the roundness of youth, but her figure was no longer as slim. She was still on the thin side, but unlike Karin who was all sharp edges and harsh angles, Sakura had filled out either with age or from eating one too many of her own cupcakes.

Sasuke ran a hand through his hair before tucking the arm it was attached to behind his head. He was finding it difficult to stay asleep which was all he had planned on doing before work for the day. Sakura had said something about talking later and he had been dreading having to have the conversation. He vaguely recalled saying something snarky about her running late for work. No doubt she would be upset over that.

The conversation was going to happen. But considering he would be gone before she came home from work, who knew when it would actually take place.

If he was lucky, she would wait until they were home and not find him at work like she used to.

When Sasuke first met Sakura she was wearing all of the cliche warning signs.

He was busy sketching when she strolled into the shop. Sasuke was supposed to be manning the reception desk and was likely to get bitched at by his cousin’s best friend for not paying attention.

“Hey,” greeted a cheerful voice.

Looking up from his sketchbook, Sasuke blinked in confusion at what he was seeing. Before him stood two teenage girls wearing the dark green tartan patterned pleated skirt and white button down shirt of a school uniform. The blonde one had a sweater wrapped around her waist but the slightly shorter girl with rose gold hair had a cream colored school cardigan with the school crest emblazoned on the left side of her chest.

“Our Lady of Sorrows is seven blocks,” Sasuke pointed out the door, “that way.”

“We have an appointment.” The blonde girl blew a bubble with her gum and popped it. “The school day also ended like an hour ago, dude.”

Raising an eyebrow, he flipped through the appointment book and asked, “names?”

“Ino Yamanaka and Sakura Haruno,” the girl with the pink hair answered, pointing at the girl that matched the names she gave. “We have an appointment with my cousin Sasori.”

Looking down the schedule log there it was. The new piercer did have an appointment with an Ino and a Sakura.

“Aren’t piercings prohibited at catholic schools?” Sasuke asked, eyeing the uniforms.

“Yeah, but you can’t get caught if you get them where the nuns can’t see them.” The pink haired girl winked at him, green eyes sparkling mischievously.

“What kind of piercings are you getting then?” He asked, taking out the waiver forms.

“Belly button for Ino.” The blonde girl raised her hand and took her form and filled out the form.

He turned to Sakura and waited for her answer. Her lips turned upwards at the corners in a coy smile.

“Hips.”

Even now, if Sasuke closed his eyes and concentrated on the memory of Sakura swiveling her hips as he thrust up into her, he could see the jewelry twinkling at him as she dipped her hips.

A lot of years had gone by since that first encounter and Sasuke was no longer the shop slave he was during his apprenticeship and Sakura was no longer that rebellious catholic school girl.

It didn’t stop him from wondering if her dermals were still in place or if after all those years her skin rejected the piercings and they had to be removed.

“What’s up with you, kid?” He felt someone ruffle his hair and he swatted at the air. The only one that had the courage to do so was Konan, one of their piercers.

“Nothing,” he replied, sanitizing the tattoo bed before his next client showed up.

“His ex girlfriend found out he lives with her,” Kiba cackled from his work station. Sasuke took his discarded gloves and threw them across the room until they hit him with a smack. “Ow!”

“Why would that be a surprise?” Konan asked. Sasuke made himself busy taking needles to the autoclave to avoid responding.

“She works baker’s hours,” Sasuke heard Kiba responding for him. “They have opposing schedules so Sui’s girlfriend took care of everything.”

“Good luck with that.” Konan went to the reception counter to check the appointment book. She had already moved on from the conversation.

I’m going to need more than luck, Sasuke grumbled inwardly.

Sakura drummed her fingers against her mug, nails clinking against the ceramic. She knew Sasuke wouldn’t get home until late so she called the co-owner of her bakery and asked her to oversee the baking of the everyday goods the following morning.

While Sakura mostly ran the show in the kitchen—Hinata being too soft and gentle to command the staff—she was mostly the cake artist and worked on custom orders. It was a lot more relaxed than the job she had as a pastry chef for the high end hotel in the city, but it still demanded a lot of her time.

She could spend hours of her day just to work on a cake that would still take her three days to make all of the components for it.

It wasn’t until one in the morning that the front door creaked open, keys jingling as they were pulled out of the lock.

“You stayed up.” Sasuke toed his boots off and lined them up next to hers. The leather work boots were of a popular brand so they hadn’t alarmed Sakura despite them being part of Sasuke’s signature look.

Sakura stood up from his seat at the couch and wrapped her oversized cardigan tighter around her body. She hugged herself, feeling exposed in her pajamas. “I said we had to talk.”

“There’s not much to talk about.” Sasuke tossed his keys on the kitchen island. Sakura grabbed them and placed them on a wall hook next to her own set of keys. “I need a place to live, you need a roommate. That’s it.”

“That’s it?” Sakura asked, voice soft and slow, urging him to re-examine their situation. When he continued to stare at her impassively, Sakura scoffed.

“I didn’t know you were Karin’s roommate until I was moving in.”

“I know.” Sakura ran a hand through her hair, pushing her bangs back. Sasuke wasn’t a liar. At least the Sasuke she knew wasn’t a liar. “I know.”

“So is this the end of the discussion?” Sasuke’s eyes drifted from her to the hallway behind her. It was late and all he wanted was to get to bed. “I don’t really see any problem with us living together. You didn’t even notice that I was here for three days.”

The problem is that I never got over you. “Alright, if there’s no problem then let’s go over the rules.”

“Rules?” Sasuke gave her a blank look.

“Yes, rules. Karin and I had them and now so will we.”

“Okay.” Sasuke crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned against the island. “What are your rules?”

“Rule number one: no fucking on the couch.”

Sasuke’s eyes went wide and he choked on an inhale. “That’s a rule you guys had or is that one you made for me?”

“That was an actual rule we had.” Sakura shivered in disgust. “Suigetsu has a very pale ass.”

“Yeah, everyone’s seen more of Sui than they’ve ever wanted to.”

“Rule number two: toilet seat needs to be put back down after use.”

“Okay, that’s definitely one you made up for me.” Sasuke stood you straighter and looked her up and down. “Do I get to make rules too?”

“I will consider them.”

“Alright.” Sasuke was silent for a moment as he pondered. “No obnoxious noises such as vacuuming when you know the other is sleeping.”

“That’s reasonable.” Sakura sat down on one of the bar stools at the island and took out her notepad. She took out a pen and wrote down a few lines. “I do my laundry twice a week━Wednesdays and Sundays, usually around noon. Having a schedule kind of helps out ‘cause the laundry room is in the bathroom.”

They went back and forth writing down rules and going over each other’s work schedule. Sakura tapped the pen on the table and took a deep breath. She didn’t want to step on any toes or be misunderstood but she needed to bring up an uncomfortable topic.

“No overnight guests.” Sasuke raised an eyebrow and in a rush to recover Sakura blurted out, “for either of us! At least not without a heads up. I don’t want to be walking around in my underwear and there’s a stranger in my home.”

“Why would you be walking around in your━?”

“I sleep like that sometimes!” Sakura snapped, cheeks heating up. “I wake up to use the bathroom or get water and I’m too drowsy to consider pants.”

“Why do you sleep in your underwear if you get cold easily?” Sasuke’s face scrunched up in confusion.

“I come home too tired to change so I just sleep in my underwear.” Sakura stomped her foot. Sasuke raised an eyebrow. “Don’t judge me!”

“Just remember that I live here now and will see your ass if you decide that pants are too much,” Sasuke yawned, “effort. I’m going to bed now.”

Sakura watched him head to his room with a frown on her face. It wasn’t until she heard the lock on his door click that she let out an exhausted sigh.

Does he have to look cute when he’s sleepy?

“Is this too much for a three year old’s birthday?” Sakura sat back and looked thoughtfully at her sketch with her chin resting on her fist.

Hinata shrugged as she continued to pipe buttercream flowers. “I mean it’s more for Ino, isn't it?”

“God,” Sakura rolled her eyes, “it really is. I’m sure Inojin would be happy with a dinosaur on a cake instead of a dinosaur made out of cake.”

Hinata giggled softly as she continued to make a bouquet out of cupcakes. She was working on cupcakes for a bridal shower. Sakura had helped her with the structure to make it appear that it was suspended in the air and now all she had to do was decorate it.

When Sakura had met Hinata, the young woman wasn’t the best baker. It was an issue of confidence and being unsure if it was the best decision she had made. Upon discovering that Hinata had a few years to become a successful baker or get married to a man her father chose, Sakura took her under her wing and when they were ready they used Hinata’s trust fund to secure a location.

At that point Sakura already had a reputation for her cake sculptures so they lucked out.

Just because Sakura couldn’t be with the person she loved, it didn’t mean she was going to watch someone give up on their dream and marry someone they were forced to.

“So how has Tinder been working out for you?” Sakura drawled as she took out the ingredients she was going to need.

“I prefer Bumble, actually,” Hinata mumbled, face flushing pink. “You know it’s weird describing myself as pleasantly plump. Usually I would just say fat or chubby.”

“But you are pleasantly plump,” Sakura teased her. “And good call on Bumble. Message any guys?”

“I might have,” Hinata muttered under her breath, face turning a dark shade of red.

“Oh, you dirty slut.”

“We only met for coffee!” Hinata insisted over Sakura’s laughter. Sakura waved her hand at her and tried to reign in her laughter. It was quiet in the kitchen until Hinata said, “I wouldn’t have minded though. He has such pretty blue eyes.”

Sakura only stopped laughing when Hinata threw buttercream at her face.

The assistants walked in from the front of the shop to find Sakura covered in pink and purple frosting, armed with a piping bag full of green frosting, and Hinata shielding her cupcake sculpture.

Sakura was exhausted by the time she got home. It was one of those rare days where she didn’t get home until late. There was so much math and engineering into creating cake sculptures and trial and error.

She slumped against her apartment door and groaned. She had just unlocked the door but had no energy to push it open.

“You’re almost there, don’t pass out now.” Turning slightly, Sakura mumbled incoherently at the sight of Sasuke holding a take out bag. “Jesus Christ, you’re dead on your feet.”

“Carry me,” Sakura grumbled.

Sighing to himself, Sasuke handed her the bag of takeout and crouched down, scooping her legs up and cradling her. “How the fuck did Karin deal with you? She’s twiggy.”

“Suigetsu was usually around or she’d drag me across the floor.” Sakura opened the bag of food and examined the contents as Sasuke set her down on the couch. “Anything I’d like in here?”

“I thought you would be sleeping, but I have some stuff you could tolerate.” He grabbed two plates and brought them to the coffee table and began to serve her some of his food. “Do you ever take a break?”

“I have a day off tomorrow technically.”

“But you’re going to go to work.” Sasuke shook his head, unruly hair swaying around his face. “Typical.”

And with that Sakura lost all desire to eat despite not having had anything to eat all day except for some bread and tastings.

“Hey, where are you? It’s getting weird just sitting here. I can order right now if you’re nearby.”

“Oh, shoot! Sasuke I’m sorry but I’m still at work.”

“Wasn't today your day off?”

So what if she was a “workaholic?” If she were a man no one would see anything wrong with how much she worked.

She knew that eventually she was going to be faced with reminders of what a shitty girlfriend she had been, but she had hoped that she would be alone as she looked back on all of the mistakes she had made.

Sasuke had forgiven her for the first missed date but once he had been stood up a second, third, fourth, fifth time he stopped making any plans for them.

“I gotta take this coat off,” Sakura mumbled, fumbling with the buttons. Sasuke reached over and helped her get free of her coat and then hung it up on the hooks by the door. If he was going to be this nice for the duration of the time they lived together, the shittier she was going to feel.

“Karin said you owned a bakery. When did that happen?” He handed her a plate full of food, much more food than Sakura would have served herself, but one look from Sasuke had her clamming up and taking the set of chopsticks he placed flat across her palm.

“A few years ago…” Sakura swallowed a bite of dumpling. “It was kind of an accident.”

Sasuke raised an eyebrow and paused in his chewing. Sakura laughed through her nose and explained to him how she had met Hinata.

She had been working at the same high end hotel she had done her apprenticeship when Hinata had been hired on the spot. The tiny, plump woman was quiet and stuttered when speaking to her coworkers because no one wanted her there.

Hinata had been hired because of her last name—the hotel being owned by the Hyūga family—with no references nor any culinary school training which was required to work at the Michelin star hotel restaurant. Due to the fact they were around the same age and because she was the newest hire, Sakura was tasked with watching over the woman. No one else would take up the responsibility thinking that Hinata would hold them back.

Sakura just couldn’t leave Hinata alone. She reminded her so much of herself when she was younger. She helped to train her during her off time and guided her through the French techniques that Sakura had been trained in.

The desire to learn and the drive was there, hidden under the fear of failure.

Sakura moved on to work at a custom cake shop where she could use more of her artistic abilities. Eventually the owner was ready to retire and was willing to sell the store to her.

She wanted to own her shop one day. It was part of her goals but brick and mortar shops were expensive. If it weren’t for Hinata’s trust fund she would never have been able to afford the shop. The two of them had kept in touch and when Sakura found out that Hinata was on her way to quitting being a pastry chef, they made plans to go into business together.

Sasuke listened to her story, never interjecting but nodding at certain intervals and slight facial shifts showing that Sakura still had his attention.

“So what have you been up to?” Sakura asked, digging through the leftover noodles in one of the cartons.

“I still work at the same shop. I moved out a few years ago. Funnily enough it was my mom that was on my case not my dad.”

“Really?” Sakura was genuinely shocked.

When she had last seen Fugaku he wasn’t the biggest supporter of Sasuke’s chosen profession. He had paid for him to go to art school, not to waste his talent working at a tattoo parlor. His mother, Mikoto, was the one that had always been his personal cheerleader.

“I think it was all of the new ink,” Sasuke gestured to his sleeve covered arms, “that really did it for my mom. She always made faces at them and commented about what kind of girl I thought I would be attracting with them.”

I always liked your tattoos. Sakura shrugged and stuffed noodles into her mouth to keep from commenting out loud.

When Sakura was just freshly eighteen and finishing her final year of high school, Sasuke was the exact kind of guy her grandmother had wanted her to stay away from. She had left money behind in her will for Sakura to attend the same school she and Sakura’s mother, Mebuki, had attended.

Our Lady of Sorrows was a Catholic private school that Sakura’s parents wouldn’t have been able to afford without the money her grandmother had left behind. She had probably hoped that Sakura would go to private school, be abstinent, go to college and then medical school and then eventually marry a doctor.

It was too bad that Sakura preferred to be in the kitchen with her father a lot more than she cared for her school. If they had let her stay in public school there may have been a better chance of her focusing on her studies and eventually going to medical school like her grandma had wanted her to. Sakura had been miserable at Our Lady of Sorrows, her only solace being Ino and baking.

And Sasuke.

Sasuke had been the kind of cliché salvation a teenage girl fantasized about. And she still couldn’t believe that at one point in their lives, she had been his.

Ino cut off the boy that usually sat at the desk in front of Sakura and slid into the seat, a manic look in her eyes. “Guess what?”

“I’m not playing this game,” Sakura laughed, completely ignoring the boy that was frowning at Ino.

“Well, fine. Be boring.” Ino huffed, blowing her bangs up and letting them flop back on her face. “But anyway so I was talking to your cousin Sasori━”

“Ino, he’s way too old for you and he’s gay. And you have a boyfriend.”

“That’s not why I was talking to your cousin, Billboard Brow.” Ino flicked Sakura’s forehead. “But anywho. So I went to visit your cousin at that parlor he’s working at now ‘cause I wanna get those piercings you wanted for your birthday━no arguments. They’re on me. We’re going after school.”

“That’s awfully generous of you.” Sakura pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at her. “Is Sasori giving you a discount?”

Ino scoffed. “I wish! That miser,” she grumbled. Ino shook her hair out and then smiled slyly at her. “But that’s not even the best part.”

Sakura rolled her eyes. Ino was really milking the big surprise. She was too impatient for this and the homeroom teacher would show up soon.

“Remember that mega hottie from the public school at the student showcase down at The Factory Art Center?”

Sakura groaned, dropping her head onto her planner. How could she forget? She was just lucky that he hadn’t seen her run straight into a wall because she had been so distracted. The only good thing that came about that was that Ino met her boyfriend Sai that day. And that the boy hadn’t noticed her accident.

It had been a student showcase for the senior students in the schools in the city and Sakura and Ino attended for extra credit. Sakura had been mindlessly looking at all of the pieces until a tall boy wearing all black with messy hair had caught her eye. She had barely heard Ino call out “Dibs!” before she ran into one of the pillars because she wasn’t paying attention to where she was walking.

Ino had given up chase and did her best friend duties by checking up on Sakura. Luckily for her, a different dark haired boy had seen the whole thing and had come over to help out and Ino got her older boyfriend anyway.

“That was almost a whole year ago. Why must you remind me that I embarrassed myself in front of like, seven different senior classes.”

“Mega hottie works at the parlor your cousin does. He’s an apprentice-slash-shop slave.”

That, Sakura hadn’t expected. She had seen his work and expected him to go off to art school and then maybe come back to The Factory Art Center to be a resident artist or for him to even switch tracks and work at Glass & Iron━he did have some lampwork and some welding work as part of his showcase.

“So what?” Sakura swallowed. The grin on Ino’s face was foreboding.

“So,” Ino reached over and played with the ends of Sakura’s long pink hair, “someone is going to take her cute butt down there and finally meet him.”

“Sakura.”

Sakura blinked at the hand that waved in front of her face. Sasuke looked down at her with concern. She looked just about ready to pass out in her noodles.

“Are you okay? You should probably get to bed.” He would just have to clean up everything on his own. And if she tried to go to work on her day off, he’d call the tiny red terror━Karin or Sakura’s cousin, Sasori━to force her to rest for once.

Sakura rubbed her eye with the back of her little fist and murmured, “I should. Thank you for the food.”

She was so small and tired, Sasuke just wanted to scoop her up and bundle her up in her blankets. But then he remembered that she would be going to her own room and he would be going to his and there were four years between now and when he was hers.

Did she still curl herself inward like a cat when she slept? Bury herself under three blankets that weighed almost as much she did?

He could help her to her room and find out. She was dead on her feet and would probably need him to keep from stumbling and running into a wall. It would be so easy to just curl his arm around her waist, pull her closer to his sturdier frame.

It would be easy, oh so easy. And that’s why Sasuke left her to her own devices.

#sasusaku #ss fanfiction #day!fics

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obxparadise · 4 years

Text

Last Friday Night

JJ Maybank x Reader

Word count: 5,548

~A fic in which JJ helps you recount the memories of your wild Friday night~

Warning: Mentions of alcohol, weed, and implied sex.

A/N: This is my longest fic yet!! It’s a combination of a story and flashbacks. Flashbacks are in italics! I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Leave a comment and reblog if you liked it :) I also recommend listening to Katy Perry’s “Last Friday Night” while reading :)

*Picture was found on Google. Credit to the owner.*

~~~

There’s a stranger in my bed

There’s a pounding in my head

Glitter all over the room

Pink flamingos in the pool

I smell like a mini bar

DJ’s passed out in the yard

Barbie’s on the barbeque

This a hickey or a bruise?

Sunlight shines through the window curtains, brightening up what was once a dim room. Tired eyes squint against the light as you attempt to roll on your back, groaning as an unimaginable wave of discomfort shoots across your skull. Hands find their way to your head, kneading your temples to try and ease the pain of a growing headache. The heavy weight of your hangover keeps you from moving, although you desperately need a water and aspirin. Maybe something greasy too.

As your eyes flutter open slowly, they readjust to the light in the room. Heavy breaths leave your mouth, tongue darting out to wet your awfully dry lips. The rancid taste of liquor is still on your breath, and you decide the first thing you need before medicine is a toothbrush.

Movement beside you urges you to freeze in bed, heart beating quickly. Turning slowly to the side, your eyes meet with a pair of tired, baby blue eyes and a mop of messy blonde hair, sticking up in every which way. The image of the boy doesn’t register quickly enough in your head as you shriek, heaving him off the side of the bed, cringing when he lands on the hardwood floor with a thud. Whoops.

“Ow! What the hell was that for?”

Crawling to the other side, your heart stops when you realize who had been your bed mate. “JJ? What the fuck?”

Out of all the boys who could have been lying beside you, JJ Maybank was the very last one on the list of people you would have expected. Luckily for you, JJ was no stranger. Sure, he was more of your sister Sarah’s friend, as Sarah’s boyfriend John B was JJ’s best friend, so you didn’t mind him, but over the last week or so, you’d grown closer to the group, JJ especially. He was chill, funny, unpredictable. Extremely handsome, too.

“What the fuck me?” He asks incredulously, rubbing his now sore elbow. A tiny laugh escapes as you watch his brows furrow in confusion. “What the fuck you! Why did you push me?”

“JJ, what the hell were you doing in my bed?”

He stretches, bare, tanned abdomen exposed for your viewing pleasure. Well, you definitely could’ve been stuck with someone a lot worse. No complaints, though.

“Well, I was sleeping peacefully,” he grumbles, grabbing onto the end of the bed to pull himself up. Pink sparkles litter his body, and you watch in amusement as he vigorously attempts to brush them off. Eyes scanning the room, they land on a confetti cannon. And if you had to guess, Sarah replaced the confetti with glitter. Great. “Oh, and by the way, you steal all the blankets in your sleep. I was freezing my balls off trying to wrestle them from you last night.”

Running a hand through your hair, which is somewhat damp and undoubtedly tangled thanks to alcohol, you try to connect the dots as JJ glances at you, lips curved, delight on his face. “What happened last night?”

How much did you have to drink that you couldn’t remember a single detail? To be completely hungover and forgetful the next morning is extremely unlike you, and if you were being honest with yourself, you were truly embarrassed.

“Only the best fucking night ever,” JJ grins, happily slapping your leg, giving it a squeeze. “I’ll tell ya, you and Sarah sure know how to throw a party. Best Friday night I’ve had in weeks.”

And that’s when it hits you. Your parents are out of town, your brother Rafe is away at a three-day golf tournament, and little sister Wheezie had spent the night with a friend.

Jumping out of bed, you run to the window and peel back the curtains. Your mouth drops in horror as you absorb the sight of your nearly destroyed backyard. Flamingo pool floats are crowding the pool, some full of air, and well, some had seen better days. Pong tables and plastic lawn chairs are flipped and broken. Red solo cups litter the patio, many still filled, others crushed and empty. Rubbing your temples, you cannot imagine how it could get any worse, but a dark figure between the bushes has you pressing your face against the screen, squinting to get a clearer look. For the love of God, the DJ is passed out in the grass. Is he dead? Shit.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

JJ appears beside you, looking over your shoulder. His eyes widen as he takes in the catastrophe that is your backyard. “Whew,” he whistles. “What a night.”

You elbow his ribs before stepping back, sucking in a breath as you realize how much cleaning you’ll have to do. Peeling off your clothes, you quickly change into a fresh pair of sweats and a cropped half tee shirt, making sure to throw on a few layers of deodorant after JJ’s teasing comment.

You catch him staring as you fix yourself in the mirror, smirking at a spot on your abdomen. Glancing back to the mirror, your mouth drops as your fingers brush over a deep red mark. “What is this? Where did this bruise come from?”

You jump at JJ’s cool touch against your warm skin, and he smirks before pulling back. “That’s a hickey, Y/N.”

“A what?” Open palms slap against your forehead in disbelief. “From who?!”

The only thing JJ offers is narrowed eyes and a slight close-lipped smile.

“It was you!” The realization hits you like a freight train. “Oh my god. We fucking slept together didn’t we?”

JJ’s body shakes with laughter as you frantically search your body for more marks, exasperated sighs leaving your lips as you find a few more dotting your neck. Thank God you had just bought a new concealer because you were going to need it. “We spent the entire night together, Y/N. Do you really not remember anything?” He’s pouting, and his voice comes out almost…offended.

“Okay, you know what?” Throwing your hands in the air, you turn back to JJ, whose hands are clasped together in front of him. “I need to remember what happened last night. No more surprises.”

JJ cocks his head to the side. He considers you for a moment before hopping back into bed, patting the place next to him. Hesitantly, you join him in bed, unsure if you’re ready to recount one of the craziest nights of your life. “Where do you want to start?”

Pictures of last night

Ended up online

I’m screwed

Oh well

“Kiara Carrera!”

Squeezing your way through the various partygoers, a relieved sigh leaves your chest as you spot the feisty brunette sitting by the pool, legs dangling in the water as she listens to Pope ramble on about the season finale of The Walking Dead while simultaneously spinning in a pool float.

“What’s up?” Kie says, grinning as you bend down to hug her around the neck.

“Any chance I could borrow your Polaroid?” Right away, you see the hesitation in her brown eyes. She’s not stupid. Giving a drunk girl a camera probably wouldn’t be the best idea, but you’ve been known to be quite persuasive. “Aw, please Kie? I’ll take really good care of it, I promise.”

Sarah may have had problems with Kiara in the past, but there was never any bad blood between the two of you. Frankly, you’d been pissed when Sarah pushed Kie away. Her insecurities ruined a great friendship. Kiara had always been a good friend to your sister. It was nice to see them finally getting along again, now that Sarah and John B were officially together. I guess they really didn’t have a choice, but you knew them. Time would pass, and they would be thick as thieves again.

Kiara reaches into her bag and pulls out a light blue Polaroid camera, holding it out for you. Squealing, you eagerly take the camera, excited to document a night of memories. “Be careful with that thing. It’s brand new.”

Kiara rolls her eyes as you cradle the camera to your chest, rocking it like a child. The alcohol is finally settling in your system, so you squeeze the camera tight to your chest, saluting her before holding the camera to your eyes. “Pope, come in closer.”

He rests his arms on Kiara’s thighs, and they both flash a smile your way. Collecting the picture, you wait for it to appear on the printed film, smiling at the two happy faces. Hm. They’d make a pretty cute couple.

“Alright, I’ll be back!”

Kie and Pope send you off with a final wave as you begin snapping photos of people dancing, people drinking, people swimming. Sometimes memories fade, but with pictures, you could relive them, bring yourself back to that very moment.

Teenager years are the most important. It’s a time filled with adventure, embarrassment, growth, love, friendships. After high school, everyone goes their separate ways. It’s a part of life. Not everyone stays together. But the pictures would remind you of simpler times. Times when you were happy and carefree without a worry in the world. Times where you were surrounded by old friends. Times that would only be relived through photos.

The pictures are spread in front of you on the kitchen counter. Chin resting in your palm, you smile down at the photos, fingers delicately tracing the outline of the film as your body drunkenly sways to whatever song the DJ is playing in the yard. In one picture, Kiara is throwing up the peace sign while Sarah leans her elbow on Kie’s shoulder. Another shows Pope and John B, both curled in a cannon ball as they launch themselves into the pool. JJ and John B throw up the middle fingers in a third picture, and Sarah and Pope laugh at a drenched Kiara, who had alcohol spilled on her moments prior.

“Well these are pretty cool,” a voice slurs beside you. A ringed hand reaches out to touch the pictures, and you recognize the rough, bruised knuckles right away. “But there’s something missing.”

Hand on your waist, you stare up at JJ, brows raised. He leans his hip against the counter, hazy eyes trained on you as he lifts a beer to his lips, tongue slightly darting out to collect the excess. You don’t even want to know how much he’s already had to drink. “And what’s that?”

“You’re not in any of them,” He notes, motioning to the pictures. You follow his fingers as they point to each photo, and sure enough, you’re nowhere in sight.

“Huh. I guess I was so busy taking pictures of everyone else I forgot to include myself. Well then,” Grabbing the Polaroid from the counter, you hold it out in front of you. JJ watches you curiously until you nod your head toward the camera. “What are you waiting for? Get in the picture.”

He leans in close to you, his cheek centimeters from yours, hand resting gently on your hip. You smile brightly while JJ opts for a half smirk, his trademark.

“Do something silly,” You tell him, plucking the first photo from the camera. “Make me laugh.”

You joke with JJ the most out of all of Sarah’s friends. JJ’s sense of humor is unmatched, even when he’s not trying. He thinks for a moment, only briefly, before you feel his tongue flat against your cheek. It startles you but you laugh, a real, genuine laugh, just as your finger presses the shutter button.

The picture is perfect as you lie it alongside the others, gazing down at what would soon become mere memories. Head tilting to the side, you examine the photos as does JJ, and he speaks up, “We should date them.”

It’s as if he read your mind. Rummaging through the cabinets in your kitchen, you locate a black sharpie, pulling the cap off with your mouth before scribbling the date in the bottom left corner of each photo.

You smile triumphantly until JJ plucks the marker from your fingers, scrawling more words on the pictures of you and him. Grabbing the photo of JJ licking your cheek, which oddly enough was super attractive, you roll your eyes as you read the hashtag. “TGIF? Really, JJ? How old are you?”

“Thank god it’s Friday,” his smile is lazy and all you can do is shake your head and return the grin. “Come on,” JJ offers you his hand and you take it as he leads you through a swarm of people before you eventually find yourselves back in your yard. “Let’s get someone to take a group picture.”

You nod in agreement, clutching the camera to your chest, scanning the yard for the remainder of your friends. You spot them on the other side of the pool, Sarah and Kiara cheering loudly for John B and Pope, who are engaged in an intense game of one-on-one flip cup.

“Hold up, J, let me get a picture of this.” Glancing through the viewfinder, you shake your head as you find yourself to be too far away. Keeping the camera to your eye, you pace forward a few steps, oblivious to the circular pool float just inches from your feet.

“Y/N, watch out!” But Kie’s voice falls on deaf ears as you trip over the float, toppling into the water with her pristine Polaroid.

Resurfacing with a deep gasp, you rub the water from your eyes, blushing a deep red as laughter bubbles around you, but the only one with a sour expression on her face who is indeed not laughing, is Kiara.

Chuckling nervously, you hold up the drenched camera before shrugging. “Oops?”

“Oops?” You stare at JJ in astonishment, almost as if you don’t believe a word he’s saying. “I said oops?!”

You groan as JJ nods, burying your face in your palms. Kiara’s brand new, one-hundred-dollar camera and you just had to fall into the pool.

“God, how mad was she?”

JJ shrugs. “Eh, she was pissed for about ten minutes. But hey, she got her payback, though.” He wiggles his brows and you shrink back into the bed. “Do I even want to know how?”

“You didn’t see the Instagram pictures? Kie took them on her phone since you know, you killed her camera.” Heart hammering in your chest, you snatch JJ’s phone from his hand, mouth falling open as you scroll through and find Kiara’s Instagram, her latest post an assortment of pictures from the night before.

“Oh. My. God.”

Each picture of yourself made you squirm more than the previous as you scroll through, cringing in embarrassment. There were pictures of you with your tongue out, looking drunk and ridiculous. Pictures of you and JJ dancing on tables, flailing your arms dramatically, also made the post. Pictures of you puking in the grass and slumped over the toilet made the cut as well. And when you read the caption of the pictures, the bile rose to your throat.

“Thanks for ruining my Polaroid. #Revenge.”

Scrolling through the comments wasn’t the brightest idea either, as your eyes nearly rolled out of their sockets at the first two comments.

@rafecam19: So, this is what my sister does when no one’s home.

@wheeziebee: Wait, Sarah and Y/N had a party without me? Well, I know where these pictures are going. #momanddadsnewfavoritechild

“I am so screwed,” Your head hangs in shame, already picturing in your brain the tongue lashing from your parents when they find out. Grabbing JJ’s phone once more, you scroll to the picture of you two on top of the dining room table. Your back is pressed against his chest while his crotch is dangerously close to your ass, palm gripping your hip. Cheeks heating, you turn the phone around, holding it out for JJ to see. “Okay, what the hell are we doing here?”

Last Friday Night

Yeah we danced on tabletops

And we took too many shots

Think we kissed but I forgot

“Y/N, you’re going to fall! Get down!” Sarah yells over the music, a beer in one hand while her other hand is firmly planted on her hip. Sarah, Pope, and JJ watch from below as you expertly climb onto the dining room table, careful not to spill the two shots in your hand.

Flashing your paranoid sister a smile, your body begins to sway to the music. Cheers are aimed your way, egging you on even more. “Oh, lighten up, Sar. Come up here and join me.”

“You’re insane,” Pope says, flashing Sarah a nervous look. “And very drunk, might I add.”

“Not drunk enough,” You answer, throwing back one of the shots. As soon as the liquid hits your tongue, you’re filled with a rush of energy.

“JJ, do something,” Sarah urges, shaking his shoulder to pull his attention from your body. You’d changed out of your wet clothes after the pool incident, and your body was now clad in tight jean shorts and a black off the shoulder shirt. The more he stared, the more he didn’t want to tear his eyes away. “Talk some sense into her.”

He watches you with a playful smirk before peering back at your sister. “I have a better idea.” Much to Sarah’s dismay, JJ gathers three more shots in his hands before heaving himself up onto the table, placing one of the shots in your hand. “For you, beautiful.” JJ winks and you gladly accept the shot, toning out your sister’s pleas. The shot glasses clink together before you and JJ down the liquid. JJ finishes the last two before chucking them to Pope, who has difficulty catching them, as he’s not the most coordinated of the bunch. Too much time on the math team does that to a man.

The music changes from rap to throwbacks, and the crowd of teenagers flooding your house erupt into loud cheers as they recognize some of the songs from their childhood. “Last Friday Night” blasts through the DJ’s speakers, and even Sarah, originally annoyed with your shenanigans, eases up and pulls Kiara and Pope away to dance.

You’re left alone with JJ who is trying his damn hardest to dance smoothly and not make a fool of himself. You laugh heartily at his amateur dance moves before moving closer to him, gripping his wrists to steady yourself. You turn yourself in his arms, jumping slightly as his hands grip your hips, lightly squeezing. He’s gentle with you now as your bodies tangle together, his lips calmly brushing your neck, and it’s a different side of him. While most of the time he’s calm, you haven’t been around JJ enough to see him let loose. The alcohol definitely helps.

His lips brush against your ear, sending a slight quiver through your body. “Is this okay?”

The feel of his front side against your backside, his hands on your body, rubbing, squeezing, and his lips dusting against your neck, jaw, ears, it’s exquisite. Blood rushes throughout your body, down your legs, up your arms, through your cheeks, in your head, and the sound of it pumping blocks out the surrounding noise. You’re the only two people in the room. At least, it feels that way.

Before your brain has time to process your body’s actions, you face JJ in his arms, hands on either side of his neck. His lips are parted slightly, breathing even, and his eyes are calculated, focused, scanning your face.

“You’re not seeing anyone, right?”

The air around you is thick, almost restricting your breaths, but JJ remains collected, eyes steady on your face. One hand situates on your hip while the other rests easily on your back. “Fuck no,” he breathes. “I only see you, baby.”

“Thank God.”

You lean in the same time JJ pushes forward, lips finally connecting in a soft but urgent kiss. Does time stop? It feels like it. And there’s no way this is your imagination, either. Weak knees, fluttering heartbeat, small gasps for air, rosy cheeks. All products of a real, sensual kiss.

JJ controls the kiss. He captivates you, and you go along with the feel of his lips, letting him guide you. The light strokes of his fingers on your back are a reassurance. Reassurance that the kiss is genuine. Reassurance that you’re safe with him. Reassurance that he wants this just as much as you do.

The adrenaline pulses within your veins.

His tongue brushes against yours.

Your head spins.

It feels like you’re floating.

You want it to last forever.

A low whistle breaks the kiss and you’re reluctant to pull away. “Shit, bro,” The voice belongs to John B who stands below you, staring with upstretched eyebrows. You’re still perched in JJ’s arms, steadying your breathing, coming down from the high. “Didn’t expect that.”

“Get out of here, man,” JJ bends down, hand slapping the backside of JB’s head. John B flinches, careful not to spill the two solo cups in his hands, before sending a wink your way. “Get a room.”

You blink rapidly, almost as if you can’t believe the story JJ is telling you. He watches your puzzled expression, waving his hand in front of your face. “Earth to Y/N. You okay?”

“I’m…yeah,” you breathe out quickly, fidgeting with your fingers. Your eyes scan JJ’s face, eventually falling on his mouth, and your own lips tingle. You can almost feel his lips on yours.

“So that’s how we ended up having sex,” You finally begin to connect the pieces of the puzzle, blushing deeply when JJ howls with laughter. “No, not exactly. Well, I mean, we did fuck, but not until later. Twice, might I add.”

“Twice?!” It comes out as a screech. Dragging a hand through your hair, your eyes dart to the floor, unable to look JJ in the eye. “When was the first time?”

Last Friday Night

We went streaking in the park

Skinny dipping in the dark

“Aw, not this fucking game,” JJ whines, pulling up a chair beside Pope, blunt hanging from the corner of his mouth. The party has settled down a bit, but many drunk teens are still going, laughing, dancing, and chatting up a storm. Off to the side in the lawn, your friends are gathered in chairs, each with a unique smile on their faces. After three hours, they’re all either drunk, high, or both.

You grab a chair for yourself, but JJ’s voice catches you off guard, halting your movements. “Uh uh, princess,” When he rubs his thighs, John B hollers with laughter. “You can sit right here.”

His tone is raspy, almost as if he’s challenging you, waiting to see how you react. The electricity between you is crackling strong, and it pulls you toward him until you’re comfortably settled in his lap.

Kiara clears her throat. “Okay so I don’t know what that is,” her finger points in your direction and your body tenses up from the feeling of numerous sets of eyes on you and JJ, “But don’t let it distract you from the fact that Pope still hasn’t told us when his first kiss was.”

You silently thank Kie for bringing the attention back to the game. Pope whines childishly, taking another sip of beer for courage. “Fine, fine, if I must.” He glances around the circle sheepishly, sighing, “My first kiss was the end of sophomore year.”

“No way.”

“Shut up!

“That late?”

“Pfft. Prude.”

“Alright, alright, relax,” Pope’s hands fly up in defense. “John B, truth or dare.”

“Easy. Dare.”

Pope thinks hard for a moment, and then the lightbulb goes off. “I dare you to go streaking around the yard.”

You stifle your laugh as John B’s face scrunches together. “Aw, come on man! Have some respect, my girlfriend’s here. I don’t want anyone else seeing my balls.”

“Hold ‘em,” JJ pipes up. “They’re small anyway, wouldn’t be covering much.”

John B flips off JJ before quietly cursing Pope to hell. Placing his beer on the ground, JB sheds his clothes, cheeks reddening as he shields himself from wandering eyes.

Your yard is big, spacious, and it takes JB a full two minutes to run around the backyard, weaving in and out of trees and bushes. Some are recording, like JJ and Kiara, while others like you, Pope and Sarah, try (and fail) to contain your laughter.

John B’s cheeks are flushed red as he stumbles back over to your group, and you desperately try to hide your laughter as JJ replays the video.

“Think that was funny, Y/N?” John B asks, pulling his clothes back on. He settles back into his chair and takes a long swig of beer. “No worries. I have one for you. Truth or dare?”

Normally you’d opt for truth, but tonight is different. You’re feeling bold. “Dare.”

He doesn’t even need to think. “You still have that hot tub on the deck, right?”

You nod, curious as to where he’s going with this.

“I dare you to go skinny dipping in the hot tub.”

“That’s it?” You ask, shocked your dare wasn’t anything raunchy. “I mean, that’s a pretty easy dar-“

“With JJ.”

You freeze.

And suddenly, you feel sober, although your BAC levels suggest otherwise.

“Damn you got her good,” Sarah mutters, supplying her boyfriend with a high five. “She won’t do it, though.”

“Oh, no shot,” Kie agrees with a nod.

JJ shifts underneath you, hand brushing your hair from your ears as he leans in to whisper, “What do you say, baby girl?”

That fuels you. Determined, you stand in front of the group, fingers going to the hem of your top, pulling it over your head, and tossing it to the ground.

Left in only your bra and the tiny shorts that barely cover your ass, you direct your eyes to JJ, smirking at the shit eating grin plastered on his face. “You coming?”

You danced with him. No problem.

You drank with him. No problem.

You kissed him. No problem.

Getting naked with him? Problem.

The lights on the deck are dim, hiding the bright color on your cheeks. The jets in the hot tub whirl beside you, taunting you, screaming at you to complete the dare.

Opposite you on the other side of the hot tub, JJ stands coolly, eyes drooping, lazy smile, taking long drags of his blunt. You watch as his lips form an ‘o’, blowing the smoke into the air. He’s calm, and you want that same tranquility.

He smirks as you pluck the blunt from his fingers, taking a long drag yourself. You feel dizzy, lightheaded, and cough out a puff of smoke.

“Easy, princess,” He cocks a brow, studying you. “Nervous?”

It’s amazing how quickly alcohol fucks with your emotions. One minute, you’re having the time of your life, dancing and kissing a boy way out of your league. And then a minute later, you can barely look at him. “Little bit.”

JJ takes another pull. “Tell you what. You turn around and I’ll change first. Then when I’m in the tub, I’ll turn around so you can change.”

You agree and turn your back to him, providing him with privacy although your head is screaming at you to sneak a peek. A splash in the tub has you turning around, swallowing as JJ rests his arms on the outside, blunt hanging from his smile. He’s effortlessly sexy, and you’ll make sure to thank JB later for the dare.

He winks before turning around slightly, awarding you with the same privacy you supplied him. Your shorts go first, then your thong, followed by your bra. Breathing deeply, you cross your arms over your breasts, thankful that JJ couldn’t see.

But unbeknownst to you, JJ had turned back around. “Sweet ass.”

Yelping, you struggle to cover yourself as JJ chuckles, holding up his arms to block the water as you tumble your way into the hot tub, letting the water shield your body. “Shit, JJ. You weren’t supposed to turn around!”

“And you thought I’d listen, why?”

Rolling your eyes, you settle deeper into the steaming water, moaning slightly as the jets massage your back. Across from you, JJ observes you with a smile. “You don’t need to be shy around me, you know. We’re friends, after all.”

“I’m not shy.”

JJ snickers. “Please. You don’t think I notice how your body tenses up whenever I’m close to you? You think I don’t see when your cheeks get that little pink color when I look at you?” His head hangs, tilted to the side, blunt held between his thumb and forefinger., lowering his voice. “You think I don’t know how much you wanted to kiss me tonight?”

There’s no way he can read you that easily, so you play it off. “Alcohol changes a person.”

His grin irritates you. He doesn’t believe you. Why doesn’t he believe you?

Drawing in a breath, you decide to go for it. You swim over to him, watching as his eyes widen, now alert, and climb into his lap, palms flat against his tanned chest. One hand goes to your hip, holding you in place. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not shy,” you repeat, brushing your lips over his. JJ’s chest rises and falls with harsh breaths, and for a second, you believe you misread the signals. He takes a quick pull of the blunt and you cover his mouth with your own, dragging the smoke back into your mouth, titling your head back, releasing it into the air.

“Fuck, that was hot.”

The blunt, now finished, falls from JJ’s fingers as his hand slides around to the back of your neck, pulling you in, kissing you hard. Your mouths mesh together, igniting a fire in your bones. Fingertips dig into his flesh, marking him. JJ’s hand on your waist pushes you further against him, impossibly close to his skin.

The sound of your heart is loud in your ears as you try to focus on moving your lips in sync. JJ’s hands roam your body, squeezing your hips, the curve of your ass. His fingers dance over your neck, your throat, and down the center of your breasts.

The tip of his dick rubs against the inside of your thigh, causing your mouth to open slightly. JJ takes advantage of the opportunity, slipping his tongue in your mouth, exploring, claiming.

You find yourself not wanting to stop. All of the nerves leave your body with each kiss JJ presses to your swollen lips. He’s hungry for more and so are you, but for something different.

He freezes when your hand disappears beneath the water, gripping his length in your palm. His wrist flies to your hand, stopping you, as his other hand runs through his hair, considering. “Listen, princess, as much as I really want to do this, I don’t think--.”

A finger to his mouth cuts him off, a sly smile playing on your lips as you shake his hand from yours. You reposition yourself over him, breasts peeking out from the water, as you slowly sink yourself down onto him.

With every groan that leaves his lips, and with each new swirl of your hips, you feel waves of confidence wash over your body. You’re drunk, he’s high, and you both feel alive.

This Friday night

Do it all again

The ceiling in your room distracts you from JJ’s face, which, if you know anything about him, has a wide grin on it. Heat bubbles in your chest as you replay the story in your head, ignoring JJ’s teasing comments about the color rising in your cheeks.

Sitting up abruptly, you turn to face him. He’s leaned back on your pillows, arms behind his head. “After that, we fucked right here,” JJ pats the bed proudly. “And that, baby girl, was your Friday night.”

Well, it could have gone much worse.

“Sounds like I embarrassed the ever-loving fuck out of myself.”

JJ laughs, holding out his arms. You send him a look before complying, hooking your leg over his waist, resting your head against his bare chest. His one arm lazily wraps around you, the free hand skimming over the skin on your thigh.

“I am never having another party ever again.”

JJ cringes. “Yeah, about that…you might want to check your phone.”

You snatch it from the night stand, crossing an arm over your chest as you read messages from a very large group chat. “JJ…why’s everyone talking about a party?”

But he doesn’t get the chance to answer as you scroll to the very top, phone falling between your legs as you read the message you drunkenly sent before you passed out at three in the morning.

Party at our house this Friday night! Let’s do it again, bitches.

You stare at JJ, palms flat against your head as he falls off the bed in laughter.

Fuck.

251 notes · View notes

pl-panda · 4 years

Text

Damienette Arranged Marriage: part 2

Part 1

This

Okay. Here comes another part. I apologize if I missed someone for the Tag list, but in two days this got more responses than my other fics get in a week.

Credits: Miraculous Ladybug team for the elements I take from MLB show. DC for their characters, @ozmav for the AU, @maribat-archive for giving me access to so many different stories to have take inspirations from and me for the plot.

Damienette Arranged Marriage: part 2

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"I am so sorry they dragged you into this!" She started to apologize to him and trying to hug him. His instincts told him to push her away, but he was too stunned to follow on it. This girl was actually apologizing him for her life being ruined? Just where did his mother find her?

Marinette began to cry her heart out. She felt lost. The boy awkwardly reciprocated her hug, patting her back. His armor was not the most comfortable, but she didn’t care. The girl was always good at reading people. She could easily see that he was just as confused by this situation, only chose not show it.

Damian gave her one more look. The girl felt so fragile right now. When she first apologized to him something inside broke. She was kind, caring and selfless. His first thought was what was he pulled into. She apologized him for something she had no control over. Back home there were plenty of girl that once they found themselves in such situation would blame him, or even worse, try to abuse the situation. She chose to instead try and conform him. Tried being key word, because she quickly became a crying mess.

“I am sorry. I usually don’t break that easily…” She said between sobs. That was too much for Damian. He separated from her and cupped her hands with his. He noted that she was speaking french, but it wasn’t a problem for him. He was fluent in it. Learned it even before English actually.

“There is nothing you should apologize for. If anyone is to blame, it’s my mother and the old man who assisted her. You have no fault in this. I hold nothing against you” He did his best to comfort her. Even after spending five years with Bruce and the rest of ‘Batfam’ (He still didn’t like the name), Damian learned a bit about human interactions, but he was still far from any good at it. The bigger was his surprise that the girl actually calmed down a bit. She was no longer sobbing, but her eyes were still red and puffy. She nodded slowly.

“Thank you. I… I don’t usually shatter like that. I live… I lived in Paris.” She stated as if it would explain everything. Damian frowned at the past tense.

“Don’t worry. You will return there. Mother will not hold us captive for too long. Father will come for me soon.” He assured her.

“I… I…” She was at the loss of words. Before she gathered her thoughts and managed to say something, a new voice joined the conversation.

“Mistress Talia want to see you both. Please follow me.” Three assassins stood in front of them. Marinette quickly grabbed the cage with Tikki still inside and pulled her closer. She had no idea how to open this thing and Kwami was unhelpful in that matter. She looked at the boy. Only now she realized they never exchanged names. He nodded to her and stood up. She did too and stood next to him. Her ladybug instincts were telling her to try and find a way out, but common sense demanded she hide behind the boy.

She took a closer look at him. He was quite handsome. With green eyes deeper than even the ones of Adrien and fair skin. He had completely black hair that was combed back into spikes. His armor was decorated with some intricate design that any other day she would copy right away because it looked so amazing, but she was still feeling too down. It was dark gray with gold trimming. The red cape was held in place under his pauldrons and lower part formed into sort of skirt to protect his tights. He had the sword at his belt.

Damian snarled at the three assassins. “Lead the way. Be quick.” He acted as cold as he could, trying to act like he used to before his father showed him different path. To his amusement, the mooks stiffened and nodded quickly, leading them to his mother. Cowards. He scowled. It didn’t escape his attention that the girl held herself quite confident now, especially since she was a mess just a moment before. There was something strange about her. The creature she was carrying in the cage was constantly speaking to her in french and supporting her. Maybe she was not just some princess stolen from her life after all. At the same time, she was still a bit clumsy and easily scared. It made for… endearing combination. Just what the heck is going on with me!

They were led to a large, comfortable chamber witch held a single king-sized bed, a clean desk and a coffee table surrounded with three armchairs. All was mostly green, with addition of red. He knew this place. It was his mother’s private chamber.

“Hello Damian.” Speaking of the Devil, Talia walked from a doors in the far corner of the room. He didn’t notice them at first, but they were there. She was still dressed in her normal attire. The woman sat on one of the armchairs and pointed Marinette and Damian to do the same. He reluctantly did, and only then his ‘wife’ followed. “Tea?” Talia spoke in French, fully aware that her son would understand her, but unsure about the girl. She pointed to a fancy chinese Teapot and three cups on the table. Marinette did try to reach it, but Damian grabbed her by wrist and shook his head, earning a chuckle from his mother. “Oh please. Damian, poisoning you now would be counterproductive. I wouldn’t want to loose my new allies.”

“What is your game, Mother?” Damian hissed (also in French), but he let go of Marinette. She shakingly reached for the set. Talia smiled at the girl and helped her.

“Oh. Quite simple. Instead of removing a threat, I got us an ally.”

“Got you an ally. I already said I don’t want to have any part in this.” Damian said in cold fury. Marinette just sipped her tea, watching the two and slowly calming. She registered everything going on between them and her worries weren’t calmed in even smallest way.

“You will thank me one day son.” She stated. “But that’s not why I invited you two.” She pulled a small key and tossed it to Marinette, who instinctively catched it. As clumsy as she might be, she did have a good reflex. “There is no longer a point in holding the Kwami in cage.”

Instantly, the girl opened the cage and Tikki flew out, cuddling into Marinette. There were no spoken words between them, but the fact that they were both here was enough.

“What is this mother?”

“This, Damian, is a Kwami. A small god if you wish. But I am sure your wife will tell you more about it later. Now there is more pressing question: what’s next?”

“What do you mean?” Both the boy and girl asked confused.

“You are married now. But what do you plan on doing with it?” She smiled at the befuddled expression on their faces.

“First, I want to state that I despise you right now Mother. Forcing an innocent, powerless girl into this was crossing a line.”

“Excuse me?!” Tikki shouted, surprising Damian. “Marinette is anything but powerless! She is the bravest, kindest, most selfless and caring person that I know. She is strongest Ladybug yet so be careful how you speak about her, Heir of Demon!” The small Kwami shouted at the even more befuddled Damian. Talia was smirking until Tikki turned at her. The expression of cold fury didn’t work well on something so cute and with her pichy voice her anger was more endearing than scary. “And don’t get me started on you, daughter of Demon! You dare forcing my Chosen into this disgusting plots of yours. You are lucky she is too important to me to endanger her because otherwise I would get Plagg to wipe out this whole mountain range just to get you!”

Back in her armchair, Marinette tried to meld with the furniture. She wanted to disappear, become invisible. But at the same time, she couldn’t help but be thankful to Tikki. She was defending her and Marinette was happy to know that she is cared about. The girl looked at the two other humans in the room to see the boy… her husband… unnerved by the Kwami and the woman… her mother-in-law… looking amused. “Tikki! I think that’s enough. I just want to go home, to my parents…” Ladybug tried to calm her friend.

“I believe we were not yet properly introduced.” The woman stated. “I am Talia Al Ghul and this is my son…”

“Damian Wayne.” The boy interrupted, sending a deathly glare at his mother.

Marinette stared at him with an open mouth like he just declared to be a werewolf. She never saw any pictures of Wayne kids before, but something was telling him this was true. He didn’t need to lie to her in any way. They were already married. On that thought she had to keep tear from forming in her eye. She then realized that he was waiting for her.

“Oh! Right! Sorry! My name is Marinette. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Or now it will be Marinette Wayne? Or Marinette Dupain-Cheng Wayne? Do you use your mother’s name as well? Because then it would be Marinette Dupain-Cheng Al Ghul Wayne… Oh Kwami! How am I supposed to fit it under ‘name’ label in documents!” She started babbling completely random things until Damian placed a hand on her.

“Calm down. Breath. Don’t worry about it. I will take care of this.” His voice was perfectly calm, without any emotions. His face also took a bit more genial appearance, but he was still scowling in his mother’s direcion. Marinette slowly returned to senses.

“I am so sorry. I usually don’t panic. You know. Living in paris with all the Akumas.” She actually smiled. Never before Damian saw such prominent smile.

“What is Akuma?” He asked.

“Wait, you never heard about Hawkmoth?” She asked surprised. “I thought the news reached to America… Maybe that’s because Justice League ignored…” She stopped for a moment, remembering that her identity was supposed to be a secret, but then again, with Tikki floating around there was no real point in trying to cover it. “ignored my call for help back when I first became Ladybug. It’s been almost two years now that he is terrorizing Paris though.” She remembered when she became Ladybug, after particularly close Akuma attack she decided to call in help. She used her yo-yo to contact the League, but Green Lantern laughed in her face, calling it prank and threatening to sue her.

“And Justice League didn’t do anything? You look my age!”

“I am fifteen thank you very much.” She huffed.

“Exactly! So you’ve been doing it since you were twelve? Did you at least have some help?”

“Well, there was my partner, Chat Noir. And later on Master Fu trained me to be the next guardian.” She saddened on the thought of her former teacher.

“So two barely-teenagers were the only people protecting city from a terrorist attacks?” Damian was suddenly fuming. He had no idea why, but he felt protective over this ray of sunshine. She did not deserve this. “And the Justice League didn’t help?” She shook her head in response. Damian felt his hand instinctively go to his sword.

“But that’s a good thing. I don’t think I would be able to deal with akumatized Superman. Or even Flash. Or any other hero.”

“Don’t worry. I will have a talk with them about that.”

“You know them?!” Marinette screamed. Well, he was Wayne, but she didn’t think even the richest family in America had this kind of connections.

Talia watched this exchange with amusement. Maybe this girl wouldn’t be so bad for her son. She was reluctant to agree to this, but ultimately it was necessary. And now that she saw them interact they seemed like perfect couple. She brought light into the darkness that dwelled in her son while he gave her stability.

“Guess since you revealed your secret to me, it would be only fair for me to reciprocate.” He stated, sighting. “I am Robin.” He dropped the bomb as casually as he could. She looked at him with open eyes.

Before either could say anything more, there was a commotion outside. Talia instantly jumped from her chair and pulled her gun. Damian drew the sword and held it close. For a brief moment a memory of the attack Deathstroke led at the temple five years ago returned to his mind. Marinette looked at Tikki. The Kwami nodded, instantly understanding what was that about. “Tikki! Spots on!” She shouted and pink light enveloped her. When it died, Marinette was now dressed in red skintight bodysuit covered in black spots and with a black turtleneck. On her face was a red mask with five black spots that were in a symmetrical design. The bands holding her hair back became red ribbons, resembling a ladybug's antenas.

Damian wanted to stare at the girl, but the commotion got closer and closer to the doors. He took stance, ready to attack. Next to him, Ladybug started to spin her yo-yo in front, forming a pink shield.

The doors finally bursted open, revealing a towering man in suit that resembled bat in some way. “Demon Spawn!” Behind him came another voice, calling to the boy. Former assassin only groaned.

“Shut up Todd!” He scowled and sheathed his sword. “Looks like cavalry is finally here. Took you long enough.” Damian turned to Marinette. “Meet my father and a bunch of idiots that he adopted. I am still the only blood son mind you.” He announced that last one with pride.

“Whatever keeps you running demon spawn.”

“Stay silent Drake or I will make you!”

Bruce watched stunned. “Damian! No names in the field.” Batman gave another murderous glare at the girl. Everything about her practically screamed hero, but Bruce was a tidy bit overprotective about his family. To his surprise, the girl didn’t even flinch at his best patented bat-stare ®. She just smiled, but Damian spoke faster.

“I already told her about us. She knows who I am and even a complete idiot would figure the rest from there. And mother knew all along, so I still don’t see a problem here.”

“And why would you tell her everything?!” Jason screamed, still hidden behind Batman’s towering posture.

“Because she is my wife Todd!” Damian screamed. The silence in the room was thick enough that if the assassin swinged his sword, he would be able to cut it in half. Finally, Bruce was the one to break it.

“Fuck.”

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Taglist (sorry if I missed you)

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phasmwrites · 4 years

Text

if i could tell her | amajiki x f!reader

Pairing: Amajiki Tamaki x Female!Reader

Warnings: None!

Song: If I Could Tell Her from Dear Evan Hansen

A/N: In honor of Tamaki’s birthday being today, here is a fluffy little fic requested by one of my favorite people @laughsinthiccc !! I hope it’s good 🥺💕

Word Count: 2.2K

It was a well known fact that Tamaki avoided any social situation given he found an opportunity to flee, even occasionally with those he considered friends. Whenever Nejire offered for both her and Mirio to stop by his apartment to order take out and watch silly movies, he found himself declining a majority of the time. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend time with two of his closest friends, he just appreciated the little time he had outside of hero work to spend by his lonesome.

Then there was you, who had captured his fluttering heart the moment you had first smiled at him back when all of you attended Yuuei. Mirio and Nejire quickly picked up on the perfect plan to get Tamaki to allow them inside his humble abode, by inviting you to join them.

He wouldn’t dare be the reason a frown befell your lips, so with a defeated sigh he would accept and later on come to enjoy your presence once more. Your personality was so radiant and he found himself addicted to your cheesy grins and loud laughter. His crush on you only developed further when you transferred to his agency as their resident support technician.

You had actually managed to bump into Tamaki, quite literally, on your first day as you were heading to your new workshop and he was heading out to start patrol. Tamaki could only manage to gawk at you as you apologized and began to express your excitement to be working with his agency. He could never forget the way your teeth tugged at your bottom lip as you apologized for a second time about taking up his time at work, you had looked absolutely adorable…

“Tamaki!” Snapping out of his trance, his head quickly turned towards Mirio who was staring at him with a knowing grin. He had stopped by Tamaki’s agency after a rough job, begging his best friend to spend the evening hanging out with him. Tamaki reluctantly agreed and had been in the middle of cleaning up some things at his desk when his eyes had landed on a photograph of him, Mirio, Nejire, and you.

That was exactly how he found himself trailing off in his mind to memories he had shared with you, “S-Sorry Mirio.”

“It’s fine, just hurry up!” The blonde teased, his gaze landing on what he assumed to be Tamaki’s costume blueprints, “What are you doing with your costume sheets?”

Tamaki sighed, “I was trying to think of possible ways to improve my suit...I don’t know...”

It was as if a light bulb had illuminated inside of Mirio’s mind, reaching over and snatching the papers from the desk. He began to roll up the documents while ignoring Tamaki’s confusion and protests.

“Go talk to Y/N and ask her! She’s the expert isn’t she?” The thought of approaching you, rather than your usual chance meetings, was starting to make the poor man’s head spin.

Shaking his head, Tamaki continued to finish putting things away before shrugging on his coat from the tiny closet off in the corner. That was when he heard it, your soothing voice over the receiver of his office phone.

“Hey Y/N!” Mirio chimed, “Tamaki is going to stop by your workshop real quick, he has a question about his costume, is that okay?”

“Of course! I’ll be waiting!” When you proceeded to hang up the phone, Tamaki shot his best friend the coldest glare, so cold in fact it could put a halt to the polar ice caps melting.

Mirio scratched at the back of his neck, “Come on, Tamaki! She may actually have a good idea for your costume!”

After a bit more convincing on Mirio’s end, he was finally able to get the indigo-haired man to gather his documents and blueprints and walk over to your workshop. The closer he got to the steel-clad door that held you inside, the faster his heart pumped blood through his veins. Curling his fingers around the metal handle, he inhaled a few deep breaths and told himself he’d be okay, that he had nothing to fear-

“Suneater! What questions do you have for me?” God, Tamaki thought to himself, why did your voice have to be as bright as your smile? He knew he shouldn’t have just entered into your workshop on his lonesome; his throat was already beginning to constrict from his frazzled nerves.

You were lightly coated with speckles of silver paint, your hair messily pushed away from your line of sight, and a small sheen of sweat layered over your forehead, but you had never looked more beautiful to the pro-hero who stood idly at the door.

“I, uh…” His fist that held his costume blueprint began to tighten, the thick paper beginning to crinkle, “If you have a moment...I wanted to know if you could l-look over my costume…”

Tamaki could barely process how you practically bounced over to him excitedly, reaching one of your hands out for him to place his blueprint in. When he continued to stand in place, too mesmerized by your zealous expression, you leaned over and grabbed the blueprint from him yourself.

You were just so close to him, closer than he could ever remember you being in proximity to him in all of the years he had known you. It was frustrating how much of an effect you had on him, Tamaki’s cheeks beginning to flush as a direct result to his mixed emotions. All at once you went from partially invading his personal bubble to smacking the blueprint onto your desk, rolling it out and using random objects to hold it down.

“What did you want to adjust?” Your head cocked to the side, meeting Tamaki’s gaze as he finally decided to make his way over to your desk.

He pressed his index finger down on the diagram of his food pouches, “I-I wanted to know... if- if there was anything that I could change to make them better?” It was silly, wasn’t it? There was no practical reason he needed his costume upgraded from its current version, but he justified himself when your eyes lit up with glee.

“I’m sure I can think of something!” You allowed your finger to run along the designs, trying to see if you had any ideas that sprung to you immediately when you noticed the date on the papers, “Let me take your measurements before you leave, these blueprints are a few years old.”

Tamaki inhaled deeply once more, carefully setting his jacket onto one of your chairs while anticipating the feeling of your hands on his skin and oh god he didn’t think he could handle it-

“Woah!” As you were heading back over to him with measuring tape in hand, you managed to snag your foot on one of your most recent creations and crashed directly into Tamaki. Your face collided into his chest, pushing the two of you back so that he landed on his back on the linoleum floor with your body sprawled on top of him.

If he thought he couldn’t handle just the notion of your hands potentially touching him as you measured his body, he was convinced he was going to die at the feeling of your warm body pressed into him as you took a moment to realize what had happened. Fortunately for him, you sprang back up quicker than he anticipated, planting the palms of your hands on each side of his face while gazing down at his reddened complexion.

“Sorry.” You smiled sheepishly, “I’m kind of a klutz.”

In a daze, Tamaki simply watched as you pushed yourself up back onto your feet and held out a hand for him to grab as leverage. He tentatively accepted, forcing himself to memorize the feeling of your hand as it embraced his own. Tamaki never wanted to let go of that feeling, knowing that it would be short-lived.

Once the two of you were on your feet, Tamaki bolted out of your workshop without another glance or word in your direction. He left his coat where he had laid it over your chair, his blueprints still mapped out across your desk.

Despite that, you began to look over all of the paperwork in hopes that you could deliver something to the indigo-haired man who had stolen your heart so many years ago.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

It had been a week since Tamaki had left his hero costume blueprints with you to analyze and conjure up an advancement to his simple food pouches. The concept of improving what was already simplistic enough was rattling your mind, but after an all-nighter in your workshop you had finally come up with something to improve upon.

It wasn’t much, but insulating and adding extra pouches was the only thing you could think of. You had remembered briefly listening to Tamaki bring up how his food would begin to spoil on long missions, so you hoped that this simple change would be enough to satiate him.

You continued to work well into the morning as you began drawing up new blueprints and sewing together a makeshift example of your concept, occasionally pricking your fingers with the harsh needle as you hadn’t thought to purchase a machine.

With the prototype and documentation in hand, it was your turn to walk over to his office to surprise him with your idea. Just as you turned the corner to the small office space, though, you halted in your tracks when you heard your name being spoken through the door left ajar.

“You should just tell Y/N already!” Mirio’s voice echoed, his words puzzling you on what the two men could possibly be discussing that involved your name.

Tamaki fidgeted with his cape, tugging at the white fabric to avoid glancing up at his best friend, “She wouldn’t feel the same way…”

Mirio raised an eyebrow, “How do you know?”

“I-I just do!” Tamaki felt something inside of him snap, the fear of you rejecting his feelings for you given he were to actually admit them causing a dull ache in his heart, “She might be everything to me, but I can almost guarantee that she doesn’t feel the same way!”

“Tamaki…” Mirio frowned at the sight of the pro-hero so distraught, Tamaki’s chest rising and falling in quick succession.

Defeated, he sunk further into his office chair while glancing over at the photograph on his desk once more, “Her smile is- is perfect...and it makes me feel so happy whenever we’re all hanging out at- at my apartment...oh gosh…”

“H-Hi.” Your voice chirped as you gently tapped on the door, your cheeks warm after overhearing those kind words that your longtime crush had just admitted about you, “Could I come in?”

In all of the years Tamaki craved isolation, he wanted nothing more than to be swallowed up by a hole only to never have to be seen again as you stepped into his office.

Even Mirio was speechless as you laid out your blueprints across the wooden desk, “What’s all that?”

“It took me all night but I was...I was finally able to come up with something to upgrade Tamaki’s costume…” You bowed your head down shyly, any confidence you contained on your walk here seemingly dissipated with your fear of him disliking what you came up with. Your heart raced within the confines of your chest from overhearing their conversation about you, but that wasn’t what mattered in this moment.

Tamaki leaned over and began to examine the new designs, noticing that it wasn’t much different from his current layout. When he lifted the prototype into his shaking hands, that was when he noticed the insulation stitched into the pocket.

“It’s to keep your food from going bad on long missions!” You declared, “You mentioned it once when we were all together...I know it’s not a big change...I can brainstorm some more if you’d like-”

“I-I think…” Tamaki interrupted you, too afraid to meet your gaze as he continued to fumble with the pouch in his hands, “I think it’s a great upgrade, t-thank you…”

Neither of you noticed that Mirio had excused himself from the small space, leaving the two of you to discuss the details of the upgrade and how you would send it over to a professional to make sure the insulation is strong enough. Your specialty was mechanics and he was well aware, even more so when he noticed your bandaged fingers and the sloppy stitching on the prototype.

“You can thank me by letting me take you out to dinner?” You spoke up so suddenly, forcing his gaze to meet yours as you couldn’t stop the small grin from stretching across your lips.

It was rare, but rather than attempt to escape the situation he was currently in, he chose to return your smile with a tiny one of his own, “Y-Yeah, okay.”

“Great! I need to go get some sleep, but I’ll text you the details later!” You began to escort yourself out of his office, but not without teasing him just a little bit, “I think your smile is perfect too, by the way.”

Tamaki threw his cape around his flushed complexion and groaned in abashment, though your soft giggles were enough to have him eagerly anticipating an evening out for once.

#amajiki x reader #amajiki tamaki x reader #tamaki x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #phasm.writings

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