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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

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𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖈𝖊 III {finale} || professor!helmut zemo x reader

{𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 I} {𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 II}

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 : some part of you thought that maybe you could get through this without ever having to really talk about your feelings, or the future, or all those things you were pretending didn’t matter. but they matter, and they can’t go unspoken forever.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 : 11.7k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 : smut (semi-public sex aka car sex), some possessiveness, angst, fluffffff way too much fluff, violence (mentioned), mentions of serious injury, military references, relationship discussions, choking (non-sexual lmao it’s just on food), minor character death (in a flashback kinda, not graphic)

You glanced over at him as he stared out into the road ahead, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on your thigh, his thumb absent-mindedly stroking your skin.

The weekend getaway had been his idea, but he let you pick the destination. You picked a cabin in a cute little seaside town, something relaxed where you could spend the whole weekend in bed together and not worry about the rest of the world for a little while.

But you were still in the car, so you were still worrying— specifically, worrying that this felt sort of like a boyfriend and girlfriend thing. And that itself wasn’t so bad, but it made you feel like the ‘what are we?’ talk was inevitable, as was that talk going poorly. You could picture it now: I like spending time with you, he’d say, one of those things that sounds like a compliment but really means you’re worth it as long as you require no effort and stay out of my way.

And you’d just nod and pretend to be okay with it because you were in too deep now to break it off. When you were together, you were so happy that you couldn’t imagine ending it; and when you were apart, you missed him so much that all you could think about was the next time you would be together.

We’re happy now, why do things need to change? he’d say, one of those things that makes sense until you really think about it and understand that it just means why would I care if we’re moving forward or not? I’m already getting what I want.

You sighed, leaning your head back against the seat, and he glanced at you quickly. “What are you thinking about?” he asked, squeezing your thigh.

“Nothing,” you mumbled.

“You expect me to believe that?” he chuckled. “You’re overthinking again, I can feel it.”

“You can feel me overthinking?” you confirmed, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course,” he nodded. “I can tell your mood very well by now.”

“Alright, then why ask me what I’m thinking about if you already know what I’m feeling, mind reader?” you challenged.

“You’re sighing because you are bored from being in the car so long,” he decided, “and you’re also noticing that you’ve never dated anybody who drove such a nice car before.”

Does that mean we’re dating? “Anything else?” you smirked.

“And you’re wishing I would move my hand a little higher.”

Before you could react to that, he moved his fingers up under your skirt, gripping your thigh tightly until you breathed another sigh— one very different from the last.

“Am I right?” he grinned.

“Spot on,” you breathed, whimpering a little when one of his fingers toyed with the hem of your panties. It was subtle, teasing, and yet it was enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and your thighs to clench together which he noticed easily.

He tutted in faux disappointment when his finger moved down to find a wet patch in the fabric. “Oh, wet already… what are we going to do with you, draga?”

Whatever the fuck you wanna do with me, you thought, but when your lips fell open thankfully only a little moan fell out.

It was impossible to complain about the risk of distracted driving when his fingers slipped into your panties and explored your folds— yet you were about to complain when he pulled his hand away, until you watched him bring his soaked fingers to his lips, quickly getting a taste before reaching under your skirt again. As if that wasn’t hot enough, he growled a bit when he pushed two fingers into you suddenly.

“Fuck,” you whispered, making him smile proudly. He only ventured the fingers inside you briefly, sliding them out slowly to brush the rough pads of them over your clit and it made your whole body shudder— he pressed down, drawing slow circles, until you were biting back whimpers and pleas for more.

He kept on teasing you, only reaching as deep as he needed to to lightly press into your spot before slipping out to rub your clit and then start the process all over again.

“You’re so…” you panted.

“Hm?”

“You’re so mean,” you hissed.

“Am I? I can stop if I’m bothering you,” he offered.

“N-no! I… I just need more, please,” you groaned, yelping a bit when he pinched your clit roughly.

This time when he filled you with his fingers, he twisted his arm to go a bit deeper and kept his thumb on your clit, your soaked pussy making it easy for him to pump in and out at an increasing pace.

Your eyes fell shut as you gripped the seat beneath you, rocking your hips up against his hand for more.

“Ohh, fuck, Helmut, I’m gonna come,” you warned mindlessly.

You only opened your eyes when you felt the car start to shift, looking over to him as he checked the road before pulling over off the side and stopping near the wooded treeline.

“Wh-what are you—?” you mumbled, cut off when he put the car in park and grabbed your face to kiss you roughly. You held the wrist by his hand that held your face, moaning against his tongue, still not sure what he was up to but already on board.

“Get in the back, I can’t wait any longer,” he whispered, and you nodded dreamily as you broke away and awkwardly climbed into the backseat; he followed soon after, pushing you back against the leather and sliding his body between your legs; holding you close, kissing you harder.

It would have been reasonable to expect that the small space would make everything more uncomfortable, but instead it just made it hotter— like there wasn’t room to be anywhere but pressed right up against each other, like the only place he could rest his hands was on your body. You felt totally helpless to his dominating and open-mouthed kiss, to his thick hands tugging your clothes out of the way while you blindly attempted to open his belt.

You reached into his trousers and found him already incredibly hard, wrapping your fingers around the silky skin and grinning when he cursed under his breath.

A bit hasty with your desperation getting the better of you, you guided him to your entrance and began to slowly push your hips forward— but he held your thighs and did it for you, sliding in in one smooth stroke.

This angle seemed to force him even deeper, and you clutched his shirt in weak fists as he pushed all the way inside. “H-Helmut,” you breathed as he started to move, not quite sure if it was a plea for him to slow down or never stop.

“Fuck, say my name again,” he demanded.

“Helmut,” you repeated, giggling when he kissed your neck on a spot that sort of tickled a bit.

“One more time,” he instructed; you could feel his grin against your skin, alongside his teeth grazing your pulse.

Just as you started to say it he fucked you harder all of a sudden, just to make you choke on it. Soon you were saying his name like a prayer, over and over until you worried you’d lose your voice and he had to kiss you to make you stop. “Say you’re mine,” he pleaded softly, right against your lips, “like you did the first time.”

You felt shame pang at the back of your head, a strong instruction from what was left of your logical mind not to do that. But for all your mind’s protests, your body was already his and already bending to his will. “Yours,” you moaned, “Helmut, I’m yours…”

“I know,” he breathed, nodding slightly as he kissed you again, “I know, baby.”

You whimpered and wrapped your legs around his hips, holding him closer as he stayed deep inside you, barely letting him pull back to thrust though he still managed regardless. The bottom of his shirt was rubbing against your clit (consequences of only half-undressing for a quickie) and it made your back arch until you couldn’t push your body into his anymore.

Embarrassingly quickly, pressure began to build inside you, your moans getting louder as they echoed around the inside of the car.

“Will you come for me, draga?” he purred, a low growl against your neck where he had moved his assault of wet kisses. You nodded quickly, holding onto his back tight and biting down on your lip a bit too hard. His hand held your neck, thumb running over your jaw, and in a way it soothed you, but it also sent you tumbling over the edge all at once You barely choked out his name as your attempt at a warning, as if it weren’t obvious just from the way your channel seized up immediately. “Good girl,” he cooed lowly right against your ear, “so good for me, don’t stop.”

You couldn’t stop so long as he kept his pace— not nearly as fast as you were used to, much more measured and patient, and yet it ruined you in a way nothing else could.

It was much too sensual for the backseat of a Lexus. Much too delicate and loving for two people who weren’t even in a formal relationship. Much too perfect to ever forget, irritatingly enough.

He kept his eyes open to watch your face closely as he came inside you, admiring every detail of your face twisted in pleasure— a tear even fell down your temple and he softly brushed it away— before it all slowed down to a stop and you were just holding each other.

Once you both cooled off for just a second, he pulled you close and rolled you around so he was sitting and you straddled his lap, keeping you in an embrace while he kissed your neck and shoulder. “So beautiful,” he whispered, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

You wanted to tell him that you meant it, that you were really his. That it wasn’t just dirty talk (and you weren’t even sure if it qualified as ‘dirty’). Even if he rejected you, at least it would be off your chest.

But you chickened out; and in your defense, if there’s any time to have a talk with a partner that might end up awkward, right before a weekend trip is probably the worst time possible. So, it was strategic aside from just pathetic.

“We’re already going to be a bit late,” he noticed, lifting his hand over your shoulder to look at his watch, “is it alright if we just stay like this for a while before I get back to driving?”

You nodded sleepily against his shoulder and he grinned, kissing your cheek. “Maybe you can rest here in the back after that…”

And you did, drifting off quickly in the comfort of his arms. You only partially roused from your sleep when he carefully pulled out of you and laid you down gently, the sound of the car starting coming a few moments later.

He had to keep his eyes on the road, but he wanted so badly to watch you sleep in the rearview mirror.

“So, what did you think?” you smiled expectantly as you turned from watching the credits roll on the TV to looking at where he sat beside you on the cabin’s big fluffy couch.

“Eh,” he shrugged.

“What?!” you squawked. “You just experienced an American classic!”

“American classics, in my experience, are aggressive and boisterous and… greasy,” he explained.

You snorted. “How can a movie be greasy?”

“I meant the food—”

“Oh! We should watch Grease!” you realized.

He grumbled something in Sokovian to himself as he rubbed his forehead, and you laughed in relent. “Fine, I won’t make you watch anything more.”

“No, I like watching movies with you,” he decided, “but maybe the next one can be a bit more… subtle.”

"The next movie we watch should be Sokovian," you suggested.

"There aren't many Sokovian films… the constant war was pretty hard on the cinema industry, believe it or not,” he scoffed. “We managed to make a lot of porn, though.”

“Well then maybe we should watch some of that,” you smirked, and he laughed as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Oh no, it’s awful. Plumbers and lonely housewives, cops pulling women over, that sort of thing,” he dismissed.

“Cheesy porn tropes, you say? Like, perhaps, a professor and his student?” you pressed, leaning in to run your fingers playfully over his open collar. “So unrealistic.”

“It was different with us,” he decided.

“How?”

“It wasn’t for a grade, we never used the term ‘oral exam’...”

“Mm, maybe we should have,” you purred, hopping up to straddle his lap and trace your finger over the chain of his necklace that was just barely exposed under his shirt. “It’s sorta sexy.”

“Really? Oral exam?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. “Makes me think of the dentist.”

“Oh, so you don’t think dentists are hot?” you joked. “Who doesn’t like latex gloves and drills in their mouth?”

He laughed, and although you were sort of trying not to seem totally desperate, you just couldn’t hold yourself back from trying to kiss that smile right off his face— thankfully he didn’t seem to mind, humming a bit against your lips and placing his hands on your back to hold you closer.

Just when you thought he would deepen it, he pulled back slightly.

“Wait,” he mumbled against your lips, pushing you back gently to break the kiss. “It was… different with us, right?”

You shook your head slightly, confused as you struggled to remember what he was talking about. “What? Yeah, of course.”

Hastily pressing your lips back on his, you were all in but he was clearly distracted, only half-heartedly kissing you back; you could all but taste his hesitance and it forced you to pull back and look down at him again.

“What’s wrong?” you asked softly, tilting your head.

“Oh, uh, nothing’s wrong,” he assured, “I just… I was just thinking.”

“...what were you thinking about?” you asked when you realized that was the end of his sentence.

“I was thinking about what you said a few weeks ago, on my birthday— that you liked that I’m so much older than you.”

“Mhm?”

“You’re not…” he started and began again. “This isn’t just… about that, for you, is it?”

“What?” you furrowed your brow.

“I mean, is that what this—” he motioned to the space between the two of you— “is about?”

You frowned, a little sinking feeling already forming in your gut. “I don’t understand,” you spoke, but your fear was more that you understood him completely.

“My English isn’t good enough for this,” he sighed. “Sometimes I worry that this is… something you do.”

“That what is something I do?” you asked, a bit more pointed than you meant for it to come out, but you really just needed him to say it.

“Date older men,” he finally finished. “Seduce professors, I don’t know, whatever you’d like to call it.”

You straightened up and got up off of his lap, stepping back. “Seriously? You think this is, like, my kink or something?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he clarified, standing up with you, “but I’m asking in case I’m wrong.”

Maybe on some level, you could appreciate that it was a reasonable question. After all, you had been sort of wanting to ask him if he made a habit of seducing students— but you didn’t because you knew it would be horribly offensive, which is why it was so aggravating that he was doing it to you now. In these months together (but not together together), had he not learned enough about your character to realize you weren’t in it for anything but him? “I told you I haven’t even dated that much before you,” you reminded him firmly, crossing your arms.

“And I believe you, I’m not accusing you of anything—”

“It kinda sounds like you are!” you snapped.

“And it sounds like you are getting defensive about it, which makes me worry even more!” he shot back, and you wondered if you’d ever heard him raise his voice before.

“Well, don’t worry about it, because it’s none of your business,” you rolled your eyes, “we’re not even dating anyway.”

Just as you started to walk away, not even sure where you would go when you were staying here with him (a walk outside, maybe, just to clear your head and be somewhere that he couldn’t see you cry?), he stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

“Wait, please,” he breathed, and only because he sounded so broken-hearted did you turn around.

“What?” you sighed, showing your irritation in lieu of your heartbreak.

He took a quick breath, collecting himself before he spoke again. “I don’t mean to be invasive and I certainly don’t mean to be controlling,” he explained, “I just… I want to understand what you want. From me, specifically.”

“Okay,” you nodded, “that might be a more complicated question than you realize. With a complicated answer.”

“I have time, I have the rest of the weekend," he decided. “Just tell me that this isn’t only fun for you. If it is, then… then I’m glad you had your fun, and we can have fun together here, and then when we get back to the city… we can go our separate ways.”

“And if it’s not?”

He swallowed, looking away briefly before stepping closer, reaching up to cradle your face in his palm. “If it’s not just fun, then… then we need to have a different conversation.”

You cleared your throat nervously. “What conversation?”

“I need to know first,” he insisted, “or it would be wrong for me to tell you. I don’t want you to spare my feelings, draga, I just want the truth.”

What you really wanted was to know his feelings first so you could spare your own, but he was so adamant on making you speak first, his gaze desperately searching your face as you tried to avoid the heat of it. “I…” you began, not sure what to say. You knew what you wanted to say, you just didn’t know how, exactly. Looking up into his eyes again, you took a quick breath and started over, trying to ignore your heart racing inside your chest. “It’s not just fun, Helmut, or a bucket list thing or a ‘trying something wild and crazy while I’m still young’ thing. I’m serious about this… but, you know, if you just wanna stay casual I understand—”

He cut you off with a kiss, sudden but not quite desperate; rather relaxed, actually, and you melted into it as his arm snaked around your waist and pulled you close.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips.

“You— what?” you gasped, pushing back slightly against his chest.

“I love you,” he repeated. “It’s not just fun, it’s not a bucket list thing or a midlife crisis thing— I love you, I’ve been in love with you for weeks and couldn’t think of what to say… I was afraid to smother you, you wouldn’t be wrong to want more freedom than you can have with me.”

A shaky breath moved in and out of your lungs as you looked away from his gaze— it was too wonderfully all-encompassing for you to be able to process this with his eyes on you.

“I hope it doesn’t bother you,” he mumbled nervously, “but I can’t change how I feel.”

“No, it doesn’t… it’s good,” you smiled, starting to laugh. Your heart was beating so heavy you could hear it in your ears, you could barely even hear yourself speak as you answered him. “Helmut, it’s— I love you too, of course.”

“Really?” he beamed.

“Really.”

He kissed you again, harder, and neither of you could stop smiling through it. "Say it again," he pleaded softly.

"I love you," you repeated. "I love you, Helmut."

“Mm, one more time,” he encouraged with a soft laugh as he lifted you into his arms and began to carry you down a familiar path to the cabin’s bedroom.

“I love you I love you I love you I—” you had to stop to gasp when he bit down on your neck, not too hard but still quite surprising, before he tossed you down onto the bed and pounced on top of you.

“Is it fair to say that we’re dating now?” he presumed, making you laugh.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“So it’s just us, you and me, girlfriend and boyfriend?” he continued. “Nobody else?”

“There was never anybody else,” you promised.

“I know, and now there never will be,” he cooed, placing a kiss right on your ear. “You’re all mine now.”

A shiver ran up your spine instantly. “God, how do you do that? Go from sweet to filthy in a split-second?”

“Mm, a habit of mine,” he hummed, “because it makes you all cute and whiny.”

You frowned as he kissed your nose. “Hey!” you, proving him right, whined; he laughed and held the back of your neck as he kissed you again.

Just the sex that followed that conversation would’ve been enough to make this an amazing weekend, but it was even better to leave the vacation as a couple when that wasn’t even how you’d started it.

Afterwards, you laid together in bed and commiserated how silly you both had been to assume the other didn't want more, deciding from now on to be open and honest as much as possible. That was what inspired you the next day to spend the morning trading secrets over the breakfast he'd made.

"I cheated on my eighth grade Spanish exam," you admitted, making him put down his fork in pretend shock.

"¡Chica traviesa!" he gasped.

"Maybe if I'd actually studied, I would know what that means…"

"Truthfully, I can't judge you. I did something similar in my primary studies,” he recalled. “I broke into the teachers' desk and stole an early copy of the exam. But I didn't use it myself, I used it to impress a girl in my class."

You smiled trying to imagine that. "I can see you as the romantic type when you were a kid," you hummed.

"I was more the rebellious type, with girls being one of the more reliable ways to rebel."

That piqued your interest, and you gave him an excited grin of anticipation. "Did you have a punk phase?"

"It was Eastern Europe in the early 90s: of course I had a punk phase," he chuckled. "How else do you celebrate the end of a brutal capitalist revolution but by importing every Western record you can find and dying your hair black in a petrol station's bathroom sink?"

"Oh my god!" you giggled.

"But it was rather minimalist, I wasn't permitted much stylistic freedom so it was little things like that… I wanted an ear piercing, but my mother would've truly had a heart attack."

"I guess you're better than I was,” you shrugged, “my rebellious phase was brief but with a much stronger willingness to sacrifice my mother's sanity."

"Yes, that's more typical," he nodded. "I suppose my real secret was that I didn't want to rebel from my parents nearly as much as I thought I did… I just wanted to make them happy."

You smiled at him as he stared down at his plate. "You sound like a sweet kid."

"Horrifically stupid and a bit self-involved but sure, sweet," he agreed with a chuckle.

"So, all our secrets are out, huh?" you grinned.

"Perhaps I have a few left," he smirked as he leaned across the table to kiss you softly. "I'm saving them for a rainy day."

The weekend went by much too quickly, but you couldn’t begrudge the return to daily life now that you were returning to it together— so far, you’d found that together was the best way to experience life.

Almost as fast as the vacation, so went the seasons as well: you both had classes through summer, and you enjoyed the freedom that came with a much more empty campus; fall, as always, was damp and chilly yet comforting— sometimes the leaves turned just the right color of brown before they fell to remind you of his eyes; winter sent you back home to see your family for the holidays, just for a few days, and you told them you’d bring your mysterious boyfriend next time even though it made your heart race to imagine that.

Your birthday passed at some point during the year, and he took you out to one of those slightly-hipstery barcades where he revealed his secret talent for skeeball— you were glad he felt comfortable completely annihilating your high score even on your birthday. He invited your friends, too, and it went significantly less horribly than you imagined; they only asked him weird questions about being a professor a few times, but otherwise everyone got along oddly well.

And soon it was another spring again, one of your last ones before you graduated, and you let yourself focus on things other than what might happen when you left the university and he almost certainly stayed. For now, you just needed to worry about how you’d ever find time for each other during finals season when both of you were busy for different reasons.

Dinner tonight? I have a reservation at 7 for a place in the museum district. They have a dress code so wear something evening ready if possible. -Z

you don’t have to sign your texts you know. I know it’s you. it says your name right above the text.

It’s more formal this way. -Z

it’s a text message, it will never be formal??

Will I see you at dinner tonight or am I in trouble for asking over text? -Z

I’ll be there

I look forward to your company, draga

hey, you didn’t sign it! progress!

-Z

goddamn it

“This place is… really nice,” you noticed sheepishly, glancing around at the minimalist-yet-luxurious decor of the restaurant while you took your seat across the white-linen-covered table from him. “Like, significantly nicer than I’ve ever been to before.”

“Well, you look like you fit right in,” he assured, and you almost believed him— it was the nicest thing in your closet, but still seemed like the wrong energy compared to how him and everyone else seemed so casually flawless. “I took the liberty of ordering for you,” he explained as he poured water into your glass for you from the basin at the table, “I was going to make you order the salmon anyways, it’s really impeccable.”

“What’s the occasion? I’m still feeling spoiled from the anniversary celebrations last month.”

You two had decided to celebrate a year since the day you’d met (and had sex for the first time; it was an action-packed day) instead of the day you had officially began your relationship, since there was no reason to commemorate months of pretending to be casual while you were both quietly devoted to each other.

“I just want to have a nice date with my girlfriend, is that so terrible?” he smiled.

“No,” you answered quickly, “but that’s a load of bullshit.”

He chuckled a little. “You’re right. I wanted to do something nice with you before I go.”

“Yeah, that’s not ominous at all,” you frowned. “Care to elaborate, international man of mystery?”

The conversation paused briefly as the server came by with your meals, and you gave him a little nod of appreciation before he left; the salmon did look pretty amazing, and you trusted your boyfriend’s taste even if it was often more refined than your own.

“I need to make a trip home in the next few months,” Helmut finally clarified. “Nothing particularly interesting, and thankfully all very temporary— boring estate management stuff, comes up every once in a while,” he shrugged.

“How long will you be gone?” you asked, hoping you didn’t sound as needy as you felt.

“No more than three weeks.”

“Three weeks?!” you yelped.

“You know I’d never leave your side if I had the choice,” he smiled. “It’ll go by in a moment, you might not even notice I’m gone.”

“Are you kidding? I practically live at your apartment. We probably haven’t spent three days apart since we met. Hell, we have sex, like, five times a week!”

You heard the chatter of nearby restaurant-goers die down, and you awkwardly looked around to find some of them staring at you as Helmut tried to suppress his laugh.

“I… may or may not have forgotten we’re in public,” you whispered harshly as most of them seemed to get back to their own conversations. “Let’s not eat here again.”

“Oh, would you like to announce our sexual frequency anywhere else?” he joked, though his tone remained as serious as ever, and it made you laugh even though you were the butt of the joke. “Olive Garden, maybe?”

“Shut up,” you demanded between hiccups of laughter.

“The Texas Roadhouse? I’m sure they would love that,” he continued. “They seem like a real liberal crowd.”

“Stop,” you snorted, trying to catch your breath and not laugh too loud in front of all these people who already had a poor impression of you.

“Or we can go to the drive-through at Taco Bell and you can tell them through the little speaker thing,” he offered, and you hid your burning face behind your cloth napkin.

“You’re mean, I was just trying to say that I’m gonna miss you if you’re gone for so long!”

He leaned across the table to grab the napkin and slowly pull it down from your face, smiling at you when he could see you again. “I’ll make it up to you,” he promised. “We’ll have sex fifteen times when I get back, for lost time.”

“That’s not really my issue,” you sighed. “I mean, yeah, we’re still definitely gonna do that, but that’s not what I’m gonna miss most.”

“I know,” he nodded, “don’t think I’m going to do anything but miss you terribly the whole trip. In fact, that brings me to what I wanted to talk to you about tonight.”

“Telling me you’re leaving for three weeks isn’t the main topic of discussion?” you realized.

“It was, but now I’m here with you and it has me thinking all sorts of things,” he explained.

“Okay… what are you thinking about?” you asked quietly.

“Well, I was just thinking that I don’t want to keep you from living your youth while you can,” he answered, looking back at you as you took a sip of your drink, “but that I’d like to marry you.”

Just like that, you inhaled some water and began coughing and choking.

“Hypothetically!” he blurted out, leaning forward to make sure you were okay but you waved him back into his seat.

“I, uh,” you began, coughing one more time before you started again, “I didn’t think that was what you were thinking about.”

“Well, clearly,” he mumbled.

“I mean, I didn’t know you were thinking about that at all,” you explained, “like, I wasn’t sure that we were there yet.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t notice when I told you not so long ago that this year with you had been the best of my life,” he recalled, making you smile a bit to yourself at the memory. “I’m there. I’m just asking where you are.”

“I guess I need to think about that,” you lied. You didn’t need to think about it, you knew that he was talking about exactly what you wanted, but you needed to convince him you were taking this question seriously— god knows he was constantly worrying that you shouldn’t be tied down to him when you were so young, and although you typically handled that by making a bondage joke (and he typically handled that by making a non-joke bondage offer), you didn’t want him to worry about this.

“Maybe you can think while I’m on my trip,” he decided, “and when I come back, we can talk about the future.”

“I just meant for, like, a few minutes,” you admitted. “I don’t need that long, Helmut. I know what I want.”

“Care to enlighten me?”

“To be with you, whatever that looks like,” you said, sounding more confident than you thought possible. “That’s what I want. And I don’t wanna hear you saying anything about how you think I might be too young for marriage or that I might change my mind later… I have a right to love just as much as you, and to know what’s right for me.”

“And it’s me?”

You smiled as you reached for his hand where it rested on the table, squeezing his fingers in yours. “It’s you. Obviously.”

He looked at your hands held together before he smiled back at you— but it faded suddenly, and he pulled his hand away to lean back in his chair. “There’s something else I should tell you, before I let you say too much...”

You swallowed thickly. Oh god, here it comes. Secret family in Canada, glue-sniffing addiction, absurdly specific and disturbing fetish… the wheel of misfortune was already spinning in your head, and you took a bite of your fish to try to look natural.

“You should know the truth about my family, back in Sokovia? We’re, in a certain sense of the word… royalty.”

You started choking again; why did he keep telling you this stuff while you had something in your mouth??

“Shit, are you alright?” he asked nervously, and you nodded in spite of your fit of coughs.

“Are you a prince?!” you spat out as you started to catch your breath again.

“A baron. A little less romantic, I know,” he smirked.

“And if… if what you’re talking about, actually happened, then that would make me…” you trailed off, raising your eyebrow expectantly.

“My baroness,” he finished for you. Funny enough, the word my was doing more for you than the royal title. “Hypothetically.”

“You keep saying that word,” you noticed. “I hope we think it means the same thing.”

“Maybe a better word would be ‘eventually,’” he decided, and your back straightened because oh shit, this is really going to happen. “Maybe an even better word would be ‘soon.’”

You almost choked again, with no excuse this time as there was nothing in your mouth to actually choke on. “H-how soon?” you whispered, and his lips curled into a mischievous grin as he lifted his drink.

“Sorry darling, I don’t think I can tell you that,” he decided as he took a sip slowly, still staring you down over the rim of the glass.

You shifted nervously in your seat, trying to imagine how you were supposed to be anything but jittery after this conversation.

“Can I ask an inappropriate question?”

He raised his eyebrow. “Let’s try not to scare the other patrons again, but sure.”

“How rich are you?” you blurted out, and he laughed a little.

“Somewhere between ‘outrageously’ and ‘ludicrously,’” he decided. “It might seem a little far-fetched considering I prefer not to live extravagantly here in the States… but we’ve made good use of the last dozen-or-so generations of wealth.”

“And you let me pay for lunch last week!” you remembered, leaning forward to smack him on the shoulder with a scowl.

“That’s all you have to say about that?” he realized bewilderedly.

“It’s all that I can process right now!”

“I should apologize for not telling you sooner,” he nodded.

You paused as you stared back at him. “I sorta thought you’d continue with that by explaining why you didn’t.”

He sighed, looking away. “I spent so much time worrying you were only with me in pursuit of a new experience with an older man. And then if you knew how much money was involved… I didn’t want to jump from one insecurity to the next with you, if I could avoid it.”

“You’re insecure about being rich? Next you’re gonna start crying ‘cause your cock’s too big,” you rolled your eyes.

Again, other diners turned to you and this time you looked back at them.

“What are you looking at, huh?” you snapped, and they all stared back down at their plates quickly. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“If you could stop antagonizing the public, that would be ideal,” Helmut hissed.

“I don’t think I’m handling this very well,” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “I wish you would’ve told me before.”

“So do I, but believe me that I had my reasons,” he sighed.

You lowered your hands from your face to rest them on your elbows as you crossed your arms. “I think if we are going to talk seriously about this next step, then you’re gonna have to tell me those reasons,” you decided.

“Right, of course,” he nodded, clearing his throat as he looked to the side. “Well, I guess I should start from the beginning. As good a place to start as any, yes?”

You wrinkled your brow; you weren’t sure why he was so clearly nervous.

“As you can imagine, I was born into the royal life, I didn’t have much of a say in it all. From the time I was eighteen I was the 13th Baron in a line of Sokovian royals who controlled a certain amount of land. In retrospect, I understand how incredibly fortunate I was, especially compared to the poorest people in my country, but at the time all I could appreciate was that it was stuffy and boring and allowed for none of the adventure I longed for. Hence the aforementioned punk phase, but that didn’t satisfy for long. I suppose that was why I enlisted.”

“You were in the military?”

He nodded. “Briefly. I liked the idea of being a part of something that had nothing to do with my name. And I was two years into my contract when my unit was stationed in a little border town, mostly farmland, but Sokovian borders are always contentious places… anyhow, one night, while another Lieutenant and I were on patrol, there was an ambush. They shot at us, we shot back, but we were just firing into the dark so we went down rather quickly… I assumed that was the end, everything went black in an instant before I could even think…”

You shuddered, appreciating how traumatic this was for him as he looked down at his lap, stoic but in that way that clearly held more underneath.

“I woke up in a bed, in a cottage,” he recalled. “A farmgirl heard the gunfire and waited until the enemy forces moved on to render aid. She told me I was nearly dead when she found me but that her uncle was the local doctor and had been able to remove the bullets and stitch me up.”

“You told me those scars were from being attacked by a dog as a child,” you remembered.

“Yes, I didn’t forget the lies I told you,” he frowned. “I think that one should be understandable.”

You swallowed, regretting saying anything. “O-of course, I’m sorry.”

“The important thing is that she told me my partner was dead when she got there, and she couldn’t do anything for him. I was in shock— keep in mind I was young and dumb and thought of myself as some kind of invincible— but for the next month she delicately nursed me into… at least decent health, and helped me cope with it all.” He took a deep breath, a soft and somber smile crossing his face. “I suppose you can imagine what happened next.”

He looked at you again and you gave him a shrug, unsure what he expected you to guess.

“We fell in love,” he finished flatly.

“Oh,” you nodded, “right. It sounds pretty romantic.”

“Yeah, the wounded infantryman and the rural farmgirl… it was all very pastoral,” he sighed, “but anyways, my family was more than hesitant to allow me to marry a poor girl, which obviously only made me want to do it more. I even told her that I’d leave the title for her, and she gave me some pitiful monologue about how she’d never forgive herself if she was responsible for me being disinherited, she pleaded with me to find a way to gain my parents’ approval… but I knew that we were in love and that nothing could stop us, so I didn’t think much of it.”

You tried to imagine him as a young, hopeless romantic, and some part of you was a bit jealous that others got the opportunity to experience that side of him when you didn’t; but it wasn’t like he was exactly cold and hardened now, at least not with you. Just wiser, with more experience and more scars.

“My parents had put their foot down and demanded I call off the engagement. And, oddly enough, they told me that it wasn’t her social standing that bothered them but that they simply didn’t trust her. That they thought I was being rash and had only known her a few months— that I was too young, I would change my mind. I was incensed; I mean, not only do they dare to insult my foresight, but this was the love of my life they were talking about like she was some conniving witch. So I said some things I regret to this day, and I told them to keep their title and their properties and have me formally disowned at their earliest convenience.”

“Wow,” you breathed.

“Well, the truth, as it often does, came out sooner or later. That all along, her love was for the money and not the man. When I told her I’d left my title behind for her, she… didn’t take it very well. And by that I mean she slapped me so hard I saw white for a second.”

Your heart hurt to imagine him being treated like that.

“I told her that we would be poor but we would be happy together, she told me that she never wanted to be poor again, that the reason she did all this was to get out of this hellish farming town and live in a castle in Novi Grad. I suppose I could’ve forgiven all that, after all I imagine she struggled greatly for a long time living that way. But then she started ranting about how she didn’t drag some dying Baron through the mud that night on the patrolway just to marry a poor man. I was heartbroken just realizing that she knew who I was when she saved me— that she might not have if I were anyone else. Like, say, my partner that night.”

Your chest was too tight to gasp properly. “You don’t mean…”

“She held out on me for a minute but I finally got her to admit it… the other man was alive when she found us, but she left him to die while she saved me, apparently planning from the very beginning to seduce me and escape to Novi Grad like she always dreamed of. His name was Miroslav Pavlović, and he was a good man… a boy, really, only twenty when he died. Alone. In the dirt.”

Hot tears on your cheeks made you realize you were crying, and you awkwardly wiped them away in hopes that he wouldn’t notice.

He took another deep breath and seemed to reorient his mind, away from the mourning and back to his story. “Of course, I, being a young man with all my pride, told my parents that I ended it in respect of their wishes, but I think my mother suspected what really happened. Especially when the girl went ahead and married my cousin.”

“She what?!”

“An industrious young woman, I have to give her that,” he nodded. “She didn’t need a Baron, she just needed somebody who could get her out of the farm and into whatever her idea was of a luxurious life. And yes, it is exactly as wonderful as you’re imagining to see her on those rare occasions where the extended family all has to gather.”

“Yikes,” you mumbled. “That’s… cold.”

“I suppose it all worked out for the best— I dodged a bullet much worse than the ones that hit me before I met her, she got her riches and noble husband, and my parents were free to arrange a marriage for me with a woman of more adequate social standing. I was so convinced I was terminally unlovable that I actually went along with it.”

“You married her?”

“No, I just agreed to, on the condition that we meet a few times first, at least. It was the second time we met when she confided in me that she was actually a lesbian.”

“Oh!” you chuckled, hoping it wasn’t inappropriate to laugh a bit. Not as his misfortune, per se, or at the idea of a lesbian in general, but just the way this story seemed to get more complex at evey turn.

“Yes, well, my family was more liberal but hers were not the sort who would respond well to that news… I considered going through with the marriage to give her an alibi, so to speak, and the both of us would quietly have affairs with women— ideally different women— to keep up appearances for our families. She and I actually got along alright, we thought maybe we could be good friends, which some husbands and wives aren’t even when they marry for more genuine reasons.”

You scoffed as you nodded, “yeah, true that…”

“But,” he shrugged, “I got cold feet, I just couldn’t bring myself to resign to an entire relationship built on a lie again, so, I decided to leave it all behind and study at a German university— I chose history because I’d consumed historical nonfiction voraciously throughout most of my life and it seemed like a good fit, and I suppose it was the right choice… because here I am.”

You took a long, deep breath, but you didn’t feel that much more stabilized afterwards. “Okay, a lot to unpack with that,” you announced. “I understand why you didn’t tell me about the money, with everything that happened before… but you lived this entire life that I knew nothing about. You already know everything about me.”

“I couldn’t tell you much more than I did without burdening you with it.”

“Sure, but you can appreciate that this puts me in a sort of vulnerable position,” you offered.

“Right,” he agreed. “That was, of course, never my intention. I don’t tell anyone the things I’m telling you now, understand that. Everyone at the university thinks I came from much more humble beginnings and has no idea about my military service— well, except for that one royal historian who unfortunately recognized my name, but I’ve been bribing him into silence from my first day.”

“Wait, you pay him off?!”

“Oh, god no— I just grade his final term papers,” Helmut shrugged. “But still, I got pretty comfortable with my reinvention, weeks go by without me thinking about my life before this. Especially with you… sometimes I thought maybe it would be better to quietly abandon it all and become the person you thought I was.”

You smiled a little; maybe you wished that you knew how to be angry with him even in times like this, but you just couldn’t do it. “You’re still the person I think you are,” you assured. “Where you come from is not who you are, it’s just one of those things that help make you who you are. It’s up to you to decide what you do with it… and I think you’ve done something pretty great with it. Plenty of people who didn’t need to work for a living just wouldn’t.”

“I know it sounds nice, and I won’t pretend it isn’t an invaluable resource, but I find it much more fulfilling to work. I really love what I do, so that helps.”

Nodding a little to yourself, you reflected on how true that really was; after all, this all began in a classroom where you were enchanted by his passion.

“I suppose the moral of the story is… I’m sorry that I hid things from you,” he concluded firmly. “I’ve learned that I can’t protect myself from heartache and love you properly at once— I have to pick one. I want to choose to love you, I want to choose that every day for… well, forever. If you’ll let me. But if the secrets are too insurmountable, I won’t judge you.”

You let out a heavy sigh. “That’s the dilemma of love, isn’t it? You have to be willing to get hurt. But the last thing I want is to hurt you, I promise. And in the end, it really doesn’t matter if you’re rich or poor or a fugitive from the law or an alien from space: I love you, really.”

For the first time since he started telling you everything, he seemed to relax. “I love you too, I hope that much is obvious.”

You nodded, reaching across the table to hold his hand. “Yeah, it is. I’m still getting used to that, honestly.”

“Not that I don’t mind being the first,” he tilted his head, “but it’s a shame no one ever cherished you before, in the way that you deserve.”

“You do seem to mind it a little bit, when you always go on about ‘keeping me from my youth’ or ‘restricting me when I should be free’ or whatever,” you recalled, putting on a poor imitation of his accent when you quoted him.

“Well, I guess it’s that I never desired to be the first,” he clarified, staring you down suddenly, “but that I intend to be the last.”

That look… you were already biting your lip and you didn’t even notice it. “Okay,” you sighed.

“Hm?”

“You can be the last, just take me home,” you whispered, crossing your legs to hold your thighs together as your tongue ran over your teeth.

He could only bear to tear his eyes from you for a second as he called out, “The check, please!”

wanna come over later? I can’t focus enough to study

You stared down at the text you’d sent Kacey, wondering if it made you sound pathetic. You didn’t want to seem like the sort of girl who made her boyfriend her whole life, and therefore had no idea what to do with herself while he was gone. And to be clear, it wasn’t loneliness itself that made you so listless; of course, you missed him plenty, but your inability to get anything done or even enjoy some alone time was disrupted by that sort of numb, shocked feeling you got every time you remembered that he wanted to get married.

Even more shocking: you wanted to get married.

It didn’t feel too soon, it didn’t feel all that sudden, but it felt like it should feel too soon, if that makes any sense. Maybe you could try to explain it to Kacey if she ever checked her damn phone.

You groaned as you tossed the device away, knowing staring down the screen wouldn’t make her answer any faster. Having already watched everything good on every streaming service ever, you figured your next step was to move on to the mediocre things on streaming, but you couldn’t decide between a show about renovating tiny-houses or cooking using only leftovers.

It was hard to focus on your choices when you kept playing the moment before he left in your mind over and over.

You nestled in under his arm around your shoulders, tightening your grip around his torso until you caught a glance of his watch.

“Don’t you need to leave soon? There will be traffic on the way to the airport.”

“No, there shouldn’t be, it’s only a ten minute drive.”

“What? It’s at least half an hour.”

He laughed a little as he realized the misunderstanding. “Darling, I’m not going to the airport. I’m going to a private airport. For a private plane.”

You cleared your throat. “Oh… right. Still getting used to the exorbitantly rich thing.”

“But I suppose I should finish my packing, I think I’ve put off the last of it long enough,” he sighed, sitting up and tearing himself out of your arms even though you were pouting about it.

Before he left he gave you a long kiss at the door, just meant to say goodbye, but then your knees went weak and he had to hold you and it all started to lead from one thing to another very quickly.

“Fuck, Helmut, your flight,” you reminded him breathlessly, holding onto his biceps as he kissed down your neck.

“They’ll wait for me, it’s my fucking plane,” he growled, grabbing your hips hard. “I need to be inside you one more time before I go.”

Just as the best parts of the memory started to flood back, your phone rang and you jumped up instantly; the sound of 99 Luftballons, your custom ringtone for him that started as a joke but stuck for some reason, told you it was your boyfriend calling and it barely rang for a second before you answered.

“Hi!” you greeted instantly. You looked at the clock on the wall and did some quick math to realize it was probably almost time for dinner there, when it was still before noon where you were.

“Hello, darling,” he answered back, his voice instantly soothing you as you leaned back against the headboard of your (his) bed.

“Your accent is stronger than when you left,” you noticed.

“This is the first time I’ve spoken English in days,” he explained.

“How does it feel to be home?”

“Do you mean being in Sokovia, or talking to you?”

“Baaaabe,” you whined playfully, “you’re gonna make me all needy…”

“I just wish I was there to see the effect I was having on you,” he cooed. “It’s been a bit boring without you— I’m going to bring you with me next time, I assure you. Not just because I miss you so much, but so you can see the country. I want you to see my homeland and there’s no one better to show you around than myself.”

“You really love it, don’t you?” you hummed.

“More than almost anything,” he answered, and you knew what he was implying he loved most. “I know it has… struggled, it isn’t considered exactly a vacation spot by many, but it means everything to me. I don’t have much family left for you to meet, but I’m sure I’ll find some people to show you off to.”

“I’d love to come with you,” you agreed, “you know I’d go with you anywhere, though.”

“And you need to try the ćevapi!” he added, and you could hear his beaming smile through the phone. “Sokovian food is very different from Western dishes but I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“Yeah,” you agreed dreamily, laying back on the pillow as you heard him sigh from the other end.

“God, I miss you,” he breathed, making you hum proudly.

“Miss you too,” you agreed. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot…”

“Yeah? I bet I can guess what you were thinking about.”

“Such as?”

“Things I can’t say right now, in case someone hears me,” he chuckled. “We may not speak English much but they still understand it.”

“Well, I’m all alone,” you purred, “and I’ve been thinking about everything I’m gonna do to you when you get back.”

“Oh fuck, baby, don’t—” he pleaded weakly.

“I really wanna ride you,” you continued in a sultry voice you didn’t even mean to put on, “even though you’re probably too big for that, I just want you so deep in me I can’t fucking breathe—”

“You’re cruel,” he hissed, a low whisper, and you loved his helplessness.

“It’s been so lonely without you, Helmut, I’ve been fucking myself with every toy I can find but nothing fills me up like you do, god I just need your cock.”

“I should’ve had something custom made,” he decided, still whispering but you could hear him smirk, too. “So it’s only ever me inside you.”

“Even then, it’s not the same… it has to be you, the way you fuck me is just impossible to recreate, nothing’s as good as you, professor.”

He made a strained noise and you giggled happily. “How long has it been since you’ve called me that?”

“Too long,” you hummed, “I still think it’s pretty hot.”

“Oh, it definitely is,” he chuckled breathlessly, “listen, I have to return to my meeting, and you’ve made it impossible to focus on boring legal things now but I need to try my best. Alright? I’ll call you tonight, if you’re still awake.”

Of course, your tonight was his tomorrow morning; you decided not to make him worry by admitting you would stay up all night to be able to talk to him. “Okay,” you sighed, “good luck in your boring legal meeting.”

He gave one last whispered ‘goodbye’ and the line beeped as the call ended; you sighed and flopped back onto the bed, staring up at your ceiling blankly.

He’d only been gone four days. How were you supposed to make it to three weeks?

When his plane landed, you were waiting for him in the car, parked on the runway; it was a much quicker process than picking someone up from a traditional airport, plus you got to run to him the second he was off the plane and it made you feel like you were in an old movie or something.

Throwing dignity to the wind, you jumped into his arms and let him spin you around, setting you down to kiss you hard as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I missed you so much,” he mumbled against your lips, hands gripping your waist, and you’d been trying to imagine this moment ever since he left but you couldn’t have ever come close to how perfect it was.

“Missed you more,” you promised with a smile. “Let’s go home, Helmut.”

“Or…” he trailed off, and you raised an eyebrow as you sank back down onto your heels and looked up at him.

“Or?”

“Or we could get back on the plane and tell them to take us wherever we want.”

“I-I have finals!” you gasped. “So do you!”

“Not until next week,” he dismissed, “this is just for a few days.”

“I haven’t packed any of my stuff!”

“You have your phone, everything else can be bought when we get there,” he shrugged.

“What’s gotten into you?!” you giggled, looking back up at him wildly and wondering how he could seem so calm.

“I’m rich and in love and a little bit impulsive, is that so bad?” he smirked. “Where do you wanna go, draga? Rome? Sydney? Jakarta? Nairobi?”

“...Luxembourg,” you blurted out.

He chuckled a little, eyes sparkling. “Why there?”

“First place I thought of. Is that a good enough reason to want to go someplace?”

“It is to me,” he grinned. “You get on the plane and get comfortable, I’ll tell the pilot where we’re going.”

“Okay,” you laughed. “This is crazy, you know.”

“I know,” he nodded, taking your hand and guiding you up the stairs back onto the jet.

It wasn’t like you’d never experienced the concept of travel before, but it was still blowing your mind that you’d woken up in your (his) bed this morning and now, in the same day, you were spending your evening in box seats at the Luxembourg National Opera. He picked out the gown you were wearing (only fair since he was picking up the tab) and at first you had worried you couldn’t pull it off, but the way he kept glancing over at you made you confident you looked just fine.

“You’re not watching the performance,” you whispered to him, leaning closer to his shoulder.

“You don’t really need to see an opera, do you?” he frowned. “Can’t I just look at you?”

“These tickets cost an arm and a leg, you can look at me for free!” you hissed, but you softened a bit when his hand moved to rest on yours and he kissed your temple softly.

The two of you stayed that way for the rest of the performance, leaning on each other and holding hands. Even when you'd been together this long, you still felt butterflies when he interlaced his fingers with yours.

When the show was over and the lights came up to a wave of applause, he looked at you with bright eyes and took your hand.

"Let's walk to the hotel, yes?" he suggested. "Explore the proper way instead of a cab."

"I can't walk that far in these shoes," you frowned.

"I'll carry them for you!"

"I can't walk that far barefoot," you laughed.

"Then I'll carry you," he offered, extending his hand for you to take.

And that was how you ended up being carried piggyback through the streets of Luxembourg, across cobblestone that reflected the soft yellow glow of the street lamps and sconces, in the most expensive dress you'd ever worn.

Life is crazy like that, sometimes.

"You know, this place is a bit like Sokovia," he decided, "but with a better GDP and fewer churches."

"As I understand it, most of the world has a better GDP and fewer churches than Sokovia," you quipped.

"Hey!" he yelped in defense. "Just because it's completely true doesn't mean you have any right to say it!"

You laughed, holding onto his neck tighter but trying your best not to inadvertently choke him.

"Typical of a Westerner to have something snarky to say while standing on the backs of hard-working Sokovians," he scoffed, "or, in this case, riding on the back of one hard-working Sokovian."

"Hard-working? What exactly does a Baron do for work?" you interrogated.

"Uh, carry spoiled girlfriends around tiny European countries, for one," he enumerated, "and when we're not casually becoming distinguished professors in America, we have to manage the various projects of the estate… the Zemo family— which is just me, at this point— runs eleven orphanages. I visit those sometimes and make sure they have everything they need."

"Okay, I don't know that I'd call that hard work, but it's very important so you get a pass," you decided.

"This is us," he announced he stopped walking.

"What's us?" you asked, looking around.

"This building, this is where we're staying," he explained as he set you down and made sure you were balancing right on your heels.

You let your jaw drop as you looked up at the building, admiring the carved stone face with its intricate detail, designs that evoked a certain prestige that just couldn't be found on American buildings.

"Wow," you nodded, "you really don't skimp on your last-minute random vacations, huh?"

"Not if I can avoid it," he shrugged, leading you inside.

For an exterior so gothic, the hotel’s lobby was modern and clean, though certainly not lacking in extravagant touches; you were a bit too tired to properly appreciate that, though, leaning up against his shoulder as he conversed with the front desk clerk in German in order to finish the check-in process.

The hotel had one of those elevators with mirrors on the walls, and a more energetic version of yourself might have noticed the fooling-around potential of the space, but instead you just let your eyes fall shut until you reached the correct floor. Being an incredibly fancy place, the rooms had actual keys and not just RFID keycards— you thought Helmut looked quite regal in his opera tux, unlocking a mahogany door with a golden key. Hard to imagine him in a windowless office and a messenger bag on his shoulder now, but you could remember falling for him in that state just the same.

He let you in first— a true gentleman, of course— and the moment the door to the room shut behind him, you groaned and flopped down onto the bed unceremoniously. He, meanwhile, undid his bowtie and unbuttoned a few buttons of his shirt before he laid down on his side by you, running his fingers over your back left exposed by the dress for a few moments before he pulled away.

“Darling?” he called to you softly, but you were too lazy to lift your head from where they were buried in the pillows.

“Mhmm?” you answered back, muffled.

“I…” he began, sighing before he started over. “Well, nevermind.”

“What is it?” you pressed, turning your head over to see him— but then you saw his face, and the conflicted look it wore, and you sat up to lay closer to him. “What’s wrong?” you asked gently, watched the way his hair fell into his face when he combed his fingers through it and glanced away from you.

“Draga, I must admit that I lied to you before about why I was returning home,” he spoke, and you were confused but said nothing. You would’ve worried if it weren’t for the look on his face— calm, yet with something brewing in his gaze that you couldn’t quite describe. But you trusted him. When your brain would normally fill the silence with a thousand awful ideas of his real reason for his visit to Novi Grad, it was suddenly quiet. “It wasn’t just for management of the estate… I had to retrieve something.”

He reached into his coat pocket, fishing out a small velvety box with red and gold along the edges. Your heart either stopped, or beat harder than it ever had before; at a certain point the difference was irrelevant.

“I know I should wait longer, for the perfect time, or even just any other time than when you’re not jet-lagged and I’m not so nervous I can’t even think, but…”

A sudden sigh fell from your lips when he opened the box and showed you the ornate ring inside— you couldn’t tell if it was aquamarine or blue diamonds but they shined brilliantly nonetheless.

“My mother wore this ring from the day my father gave it to her until the day she died,” he explained. “I would like for you to wear it.”

Too stunned to do much else, you looked up at him blankly.

“I want you to be my wife,” he clarified, like he thought you didn’t understand what he was asking, and finally you snapped back to reality (as overwhelming as that reality was). You smiled, even nearly laughing, as you leaned in to almost press your lips to his— but when he leaned closer you kept him at bay with a hand on his collar.

“Say it again,” you requested coyly.

“You’re going to make me propose twice?” he realized, and you nodded as you bit your lip. “I’ll say it a thousand times, draga: be my wife.”

“Two down, 998 to go,” you grinned, laughing when he growled and pulled you closer to bury his face in your neck. You definitely noticed the longer beard when it tickled your skin with every kiss to your pulse.

“Be my wife, be my wife, my wife,” he cooed, casually starting to slip the ring on your finger before you dodged him.

“No no no, you haven’t said it a thousand times yet,” you chided him, “and I haven’t said ‘yes’ yet.”

“Oh, darling, don’t dare me to make you say ‘yes’ as if I don’t make you scream it out every night.”

And that’s exactly what he did: make you say yes a thousand times to a thousand proposals, pinning you down and showering you in love relentlessly. For once you just accepted it; for once he didn’t feel guilty.

In a certain sense it was sort of hasty, half-dressed and unexpected with him fumbling to hold your dress out of the way while you clung to his shirt and kissed him hungrily: but still, it was nothing less than sensual, due in part to every beautiful thing he whispered to you until you were too far gone to understand them. He still kept going after that, even, just to feel the weight of his words on his tongue. Just to promise himself to you whether you could hear him or not.

Who could say how far into the night it went? That was the magical thing about it all— neither of you cared, neither of you worried or even thought twice about what time it was or if the sun would rise soon or if it would never rise at all and this was actually the beginning of the apocalypse. It didn’t make a difference; because whether the world ended now or in a decade or in a billion years, you would be together for the rest of your lives.

We were young and in love and I knew nothing could stop us, you remembered something he said. He said it like it was ridiculous, just a frivolous dream; and in retrospect, he may have been right about that specific situation, but now you understood why he had felt that way— you too felt that euphoric glow of knowing you were on the edge of something amazing. Maybe not something perfect, but something that would work out for the best in the end.

When he was finally satisfied with how many times he had satisfied you and you fell asleep on his chest, he took the opportunity to slip the ring on your finger, admiring how beautiful your hand looked wearing it before he kissed the top of your head.

“Fits perfectly,” he whispered to you in spite of your unconsciousness. “We’ll be so happy, draga… I promise.”

#helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo au #professor!baron zemo x reader #professor!zemo x reader

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raychleadele · 3 years ago

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I used some of my free time this week to make Nina a pair of jeans! I wish they were a bit more snug around the butt as they seem a little baggy to me, but considering I’ve never made pants before I think they turned out pretty good!

I used an old pair of my own jeans, which went to the fabric pile after I wore holes in the thighs and were used to patch similar holes in a couple other pairs of pants before they became new jeans for Nina. These process pictures were taken after I had attached all the sides of the leg pieces but before the bottoms were hemmed and the waistband had received the elastic necessary to keep them on.

I’ve been trying to get to know Nina a little better too. So far, I know she’s a present day Jewish girl, and my heart says she lives in New Jersey even though I’ve never been there myself. I think she’s into music, but I’m not sure what her instrument of choice is just yet. Just tonight I was trying to decide on a last name for her, and I think I’ve settled on Ginsburg. I was looking for a Jewish last name for her, and letting her name honor RBG felt like the right choice. So say hello to Nina Ginsburg!

#personal #American girl #doll crafts

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booksarelife-stuff · 3 years ago

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Dancing With Our Hands Tied- Chapter 3

Jily (James Potter/ Lily Evans)

Excerpt: Princess Lily’s New Fling? Meet the Heartthrob Army Captain That Stole Her Heart!, the title read. The picture was from yesterday on their morning run. They had been taking a breather and James had said something funny. Lily had her head thrown back in laughter and James was looking at her with a proud smile on his lips.

Read on ao3 Previous Chapter Next Chapter Series Master List Master list

Chapter 3- people started talking, putting us through our paces.

“Come on, Princess,” James said from next to her after slowing his run to be neck and neck with her.

“James,” Lily growled as much as she could in between her panting breaths. She had a stitch in her side and she could tell her face was bright red from exertion, not to mention how sweaty she was even in the cool November air.

“We’ve been doing this for months now,” he pointed out, finally a hint of breathlessness in his tone. “And you still aren’t used to it?”

Lily stopped her running and doubled over to breathe for a second, James’s footsteps stopping as well a few feet ahead of her. James laughed as she held up a finger, signalling she had a retort but couldn’t quite say it yet. It turned into flipping him off, making him laugh harder.

Running had been Lily’s therapist’s idea. Poppy had come a few weeks after her attempted kidnapping and it was surprising to no one but Lily herself that the failed attempt was just a drop in the very full bucket that was all the trauma in Lily’s mind.

Though Lily had grown to love Poppy, she wished to have the woman beside her, suffering through this torture with her. How would the old woman handle doing laps around the palace while the human version of a golden retriever chided her? Lily didn’t think Poppy would like it that much.

Lily raised up, flipping her ponytail back over her shoulder, and looked at the said golden retriever before speaking.

“I think you’re forgetting…” she said, pausing to take a breath. “That all my ancestors were famous for sitting on a throne all day.”

James laughed, his loud, genuinely amused laugh that made butterflies swirl in her stomach even when he was being an ass. His head thrown back, his fluffy curls bouncing, and those devastating brown eyes light with humour.

He was a subject that Lily refused to talk to anyone about. Not Poppy, Minerva, or Mary and Marlene. She was scared that if she took the time to process her feelings, there would be something more there. It wasn’t a risk she was willing to take.

James had only been posted with her for two months and in that time, he had grown to be a great friend. Time spent with him never felt forced, even though it quite literally was.

But it wasn’t forced when they ate breakfast together. When he and Lily would watch terrible American sitcoms before bed. Or that after a tough therapy session, James would do his best to make her laugh, even if it was just a little giggle.

She couldn’t dwell on those thoughts, though. Lily pushed them down and into a little box, hoping the contents would never make it burst open.

“Let’s take a break,” James said, gesturing to the patch of grass to the left of the pavement. Lily nodded and sat down with no grace whatsoever before laying on her back as James sat beside her.

Their runs occur on the grounds that are gated around the palace. While Lily would love to go on a jog through St. James Park, the security risks were too much. Though she knew in the back of her mind, James would make it happen for her if she asked.

Instead, Lily turned to today’s agenda.

“How’s the security at the primary school?” she asked.

“Low threat, but there was one five-year-old that did need further screening” James replied instantly. Laughter bubbled out of Lily and stopped as James laid back too, their arms inches from brushing against each other. She swore she could feel the heat of his body. “Seriously though, it’s all good. A team is already there sweeping for you.”

Lily hummed in acknowledgment and turned her face. James’s eyes were a bit like the sun, Lily thought because if she spent too long looking at them, they would be seared behind her eyelids for hours afterward. She closed her eyes instead and focused on the scratchy grass beneath her.

The sound of footsteps is what made her open her eyes again after a few moments of comfortable silence. She cracked an eye open to see Peter, the newest addition to her security team in front of them, handing them water bottles. He was short, shorter than Lily, and had dirty blonde hair and watery blue eyes. Lily liked him though, mostly because James did.

“Thanks, mate,” James said, jumping up and taking them from him. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s no problem,” Peter said, returning a smile. “Protecting the Princess also means protecting her from dehydration.”

Lily laughed and said her thanks while James patted him on the shoulder before handing Lily her cold bottle of water.

“We should probably be heading back in any way,” James said, glancing down at his watch.

Lily stood up with a groan and then took a long pull of her water, thankful that it seemed to be exactly what she needed in that instant. Once the cap was securely screwed back on, she looked at James. He tilted his head sideways in a question. Lily smirked in response.

“First one to the gate wins,” she rushed out before sprinting around him, eyes locked on the gate. She heard James swear behind her and start after her. She didn’t look back until her hand was closed around one of the iron fence posts, just in time to see James’s look of outrage two beats before his hand touched a post a few down from Lily’s. She let out a breathy laugh.

“You’re… a…” James almost said a different word, but caught himself before he let out a breathy “cheater.”

“We’re you about to call a princess something vile, Captain Potter?” Lily was so amused, she felt like she was a million times lighter.

“I was catching my breath.”

“Liar. I’m calling the executioner right now,” Lily said, turning away and walking towards the entrance of the palace.

“Liar,” James called back, following her immediately and matching her pace.

“Bernard is going to take pleasure in chopping off your head,” Lily said, hoping he didn't know how wide the smile was on her face.

“Bernard sounds like he’s a bit fucked in the head, then.”

Lily gasped dramatically and lightly smacked his arm. “No swearing in front of princesses! We have virgin ears.”

James snorted. “Just casually forgetting I witnessed you stub your toe last week and you said more swears in thirty seconds than I have in my lifetime?”

“I said virgin ears, not mouths.” It took a second for Lily’s face to heat up and she winced. “That was not supposed to be as dirty as it sounds.”

James' laugh echoed down the hall as they crossed the threshold into the palace.

~~~~

Katie was finishing blowing out Lily’s hair when there was a rasp of knuckles on the door to her bedroom. Hannah, who had been getting all the cat fur off of the navy blue dress Lily was going to wear, looked towards Lily, asking for permission to open the door.

Lily gave her a thumbs up, not willing to risk Katie’s wrath if she moved her head too much. And by wrath, Lily meant that small disappointed sigh Katie would do.

Hannah opened the door just as Katie clicked the hairdryer off and Lily spun her vanity stool around to see Minerva and James.

They both look a bit hurried. Minerva had flyaways around her head when it was normally slicked back with precision into a bun. James’s suit jacket was folded in his arms, leaving his top half only in a charcoal grey waistcoat and a white button-up with the sleeves still rolled up, the top buttons undone, and a tie hanging around his neck. His glasses were a bit crooked and his hair was still damp looking. The hem of his trousers hadn’t been rolled up yet.

“Good morning?” Lily asked, making her eyes lock onto Minerva to stop herself from admiring the way James’s arms looked or to even recognize the fact that his waistcoat was really doing something to her.

Minerva gave her a tight-lipped grimace. “You have an audience with your family in fifteen minutes.”

Lily’s stomach dropped. “And was this audience planned for today?”

“It was requested by Her Majesty at seven this morning, ma’am,” Minerva said. “We were made aware of it just ten minutes ago. I apologise for the lack of notice and our unpreparedness.”

Lily closed her eyes and cursed. An unplanned audience with the family meant that she had done something.

“No need for apologies,” Lily said, standing up and making sure her dressing robe was tied tightly around her. “I’ll be out in a few moments.”

Katie, Hannah, and Minerva all bowed. James did too, his tie slipping to the floor. He shot Lily a just my luck today, huh? look and picked it up before closing the door behind him.

Lily stepped into her walk-in closet and walked to the wall of garment bags that were hanging on the wall. She needed something more appropriate to wear for a meeting with her family and her stylist, Alice, had pre-made outfits for emergencies like that. She quickly flipped through them, looking for one that said “casual appearance” or maybe even “important meeting with the family where Lily was probably going to be lightly scolded by her mother, who actually doesn’t care but has to do whatever Clarence House or Parliament or Petunia says.”

She found one labelled “Important Meeting” and grabbed it quickly, unzipping the bag. The outfit wasn’t bad, it was a sage green dress that fell at her knee, but she did detest the jacket that had to go over it that was the exact same colour. In a way, this was armour for Lily. It was so bland, so not her, that it couldn’t be used for either her family or the press to pick her apart.

She racked her brain for anything she could have done that landed her an audience with her whole entire family before her brain got sidetracked and started wondering if Vernon would be there. Lily hadn’t seen him in a few weeks and she didn’t want to break that streak now.

All in all, Lily couldn’t think of a single thing she did. Maybe someone had just written a cock and bull story about her again? Maybe she got put on the worst dressed list again? Or maybe she had gotten put on the best-dressed list while Petunia got put on the worst? Petunia had a fit for days about that one the last time that happened.

It really shouldn’t surprise her anymore, she thought as she pulled her pantyhose on. Petunia could convince their mother that anything Lily did was worthy of a family intervention at nine in the bloody morning.

Lily seen talking to a guy at uni? Emergency family meeting. Lily wore a jumpsuit? Family meeting, Lily is tearing the family apart. Lily was seen drinking with her friends? Emergency Family meeting, Lily is crumbling the institution of the monarchy with every sip of gin and tonic.

Oh, how she wished it was that simple to destroy the institution of the British monarchy.

When she opened the door, she found Minerva re-doing her hair using one of the decorative mirrors on the wall while James was tucking his tie into his waistcoat, his suit jacket on but not buttoned yet.

James looked at her and she tilted her head, asking if he knew what the deal was. He grimaced and shook his head before darting his eyes over to Minerva to signal that she probably knows. Lily sighed in defeat.

“Lady Minerva, do you happen to know what the audience is about this morning?” Lily asked, watching as her equerry finished her new and smooth bun. Minerva’s lips were thin and her eyes were tired when she looked at Lily.

“I believe you and Captain Potter were on the front page of The Daily Mail today, Your Highness.”

Lily glanced at James, confusion on both of their faces. She had been photographed with James a million times because he was always behind her, but they never said anything about him because he was her security guard.

Minerva took her tablet out from under her arm and tapped around before turning it out towards them.

Princess Lily’s New Fling? Meet the Heartthrob Army Captain That Stole Her Heart!, the title read. The picture was from yesterday on their morning run. They had been taking a breather and James had said something funny. Lily had her head thrown back in laughter and James was looking at her with a proud smile on his lips.

How did they even get this picture? And one that is clear, too? Equal parts of frustration and anger swirled in her stomach at the invasion of privacy and the fact Lily was about to be wrung through the coals by her family for something that was undoubtedly not her fault.

“Heartthrob?” James exclaimed, coming over to stand next to Lily. “Did my mother write this?”

Lily turned to him, her burrow furrowed. “Your mother would describe you as a heartthrob?”

James looked at her, dead serious. “She’s been trying to marry me off since I turned 20 to the daughters of her book club members. She’ll say anything to get me off her hands.”

Lily started rubbing her temples and turned away from the screen. She didn’t know why his mother trying to marry him off made her a little more annoyed. That should be the least of her concerns. “I’m sorry, James.”

“For what?”

She turned back and looked at him. His brown eyes were so earnest that they made Lily want to do something stupid. She averted her gaze, landing over Minerva’s right shoulder at a portrait hanging above the fireplace.

“I never thought your name would come up in the tabloids,” Lily muttered. “At least, not like this. You didn’t sign up for this.”

James’s deep breath made her glance back, the earnest look still in his eyes. “Princess,” he said, stepping a bit closer to her. She focused on the knot of his tie at the base of his throat. “It’s okay. I knew when taking this job that if I was walking behind you, my picture would be right up there’s with yours.”

Lily’s goddamn traitorous heart constricted and butterflies swarmed through her, a warm blush appearing on her cheeks.

“I only hope you don’t get in trouble for this,” he finished. “It isn’t your fault.”

She couldn’t stop the scoff from her lips. “It doesn’t matter if it’s my fault or not.”

There was a brief moment where Lily thought James was going to reach out to her and she anticipated the touch, only to have it interrupted by Minerva reminding them they needed to leave. Lily felt disappointment flood her. James always touched her lightly and respectfully in the moments he needed to, like guiding her through a building or helping her into the car, but him reaching out to her to comfort her was something Lily never knew she wanted so badly until his hand was back down by his side.

Now Lily’s head was swimming. Anger, frustration and the fact that the storm of feelings swirling inside of her was growing more volatile was rolling through it when she needed to be steeling herself for the audience. She focused on her breathing as she followed Minerva around the palace, nodding on autopilot to all the palace staff who addressed her in passing.

It felt too soon that they arrived to the flurry of staff that was always outside the doors when her family was all in the room together. Everyone’s security guards, equerries, or personal secretaries were all stationed like they were waiting for the Queen to tell them to jump. Doloris, Petunia’s equerry, rolled her eyes at the sight of Lily. It was so subtle that Lily only saw it because she knew to look for it.

Minerva stopped her a few feet away from everyone and turned to look at her. She straightened Lily’s clothes, brushed off invisible dust, and made sure her hair was falling in the right places. It was very motherly, a latent tendency of Minerva. Through the cold outer layer, Lily knew that Minerva genuinely cared for Lily.

Minerva met her eyes.

“Edge of the seat, back straight, and legs crossed at the ankles,” Minerva said before one of her fingers appeared under her chin. “And head up.”

Lily closed her eyes, mentally stepping into the role of Princess Lily. She gave Minerva a tight nod with her mouth drawn into a line. Minerva turned, telling the attendant that Lily was ready to enter when the Queen said so. Lily made the mistake of glancing back at James, who was watching her with a curious look on his face.

“Your Highness, you may enter.”

She took purposeful strides into the room.

It was larger than Lily’s apartment in the palace. The ceilings were high, decorated with artwork and ornate moulding. Chandeliers, hanging evenly spaced out, provided less light to the room than the large, almost floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the grounds behind the palace. There was a dreadful dark red wallpaper that could barely be seen between the artworks that covered every inch of wall space.

And just to fit the pure gaudiness of the room, sat four royals, three of them wishing they could be doing something else and one of them almost giddy with the fact that Lily was going to get raked over the coals.

Lily kept her face neutral. She was one of them, she had to tell herself. If they can look this intimidating in a stuffy room, so could she. It was in her genes.

“Lily, dear,” Her mother spoke, setting down her teacup in its saucer with a clank. “I apologise for the late notice of the meeting. And so early in the morning, too.”

Lily curtsied which was accepted by the nod of her mother’s head.

“It’s no problem, Mum,” Lily said, before drawing a breath. “However, I am confused as to why or the nature of the meeting.”

Petunia scoffed from the off-white sofa to their mother’s left. Vernon sat next to her, looking as blank as he normally did.

“Have a seat, Lily,” Mum said, gesturing to the sofa facing the other one that her father sat on.

The division couldn’t be clearer. Petunia, Vernon, and Mum on one side, and Lily and Father on the other. This is how all these meetings went. Father on Lily’s side and the rest against her. She sat at the edge of the sofa, keeping her back straight and her face neutral as she crossed her ankles and folded her hands into her lap, Petunia in a similar stance with her black and white polka-dot coat dress.

The Queen was impeccably dressed in a carefully curated outfit of a dress and tweed jacket with a fancy broach over her heart, not a strand of her greying blonde hair misplaced in the short hairstyle she had worn since Lily was a pre-teen. Petunia looked just like her, the long neck, stick-thin frame, and a sneer that could curdle fresh milk. Lily had always favoured her father, with the red hair and slightly stockier, or in Lily’s case: curvier, build. If you looked closely enough, you could see the similarities between the two of them, but Lily hoped no one ever did.

“Have you by chance seen the morning papers?” Lily’s mum asked, her voice cool.

“I got a glance at them this morning,” Lily replied, her tone matching her mum’s.

“So you must have seen why we called this meeting, then?”

Lily’s fist clenched in her lap.

“I saw that the Daily Mail had posted a photo taken of me and my bodyguard with preposterous rumours.”

Petunia cleared her throat, seeking permission to speak from their mother. Mum nodded in her direction. Petunia smiled at Lily like the Chesire cat, wide and menacing.

“The rumours may be preposterous, as you say. However, it still shows a lack of conduct on your part,” Petunia said. “I’d never engage my protection detail in such a way.”

She looked to Vernon, who nodded his support, though Lily doubted he even knew what Petunia said.

Lily took a deep breath, telling herself that she was not going to get emotional. Petunia loved to get Lily riled up and today, she was not going to give her the satisfaction. Before Lily could reply, her father cleared his throat.

“I’m very personable with my staff members,” Father said, his tone stern. “I think this is just rubbish from the media.”

Petunia bit the inside of her cheek and somewhere in the room, a clock ticked twice before she spoke again.

“Maybe if this had been a one-time incident,” Petunia pointed out. “But that is not the case.”

Lily had to hold her breath in for a second to hold back the venom she wanted to spew at her sister.

Scandals and the Royal family were no strangers and all of the members of Lily’s family had had their names dragged through the mud on a semi-frequent basis. Normally, it was small ones, like this one with James and Lily. Other times, it put the monarchy in jeopardy.

Their parents’ marriage had been a huge scandal. The then Princess of Wales, Violet had been engaged to a Prince of Denmark and left him a month before the wedding to be with Prince Consort Stuart. Their father had a tendency to piss off foreign dignitaries.

Petunia was known for being a brat and rude to almost everyone. The Daily Mail had once said “the guarantee of Princess Petunia attending an event is a good way to lose half of the expected attendance.” Her engagement to Vernon had dug up terrible things he had said in the past.

Not to mention members of the past with their history of racism, colonialism, imperialism, genocide, and thievery.

“What other previous incidents are you referring to, Petunia?” Lily asked, her tone sharp. The edges of Petunia’s mouth curved up, indicating that Petunia knew she was riling Lily up, a reminder she needed to keep her temper down.

“From just this year,” Petunia began, staring Lily down. “We have had numerous meetings about the attention you have brought upon this family, especially with all that nasty business that happened in September.”

“Nasty business?” The words flew out Lily’s mouth before she could hold them back. “You mean my attempted kidnapping?”

Petunia scoffed. “Attempted kidnapping? That’s a generous term for a spur of the moment plan.”

“How can you say that, Petunia?” Lily’s temper flaring. “A member of our staff was killed.”

“All I’m saying is that you’re making it out to be a bigger deal than it was.”

Lily stood up out of her seat, long gone was the calm facade Lily had been holding onto by a thread. Now there was anger and a sisterly urge to press all of Petunia’s buttons at once.

“Oh, is that because it wasn’t you?” The words tumbling out of her mouth. “You’re the most important sister, aren’t you? How dare they not find you important enough to kill your driver and point a gun on you.”

Petunia’s smugness was gone as she also got to her feet, taking a few purposeful steps toward Lily.

“Oh, please,” Petunia spat. “I don’t need the attention like you so clearly do!”

“That’s rich coming for you. I can clearly remember a 13-year-old Petunia throwing herself down on the rug, begging Mum to dye my hair because a paper said it was pretty.”

The thing that Petunia never seemed to learn is that every time she riled Lily up, Lily would do the same back. Her nostrils flared and Petunia pointed a shaky finger at Lily.

“You are the most insolent girl that has ever walked these halls,” Petunia yelled. “The British people should be thanking me that I’ll be Queen one day and not you.”

“Most of them wouldn’t choose to be in the room with you, given the opportunity.”

Petunia raised her hand, ready to slap Lily like they did when they were teenagers, but Lily’s father yanked Lily back.

“That is enough!” Their father yelled, putting himself between them., “You are grown adults!”

“Some of us are,” Petunia spat, earning another harsh word from their father.

“Sit down, the both of you,” Mum said, her nostrils flaring much in the same way that Petunia’s had. Lily sat back down, looking at the ground while feeling the heat of Petunia’s glare on her as she took her seat next to Vernon. Lily’s father patted Lily’s knee in what she was sure was meant to be comforting, but she found patronising instead.

“If you girls want to act like children,” Mum said, her face stern. “Then you will be treated as such. You’re both grounded until the holidays.”

Petunia let out a squawk of shock, while Lily bit the inside of her cheek, not looking at their mother.

“I’m not spending weeks in Wales,” The Princess of Wales spat out. Their mother levelled her a glare.

“You will go to Llwynywermod while Lily goes to Anmer Hall,” The Queen noted with finality. “You are dismissed until we meet at Balmoral.”

Lily had protests on the tip of her tongue. She needed to be in London for her charity, she had plans with her friends before the holidays. But she held them back as Petunia got up in a huff and exited the room while cursing under her breath, Vernon following dutifully behind her.

Lily got up and bowed to her mother and father, still not looking at them. She turned to exit the room but her mother cleared her throat.

“And Lily, do be more careful in your interactions with your guard going forward,” she warned. “He was not let go or reassigned because Alastor is impressed with his performance, but if this becomes a problem, we will get you a new guard.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lily said, her heart stuttering in her chest.

As she stepped out into the corridor, hearing Petunia’s distant yells echo down the hall, her eyes found James and Minerva, standing in the back. She took a deep breath, and walked around the palace staff until she was in front of him.

“Verdict?” Minerva asked.

“Anmer Hall until Christmas,” Lily replied. Minerva nodded, taking the black tablet out from underneath her arm, typing away before Lily could even think.

“So, am I fired for being a heartthrob?” James asked. His face betrayed his tone of nonchalance, his eyes focused on her with worry and his lips in a frown.

Lily shook her head, feeling the same relief that passed over James’s face.

They started heading back to her apartment, all of them needed to pack for their journey north when James lightly elbowed her.

“You’re just going to have to learn to resist my charm, my liege,” he said, a playful smile on his face.

The Queen’s words rang through her mind, be more careful with your interactions, but Lily couldn’t help the banter that fell from her lips.

“I’d say it was you who looked more charmed in that photo,” Lily teased.

#jily #jily fic #jily fanfic #James Potter/Lily Evans #james x lily #James Potter #Lily Evans #Lily Evans Potter #marauders era #royalty au #hp #harry potter fanfic #dancing with our hands tied

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kell-be-belle · 4 years ago

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A Moment of Your Time

@sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo

Prompt: Vanilla/Missionary

Relationship: Geralt/Jaskier

Rating: Mature

Content Warnings: None

Summary: While traveling on the Path, certain needs tend to fall to the wayside. When Jaskier and Geralt finally work up the courage to ask for some alone time, things don't go exactly as one would expect, but needs are met all the same.

Ao3

The fact that Ciri was looking up at them with those wide, innocuous eyes was what really made Geralt feel as though he were trapped in some kind of waking a nightmare. He had attempted to dissuade Jaskier; assure him that this was wholly necessary and that the two of them could contain themselves until they arrived at Kaer Morhen. Initially, they had agreed upon the matter, but with their destination still off by weeks of hard travel, the resolve wore thinner with each passing day. No, Jaskier had insisted, this was something that had to be done. With the distraction of their situation effectively satiated, they would be better equipped to see themselves safely home for the winter. It was a logic that was difficult to argue with and Geralt was hard pressed to agree, but that did not make the situation any less… mortifying.

“Ciri,” Jaskier began, clearing his throat into the curved shape of his fist. “Geralt and I have been doing some talking and there is, uh… there is something that the two of us must, uh… m-must do. Well, I suppose we don't well and truly have to, I mean we are capable of self restraint, b-but it would honestly be a great relief to us both.”

Geralt could not believe this was happening. He could not believe that he was allowing himself to sit complacently by and watch it all unfold. Blushing was not something Geralt was physically capable of doing, but if it were he was sure his face would be as alarmingly red as the wild beet stew they had eaten for dinner last night. Ciri looked up at them with those doe-like eyes, her head quizzically tilted to one side. The very picture of innocence.

Sweet Melitile, they were really doing it.

Jaskier continued, his hands fluttering restlessly about him like a pair of escaped birds, “You see, Ciri, when, uh… when adults are in love they need, err- oh, how do I…. Adults who are in love need time. Alone. Yes, time alone. To reaffirm to each other that they love each other. And while Geralt and I love each other most ardently, it has been, um… well, quite some time since we’ve reminded each other in this particular fashion. Three weeks and two days, but who’s counting.” The bark of his laughter bordered on hysterical.

If the Earth could have opened wide and swallowed him whole, Geralt desperately wished it would at that moment. He was not opposed to spontaneous combustion, either. Honestly, anything so that he didn’t have to witness the way Ciri furrowed her pale brows. Watch the way her gaze flickered between the pair of them.

“Are… are you guys asking me to give you alone time so you can… have sex?”

Geralt immediately answered with a harsh ‘no’ promptly at the same moment that Jaskier answered with a resigned ‘yes’. Geralt whirled on Jaskier, astounded that he would admit such a thing to a young girl so freely.

“What?” He snapped upon seeing Geralt’s scandalized expression. “She clearly knows what she’s talking about and I am not going to disrespect her by pretending she doesn’t…. So, in answer to your question Ciri, yes. Geralt and I are asking to have some alone time so that we may have sex.”

Geralt had wished for his spontaneous demise before, but he now called upon every demon, deity, and flea-bitten magic goat to make it so.

For several moments, Ciri looked silently between them, the corners of her mouth drawn back in a display of disgust. Just when Geralt thought the shame would eat him alive, she grumbled, “Gross.” and planted her palms into the dirt beneath her, pushing herself to her feet. “You two are almost as bad as Grandmother and Eist.”

Geralt and Jaskier watched aimlessly as she bustled about their little camp and began to gather provisions. She loaded her satchel with half a loaf of bread and some hard cheese. She then proceeded to rummage through Geralt’s pack and procure his battered copy of the bestiary as well as some parchment and a quill from Jaskier’s bag. Geralt could hear Jaskier swallow thickly as he noticed it was his most favorite quill clutched in her little fist, but he dared not to say a word.

After she had finished her raid, Ciri whirled back on the two of them with a look of resigned determination, “I am going to be down by the stream. I will be back in exactly one hour. If I come back and find any,” She swallowed as if resisting the urge to gag. “Evidence then I swear I will leave you both here.” She hefted the satchel over her shoulder and turned in the direction of the aforementioned stream. “And no noise! I want to hear nothing more than the rustle of leaves and birdsong!”

Bewildered by the smoothness at which their request was granted, Geralt and Jaskier stared aimlessly at the empty space Ciri had occupied for several moments. Jaskier at last broke the silence with a breathless affirmation, “That worked.” He huffed a little laugh and pushed a hand through his hair, “I can’t believe that actually worked.”

Geralt is still so dumbfounded by the success of the exchange that he is caught off guard as the front of his tunic is snatched in the remarkably strong grasp of Jaskier’s slender hands. Geralt is entirely pliant, swept helplessly away in the current of Jaskier’s movements. One moment he is being shoved bodily towards the patch of flattened earth where their bedrolls lay in their customary fashion of side by side. The next, he is blinking up in the pale patches of sky that peek between the thinning canopy of the trees surrounding them. His hips are pinned into the straw of the mattress by the bracket of Jaskier’s muscular thighs.

Jaskier brings their mouths together in a fervent clash, all clacking teeth and pressing tongues. It knocks the breath from Geralt and leaves him gasping into Jaskier’s mouth. There are stars bursting in the darkness behind his eyelids by the time Jaskier releases him.

“Melitele’s sweet, merciful tits,” Jaskier groans as he withdraws, swiping a tongue along the freshly swollen curve of his bottom lip. “I needed this so badly.” He rolls his hips gingerly against Geralt’s and he can already feel the hard curve of his cock pressing against the inner seam of his trousers. The roguish grin that splits across his mouth is positively devastating. “See how much I’ve been in want of you, darling? You’ve got me half hard already just on the sweet taste of your mouth.” His lithe musician’s fingers are already engaged in a heated battle with the fastenings of Geralt’s tunic. “How long has it been, my love? Weeks, months, centuries?”

Geralt hisses as his flushed skin is exposed to the chilled forest air, “As I recall, it’s been three weeks and two days.”

Jaskier leans over him and nips vindictively in the hollow beneath Geralt’s ear knowing full well that it would drive him mad with wanting. “Now, now don’t be a smartass. Three weeks, three months, three years, my point is it has been far too long. I’ve nearly forgotten what it feels like to get railed by your massive dick and I am in desperate need of a thorough reminder.”

Geralt chuckles, “There is still a lot of walking left to do. Are you sure that’s what you want?”

Jaskier growled and nipped again at the sensitive spot. Their lack of contact in recent weeks had left Geralt feeling raw and overly sensitive like an exposed nerve. A keen swelled in the back of his throat and he trapped it behind the clench of his teeth. “I will be bitching the rest of the way to Kaer Morhen no matter what and I think we would both rather it be from a thorough dicking than dissatisfaction.”

Arousal spiked inside Geralt with a dizzying ferocity; hitting him like a second glass of wine swallowed down too quickly. The edges of him feel blurred, like his thoughts and his movements have fallen out of sync. He can feel himself reacting, feel the tightening in his trousers as his cock swells. His mind is struggling to catch up, delayed by the processing of all the new stimuli. The damp smell of the earth beneath him, the weight of Jaskier atop him, the sting of the fresh bite below his ear and the hot breath panting against the shell. All of it buzzes in his skull like a hive of disturbed bees and he struggles not to be overwhelmed.

Geralt’s heart thumps hard in his chest, teetering precariously on the line between thrilling and maddening.

Jaskier grinds his hips down in a sinuous roll. The friction created by his weight and the drag of their thick winter clothing sets Geralt alight. Heat simmers under his skin like water just on the edge of boiling. Instinctively, his body arches up into the pressure, seeking more of that delicious friction. “An hour is plenty of time.” Jaskier breathes against his jaw. Geralt can feel the impish curve of his grin. “With your stamina, you could fuck me at least twice. Three times if we’re efficient about it.”

While the thought of fucking Jaskier senseless still registers somewhere in Geralt’s mind as something he very much wants to do, it is scattered in the throng of other things. Honestly, Geralt hadn’t expected any of this was going to work. He had been fully prepared to spend the evening as he had been, with a frustrating ache in his balls. It was not something he was unused to. Before Jaskier, he went without more often than not. Waking up with Jaskier’s morning wood prodding into his backside admittedly made things slightly more difficult, but Geralt would ultimately survive. The unexpected shift in plans partnered with Jaskier’s enthusiasm, while welcome, made him feel overwhelmed.

There was heat in stomach and coursing through his veins and the drag of his trousers on his cock, the bracket of Jaskier’s hips caging him in. The scent of the earth and the musk of arousal and Jaskier’s sweet almond oil. Heat. Scent. Birds fluttering through the trees. Heat. Jaskier. The sting of the bite in the hollow of his ear. Heat.

Geralt was so disoriented by the maelstrom of his own thoughts that he hadn’t registered the sound of his name. Jaskier had said it three times before it reached him through the din and he blinked up at the bard with wild, blown out eyes. Jaskier looked down at him worriedly, melding the curve of his palm against Geralt’s jaw. It cupped his face flawlessly as if that were the only purpose it was ever meant to serve. “Is something the matter? You have this look on your face.”

Maybe it was because he was used to compromising or perhaps it was because Jaskier looked so pretty with his flushed cheeks and mused hair, but Geralt clenched his jaw and shook his head. “N-no, nothing.” Which was about as wholly unconvincing as he could be. It didn’t take Jaskier’s shrewdness to know something was amiss.

“It’s not nothing. You know better by now, dear heart. Your feelings are important to me.” The tempered scrape of Jaskier’s calloused thumb against his cheek mollified Geralt like a child soothed by a lullaby. It quieted the din of his thoughts to the point that he could hear over them once more.

With gentle pressure Jaskier tipped Geralt’s face, prompting him to meet his gaze, “Talk to me.”

Faced with the boundless blue of Jaskier’s eyes Geralt felt his resolve promptly melt away like the last of winter’s frost with the first ray of spring sunshine. Yes, he did know better. In all the time they had known one another, Jaskier had never once made Geralt feel as though he were invalid; that his feelings were anything other than the most precious of treasures.

Geralt worked his jaw, swiped a tongue across his kiss swollen lips as he took a moment to form words, “Sorry, it… it was just a bit much all at once.”

Jaskier clucked his tongue. Brushed a loose strand of white hair behind Geralt’s ear. “Oh, darling, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to overwhelm you.” He pressed a chaste kiss to Geralt’s forehead and the soft huff of his breath in his hair makes Geralt’s stomach flutter as if filled with butterflies. “We don’t have to do anything if you’re not feeling up to it. Despite my lamenting, I won’t actually die without sex for a couple more weeks. Or ever if that was what you wanted.”

Geralt chuckled, “No, definitely not that.” And Jaskier chuckled, too. “It’s not that I don’t want to. Believe me, I’m just as frustrated as you, it’s just…” He trailed off and Jaskier waited with the patience of a saint. Caressing Geralt’s cheek and pressing tender, encouraging kisses into his hair. “I just… I know we don’t have much time, but I want to try and take it slow. Enjoy it. I… I’ve missed you.”

The fondness in Jaskier’s gaze made a warmth pool in Geralt’s chest; filled him with an effervescence like a goblet brimming with honeyed mead. “And I you.” He leans down to take Geralt’s lips once more. It is just as passionate, just as wanting, but he takes his time to savor it. He sucks Geralt’s tongue, traces the edges of his teeth. The fringe of his ridiculous bangs tickle pleasantly against Geralt’s forehead like the brush of a feather.

When Jaskier pulls away once more, the light from the sun shines around him in a halo and Geralt thinks him something dazzling and otherworldly. “It is as I said, isn’t it? Sex is just another way to show the person you love just how much you love them. And I love you, Geralt. Truly,” He punctuates with a kiss to the Geralt’s forehead, “wholly,” then one to the apple of each cheek, “unconditionally.” and at last his lips. An hour wasn’t much time, but they would be sure to make the most of it.

#the witcher #geralt x jaskier #Geraskier #fluff #just a little bit of dirty talk #communication is the key to any good relationship #geralt of rivia is so very soft #vanilla #fanfiction #prompt fill #sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo #no beta read

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busterkeatonfanfic · 4 years ago

Photo

Chapter 2

Nelly couldn’t have been happier as she rode across the I-Street bridge on her bicycle the morning of the 23rd, bathed in the orange glow of the early morning light with a cool breeze running through her hair. She arrived on set at a quarter to seven, fifteen minutes ahead of the start of her shift, but better early than late. She left her bicycle in the lot with the cars and walked down to River Junction.

The city was more ghostly than it had been the previous day. There were no extras yet, just crew smoking cigarettes and laughing among each other. She realized she was almost the only girl in sight. A tall blonde man leaning against one of the facades winked at her as she passed by and she smiled back.

It turned out to be a hectic, busy morning. Workmen, directed by Bert, carried out various pieces of furniture, including several full-sized barber’s chairs, and she jotted it all down in her ledger and ran back and forth fetching smaller props. By the time eleven o’clock rolled around, she was starved. She took lunch in the canteen at one of the long tables amidst the female extras that the company had brought with them and who’d introduced themselves yesterday and waved her over to sit with them. Today she said her greetings and sat back to listen to their gossip over some cold chicken and peaches. She expected to hear all about the picture, but mostly the girls just talked about the sundry men they were involved with or wanted to be involved with. Buster was a hot topic. Nelly was shocked to hear some of the girls discussing how to seduce him.

“Seduce?” one said, laughing. “All you have to do is walk into his dressing room and offer yourself.”

The remark sent the other women flying into giggles. “That’s right,” another said, with a wink. There was another peal of laughter, so loud that several men at the other tables turned to look at them. Nelly grinned so she wouldn’t stick out, but inside she was horrified. She wasn’t an innocent, that wasn’t it. She’d had her fair share of dalliances with steady boyfriends, no big deal. She supposed it was the casual way the women talked about it, as if he weren’t a married father. She’d heard plenty of rumors about Hollywood of course, most of them sordid, but somehow she’d never stopped to consider that Buster Keaton, with his elegant wife and beautiful young sons, might be in their center. No one who was rational could really believe that he was the shy, hesitant lover he appeared to be on screen, and yet she guessed she’d bought into fiction without fully realizing it.

She still hadn’t seen him in the flesh yet; she had to mind the shop while Bert supervised the furnishing of sets and seldom left it except to relieve herself or take lunch. By the time she’d left the prop shop the past three days, the star of the picture had been long gone. She was curious to see him, but in no hurry. There were still at least three more weeks of filming and she had more than enough to keep her happy and interested. Already she loved sitting at her workbench going over the books while the radio played quietly nearby or taking inventory at the end of the day, drinking in the marvelous array of props.

Anyway, to speak of Buster as a conquest felt wrong. She finished her cold chicken and excused herself. She ran into Bert halfway back to the prop house. He was carrying a large floor lamp and kept bumping the shade into the side of his head as he walked. “Could you find Buster and ask him where he wants those barber’s chairs? We’re setting up right now and God forbid I ask Reisner over him.”

“Buster?” she said, stomach somersaulting.

“Yes, Buster.” The corner of his mouth twitched and he shook his head slightly as if he couldn’t believe her astonishment. “If you’re going to be in pictures, you’d better get over the starstruck thing quick. It’s all business here.”

She blushed. “Where is he?”

“Dressing room I imagine. Make it quick, filming starts in thirty.”

She didn’t actually know where the dressing rooms were, but spied the blonde man who’d winked at her earlier heading toward the prop shop as she headed away. “Excuse me. Can you point me to the dressing rooms?” she said. For one instant, she considered asking him to go ask Buster about the chairs for her, but realized how it might look to Bert if he found out she couldn’t take directions. Now that she had this job, nothing was going to get in the way of it.

The man smiled and his eyes crinkled at the corners. They were striking and blue. She realized that he was very good-looking up close. “What do you want to know that for?” he said teasingly.

“I’ve got to ask Buster about some barber’s chairs. Bert told me to.” She felt herself go red under his gaze.

“Just off in that direction. See that building on the left there? They’re in there.”

She thanked him and turned to go.

“Hey,” he called after her. “What’s your name?”

“Nelly,” she said.

“Nelly, I’m Tommy.”

“Okay Tommy,” she said, smiling. “Thank you. It was nice meeting you.”

“See you around,” he said with a wink.

The building that housed the dressing rooms was fairly empty, but she did find a man who could tell her which dressing room was Buster’s. It was larger than the others and set at a remove from them. Block letters on the door read simply ‘Keaton.’ With her heart in her throat, she tapped on the door.

“Come in,” said a voice.

She was momentarily stunned as she put her hand on the doorknob. The Great Frozen Face spoke! His voice was of middling deepness with a kind of East Coast edge to it. He sounded nothing so much as completely ordinary.

He was alone when she entered the room, sitting at a small table with a drink next to him and a notepad open in front of him. He’d been writing when she interrupted.

The sight of him tied her tongue. To start with, she didn’t expect him to be in costume. He was wearing the most absurd outfit she’d ever seen in her life, and she’d been to the circus almost more times than she could count. He had on a loud, diamond-checkered jumper vest, a striped velvet jacket, a polka-dot bow tie, and plus fours so oversized they almost entirely concealed his shoes. Topping off the outfit was a fake moustache glued under his nose, following the curve of his upper lip. His face was made up in greasepaint and powder, his lips painted scarlet and eyes lined in kohl. The only word for what she felt was awestruck.

“Can I help you?” he said, looking at her. He seemed oblivious to the way he looked.

She swallowed, but her knees felt weak and she couldn’t remember what she’d come into his dressing room for. Some question Bert had wanted her to ask. What was it? All she could seem to think was that she, a little old nobody from Evanston, was meeting Buster Keaton, a movie star. How many times had she seen him and films and here he was, right here, a real-life person? Her mind staggered with the enormity of it.

“Oh, I see,” he said, after the silence had dragged on for a few moments. He straightened up and put his palms on his thighs. “You want to be in pictures and you’re asking me for a break, but I’ve made you tongue-tied.” He nodded, as if she’d answered the question instead of him. “Sure, that’s what it is.”

She felt faint. The pounding of her heart in her own ears almost crowded out his words. Was it that easy? Was getting a break really this easy? It wasn’t why she had come here, but if he was offering …

She couldn’t seem to summon any words.

“Look, I’ll put it straight to you,” said Buster, sounding resigned.

She couldn’t get used to his voice.

“You’re too tall,” he said. “You need to get rid of about twenty pounds, give or take. And you’ll want to do something about your bosom. It’s too big. It’s not in fashion.”

There was a roar in her ears as she struggled to process what she had just heard. She felt as though he’d just poured a bucket of ice water down the back of her dress.

He must have noticed what the expression on her face meant, because his mouth quirked sympathetically. “I’m not trying to be unkind, I think it’s just better you hear it now so you know what you’re up against. Girls are a dime a dozen in this biz and they’re expected to have a certain look, you know?”

She had never felt so humiliated in her whole life. Of course she did want to be in pictures, but that wasn’t why she’d come here. Not at all. He was wrong. If only she could speak, maybe she could sort out the misunderstanding.

“That’s not why I’m here,” she finally said, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

“Oh?” he cocked his head, appearing unaware that he’d just made a fool out of her. Realization appeared to dawn and his features relaxed a little. “Oh. If it’s that, it’s got to be quick. And I can’t undress all of the way, I’m supposed to be on set in twenty.” His hands went to his belt.

To say she was mortified was a deep understatement. She wished she’d never bumped into Bert and been told to come here. She shook her head. All she could choke out before she fled was, “I’ve got to go.”

She left the building in a daze, hands shaking. He thought she was propositioning him!

She managed to make it back to the prop house without swooning. When she was safely back at the workbench, it came to her. The stupid barber’s chairs, that’s what it was all about. Before she had time to properly compose herself, Bert walked out of the next room.

“Nelly, you’re white as a sheet. Something the matter?” he said.

She shook her head quickly. As far as she was concerned, her humiliating encounter with Buster would go to the grave with her. “I don’t think my lunch agreed with me,” she said.

“Well what did Buster say about the chairs?”

“He said—” Her mind went back to the way he’d begun unbuckling his pants and she couldn’t find a lie to patch the gap in her words fast enough.

“You did find him, right?”

She nodded, unable to meet Bert’s eyes.

“Ah,” Bert said, patting her shoulder. “Starstruck, right? That’s okay, happens to a lot of first-timers. I should have tried to introduce you before this.”

There was another man making assumptions about her actions, but this time she welcomed it. She nodded.

“Don’t worry about it. It probably won’t take us too long to set the chairs up. They’re heavy suckers, though.”

He disappeared, leaving her alone. Her thoughts went back to lunch in the canteen. All you have to do is walk into his dressing room. Maybe she was more of an innocent than she’d thought, because not once between that overheard conversation and standing in front of Buster had she considered what it meant to show up all by herself in his dressing room. In hindsight, her mistake was obvious. She cursed herself.

It was impossible to keep her mind on the books the rest of the day. Like a ghastly film, the scene in the dressing room played through her mind on a loop. The previous three days, she would have worked long into the night if Bert had let her. This time, when six o’clock rolled around she couldn’t get off the set fast enough. She was far from happy anymore as she bicycled back to 22nd street across the I-Street bridge. (Image: Evelyn Nesbit.)

#Buster Keaton #Silent Film #Golden Age Hollywood #Fan Fiction #Fan Fic #RPF #Actor RPF #Real Person Fiction

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ohtheseboysilove · 6 years ago

Text

Out of luck. [ Ben Hardy x F!Reader]

Words : 6, 200 K +

Warnings : fluff, bit of angst

Summary : You have the most wonderful first date with Ben, wishing nothing more than seeing him again. The only problem is he never text you again after promised to.

Note : A little fluffy break in all these angsty writing on my tumblr ;))) Hope u like my cutie pies !!

🌼Requests are open🌼☀ Masterlist ☀

The butterflies in your belly were flapping there wings excitedly, bumping around each other due to your melting state. You were completely melting. That was the word. Ben was making you literally melt. He was so sweet, your heart beating so heavily against your chest, everything about him was practically perfect. Handsome, funny, smart and definitively a gentleman. It had been so long since a boy made a such good impression right away, it was exciting. And obviously a bit scary. You had the bad habit to get attached way too quickly before being brutally bring back to the reality. You really hoped this time this guy was serious because you did like him, a lot.

“Let me get that” The beautiful british immediately grabbed the bill from the waitress’s hands, smiling kindly at her.

“No, Ben, we can do half-half” You protested as you took your wallet from your hand bag but he was quicker, slamming notes on the table.

“My treat, love. Don’t fight me on this, I can be very stubborn” He winked at you and stood up as you did the same, he even helped you put your coat on !

You both exited the restaurant, sharing nervous but flustered glances to each other. It was the famous moment did he like the date like I did ? Or was he just polite ?

“Thanks for paying tonight” You smiled softly as you slowly walked on the pavement, hands bumping against each other, the two of you too timid to do the first step. “But I pay the next time” You blurbed out without thinking.

When a grinned broke on his face, your eyes widened as you processed your words, chewing nervously your bottom lip.

“So you want us to have a second date ?” His dimples were popping as he smiled, rather amused by your sudden red cheeks.

“Hum, I– I mean...if you want to–“ You ate half of your words, feeling incredibly dumb under his deep green eyes. “But...it’s alright– we don’t have to...hum see each other again...if you don’t want” You swallowed thickly when you managed to finally spit your answer, biting your nails as you were shitting yourself.

“I’m just teasing love. Of course I want to see you again” The blond stopped walking and grabbed your hand, squeezed it gently. His bright gaze looking sweetly at you. “I spent a really really good evening. I think you’re amazing. And pretty. Very pretty if I may had” Your heart fluttered strongly, drowning in these adorable compliments. He definitely know how to charm a lady.

“Oh, thank you Ben, you’re...really pretty too. I mean handsome!” You cleared your throat under the embarrassment you was creeping on you. How could be always so awkward ? “You’re really handsome too” You added and felt yourself blushed harder at Ben’s staring.

“You’re so bloody adorable” The blond almost giggled, shaking lightly his head. “Can I walk you home ? Don’t want to leave you right now” The british murmured, it was now his turn to have little patches of pink on his cheeks.

“I would love that” You swallowed back a girly giggle when he interlaced his fingers with yours, a wide smile painting on your features. God, you were already crushing too hard on this man.

The walk back to your flat was too short for your taste, a little fifteen minutes filled with laugh, awkward anecdotes and flirty glances. It was around eleven, the night had already coated London’s streets and you felt like these romantic, cheesy movies when you and Ben stopped at the stairs of you flat, looking nervously at each other.

Kiss me! Kiss me! Kiss me! Your mind was screaming silently to Ben, you were too shy to do it first. He was so perfect and you were so...you, it was a bit hard to believe he was really into you. The british probably read in your eyes how much you were hoping he would kiss you or maybe it was the way your gaze kept flicking between his lips to his eyes. It wasn’t your fault, there were incredibly inviting, plump and well-shaped with a light shade of pink. You were sure he was a good kisser, an amazing one, this was–

“Are you with me, love ?” You blinked confusedly at he chuckled gently, biting his bottom lip.

“Sorry I zone out for a second” You confessed with a crimson face. What a creep.

“What were you thinking about ?” Ben asked as he tilted his head to the right side, his thumb rubbing softly on the skin of your hand. His touch was smooth and warm. God you hoped he would kiss you.

“Hum, I– I was thinking about Frankie!” You panicked and blurbed the first thing which came in your mind, slapping mentally yourself.

“You were thinking about my dog ?” He repeated with an arched eyebrow, a confused smile hanging on his pretty face.

“Yeah, I mean she was so cute on the pictures you show me, I can’t wait to meet her” You giggled awkwardly, tucking hairs behind your ears and internally screaming idiot idiot idiot! “God, I’m sorry, I sound so weird! I...so sorry. I don’t know why I said that, I panicked” You added in a flustered tone, he was making too nervous for your own good.

At your total surprise, Ben didn’t looked strangely at you or awkwardly but instead he laughed, pushing you against his chest, his head falling on yours.

“God (Y/N), I swear you need to stop being so bloody cute” You could feel his chest vibrating with chuckles, your hands still interlocked. “You’re too adorable” He let go of your hands and before you could be disappointed from the loss of contact, his large palm went cradling your burning cheeks, making you shivered at the warm and intimate touch. “Bloody adorable. And so pretty. And I really want to kiss you right now, if it’s okay with you” The british whispered the last sentence as you eyes fluttered at the tenderness of the moment. Blood was rushing at your temples and heart beating so quickly.

“Kiss me please” You practically whined, feeling totally overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze. And these perfect lips teasing you.

The blond chuckled at your eagerness before brushing so softly his mouth over that you barely felt it. Bloody cute he murmured against you and dived back on your lips, and this time he gave a real kiss and you definitively felt like in a movie. If it was starting to rain in next minute, you would certainly pinched yourself to be sure you weren’t dreaming.

And there you were, melting again. Melting again his soft, delicious lips perfectly fitting with yours, kissing you over and over again. Your hands naturally found his waist as his own were still holding delicately your face. He stopped when you were both panting, eyes glistering with eagerness and happiness, your heart was bursting with love right now. Ben didn’t say anything and slid his fingers on your hips before bringing your closer, his pillowed lips finding yours in an electrifying way. Your hands travelled on his back, gently rubbed on his broad shoulders before terminating there exploration on his neck, linking behind it. His hot tongue gently grazed on your lower lips, asking for permission and – permission immediately granted – it was an amazing kisser. Not to much tongue or saliva but just the right mix between a hot, deep kiss and still keeping his softness, not throwing a show in the middle of the street.

“Woah” You couldn’t contain yourself when you broke the kiss, taking a step back to have complete look over the blond. “Hum, that was amazing” You murmured with a lovestruck gaze, head a bit dizzy from the overwhelming feeling of joy flooding on you.

He ran a tongue on his lips and you repressed a moan at the sight, this was incredibly hot.

“Agreed. Absolutely amazing” He nodded, his hands tightening around your waist, both of you lost into your gazes. “You’re amazing” He bumped his nose with yours. “Bloody amazing. I can’t wait to see you again” He gently nipped at your bottom lip.

“Me too Ben” you whispered back, your heart feeling heavy at the thought of him going back to his place. You wanted to stay in his arms forever. And once again, if you were in a movie, it was the perfect timing to invite him over for a last drink. Which would end up – ninety percent of chance – with the romantic interest sleeping with the main character. But here the thing, that not something you were comfortable with, usually you needed to know the person better before being intimately with this person. The trust, it was essential for you and invited a man you only saw two times in your life wasn’t in your habit, not at all. But when you looked at him, his sweet smile waiting for you to say these few words, your heart was beating so quickly but not with nervousness...just excitement. You wanted it, so much. So you did it. You pronounced these six words the blond was dying to hear from your mouth. “Would...hum, would you like to come in ?” You blurbed out, wishing he wouldn’t turn you back.

But of course he didn’t. His face litted up right away and shook his head, eagerness rushing through his blood.

“God yes” You both giggled, pink covering your cheeks and gazes sparkling with fondness and something else, much more powerful. Lust. He wanted you, it was all over his eyes, pupils slightly dilated as his large hands were still on your hips, fingers pushing into your exposed flesh. You wanted him as equally.

The two glasses of red wine were long forgotten on the coffee table, both of you too busy with each other, exploring bodies with soft, yet hungry touches. Ben was buried between your bare legs, lips alternating between kisses and nibbling on your sensitive flesh as his two of his fingers were inside you, stretching your walls deliciously.

“Oh! Oh! My god!” You squeaked in a horrendous high-pitched voice when Ben’s fingers hit that spot, the one which made your toes curled and your belly twisted in pleasure. Then his pillowed lips found your clit, sucking and twirling his tongue on it and you were done. You came in a strangle scream, against the blond’s thirsty mouth, lapping every drop of your juice until you fell flat on your sofa, your sweaty chest – only covered with this so innocent little white bra – panting as you slowly emerged back from our high. “Shit Ben, was so good” You breathed loudly, a giddy smile floating on your radiant face.

“You taste absolutely delicious, darling. Just like I know you would” His lips were on yours, kissing lazily each other, hands sneaking on your bare arse, pitching it cheekily. “I want you so bad (Y/N), so badly” His raspy voice, coated with need, was murmuring against your mouth, his hips slowly thrusting against your bare center as his hard covered cock was teasing you.

“I want you too, Ben. Want you to feel you inside me” You replied with a moan at the delicious friction was making the knot coming back in your lower belly. “You’re so beautiful” Your nails were gently grazing on his bare chest, your eyes roaming every inch of his magnificent muscles before ending on his perfect features, without a doubt you favourite part to admire.

He chuckled softly at your words, hand rubbing the globe of your ass. “Did you see yourself, love ? You’re gorgeous, fucking hot. Look at these thigh and this pretty pussy” He pressed a simple kiss on it, making you shivered. “So sexy”

So sexy. Ben called you fucking hot and so sexy. The bubbles of pleasure in your lower body were popping as the words sunk into your mind. Not bloody cute or too adorable like he was calling you earlier, which you had love for sure. But being called cute as being half-naked could have been a bit insulting. Depressing ever.

“Do you have a condom ?” He winked playfully and brushing his mouth on your jaw before standing up, only wearing his – now way too tight blue navy underwear. A beautiful sight. He shook the precious square protection and his eyes fell on your ass when you started walking away, motioning him to follow you. Which he did. Eagerly.

Ben wrapped his arms around your back, hands barely grazing on the inside of your thighs and his plump, warm lips found your neck, kissing and biting on the flesh. You let your head fell on his shoulder, your ass pressing strongly against his crotch, his dick poking on your lower back. When you couldn’t take anymore of this teasing, you turned around and grabbed his hand, bringing him with you on your bed. He fell on you, careful to not crushing you and your eager fingers immediately tugged on his waistband, freeing his painfully hard cock. You absent-mindedly bit your lips at the sight, red and leaking. All of this, just for you. And because of you.

“You sure you want that ?” His voice was soft, his eyes searching in your pupils any hesitation. But he didn’t find any. Only an inch of nervousness. “Don’t need to be nervous with me, love” He kissed you, not hungrily like previously but with an adorable sweetness, trying to calm your nerves.

“I want you, Ben. I’m just...nervous because it’s the first time I do something like that and, yeah, it’s making me excited and anxious at the same time” You rambled, fingers tracing the broad muscles of his right shoulder.

“You...you’re a virgin ?” The blond asked with a surprised voice, his green eyes rounds and confused.

You furrowed your brows and thought about what you just said. And yes indeed, it was pretty confusing. You giggled awkwardly.

“Oh my god, no ! That’s not what I meant, I’m not a virgin. Not at all !” You exclaimed, shaking your head with burning cheeks. Then you blushed even more, fuck, now he was probably thinking you were some kind of cheap whore, throwing yourself at every men you saw. “Shit, I’m not saying I sleep with all the country either ! God, I’m so awkward, I’m sorry”

You were crimson, feeling utterly stupid and a real cockblocker this moment. You should have kept your mouth shut instead of ruining the mood with your clumsiness.

“Love, relax, alright ? Don’t need to apologise for anything” Ben chuckled gently. “Tell me what bothering you”

“Nothing, it’s just the first time I’m sleeping with someone on a first date” You confessed and felt like a poor little girl, making a fuss of nothing. “I know it’s not a big deal but I usually wait longer and so I feel a bit nervous, I don’t want to regret it. If you don’t call me back after or something” You mumbled and rambled, eyes looking everywhere except in Ben’s direction. You were so embarrassed.

“Hey, look at me” His finger grabbed your chin and you said as he did, feeling vulnerable under his intense gaze. The fact you were naked only added more shyness on you. “I’m not forcing you into anything. If you want us to wait, we will. I’m not gonna sleep with you then disappeared, I’m not this kind of guy. I’m honest, if I want a one-night-stand, I would have tell you. But I don’t. I want to see you again, doesn’t matter if we have sex or not tonight”

You nodded timidly. Where did you found such a perfect gentleman ? You thought it was an extinct species.

“I really, really want you Ben” You replied before snapping the condom from his hands. You tear the wrapping and checked with Ben if he was okay with that before you rolled down the condom on his hard length, earning delicious little grunts from the gesture.

“Fuck, (Y/N), you driving me crazy” Ben groaned when you put your legs opened, inviting him closer to you. He grabbed his dick and slowly rubbed the tip against your wet folds, your breathing increasing at the sweet torture.

The blond moved his hips and gradually entered into you, both of you cursing and moaning at the feeling. God, it felt so good.

The next moments were spent with hungry and eager touches, your fingers lost into his blond locks, legs wrapped tightly around his waist.

His thumb circling on your throbbing clit, making you saw starts.

His hips snapping against yours, slowly then quickly, fastening the pace at your pleading cries.

His delicious, pillowed lips kissing every inch of your exposed breasts, nibbling at your tits, tongue swirling around, making your back arched.

You walls involuntarily clenching around him when he hit the sweet spots he touched earlier with his fingers, giving you even more pleasure with his length into you this time.

Your bodies were interlaced together, both of you shivering, the heavy atmosphere smelling sex and sweat. A mixing you never thought you could enjoy that much.

There were grunts and moans escaping your throats. Whines, cries and whimpers were too, especially when you were right on the edge. Pleading and begging echoing through the bedroom as Ben worshipped every part of your body.

You kissed. So many times. Hotly and messily. Sloppily and deeply. Tongues brushing around each other until your out of breath. Love-bits left on his strong jaw before licking at the pretty bruise.

When you both came, you were panting but smiling dizzily, still recovering from the high you both reached. You didn’t regret it at all.

“I have to go” Ben whispered as he pressed a soft kiss on your forehead, smiling at your sleepy face.

“Call me hum ?” You replied with a grin as he winked at you and left the room, murmuring a I will.

He had to go back at his place at an indecent early hours in the morning, to prepare himself for an important meeting during the same day. You were a bit frustrated to see him left so soon but you would see him another day, hopefully this week.

You were eating lunch in an old pub with one of your closest friend Tina, eager to tell her about your date night with the beautiful British. Okay you maybe kept under silence the fact that you slept with him. You loved your friend to death but she was a bit pessimistic and you didn’t need her to freak out and made you doubt too.

“Oh I swear Tina, he is such a sweetheart! And he was so funny and easy-going ya know ? I feel like I know him since forever” You gushed with dreamy eyes, chewing at a piece of bread.

“Well someone seems really into this guy” She gave you a warning look, taking a mouthful of her fish and chips.

You rolled your eyes at her reaction. "I know what you’re thinking but I swear he’s a good guy” You smiled softly at the thought of the cute face of Ben. "I’m not doing the same mistake twice okay ? I know he likes me too”

You had the bad habit to get yourself attached to quickly, friendly and romantically speaking and often ended disappointed. But this time you were sure Ben wasn’t taking advantage of you, you were a nice girl but not stupid.

“I’m happy for you (Y/N) but I’m also worried, I don’t want to see you hurt again” Tina smiled gently and took a sip of her tap water as you nodded, appreciating her protective behaviour over you. She saw you crying over men too many times. “Did he text you yet ?”

“Nop. But he told me he have some busy days coming so it’s alright” You replied with a shrug. “He will text me soon”

But he didn’t. Your date had been on the Sunday night and now it was Wednesday evening and still nothing. You were angry and nervous. And hugely disappointed. You knew he would be busy at work but a simple text wasn’t too much to ask.

You were mopping around in your flat, wondering if you should text him first. You did really like him.

“Why do you think Flynn ? Should I text him ?” Your black cat opened an eyes at the sound of his name — napping on the dinner table rather than in his bed — and let out of yawn before buried back his head under his paws, ignoring you royally. “Yeah you’re right. Let’s give him a last shot”

You pulled off your phone and searched for his contact name. Your fingers nervously drumming on the sofa, thinking about what you would say. You didn’t want to so sound to eager or bitter about the fact that he had been ghosting you for the past three days. But you didn’t want him to think you weren’t interested at all. You needed the perfect mix between that. You typed and deleted about twenty times before sending your text, heart beating awfully quickly about your ribs cage.

(Y/N) : Hey Ben, hope everything is okay at works. I was wondering if you were free Friday night for a drink ?

You were rather proud of your — casual but polite — text. Now you just needed to wait for his answer.

Which never came. You were livid. It was Friday night and you were at your place, cursing about Ben to your poor cat. You felt so fucking naive, he fucked you and now he was ignoring you, he already had what he wanted. How typical coming from a man. You were supposed to go out with your friends tonight, in your usual and favourite pub but that where you had your date with Ben…the thought of maybe seeing him chatting other girls made your stomach churned. What a fool you had been, once again.

“Nah, sorry I’m feeling a bit sick. Maybe next weekend ?” You lied to your friend on the phone and cancelled every plans for the weekend. You were just feeling dumb and incredibly naive. Not in a mood to go out.

On Wednesday lunch, you were meeting with Tina in the new salad bar. You joined her at her table and fell on the seat with a defeated face.

“You were right” You murmured, your eyes staring blankly at the menu. “Why I always go for the fuck boys and the assholes ?”

“He didn’t text you back ?” You shook your head and rested it in your head, elbow propped on the table. "What a wanker” She sighed and cursed under her breath.

“I was so sure this time Tina ! He was so nice and all” You grunted in your hands, cheeks reddening at the feeling of shame. Ben probably had a good laugh when you made him promise to call you back.

“I know hun, men are really in pretending. Everything to sleep with a girl they want to. They’re pathetic, selfish and stupid creature” You chuckled bitterly at her words.

“I…I slept with him after our date” You blurbed out, it was even worse to admit. You were that girl who childishly thought after sleeping with your date, he would really call you back.

“You what ?” Tina’s eyes were rounds and shocked. But she wasn’t judging you, she had a fair share to first-date-shag too. She was just really surprise because like you said to Ben, it wasn’t something you did, ever.

“Yeah, (Y/N) finally trust a man enough to fuck with him on the first night and he never called her back, I’m a joke” You sighed bitterly. "I hate men”

“Me too, hun, me too”

“That’s it (Y/N), you’re coming with me tonight” You were buried under your cover, the new season of Stranger Things playing on your laptop. “We’re going to our pub and if you see Ben, then you could tell him to go fuck himself” Tina threw the cover away, making you whined pathetically.

“I watching something, can’t go out” You contested with a pout.

The truth was, you were feeling a bit — a lot — insecure after Ben ghosting on you. The date went so well, the sex even better, great alchemy between the two of you, so why did he never called you back ? It made you feel awkward and ashamed, saying he liked you then dumbed you like a dirty sock. Naive little (Y/N).

“Come on, jump in the shower. You shouldn’t watch that show, these kids have a better love life than the both of us” You threw her a pillow and reluctantly walked to your bathroom.

You needed to get over it. Alright, a boy lied to you in order to have sex with you and you stupidly believed him, and what ? You weren’t the first to fall in the trap and certainly not the last one. You will go out for a drink with your friends and have fun. And Ben could go fuck himself.

You were wearing your pale pink dress, it was really nice to wear because of the thin garnishment and it was falling above the knees with simple shoulders straps. You felt cute, not hot or sexy but simply cute. And that was just what you wanted. Not an inch of flirting tonight, you were out with your girlfriends and were strongly decided to not speak to a word or gave a glance to any man inside this pub, they were all devilish. Okay, maybe an exception for the barman because you would definitely need alcohol tonight.

You entered the pub with your three other friends around six in the afternoon and it was already difficult to find a good spot. You managed to get a booth for the four of you and you immediately felt better to be outside. You already gave to much attention to Ben, mopping about him for way too long.

"I’m gonna order our drinks, girls ?” Stacy asked as she stood up, asking silently your orders.

Everyone answered beers expect you.

“Sex on the beach hum ? Feeling frisky tonight (Y/N) ?” She winked at you.

“Just need to relax and have some fun after an exhausting week of boring work” You replied, trying your best to sound casual. The last three weeks had been spent thinking about Ben and why he never called back but that was your ashamed little secret. Only Tina was aware of it.

You chatted for a good thirty minutes, sipping your cocktail and cackling at your friends’ stories before the need to pee was to urgent to just ignore it. After doing your business, you washed your hands and exited the bathroom, drying your hands on your dress. You stopped at the pub and ordered another cocktail, humming quietly at the song playing by the band.

“Hi (Y/N)” You turned your head quickly, feeling cheeks burning with anger. No fucking way. “Listen, I know what you’re thinking but–“

You didn’t let him finish and threw your drink at his face as soon the barman slid it in front of you. The blond gasped in surprise at the coldness of the drink then wiped away the alcohol from his eyes.

“Asshole” You spat before waving at the bar for another drink, doing your best to ignore the blond at your side.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry but I swear it’s not like its look like !” Ben grabbed some napkin some the counter and patted them on his soaking face and tee-shirt. “Let me explain, please !”

“You’re fucking funny. So you didn’t get in my pants and never called me after ? Telling me specifically that you would call me ?” You groaned without looking at him, you were angry and feeling humiliated. Why he was even talking to you.

“Yes but–“

“Save it Ben. You’re an asshole who can’t even have the balls to tell a girl he just want a one-night-stand, it’s so easier to lie and promise thing. It worked with me” You cut him bitterly.

You read somewhere that men regretted the girls they didn’t sleep with but woman regretted boys they slept with. It was feeling absolutely so relating right now.

“I wanted to call you ! I wanted so badly !” He replied with desperation, feeling you slipping between his fingers.

“Why didn’t you then ?” You asked with an angry tone, arms crossed and death stare on him. “Find someone else to fuck ?”

“Jesus, no ! I broke my phone, okay ?” He dug into his pocket and took at his phone, his sticky digits – from your cocktail – were leaving print of the black screen. “Here, see ? New phone !” You glance at the phone and humphed sarcastically, not really convinced by the trick. You didn’t remember which iPhone he had during your date so honestly it didn’t change anything to your pissed-off mood.

“Great for you” You shrugged as you slid a note to the barman, taking your drink in your hand, ready to go back to your table.

“(Y/N), I swear I’m not lying ! I really like you, really really like you !” He grabbed your forearm and made you puppy-eyes, making your heart cracked up for a quick second. “Let me explain, please. I felt horrible for the past three weeks, thinking about you and how mad you probably were about me. I didn’t plan to ghost you after sleeping with you, I’m not like that” These big greenish eyes were sweating with sincerity and it made you doubted for a moment.

“You got five minutes” You moved his hand away from your arm and lay against the counter, sipping your cocktail.

“Okay, when I left your flat monday morning, I went home and I dropped my phone in the fish tank of my little nephew” The blond quickly explained, his face flushed with pink. “I know, it sound like a fucking lie but it’s not ! My sister went on holiday and I pet-siting the family gold fish, I was feeding him and answering a work e-mail at the same time and it just...slid off my hands, right into the water” He chewed nervously his lips, his pretty eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, desperate to make you believe him.

You shifted uncomfortably, he seemed sincere but how could you be sure of that ?

“And I couldn’t tell you because your number was on the phone ! I went to the phone shop but I couldn’t get back any numbers so I was screw. And I couldn’t remember where you lived, I felt so dumb but every building look the same and I didn’t know if yours was the 25A or 52A” Ben gave a timid smile, rubbing his neck in nervous gesture.

“It’s 140B” You commented with an amused grin, his face falling as he cursed loudly.

“Shit. I wasn’t close at all” His large palm found his forehead as he shook his head, murmuring about how stupid he was. “But I really wanted to see again ya know ? And the only thing I knew for sure that this pub was your favourite, so I came back here after work for the past three weeks, until I find you. Tonight.” You widened your eyes at his confession and his neck went crimson. “God, that sound a bit creepy, sorry” He added with awkward chuckle.

“You...you’re really did that ?” Now it was your cheeks which went pink. If that story was true, it was certainly flattering.

“Yes, I did ! You can ask the barman, he was worried to see me here every night. He even gave me a tract for Alcoholic Anonymous meeting” Ben replied eagerly, relief rolling on him as you weren’t not so defensive anymore. You hid a giggle behind your hand and looked at the barman, wondering if it was true or if you were just being naive. Ben caught your questioning gaze and called the barman. “Hey man, can you tell this pretty girl here, that I was there every night during the past three weeks ?”

“He is not lying, I found that a bit weird because I never saw him here and suddenly, he was there every nights the pub was opened. Then he told me it was about a girl and it wasn’t surprising anymore” The ginger man shrugged and went back to his work as Ben thanked him with a satisfied smile.

“See ? I was really hoping you would come back here” He said with a low voice, the atmosphere between the two of you had change at the revelation. Butterflies going crazy in your belly as you realised all of this story was just a big misunderstanding. “I am so sorry, I never planned to make you feel like I just used you for sex. I’m so glad you came here tonight and gave me a chance to explain” You curled your lips into a loving smile, he was so sweet. God, you were so relieved to hear that.

“I’m sorry for the drink” You said, your eyes looking at the big stain on his white tee-shirt. “And for the not really nice things I said to you earlier” Your cheeks flushed and Ben shook his head, bottom lip trapped between his pearly white teeth.

“Nah, it’s okay, I deserved it. I mean, that’s a normal reaction for what you thought I did to you” Both of your hands were on the counter, few millimetre away from each other, craving for some touches. His pads carefully brushed over your fingers, testing the water and you immediately interlaced them together, giving a little smile. “Can you give me another chance ?” The blond murmured with hope.

“Okay” You replied simply, heart bursting with joy. “I’m sorry I already bitched about you to my friends” You added with a giggle, both of you could feel the nasty glances from your friends.

“I guessed you did, yes. I’m gonna leave you with your friends before they bit my head off” He handed you his phone and you typed your number for the second time, hoping this time was the last one. “Can I see you tomorrow ?” His voice was nervous and hopeful, kicking the nest of butterflies in your stomach. “And no sex, I want to prove you that I’m not seeing you only for that. I mean, it’s definitively a bonus but if you want for us to wait six months before going back at it, I’m totally in, I don’t care”

You melted at his adorable face, flushed and stressed, his thumb rubbed on the flesh of your hand absent-mindedly. You chuckled and slid your free hand on his face, caressing his cheek softly. You bowed your head and gave him a kiss on the lips. He seemed surprise but didn’t think twice before kissing you back, his mouth smiling widely against yours, in a long but soft embrace.

“We don’t have to wait six months Ben” He breathed an oh thanks god, making you cackled. “What do you have in mind for tomorrow ?” You hand fell on his shoulder, rubbing it lazily.

“You could come with me and Frankie, we planned to have a little picnic in Richmond park, maybe a nap and some tanning. Oh, and of course, barking and running behind every ducks from the lake” You nodded with a grin. “If I remember correctly, you were pretty eager to meet my little girl, weren’t you ?” He teased you about the stupid comment you made when he was about to kiss you at your first date.

“Oh shut up” You slapped lightly his chest and your heart buzzed at his irresistible laugh. “If you drop the teasing about this awkward memory, I would to come with you and Frankie tomorrow”

“Everything you want, love” Love. The come back of the pet name made you pinched your lips harshly, keeping for yourself the giddy smile menacing to appear on your face.

“It’s a date then” You murmured and when he pressed his lips back on yours, a sweet sigh escaped your parted mouth, savouring his delicious taste. “Text me when do you want us to meet, okay ?” You squeezed his hands and walked back to your friends as he exited the pub, both of you sharing a last loving gaze.

“Girl, what was that ! Who is that hot guy ? Was it the one who didn’t call you back ? You kissed him ! Girl ! ” You friends harassed you at the very second you came back at the table but you didn’t mind, a woozy grin was floating on your features.

A little half and hour later, you felt your phone vibrated in your pocket. Ben. You bit your lower lip with excitement.

Ben : 11h30 tomorrow ? Would it work for you ?

Before you could type an answer, a second text appeared on your screen.

Ben : Ben sent you a picture.

It was a photo of his fridge and stuck with a magnet was a little post-it. On it was wrote (Y/N) : 07818******

Ben : Just in case something happened to my phone before tomorrow morning...don’t want to lose you again. Can’t wait to see you xx

You let an excited and girly scream of joy leaving your mouth, belly bubbling with delight and happiness, earning a surprise glance from your friends.

“God, he is such a sweetheart !”

#Ben Hardy x reader #Ben Hardy #Ben hardy x you

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littlesliceofmarvel · 6 years ago

Text

I’m Sorry | Part 2

Request/Synopsis: Reader dies during the events of Civil War.

Warnings: Swearing, detailed mentions of death and gore, ENDGAME SPOILERS!!!! Big Ol’ Endgame Spoilers below the cut!

Pairings: Avengers x Reader

A/N: So, after many people have asked, part 2 is finally here! I don’t remember all of the dialogue from the movie, so if there are some mistakes there, just ignore them! Also, the italics are flashbacks. Gif isn’t mine! Enjoy! xx

Also, Tumblr is being weird right now so the flashback scene isn’t all in italics, I don’t understand. I’m tryna fix that.

Part One

“Tony, I don’t want to fight you,” Y/N faced the man in the suit, his weapons lowered when she came to face him. She hated the fact that the Accords had separated the team, leading them to turn on each other, to turn on family.

“I don’t want to either, but until Rogers turns Barnes over, I have to do what I can to make you guys give in,” he said with regret, his heart breaking at the sight of the girl in front of him, bloodied, bruised and slightly decayed.

“You kill me later on, you know, it’s your fault,” Y/N spoke as the patches of blood started to spread on her body, the skin slowly peeling off of her face to reveal the bones in her skull, her legs giving in under her as she collapsed to the ground, reaching out towards Tony who could no nothing but break down, seeing her fall apart in front of him, his body threatening to crumble at the sight of her, blaming him for her death.

He knew there was nothing he could do now, he had this nightmare over and over again every night. So did most of the team. Y/N’s lifeless body haunted their dreams, each of them feeling the guilt build on their shoulders more and more every morning after she taunted their sleep. They knew that Y/N wouldn’t blame any of them for her death, that she would want them to move on and be happy, live their lives and save the world, but they couldn’t help it.

She was gone, she had disappeared from their lives, taking her bright spirit with her. For the first couple of weeks, the denial had set in, and they would wait around the table during meals, hoping she’d skip out of her room and laugh at them for falling for one of her many pranks. But she never did. She wasn’t going to.

And that hit them harder than they could have ever prepared for.

SEVEN YEARS LATER

Going back in time seemed like an almost impossible task if you thought about it. To go back in time would be to mess up your present, your future. This had crossed their minds, of course, Tony almost dropping out of the adventure completely to ensure the safety of his wife and new daughter.

But they did it. They went back, collected the Infinity Stones, and made it back to build an Infinity Gauntlet, props to Tony. They lost Natasha in the process, having sacrificed herself for the soul stone to save the universe. Clint was devastated, feeling as if she had deserved to live so much more than he did, but it was too late. She had asked him to promise her something, that if it was possible, bring back those that we had lost before her, those who didn’t deserve the death they were given. Of course, she meant those who had been wiped out in the snap, that was their mission, but the two of them knew she also meant Y/N.

“It’s her birthday,” Steve broke the silence in the room as they looked through a box of pictures, wanting to frame some around the tower of Y/N and her smiling face, brightening a room immediately.

“Remember... before it happened, she wanted sushi,” Wanda said, a small smile on her face as she looked down at a picture of her, Y/N and Natasha, the three of them bruised and bloody, sitting in the medical lab while getting treated for injuries, but each of them giving the camera a thumbs up. A classic.

“We should celebrate with sushi, then, for her birthday,” Tony said quietly, Natasha nodding from beside him as she looked over his shoulder to see another picture of Y/N, this time of her passed out on the couch, her legs flung over the back as Sam and Bucky held sharpies to her face, drawing ‘tattoos’ on her skin, big smiles on their faces as Y/N slept soundly, not noticing what was going on.

“It’s been eight months, she’d be pissed as us for still moping about her, you know that, right?” Clint asked, chuckling slightly, his head in his hands as he looked down towards the table before looking back up to face the rest of the team, all nodding slowly.

“Oh, she’d be furious,” Natasha grinned, picking up another picture out of the box, smiling down at it, realizing Clint was right. Y/N would be pissed at the team for sitting around in their sweat pants, looking through pictures of her months after her death, guilt still swirling heavily around each of them.

They wanted to move on, they knew that they should, but they couldn’t. If she had died any other way, they would have. If it were Thanos, Loki, Ultron, any other bad guy, they would have been able to move on by now, but it was their fault. They let their own problems get in the way, and she paid the price with her life. There was no turning back from that.

Clint broke the news to the team, telling them that Natasha sacrificed her soul for the sake of the universe, and if anything, they were so much more determined to make things right because of that. If they failed, they would have failed her, she would have sacrificed herself for their failure. They were distraught at having lost one of their best people, a wonderful soul and an important member of their ever-growing family, but they had to do this. Now or never.

“I’m going to have to be the one to do it, I hope you realize,” Bruce spoke, approaching the gauntlet, his voice filled with determination as he approached it.

“No, why does it have to be you?” Clint asked, crossing his arms to look at Bruce’s figure, approaching the gauntlet himself.

“The radiation’s mostly Gamma, I’m the only one who can handle that,” Bruce stated as if it were obvious, looking around the room, no one really volunteering to do it in the first place. They had seen the effect that the snap had on Thanos, nearly killing the guy, so they knew that anyone who’d snap it next would deal with the same fate.

Bruce approached the gauntlet, his mind racing over all of the possibilities that could happen to him once he put it on, but they all didn’t matter. He was going to do this, whether he survived or not. He slid his hand into it, the power of the stones completely taking over his body as he collapsed on the ground, the rest of the team approaching him to make sure he was alright. Bruce nodded, letting the pain settle down as the power coursed through his veins, igniting everything inside of him.

“Ok,” Steve looked over a small scan of the gauntlet before turning back to Bruce, “Just bring everyone back. That easy.”

Clint uncrossed his arms, looking to Steve, “Nat... uh, had a request, actually.” He ignored the crack in his voice as he mentioned her, the realization that she’s gone not completely settling in yet.

“What was it?” Tony looked up from the machine he was using to close off the room, large barriers crashing down around them to prevent chaos once the snap had been done. The sound vibrated throughout the building, but no one took their attention off of the conversation.

“She, uh, asked if there was any way we could bring back people who didn’t die because of the snap, people who were innocent,” Clint finished, looking down to the ground before looking back to the team, each of them understanding what he meant.

“Y/N.” Tony nodded slowly, looking to Bruce, “Do you think you can try?”

Bruce nodded, eyes wide, “Yes.”

Steve, Scott, Clint, Tony, Rocket, Thor, Rhodey, and Bruce looked between each other, each of them feeling an immediate weight on their chest. Rocket had never met her, but being around the team for the last five years made him feel like he knew her.

“Is there any way to bring Nat back?” Bruce asked, breaking the silence that over took the room, everyone trying to think of ways to make this possible.

“I don’t think so,” Clint said, looking back down to the ground as he ran a hand through his hair in frustration, “Her soul is what’s going to power that stone for us to use. Try it, of course, but I don’t think we should get out hopes up.” He knew what he was saying was true, but part of him wished that it wasn’t.

Unfortunately, everyone had already got their hopes up to see the two ladies again. They understood that the chance of seeing Natasha again was much smaller, but the hope was there for her anyways.

Bruce nodded, lifting his hand as if to signal he was ready. Steve lifted his shield, Tony and Rhodey covered themselves with their suits, and the rest of the team got themselves secure and safe, out of the way of the snap. Bruce closed his eyes, not letting his emotions get the best of him as he focused on what he wanted. When he was ready, he snapped his fingers, a gust of wind blowing across the room as everyone took cover.

Seconds passed, and no one dared to speak. Tony lifted the barriers in the room and Scott approached a window, looking outside to see birds chirping, settling themselves into a tree. Clint felt his heart drop when he looked over to his vibrating phone, a call from his wife signalling that their plan had worked.

“Guys, I think it worked,” Scott said almost too quietly, but it broke through the dead silence in the room.

“Um, what’s going on?” A small voice from the room next door made their eyes widen, a familiar soft voice enough to make seven years of emotions come barreling through. Tony felt his heart drop, running over to the sound of the voice and his eyes landed on Y/N, standing next to a window, looking down at her body in complete confusion.

She could feel all of the atoms in her skin forming once again, it was as if she was being re born. She could feel her blood, the pumping sensation of her veins feeling all too real. Her head was pounding as she looked around, seeing the familiar faces of the people she called family looking back to her.

“Y/N...” Steve whispered, not being able to look away from the girl, who looked as if she hadn’t aged a day since her death. Technically, she hadn’t, but the rest of them were so sleep-deprived and devastated that they seemed to have aged 20 years.

“What’s going on?” Y/N asked, eyes wide as she faced the team with shaky hands, “We were... in Berlin, I was asking for sushi...” To her, it was seconds after her death, it hadn’t felt like nearly a decade had passed.

“Oh, we’ve got a lot of explaining to do,” Tony looked to Steve who nodded, bracing themselves for what was to come.

#avengers imagine #avengers imagines #steve rogers imagine #tony stark imagine #clint barton imagine #thor imagine #scott lang imagine #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #captain america imagine #iron man imagine #hawkeye imagine #avengers preference #avengers preferences

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bensonsbreakdowns · 5 years ago

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iron heart | tony stark

summery → tony stark’s daughter deals with the death of her father after he sacrificed himself to save the world.

word → 1626

warning(s) → mentions of death

add yourself to my taglist

She barely recognized the small, clammy child's hand that forcefully claimed a place within her enclosed fist, or the darkness that drew closer after every moment she spent uncaringly gazing out at the unchanging ripples in the water. Her heart felt empty as sunlight hit a shard of metal in the distance, only amplifying the grief that paralyzed her body. She hadn't left the dock since her mother had released the small bouquet of wildflowers and metal that had once been inside her fathers chest. The last physical part of him had been lost to the depths of a lake she'd never bother to explore, and she wasn't sure how that pain could ever ease.

The small person beside her was quiet, only soft sniffles and wobbly bottom lips offering reassurance that she wasn't alone in her sorrow. After alien invasions and multiple hydra takeovers, Madelyn Stark had surrendered her vulnerability to the prominent promise that her father could, and would, come home after it all was over and done with. But he hadn't come home after Thanos, and he never would walk through those wooden doors again. Anthony Stark, the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, had laid down his life to save a billion others. His selfless actions had rendered both Madelyn and Morgan fatherless, and Pepper Potts completely devastated.

Years ago — before the iron man suit or the Avengers initiative — the story of metal strong as iron was just a saying of affection between a father and his daughter. All those nights ago, when Madelyn and Tony would sit beneath the stars on the roof of Stark Industries, tales of great adventure were conceived and after every great escape would come the words, my love is stronger then iron.

On nights when neither could sleep and the stars were hidden by clouds, they'd escape to the lab to forge a tangible representation of their inseparable bond. Durning the process, small hands would clench and grab at the neckline or Tony's shirt, offering advice on how they could make their Iron Heart project better.

When Madelyn had prompted the idea of Iron Man, it had been the result of cold medicine and delirium, though when the coughs and sneezes subsided her determination to succeed was driven and true. The small child with bright blue eyes and unruly brown hair formulated the perfect symbol of unity and strength using the schematics that had once been dedicated to their Iron Heart project.

Madelyn wished she could go back to those days, sit with her father for a while as they slaved over blueprints and schematics until the early hours of the morning. She wished it could all just be that simple again, without the threat of alien invasions and death lurking over her shoulder. Never would she take Iron Man away from the world, though on days like these when she was confronted with the worst, she wished the world would have considered that the man beneath the metal had a family waiting for his return.

Madelyn stood from the docks with a sudden inability to remain still. Her being was shaking, trembling from the sheer emotional distress she was under, though she paid it no mind, instead looking down at Morgan who was peering at her curiously. Grabbing onto her sisters hand again, she made her way back to the cabin where she and Tony had unpacked thousands of memories over the course of five beautifully uninterrupted years.

Wanda visibly flinched as Madelyn brushed past her, her sorrow thick and heavy and unbelievably painful as it flashed before the avengers eyes. The mood had already put a damper on the young sokovian, though the depth of which Madelyn felt for her father was sickening and heart-wrenching.

"Mad—" Pepper called for her step-daughter, watching the distant gleam in the girls blue eyes grow farther and farther from the reality they shared. Madelyn Stark was completely lost to the memory of days when her father was alive and well.

The sea of avengers sitting in what was once Tony Stark's living room watched warily as Madelyn brought Morgan towards a shelf of priceless artifacts. Pepper stepped out from behind the kitchen island, throwing a dish rag to the side with her eyebrows drawn in curiosity. Both girls were spitting images of Tony while in the depths of his worst funks, though now the promise of late night juice-pops wouldn't ease their misfortune. They'd have to find their own way out of this long, dark tunnel.

Madelyn reached up for the shimmering sculpture that would withstand the test of time, holding it tightly to her chest as if to relive the small moments of its assembly. They were moments she could barely remember, though she cherished what minuscule details she could muster. Morgan reached towards the iron heart sculpture as well, brushing her small fingertips across its surface with interest.

"Dad and I made this." Madelyn's voice broke, though her strength didn't falter as she bent down to further dissect the sculpture for Morgan. "Look." She gently turned the iron heart around, showing Morgan the two visible patches of missing metal.

The older of the two girls drew in a harsh breath as a new wave of unconsolable tears made their way upon her. Madelyn hadn't stopped crying since the news of Tony's death reached her ears two days ago, though each time she cried the weeping became more painful. She feared that the urge to crumble would never diminish, though she wouldn't let Morgan see her so weak.

Madelyn reached into her shirt, retrieving the small shard of metal that she wore proudly each day. The only difference now was that the identical shard was no longer clinging to the interior of the Iron Man suit. The small charm that symbolized so much was instead laying in Madelyn's pocket, begging to be worn by a man that would never breath again.

Reaching for the other necklace, Madelyn lifted it over Morgan's head, laying the cold chain atop of her sisters silky black dress. "Dad would want you to have it." Madelyn whispered gently, reaching to put the iron heart back into place on the shelf when a dim beam of light projected from the top.

Tony Stark grinned happy with himself as he paced around a very disheveled laboratory. Schematics and blueprints were thrown about everywhere, shards of spare metal and faulty wrenches tossed aside onto every available surface. The sun had set ages ago, instead a city skyline painted a picture just outside of the windows behind him.

"Does it work yet, Daddy?!" An excited voice called, small little hands grabbing onto the billionaires pants with utter impatience. Tony bent down to pick up the small child, a teasing grin on his face as she wriggled about anxiously. Strands of unruly brown hair fell into Tony's mouth when he attempted to answer, though he figured the small child had already figured it out when she leaned in impossibly close towards the microscopic camera. "Hi!" She waved, clambering higher up onto Tony's chest when she realized his hesitation to proceed. "Say hi, daddy!"

"Hi." Tony waved, a bright smile filling his features as he took appreciation for the small piece of technology that meant more to him then the billion dollar corporation he was standing within. “What do you say we include Jarvis?”

The small child shook her head, once again reaching for the silver heart with pure adoration. “No.” She exclaimed, once again waving to metal as if it had the limbs — or ability — to wave back. “But, we gotta tell it about us, Daddy. Like you tell Jarvis about your day.”

“Well, I’m Daddy—” Tony was cut off by loud giggles, small hands pressing against his cheeks as if to cut off his incessant lies.

“I’ll tell it!” The young child exclaimed, determination on her features as she wiggled down from her fathers arms and instead sat happily on the desk. “That’s Tony Stark, and I’m Maddie Stark! I’m four—”

This time it was Tony’s turn to cut off the little girl, tickling her sides as he spilled all her secrets to the small immobile metal structure. His smile, unchanged by trauma and heavy burdens, was bright as he continued to ramble on and on about favorite constellations and ice cream flavors. The world seemed so small in the moment, just him and his little girl to impress, though that reality wouldn’t stay the same for long.

“I think it’s breaking, Daddy.” The small girl spoke as she watched the iron heart begin to flash with sad, disappointment filled blue eyes.

The picture faded slowly, much to the younger version of Madelyn’s prediction, though sound was still spilling from the metal heart as she watched it brokenly. Every person in the room had lost Tony Stark, though the world was only missing Iron Man. Now, that fact seemed even more primitive.

“I love you stronger then iron.” The voice of a small child filled echoed around the cabin, Pepper Potts sniffling sadly as she watched her two daughters grieve in the silence of their own suffering.

“My love is stronger then iron.” The sound of Tony’s promise was the final undoing of all the composure Madelyn could muster.

The girl crumbled to the floor in absolute dispare, heartbreaking sobs shaking her body as the iron heart tumbled to the ground, slipping past Morgan’s fingers as she attempted to catch it. Unlike Madelyn, it didn’t shatter, but yet another scratch was added to its front.

Tony Starks love for his daughter outlasted the test of time, though inevitably he left them behind to collect the pieces of a world that was vulnerable to opposing threats.

#steve rogers #thor #x reader #tony stark #avengers #endgame #pepper potts #wanda maximoff #iron man #dad!tony #stark!daughter #stark!reader

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missbrightsky · 5 years ago

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I didn’t know where else to go

Fics Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Chapter 2: Rhysand

fuck

FUCK

I had an unconscious detective on my couch and her blood on my hands.

It was a quiet evening, cleaning one of my guns with Friends reruns on in the background, shattered by a barely-there knock at my door. Ready to chew out whoever decided to disturb a crime boss on his night off, I had only cracked open the door to see her there, blood coming from a nasty cut on her head and practically bent in half from pain.

It was reflex to catch her as my name slipped from her mouth along with those damning words.

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

Feyre Archeron. The detective who was hell-bent on arresting me. Who had managed to resist my flirting, much to my chagrin. Who was now on my couch but not how I pictured it happening.

Why I couldn’t get a cop out of my head for the past few weeks? I wish I knew the answer.

I watched the even rise and fall of her chest, grateful that whatever had happened to her wasn’t truly life-threatening. At least that’s what I told myself as I waited for her to wake up.

Thankfully she stayed out cold while I stitched up her face, I was fresh out of painkillers from my recent injuries. The glorious life of the head of the underworld, if only they knew how much work it took, then maybe I wouldn’t have to deal with so many hot-headed insubordinates.

Whatever had happened to her probably warranted a hospital visit but no way was I showing up with my face all over the news and a bloody cop in my arms. I did as much as I could for her wound but didn’t risk checking the rest of her body. A small smile played on my mouth as I imagined the foul words that would surely come from her if she found her other injuries tended to.

A sharp intake of breath followed by a small whimper of pain cut through the TV in the background. I froze in the most non-threatening pose I could think of, crossing my left leg so that my ankle rested on my right knee and slinging an arm over the back of the chair, dangling the glass of dark amber liquid that was keeping my nerves in check.

Feyre’s eyes cracked open, even surrounded by darkening bruises, the intense blue-grey still made my breath catch in my throat.

“How is it you always look like you own the world? Even in Deadpool PJ pants?”

A startled laugh barked out of my chest, the bourbon nearly splashing out of my glass with the sudden movement. In my haste to patch her up and unwillingness to leave her alone, I hadn’t changed out of the comfy clothes I had put on as soon as I stepped through my door.

“Years and years of practice, darling.” There it is, the fire returned as her eyes became clearer, taking in the room.

From the outside, my apartment didn’t look like much, all cold stone and steel. The inside was much more hospitable, warm wood floors nicely complemented the exposed brick, tasteful furniture that you could still relax in took up most of the space. The harshest part of the room was the wall that was covered in guns, big and small and a few illegal in the country, but I liked to live on the wrong side of the law.

Open curiosity rested on her face, making her look years younger than the small frown that was there most of the time. It returned when she took in the weapons, reminding her that she showed up to her suspects' house and promptly passed out, leaving her at his mercy. She forced herself to sit up despite the obvious pain that would linger for weeks, her face guarded again.

I found myself immediately missing the side that she hid from me, where she was an actual human and not someone out to destroy all my plans.

We regarded each other silently for a few moments, taking in the other in their current state until she blushed and looked away.

A few words mumbled from her mouth, too low and unintelligible for me to understand.

“I’m sorry, what was that, darling,” using the nickname she so clearly hated.

“Thank you, prick,” she spat out, wincing at how her muscles pulled at her stitches.

“You’re welcome,” I leaned forward, “but who did this to you?” putting as much concern as I could into my voice.

“I’m surprised you don’t know; it was your men that drugged me and had me beaten.”

The accusation was a slap to the face, my teeth gritting at the venom she threw at me. “My men would never fucking do this to anyone, cop or not.”

Her eyes burned, leaning forward much as her balance allowed until we were only inches apart.

“I went to the bar I know you frequent; the bartender gave me a club soda laced with something and the next thing I knew, some assholes were dragging me out back and kicking the shit out of me. Who else would have given orders like that?”

I forced my breathing to stay even, to not grab her and shake some sense into her. For all the crimes I had committed, not one single fucking person had been harmed in the process. Was she willfully ignoring that fact or was she so convinced that I was a truly evil motherfucker?

“Did you recognize any of them?” My question caught her off guard.

Her eyes flicked up, trying to sort through recent hazy memories. “No…”

“That’s what I thought. You’ve been after me and my organization for so long, I’m sure you have every one of my peoples’ faces memorized. So why did you think that I would have such a lovely, dedicated, hardworking civil servant drugged and beaten?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbled, having the grace to look ashamed as she leaned back into the soft couch cushions, attempting to rearrange herself into the least painful position.

“I’m sorry but I don’t have any painkillers, and I’m not sure where else you’re hurt, I didn’t check.”

“It’s fine, it’s my fault for showing up on your doorstep anyways.” She lifted her shirt, carefully picking at where dried blood had plastered it to her chest. A patchwork of black and blue was settling on the skin, but no lacerations at least.

“I don’t think anything is broken, just really fucking sore,” she surveyed, taking in the damage. I was too worried about her injuries to notice the black bra edged with lace that perfectly hinted at the curve of her breasts.

Ok maybe I was worried, but it didn’t completely escape my notice.

I almost whined when she dropped her shirt but managed to contain it as she settled deeper into the cushions. She froze, realizing that she was getting too comfy at basically her arch enemy’s place.

“I need to go,” but she stood up too quickly, swaying and unable to catch herself as she pitched to the side, heading straight for the solid corner of my end table.

By the grace of the Caldron and a bit of luck, I managed to catch her, pulling her close to me to steady us both. She let out a yelp at the handling, but it was her fault for trying to move too fast with her injuries.

“That’s twice I’ve caught you, would you like to make this a habit?” I purred, my mouth on the shell of her ear completely not by accident.

A shudder she couldn’t suppress or hide skittered down her back, slightly arching her body into mine.

All too soon her reason returned to her and with a surprisingly firm shove, she distanced herself from me and promptly plopped back onto the couch, refusing to acknowledge the electricity that just flowed between us.

“Prick,” she seethed.

“Don’t say what you don’t want.”

Confusion that morphed into fury consumed her. “If I wasn’t so fucking injured, I would kick your ass right now.”

“You’ll have to give me a rain check then,” parting my lips in a feline smirk. She blushed even harder and looked away, looking utterly pissed that she couldn’t leave.

“Would you like a glass of bourbon? I promise it’s not drugged or anything, and it’s much better than what they serve at that bar. And it will ease the pain a bit.”

“Fine.”

I wove fluidly around a chair to the bar cart that was tucked into the corner next to the TV that was still somehow playing the aimless show when much more interesting content was playing out right in my living room.

I poured her a generous knuckle worth of the expensive liquor, maybe this would make up for the lack of painkillers. Hopefully whatever she was given was enough out of her system that it wouldn’t react badly.

I returned with the drink in hand, passing it to her waiting hand, she still refused to make eye contact with me.

This was too good of a situation to mess with her. I sat in the middle of the couch, forcing her to either stay where she is, contact points connecting up the sides of our bodies, or to move to cram into the corner closest to the TV, making her crane her neck to see the screen.

She chose the latter and decided upon ignoring me as much as possible with less than a foot of space between us.

We sipped our drinks, intermittently paying attention to the show, punctuated with our derisive snorts at the characters' shallow problems.

At some point, a comment was made, leading us into a conversation about what we hated and loved about this show or that. Sharing new series, daring each other to watch them in our little free time.

The alcohol loosened our tongues and worries about the other ulterior motives, simply existing in the moment.

She was incredible. So amazingly opinionated and alive and passionate. If she had seen something he had, she questioned his every motive for liking or disliking it. If she hadn’t seen it, endless questions poured from her mouth and promised to watch it soon.

Hours ticked by and more liquor was poured. The show completely ignored, our bodies had turned toward each other, knees grazing, and body heat slowly being shared. She laughed at something, I’m not even sure what I said, too caught up in the music she made.

Once she stopped giggling, I couldn’t bring myself to continue the conversation. I could stay here for hours, simply taking in the red that graced her cheeks, highlighting the freckles that were gently dusted there. Her eyes seemed to shift between blue and grey depending on her current emotion, full lips punctuating every statement.

Those lips in question parted. We were so close now, her legs practically slung across my lap, her arm across the back of the couch, brushing against mine often.

The lapse in chatter grew, neither of us attempting to restart it.

Watching.

Waiting.

Until

One of us moved forward, only the Caldron and its forgotten gods knew who moved first.

Careful to not put too much pressure on her injuries, I cupped her face in my hands, molding my lips around hers.

Just as I had too often fantasized, they were soft and fit perfectly with mine, the sharp taste of my bourbon tinting them with dark desire.

There was no hesitation on her part, only enthusiasm. If she was in pain, there was no sign of it now.

Soon it became too uncomfortable for our bodies to stay far apart with only our heads meeting in the middle. I slid my hands down her neck, gently resting on the curve of her waist, a request she responded to with straddling my hips, effectively sealing her fate and mine.

We were both so, so fucked.

Next Chapter

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #sarah j maas #sjmaas #sjm books #feyre #rhysand #feyre x rhysand #Cop!AU

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diyunho · 6 years ago

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The Joker x Reader - “Secrets” Part 3

The Joker did something so unforgivable and despicable you don’t ever want to see him again. After months of avoiding The King of Gotham, you really can’t understand why he appointed you as the only person to take care of his son in case of emergency. There’s no way you’ll accept to help the little boy in his father’s absence, yet the three years old has no fault in what happened between you and your ex.

Frost just called with a security report for The Joker: most of the henchmen in the building are dead; five missing for the moment and his best guess is that they are the ones who sold his boss out and allowed Ezra to get inside the Penthouse. Maybe even helped the New York gang kill the others; no way to know for sure until watching the footage from all the cameras scattered around the premises.

You and J barely convinced Alexis to go back to sleep after he was given a bath: the three years old was very agitated and scared, which is understandable after what happened just a couple of hours ago. The fact that he’s sick didn’t help either: his fever increased and you had to put in extra effort in order to convince him to swallow his medicine.

“Can y-you take him to Los Angeles for a few days until I clean up the m-mess here?” The Joker asks, struggling to wrap new bandages around the surgical marks on his right leg. The soft fabric of the sweat pants keep on sliding down his foot and J lifts it up again, frustrated he can’t manage to keep it in place.

“Yes, no problem,” you agree and check your cell, waiting for your father to call.

Jase didn’t answer his phone and Y/N left a short message urging him to get a hold of her as soon as possible. You really don’t know how you’ll explain what you did: invoking the code in order to offer protection to another clan is a serious matter and The Godfather won’t be happy to hear that J has LA’s alliance now.

Not after everything The Clown Prince of Crime did.

“For God’s sake,” you sigh and decide to be the bigger person, kneeling in front of an irritated Joker that just can’t get the gauze around his scars. “Hold this,” you frown and he grabs one end of the roll while you cover his skin with the dressing. “It seems healed,” you point out, continuing to patch him up.

“The doctor told m-me to do it for one more month. Nothing that can be d-done about the way I talk; I hope it goes a-away,” J shares extra information you don’t care to hear. “A-are you sure you don’t mind t-taking my son?” the question makes you yank at the bandages and the change in mood is evident.

“I don’t mind,” you respond through your clenched teeth. “What I do mind though is being lied to. What I do mind is you being secretly married to another woman. What I do mind is you pretending you liked me,” you pause for a second to breathe in much needed air. “What I do mind is you convincing me that we should have a baby when I didn’t want one. What I do mind is you saying that if it’s a boy we should name him Alexis when you already had a son named Alexis with your wife!!!” you raise your voice, incapable of stopping the tirade.

“So?” The Joker bitterly replies, in a very foul disposition himself.

You slap J and he instinctively closes his eyes before the second strike lands on his already numb cheek.

“A-are you done?” he growls, barely restraining the urge to escalate the fight that just started.

You glare at him without blinking, enraged by the indifference of his hurtful actions. So many thoughts rushing through your head and you don’t have a chance to tell The Joker everything you want because your phone suddenly rings. You take it out of the pocket, correctly guessing your father is calling back.

“Do this yourself!” you hiss and undo the bandages wrapped around J’s scars, getting up in a hurry.

“W-what the fuck, Y/N?!”

You don’t even pay attention to his tantrum since reporting to the Godfather is more important than listening to your former boyfriend’s complaint.

“When Alexis wakes up, I’m gone! I don’t want to spend one extra single minute in your presence!” you shout and rush towards the terrace, pressing the screen of your cell. “Hi daddy,” you soften your tone and step outside, slamming the glass door behind you.

J forcefully exhales, staring at the gauze loosely hanging down his foot.

“Goddammit,” he grumbles and bites his lower lip, not excited on how the conversation ended.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been a jerk for once?...

Definitely.

Not after what you did for him and his son.

The woman J used in such a despicable manner didn’t think twice about saving a child that’s not hers; LA’s future queen didn’t even hesitate to save the man that made a fool out of her and didn’t deserve any kind of help no matter the circumstances.

The Joker shouldn’t have been a jerk…

Not today.

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

Three days afterwards

“Sir, The Godfather is here,” Frost announces on intercom to a less than pleased King of Gotham.

“…Great…” J talks in a low voice, dreading the imminent meeting he was expecting anyway. “Let him pass,” the consent is given even if Jase doesn’t need it: the mobster is already in the elevator, going up to a Penthouse he hates infinitely more since The Joker’s secret was discovered.

Your father stomps out the elevator, immediately noticing the green haired Clown Prince of Crime sitting down on the couch closest to the center of the living room. The Joker wants to get up but Jase cuts him off:

“Sit down and don’t insult me with more fake respect!”

J smirks and The Godfather is already fed up with person he always despised and barely tolerated because of his daughter’s request.

“I heard we have a situation,” Jase grumbles and halts in front of The Joker, his menacing demeanor warning of a disastrous outcome in case things go wrong.

“You c-can say that,” the vague answer makes your parent lose his temper:

“YOU WILL DO NOTHING! You won’t seek revenge, you won’t move a finger until our year of forced partnership is done!! Gotham is under LA’s protection for 12 months and there’s nothing that can be done!”

“A-apparently,” The Joker’s insolent remark prompts so much outrage it’s nearly impossible to suppress the damage:

“You insolent prick! You were learning how to crawl when I was already building my empire! Do you think I’m intimidated by the likes of you?! I AM THE GODFATHER!!!” Jase shouts while J puckers his lips, aware he shouldn’t push it yet he can’t shut up:

“And I’m The Joker! I w-won’t let anyone…”

“You’re The Joker?!” your father interrupts. “Do you know you would be dead right now if it wasn’t for Y/N?! Why do you think I didn’t come for you when I found out what you did, hm? Do you think I just turned a blind eye to your affront? ME??!! NEVER!! I wanted to do exactly what Ezra did and my daughter begged me not to!!! You’re still here breathing because of Y/N! Do you understand?!!”

The two men hatefully stare at each other, none of them willing to lose any ground despite the sticky crisis they landed in. J is fuming and your parent is far past enraged: he’s furious to the point of sharing something personal to prove his affirmations.

“I never understood what my daughter saw in you, Joker!” Jase snarls. “I had such a bad feeling about your relationship and I’m never wrong about that stuff!”

“Then y-you should have t-told her!” The Clown bites back since this is the perfect opportunity to retaliate.

“I DID!” your father screams. “But Y/N insisted she loves you and I had to stomach your company because if she was happy, then I guess I had to accept it! And for what?! For you to break her heart again after it took her forever to recover from what happened with Sean?!”

The Joker surely wishes to lash out but the last sentence catches him by surprise: why would The Godfather mention Sean? The insane events that occurred a few years ago are sort of common knowledge in the underworld: Sean was your boyfriend until it was discovered he was actually an undercover CIA agent.

“I failed my daughter,” your father’s firm tone diminishes while confessing to the ugly truth. “Sean passed all the background checks; there was nothing suspicious about him. Believe me when I tell you I was very thorough: I wouldn’t just let anyone come so close to her. And when I found out by accident…” Jase deeply inhales, flustered, “…it was goddamned late, 10 days after he proposed.”

J’s eyes get big at the revelation: he had no idea about this part of the story and for once he keeps quiet and listens, intrigued.

“I went over to their house with my crew and dragged him out of bed in the middle of the night. Y/N was very agitated, not comprehending what was going on until I told her and showed the evidence. I’ll never forget the look on her face: she seemed so lost staring at those papers and pictures certifying that Sean was Matt Simmons, CIA agent infiltrating our lives in order to bring me down. He didn’t care about her; she was just an assignment…”

The Joker wants to finally reply, yet The Godfather won’t allow interference:

“He knew what was in store for him and he kept on begging, promising he was truly in love with her and stating he didn’t report to his superiors in a while and had no intention in doing so. Who knows?... Maybe he did love her after all…,” Jase straightens his shoulders. “I doubt Y/N heard any of his vows; she was too shocked to process the gravity of the news. I should have been more vigilant, but I didn’t see it coming: she yanked the gun out of my hand and shot him in the head. I think she regretted her choice the moment she pulled the trigger, but it was already too late…” your father mutters.

The Joker weights in all this information thrown at him since he had no clue you were the one that killed your ex: everyone assumed it must have been your father.

“Do you know how hard it is to watch your only child die a little bit more each day? I‘m not talking about death in the real sense of the word, but about the worst kind of demise: when you lose someone you loved so much that nothing else matters. And then you came along,” Jase shrieks getting to the conclusion he was aiming for since the beginning of the dialogue: “And you were infinitely more appalling than Sean: at least he was doing his job, while you were nothing but a greedy, manipulative asshole!”

The King of Gotham is so aggravated by The Godfather’s comments his heart is pounding out of his chest.

“Y-you can’t t-talk to me like this!!” he stands up to confront Jase but your parent is immune to the Clown’s threat.

“I can and I will!!” he yells. “That’s why you will do nothing! Got it?! Stay put! In the meantime, be grateful Y/N is such a saint offering safe haven to a little boy that’s not hers! If you think tending to Alexis is a piece of cake, THINK AGAIN!!!!!!” Jase lectures a stunned Joker to the point of starting a physical altercation, but he manages to contain himself and walks away towards the elevator, mumbling: “Son of a bitch!”

The Joker is left in the middle of the living room, completely stupefied at your father’s rant: it’s tough for him to grasp the notion of not being invincible or untouchable. And he is aware why Ezra came after him: because The King of Gotham did to his daughter the same thing that was done to you. J used her also in order to acquire what he wanted since his wife didn’t mind the little indiscretions as long as they were able to get richer, more powerful and influential. And now Nessa was lying 6 feet under after he barely escaped the ambush that almost claimed his life too.

Once his secret was out, everything came crashing down so fast he didn’t have time to process what it all meant: when you claw your way up without any remorse, you might end up bleeding worse than the ones you tear apart.

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

2 weeks later

Nixon is guiding The Joker around the patio, the final destination only a few feet away: he’s here to pick up his son and the bodyguard thought you’re still outdoors, yet there’s no sign of you or Alexis. Only Harvey Dent relaxing on the cozy sofa under the umbrella shadowing the guest from the late afternoon sunlight.

“Hm,” Nixon halts. “She was here a few minutes ago; I’ll go search for her. Please take a seat Mister Joker,” the man offers and J nonchalantly limps towards the ottoman opposite Two Face, sneering.

“Dent…”

Harvey taps his fingers on the mixed drink he’s holding, already annoyed by the green haired visitor.

“Joker…” he acknowledges the unwanted presence.

They watch in silence as the goon disappears inside the house before Dent inquires:

“Are you here to get your kid?”

“U-hum,” J admits. “You?”

“Visiting.”

The Joker tugs at his longer than usual locks gathered in a ponytail while bending over to grab a bottle of water from the table. A gust of wind blows a few shorter strands right on his face and he brushes them off, huffing.

“Y/N went to put your little boy to sleep; I guess he needed a nap,” Harvey communicates in such a sour manner it instantly irks J. “Some people wouldn’t recognize a good thing happening to their miserable existence even if they had it written black on white.”

The Clown grinds his teeth, vexed:

“You have s-something to say to me, D-Dent?!”

“Oh,” and the scarred ex-politician pauses before gulping down his cocktail,”I have plenty to say to you!”

The clash is inevitable but actually terminated before it blows out of proportions since you are coming out of the mansion.

J stands up and greets a displeased Y/N that was expecting him tomorrow morning, not that it really makes a difference: her world is turned upside down every time she sees him anyway.

“Alexis just fell asleep and I don’t want to wake him up,” you ignore his false politeness and march towards the two individuals postponing their brawl. “He often has nightmares after what happened with Ezra and it’s best to let him rest.”

“C-can I sleep here t-tonight then and we’ll take off in the m-morning?”

You are not a huge fan of the idea, yet you consent for the sake of the three year old that you took under your wing when you didn’t have to.

“OK. You can sleep in his room, there’s an extra bed in there. You can order food, one of my curriers can go pick it up for you. Or you can eat whatever you want from the fridge,” you extend your hospitality and bite in the same time: “I’m sure you remember where stuff is; nothing has changed except…everything.”

The Joker doesn’t reply and Harvey can’t help but realize how much you struggle to keep it together; he wonders if J realized also or if he even gives a damn. Probably not.

“Y/N,” Harvey intervenes. “When you have a moment, could we please work on my transaction?” he elegantly gets you out of the unpleasant meeting using the main reason he’s there for.

You momentarily snap out of it, grateful to oblige.

“Of course. Yes,” you add and escort him through the glass panels leading towards the stairs that will take Dent to the second floor where your bedroom is.

J is left alone, not that he doesn’t enjoy the solitude. He’s indeed debating on what he should have for dinner, maybe dishes he can share with his son after he wakes up from his nap. The Joker wishes to talk to you and he speculates you won’t want to listen to anything he has to say. Why bother?

He lost that privilege a long time ago.

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

“How much would you like to invest?” you get on your laptop while Harvey is stretching on the leather sectional in front of the TV.

“Same as always, please.”

“Alright, it will take me a few seconds for the wire transfers between accounts,” you type in a frenzy and almost ignore his honest concern:

“Are you ok?”

“Huh?” you lift your head higher while glued to the screen: you crave the welcomed distraction so badly nothing else counts.

“Are you ok?” he repeats and the evasive response heightens his uneasiness regarding the apparent calm Y/N.

“I’m perfect, no worries,” you crack a smile and glance his way.

Dent scratches his scar, disputing on his next sentences.

“I’m asking because…e-hem…because you used to have this sparkle in your eyes and now it’s gone,” he blurs out before he loses confidence in his speech. “I know it’s not my place to comment, but I thought you should know someone noticed…”

Your hands stop on the keyboard and fighting the tears back is somehow so much harder than wearing the mask you parade with in front of everybody, including your father.

“You want to know how I noticed?” he pushes it more, hoping you will understand he’s well intended. “After Rachel died, I see the same emptiness daily when I look in the mirror. It might not be the same situation…”

“Harvey!!” you cut him off and he suddenly registers he’s out of line.

You sniffle and wipe the tears rolling down your cheeks, the bottled up emotions too strong to control.

“I’m very sorry,” he scoots over, upset he made you cry.

You start sobbing and Dent feels so bad he instantaneously curses his stupid decision.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I should have kept my mouth shut,” and he’s relieved when you grab his hand and squeeze it.

“Thank you,” you faintly articulate and Harvey offers the box of tissue from the coffee table with his free hand, still uneasy about your present condition. “You’re a good man,” you whisper and he shakes his head, regretfully informing:

“Used to be, honey. Used to be…”

You let go of his fingers and he softly caresses your shoulders since he doesn’t know what else to do.

“Yyyy/Nnnnn,” Alexis pushes the cracked door opened. “Ynnn/Nnnn,” he whines and you jump from your spot eager to lift him up in your arms.

“What is it sweetheart? Another bad dream?” you inquire and the little one rubs his eyes, pouting.

“Whe’s mommy?” he buries his face in your neck, comforted by the woman’s embrace.

“Your mommy’s very far away,” you signal Harvey to sit down since he’s preparing to flee. “I’ll return soon,” you wink and exit your bedroom in order to take the three year old back to his chamber.

“Whe’s daddy?” Alexis yawns and you gather the strength to be cheerful for an innocent child’s sake.

“Daddy will be here when you wake up,” you kiss his temple. “After your nap you can play in the backyard, then we’ll have dinner and you can watch cartoons, ok?”

“U-hum,” he agrees and you lay him in bed, covering him up with the soft blanket.

“Do you want your giraffe?” you push the toy on his pillow and he snatches it, sulking.

“I’ll stay here until you fall asleep,” Y/N soothes The Joker’s son the best way she can, reckoning if it wasn’t for her, he wouldn’t be alive right now. And that makes her sadder.

The young boy got under her skin and even if he reminds her of his father’s deceit, she wouldn’t have it any other way; keeping Alexis close is a way to make sure she always stays alert:

When you give your heart away and it’s returned to you in pieces, a few will go missing each time it happens until there’s nothing left.

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

Two hours afterwards

J is walking towards your master bedroom, angered he left his cane on the patio: his leg is hurting and the limp only makes it worse. Ten minutes ago he received a text with new information that you and The Godfather will be interested in also: it might not change the situation as a whole, but the plot twist could ensure he takes full advantage of the forced alliance between LA and Gotham. That’s what The Joker does anyway: he exploits every tiny thing to his advantage and the fresh data is certainly no petty scrap.

The door to your room is still opened simply because when you have Alexis over you want him to have easy access to your quarters, most likely to snuggle under the covers with the nice lady that’s taking care of him.

J pries the door open and wants to call out your name when the sight compiles the opposite: you dozed off cuddled up to Harvey, both covered with his suits’ jacket. After you invited him to stay and watch a movie you passed out first and he didn’t dare wiggle; he just used his coat to ensure you’re not going to get cold with the AC blasting from the ceiling. Having Y/N near him felt genuinely peaceful and Dent snoozed without a care in the universe for the first time in years.

And even someone like The King of Gotham can’t help but discern the vague smile on Harvey’s lips: the smile of a man that’s been through hell and he’s finally granted a small piece of heaven.

Part 1: diyunho(.)tumblr(.)com/post/177920419051/the-joker-x-reader-secrets-part-1

Part 2: diyunho(.)tumblr(.)com/post/178630090876/the-joker-x-reader-secrets-part-2

Also read: Masterlist

diyunho(.)tumblr(.)com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

You can also follow me on Wattpad and AO3 under the same blog name: DiYunho.

#the joker x reader #the joker fanfiction #the joker imagine #the joker suicide squad #the joker jared leto #the joker #joker #joker fanfiction #joker imagine #joker jared leto #harvey dent #dcu #mister j #mister #Mistah J #Mr.J

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artificialqueens · 6 years ago

Text

hope is a dangerous thing [for a woman like me to have] (scyvie) - pipedream

a/n: i spent most of my time hating this while writing it, nearly gave up on it several times and intended for it to be no more than 1k words when it ended up being over 5k so…. i’m just sorry. shoutout to artificialmeggie for being a lovely beta and alleviating all my fears, also this is my first cop-out of an attempt at smut so pls be gentle. u can find me on here at piipedreams or on ao3 at pipe_dream

summary: for the prompt: “I wish I could hate you." scarlet and yvie have a conversation neither of them were prepared for and decide to address their honest feelings.

ao3 link

“Fuck, shit!” Scarlet lets out between heavy pants as her body all but writhes. She digs her hands deeper into Yvie’s hair, clawing at her scalp as her eyes squeeze shut and head tilts backwards, back arching instinctually. She’s at the point of no return, has lost all coherent thought or control over her body and actions, finding herself completely at mercy to the other girl’s mouth, twitching and bucking until Yvie gets sick of it, withdrawing her hand from between Scarlet’s legs to seize her hips and slam them down, holding her still with unparalleled force.

Scarlet lets out a string of high-pitched whimpers like there’s no tomorrow, squeaking and moaning, eyes wide open and a single tear trickling down her face as she catches sight of Yvie, her whole face buried in Scarlet’s body. The combination of such intense sensations and the look on Yvie’s face - the slightly glassy eyes looking up at her unblinkingly as she flattens her tongue against Scarlet - causes her to clench and let out a drawn-out scratchy moan from the back of her throat, primal and desperate in a way she’d never been before. She can feel her body gradually tightening, that feeling deep in her stomach growing as she comes closer to orgasm, every nerve heightened as an electric heat pulses through her, rendering her oversensitive and desperate, clawing and babbling and reaching out blindly for something to grasp for support as Yvie’s tongue moves faster, presses harder, becomes a relentless force eager to explore every part of her.

She feels like a circuit, live and full of heat, the current in her pulsing veins lighting her whole body up, goosebumps rising in their wake and a shiver running through her as Yvie all but sets her alight. The muscles in her thighs are tense, her hips slightly cramping but she doesn’t care, even invites the pain, revelling as Yvie scrapes her teeth lightly against her, leading from her entrance to her clit, flicking her tongue against it in a motion that has Scarlet yelling, body convulsing at such intense stimulation. Yvie, as always, is a dream, knowing every part of Scarlet’s body inside out, knowing just the right amount of give and take, teasing and touching and the slight roughness that Scarlet loves, every little trick in the book to get her screaming and shuddering like there’s no tomorrow, overcome with pleasure.

And Yvie knows it, drawing her closer and closer to her climax before suddenly pulling away, causing Scarlet’s eyes to squeeze shut once again as a low groan she didn’t even know she could make is released from her lips in protestation. The absence of feeling is awful, terrible, and she lies there feeling open and exposed and dirty in all the right ways, her cunt spasming as she watches Yvie’s face, covered in her wetness, rise from between her legs with a toothy, cocky grin, brows slightly raised in a manner that taunts her and her desperation, that says “I know you and your body and have full control over it. You’re putty in my hands.”

The sight is too much, the absence of stimulation to her pussy even more, so close to her orgasm that Scarlet is at breaking point. As Yvie tries to suck a hickey into her inner thigh between the smallest bit of laughter at her needy whines, Scarlet digs her fingers back into the hair at her nape, now in the perfect position to pull her off and force eye contact between them. Still struggling to focus on her face but now determined to get what she wants, she yanks Yvie’s head back slightly, revelling in the way her cocky grin immediately disappears, face falling slack with her eyes wide and mouth ajar, caught out and, from the breathy sound she lets out, evidently aroused. Scarlet loves this, the subtle competition, the need deep within both of them to render the other completely useless, to break down every wall and every pretence and force one another to become their most primal and honest selves. And Yvie watches her with wide, waiting eyes, anticipating her next move with an alertness that makes Scarlet feel like the most important person on the planet, another shiver runs through her, pussy clenching around nothing as Yvie rolls her bottom lip between her teeth absent-mindedly. All Scarlet can think about is that fucking mouth.

“You better - fuck - put that fucking mouth of yours back to work before—” Yvie grins at her words, the picture of arrogance once again, nosing at her cunt and pressing her closed lips against it in fleeting movements. Scarlet can’t contain her reactions to such brief contact, gasping as her eyes fall shut on instinct, then trying to maintain control over her body and continue her demand. “Be–Before, oh fuck, before I fucking make you.” Yvie grins at the pathetic attempt at control, reaching up to place a messy kiss to the corner of her mouth too quickly for Scarlet to react to.

“I’d like to see you try sometime,” she teases, running her tongue across her teeth in a clearly drawn-out, unnecessary movement before immediately going to town, not even giving Scarlet a chance to process her words before she wraps her lips around Scarlet’s bud, the sudden onslaught of pleasure racing through her body so intense that she convulses, her bent legs giving out and hitting the bed. Unperturbed by the uselessness of Scarlet’s body, Yvie hooks a hand beneath one of her knees, pulling a limp leg over her shoulder for a better angle as her tongue darts into her wetness and swipes along her cunt once again. But Scarlet is still desperate, so close to orgasm she can almost taste it, and she doesn’t have time for teasing or games, kicking the heel of her wobbly leg against Yvie’s back.

“No. Do that other thing again,” she demands, trying to sound commanding and certain, but her voice comes out cracked and gravelly, barely above a whisper.

Yvie huffs out a breath of laughter and presses a kiss to her inner thigh, mumbling an endeared “Brat,” before repeating her actions, wrapping her lips around Scarlet’s clit and sucking, pulling her head back slightly to draw out the intense wave of pleasure that washes over Scarlet. She tries not to thrash or yell, instead letting out an embarrassing squeak of a moan, panting with her fists tightly gripping the sheets and tears rolling down her face.

Pleased, Yvie repeats the action, again and again and again until Scarlet is crying out, helpless to the noises that take over her body, sparks swimming through her veins and flashes disturbing her vision as though she can see her own pleasure, a bright, hot white and patches of darkness interspersed. She lets her orgasm take over her body, hips twitching and thrusting to meet Yvie’s mouth as her whole body turns to liquid and the electricity inside her turns to a raging heat that spreads like wildfire through her whole body. Her fingers grasp Yvie’s face, hair, head and shoulders blindly for some sense of stability, the only source of solidarity around, hoping her fingers leave bruises in the other girl’s skin to remind her how fucking wrecked she’s left her, her cunt ruined and her body nothing but a vessel for pleasure, for Yvie.

She’s still shuddering and twitching, the overstimulation of Yvie’s unrelenting tongue drawing out her orgasm as though she revels in it, and Scarlet is babbling endlessly, her brain and mouth no longer connected. Her lips, now bloody from how deep her teeth had sunk into them at the height of her pleasure, release sounds and words she does not know, can not control, her body on autopilot in a way her mind has no choice but to be submissive to, giving up its position as ruler to that feeling of unadulterated ecstasy.

“Fuck, Yvie, shit. Oh my god, oh, ah! Shit, I— I can’t— You’re so fucking good. I— ah— I think— fuck— I fucking love you.”

And it’s a good job she came when she did, because her comedown is instantaneous; an abrupt, sobering moment of absolute clarity as Yvie all but leaps away from her body, tumbling backwards so she sits leaning back and bracing herself on her hands, long legs stretched out in front of her, eyes wide and mouth open in an ‘O’ shape that could be almost comical were it not for the situation. Suddenly feeling extremely exposed, any sense of ecstasy or pleasure or thoughtlessness long gone from her body in half a second, Scarlet quickly curls in on herself, pulling her silky dress back down and over the knees she tucks under her chin, trying to hide as much of her body as she can as a pang of shame at being so exposed washes over her. She does not meet Yvie’s eyes. She tries to pretend the other woman isn’t there at all, eyes downcast and her whole body thrumming with the anxious energy of the first uphill climb of a rollercoaster.

Silence coils around them, some kind of invisible wire alive with tension that Scarlet finds herself caught up with as it’s pulled tighter and tighter and she can feel suffocation impending. Even in her worst moments, when she’s fucked up to the point of no return and they’re on the brink of destroying their relationship, Yvie still manages to save her. Breaking the silence carelessly like a knight in shining armour, she so eloquently exclaims “What the fuck?” in a barely audible mumble, breathy like she didn’t mean to say it aloud.

She looks at Scarlet with wide, questioning eyes, awaiting if not demanding a response, setting herself up for disappointment completely as a stunned and brainless Scarlet simply repeats “What the fuck?” Her voice cracks, high-pitched and almost frantic, ending the question with a pathetic squeak that makes her want to curl in on herself even more. Yvie is shaking her head, eyes half shut and jaw clenched like some sort of pissed off angel. It takes everything in her not to seize her by the collar and pull her back down, press their bodies together, make her gasp at the prolonged movements she makes until she comes apart completely. But she doesn’t, because Yvie breaks the silence again.

“What the fuck?” This time she speaks it, still evidently stunned and seemingly somewhat disappointed, if her tone and the way she squeezes her eyes shut as she speaks before looking at Scarlet with slightly narrowed eyes and her nose all scrunched up are anything to go by. Such a scrutinising glare on her should be terrifying, strike fear into the heart of any receiver, and it does, but something about it makes Scarlet able to feel her pulse throughout her entire body, her whole system momentarily shutting down as it skips a beat. Because Yvie really is gorgeous, even when she’s on the brink of anger, frustration, confusion, hatred. She could be Scarlet’s sworn enemy and she’d still have her melting with just the slightest twitch of her face. Scarlet is putty in her hands. She’s never hated it more.

Still ensnared in the tendrils of love, too sensible to fear the pull in her stomach and too naive to think emotional trappings are dangerous to her, Scarlet is unresponsive, relaxing to sink into the warm heat of feelings and letting her heart transport her to another world. She remains still, silent, presence slipping with such ease. She doesn’t notice the way Yvie’s lips curl - or perhaps she does, but for all the wrong reasons - doesn’t seem to find any threat in the way her throat bobs with a harsh swallow, the way she’s stopped blinking and her fists have balled and she remains even with Scarlet in both the intensity of their stares and of the emotions guiding them. It’s a fatal mistake.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Yvie doesn’t hold back this time, cheeks reddening and eyes damp with rage. Hands fly to her hair and rip at the roots, grappling for some sort of grasp and grounding. Body trembling, she roars the words. Her stance is wide and her face is so screwed up it’s a struggle to discern any feature from itself. Scarlet doesn’t love her any less, being both too sensible and too naive. Too sensible and too naive to rationally process Yvie’s scream.

“STOP YELLING AT ME!” Scarlet wishes she could possess the same level of power as Yvie in a single yell as her own pathetic and whiny voice rings out, tinny in her overwhelmed ears. Her body is shrinking in on herself because she’s been too sensible and too naive to realise that love isn’t enough alone, that it won’t save her from the flurry of emotions that can be so easily mistaken for it. She cowers at Yvie’s words, tears up at the sound of her own. She can hear a ringing in her right ear. She wonders how long it’s been there, how easy it’d been for her to ignore it. The room smells like burning, as though she can taste Yvie’s rage, and perhaps the warmth of love consuming her had simply been the second-hand smoke of Yvie’s fire all along. She catches movement in her peripherals, arms coming towards her slowly, the fluttering of the end of her sheets in the breeze from the open window, a bird flying past somewhere far off, fingers approaching, and suddenly everything around her is so alive, so buzzing and bustling and busy and intense that she wants to tear every nerve from her body and curl up in a corner somewhere, comfortably numb.

But she can’t, so she doesn’t allow Yvie to process her responding yell, doesn’t give her time for regret or apology or comfort, doesn’t welcome back the warmth she knows could consume her. She simply runs, almost tripping over the corner of her bed in her haste, to the nearest separate room, slams the door shut with a resounding and slightly satisfying clang and clicks the lock into place, sliding down the surface until she sits again with her knees by her chin and her open back pressed against the cold wood. She tries, as always around Yvie, to be as small as possible.

In a perfect world, Scarlet is left to herself, allowed to cry and scream and lash out freely, curse herself to high heavens for her stupidity knowing that her house is empty, that she has all the time and space in the world and doesn’t have anything to face behind the door. In a perfect world, Scarlet leaves her body, teleports somewhere grand and rich and dripping in jewels and renaissance paintings and beauty. Prague, Venice, perhaps Budapest - definitely somewhere European, enriched with a deep soulful history - and she pretends the night never happened, that she did not do or say anything out of the ordinary, and she never returns. In a perfect world, she goes back in time and never says what she did, never speaks at all, never fucks Yvie and never even meets her; she saves herself the time, the effort and the onslaught of unsolicited emotion and inevitable heartbreak.

Scarlet’s never quite been able to find perfection, however, no matter how hard she’s searched. So she stays unnaturally still and holds herself as tears, first individual but soon a hot stream that seems never-ending, slide down her face. She cries like a baby, lets it all out for the first time, every suppressed thought and feeling, all the words she’s wanted to say but known not to manifest themselves in the form of tears. She tries to sob silently, make sure she goes unheard but chokes, breathing growing more erratic until she’s gasping, pathetic and weak.

It has the potential to be fine. She’s crying like she wanted to, alone and undisturbed, and this could be her chance to get everything out and cleanse herself of Yvie entirely, to forget her. It’d all be fine, were it not for the hammering of the door she’s propped up against. What had started as semi-polite but clearly frustrated knocks had very rapidly developed to fists pounding the surface, and instead of just calling her name a few times the irritation had quickly inspired Yvie to get a whole lot more creative as she yells insults, compliments, curses and comforts in the same string, all in one breath like she can’t contain herself either, like her words are Scarlet’s tears and she knows she’s naive to think that but she can’t help it. She has romanticised everything about Yvie since she first caught a glance of her and old habits die way too hard.

“For fuck’s sake, Scarlet, LET ME IN!” Yvie yells, battering the door harder and quicker as she finishes as though trying to break it down.

“NO!” Scarlet yells back, high and whiny and vulnerable in a way she hates. She hates all of this, the yelling, the fear, her own irrefutable weakness; she wants to disappear or be left to her own shame but finds herself even more terrified at the idea of being given up on, of Yvie not being around, not being there for every part of her life. Old habits die hard but she knows she has to stop pushing people away, especially if she knows she loves them enough to admit it aloud. It’s monumental, and she can’t just skim over that. This could be something, a point of change or a final point of honesty that forces both of them to come to terms with everything and move on, grow up and stop hurting one another as much as she knows they have been. So as the banging on the door slows, Yvie clearly tiring or perhaps finally considering giving up, Scarlet decides to finally give honesty a try, shaking off every fear, insecurity and wretched hang-up.

“I don’t want you to hate me.” Her voice is meek and almost croaky with the rawness of everything. No amount of swallowing seems to be able to dislodge the lump in her throat and no amount of blinking can prevent the onslaught of another round of tears, now much less aggressive.

She wrings her hands together and fiddles with her fingers as she awaits a reply, praying to a god she doesn’t believe in that the silence that seems to swallow her isn’t an indication that she is finally as alone as she’d wished to be, that she’d fucked up something so good so hard again. She can’t afford to imagine a world where Yvie has walked out.

A humourless, soulless breath of a laugh indicates she won’t have to. She feels before she hears Yvie’s presence, breaths in and out like she’s tasting oxygen for the first time, a whole new sense of calm and solidarity overcoming her body as she hears the body the other side of the door separating them slowly sliding down the wood. She can see it in her head, the two of them, back to back in the same, slightly hunched position, curled into themselves for protection as they prepare themselves to release everything they’ve kept so tightly under internal lock and key.

In their fervour, Scarlet had almost forgotten how Yvie’s voice sounds when calm, the underlying huskiness and slow, almost monotonous tone that leaves her hanging on the woman’s every word. As Yvie lets out a deep, prolonged sigh and speaks, Scarlet feels herself fall all over again.

“I wish I could hate you.” Yvie lets out another long sigh followed by a quicker spout of breath resembling something akin to laughter. She seems overwhelmed, verging on hysterical, yet abnormally relaxed. “God-” Scarlet can hear the smile in her voice. “-it’d be so much easier.”

She tries not to react too hard to those words or let herself start overthinking and over-analysing every letter and syllable as she’s so used to doing with Yvie. The way her stomach flutters and eyes slowly shut at the sound of them, however, is not something she can control or ignore. She revels in the sound of Yvie scratching her head, amplified by the dead air between them. Her head begins to spin with the volume of different thoughts and interpretations that invade it, and she props it between her knees as she squeezes her eyes shut tighter. She speaks solely to clear her head, she tells herself. She feigns innocence and confusion, she tells herself. She isn’t as desperate to hear more as she’s pretending to be, she tells herself. Purposely pitching her voice an octave higher to sell the baffled fantasy, she asks “What do you mean?” tilting her head to the side as though Yvie can see her.

Yvie immediately releases a syllable that sounds distinctly like an “I–” before cutting herself off. Silence swarms them once again, palpable and somewhat tantalising. She can feel Yvie trying to gather her thoughts - it’s a connection nothing like they’ve had before, more intimate that their closest moments of friendship, more intimate than all the sex they’ve had in their lifetimes. The fire of hope such long anticipation has sparked burns so bold it’s dangerous, but it’s the best Scarlet thinks she’s ever felt. Because she’s naively reckless like that. There’s so much she’s thinking, so much she wants to say but, for once in her life, it doesn’t feel like part of her soul is being destroyed as she withholds it. “Did you know I’m scared of heights?”

“Huh?” There’s a hint of irritation in Scarlet’s tone she tries hard to hide, because this isn’t the conversation she needs right now, and Yvie is, as ever, such a fucking enigma. She hates it.

“You should probably know that. Rides, planes, buildings, trees - I hate them.”

Scarlet wrinkles her nose up. She doesn’t really know how else to react. “You come to my fucking penthouse apartment all the time. You sit on the roof with me to smoke like it’s nothing. I don’t believe you.” She’s aware she sounds like a petulant child but has no intention of trying to control it.

“God you’re– I–” She breathes, cutting herself off with a chuckle so fond Scarlet feels the flame in her spark throughout her whole body. It’s a sound incomparable to any other earthly experience she knows of, all-consuming in its beauty, in the effect it had on both her physical and spiritual being. “Scarlet, why do you think I’m telling you this?” She tries not to lose herself in the sound of her name on Yvie’s lips. Because this one’s easy.

“Because you’re trying to avoid the conversation and what just happened. You’re trying to hide whatever’s going on with you, as usual.” Her frustration grows and the flame flickers. Yvie’s responding laugh, though ethereal, is downright frustrating. She can feel a flurry of fucks sitting in the back of her throat at the offensive sound.

“No, baby.” She hates the way she melts at that, wants to scream at Yvie to shut the fuck up, not to call her things like that, but she knows she’ll never get those words out. And it’s probably for the best. “When I was a kid, my dad used to tell me ‘no one’s actually afraid of heights, they’re scared of falling.’”

“Uh-huh.” Scarlet is absolutely not following as she pointlessly nods.

“And he was right.”

She tries to let out another “Uh-huh,” in a different intonation, more drawn out, feigning intrigue and understanding. She wishes she could see Yvie’s face right now, the way she’s always seen right through Scarlet in moments like this and found her endearing enough to hold and laugh at. All the times Scarlet has been able to momentarily live her fantasy flash before her eyes. Yvie ignores her and continues.

“I’m fucking terrified of falling and I feel like I am every time I’m around you. So when I’m here with you, or out on the roof with a joint, I can blame it all on the height and I don’t have to think about the effect you have on me. Because you’re more terrifying than any plane ride.”

Scarlet can’t tell if she’s confused or offended. “I’m nothing to be scared of. I’m nothing, really.”

“No, no, that’s exactly it!” Yvie exclaims so quickly she almost cuts her off. “You’re everything, especially to me, and that’s terrifying.” She takes a breath to slow herself down, avoid the rapid and enthusiastic tone she’d suddenly adopted. “I am so scared of the way I feel for you, of the fact I feel anything for you at all.”

The fire of hope in Scarlet has caused her entire body to heat up. She’s almost sweating as she listens to Yvie’s tormented confession and hates the way the vulnerability seems to tear the woman up. So she speaks up before she gives Yvie the chance to ignite her fire or snuff it out entirely.

“I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you, y’know.” She tries to tune out the sound of Yvie inhaling at her words. “I was freshly eighteen, still straight as can be, and you smiled at me on your way back from class-” She takes a moment to let the memory wash over her, eyes closed and a smile immediately coming and going. “-And I’d never felt anything like the way your smile made me feel.” She swallows. “It took me 2 years, I think, to pluck up the courage to speak to you, and you were everything I dreamed you’d be and more. And I was so ashamed of the way I felt that I fucked every guy I could and tried to drown myself in a world of heterosexuality.” Tears come, rolling slowly down her face as she sniffles, so glad she’s too low down to see herself in a mirror. “It didn’t work, of course. And then I fucked you and it was so much and so brilliant that everything I’d spent years hiding and being ashamed of felt so natural, so normal and good and I wanted to drown myself in that instead, to get lost in you. Which I think I still am…” She trails off, trying to remember what her point had been, where she had wanted to go with it all. “The feelings I had– have– for you are so overwhelming they’ve been crushing me and I’ve let them, because being crushed seemed like a better option than potentially ruining what we have. Nothing scares me in this world more than losing you, and I hate it. But I love you and– I can’t help it. I can’t apologise. And I don’t need you to feel the same but I can’t let myself be destroyed by my love for you any longer. Neither of us deserves for me to hold that back, and I really wish I could open the door so I could see your face because it’s the one thing in the world I can rely on to make me feel better, sex be damned.”

As the words flow out of her, she keeps her eyes tightly shut and tries to lose herself all over again. It’s this commitment that causes her to almost not register the sound of movement behind her, the muffled sniffles from the other side of the door growing quieter, more distant. Gingerly clambering to her feet, Scarlet places a tentative hand on the doorknob and pulls, slow and cautious like she’s about to reveal her own fate to herself. And perhaps she is.

The room comes into view bit-by-bit: first the window she’s spent so much time staring out of, watching the bustle of the city from her vantage point and trying to decipher the stories of every passerby; next the bed that lies in the centre of the room, the sheets still crumpled into a heap and the outline of her own head still carved into the pillows like some divine reminder of her own sins; finally the armchair at the other end of the room, a red, fluffy thing she’d found at a flea market with Yvie and Pearl when she first moved in that had become her most prized possession, for the first time occupied.

Yvie sits like a queen awaiting her portrait, regal and shining in the golden light cast over half of her face. She doesn’t avoid eye contact, staring straight at Scarlet with soft eyes and a gentle, closed-mouth sliver of a smile. It’s enough. Scarlet is rooted to the spot as Yvie opens her mouth.

“I can’t say it. You know I can’t. Because I don’t know and– and I’m scared. I can’t let whatever I feel for you become me, it terrifies me.” She inhales deeply, audibly. “I know that I have strong feelings for you I just– don’t know what they are or what that means. And I can’t lie to you. Not anymore. I’m gonna need time - not apart!” She adds at the way Scarlet’s eyes widen. “I just need you to be patient. But I need you, because I’m so scared of losing you too. Fuck, I’m so scared of everything.” She laughs the laugh of royalty, of queens and gods and angels and all otherworldly beings. “So I’m sorry, I guess. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Scarlet simply shakes her head in response, blinking away tears. As Yvie nods her head backwards, beckoning her over, she does not hesitate to scramble to sit at her feet, cross-legged like a worshipper, cheek resting against slender legs like they’re the sole source of comfort and stability in her life. And perhaps they are. It definitely seems so as she feels an arm wrap around her shoulders, gentle and wary yet tight and strong enough for it to feel like an embrace with a purpose, the kind that reminds her how safe she is and how much Yvie would give for her, how much she does give for her every day. She doesn’t know if it’s the love she’s wanted but it’s unmistakeably love that wraps its tender coils around them like an unbreakable bond interlinking their very souls.

The hand of the arm over her shoulders hangs loose for a moment but quickly finds a new purpose as Scarlet feels finger running carefully through her auburn hair, slowly untangling every strand and smoothing out every curl. Something about the action feels poignant. In a voice meeker and softer than Scarlet has ever heard before, simply laced in content, Yvie murmurs a muffled “Can we just stay like this for a while?” as her hand stills at Scarlet’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Hiding a bashful smile in Yvie’s leg, Scarlet feels a warmth flow through her that makes her feel more alive than she ever has. There’s still something there, an uncertainty she can feel in the goosebumps on Yvie’s skin and the shiver she tries to suppress, and she knows this isn’t it, it’s merely the start of a much longer and more bumpy, vulnerable journey for the two of them. She knows exactly why Yvie wants to stay like this, knows the hidden meanings of all her words and intentions, but she’s okay. She has faith that no matter what, she will inevitably be okay. Every negative thought she’s ever had about hope is beginning to fade as she loses herself in the feeling of being in Yvie’s arms.

So she buries her head deeper into the woman, wrapping her arms around Yvie’s legs and holding them close to her chest, and with just a hint of a smile, the kind that conveys a solemn understanding and acceptance, she speaks louder and clearer than she has all night, in a perfectly solid voice. “Yeah. For as long as you need.”

The fire of hope becomes a hearth, lighting up the room and leaving them both perfectly, pleasantly warm.

#rpdr fanfiction #yvie oddly #scarlet envy #scyvie #smut #angst #fluff #lesbian au #pipedream #concrit welcome

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vilikinsally · 5 years ago

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Spike & Illyria

“I want to have sex.”

Spike glanced up from his crude drawing of Angel, the blunted red pencil pausing mid-scratch by the teeth. He cocked his scarred brow at the image before him: the tall, slender woman was bared naked to his eye with strands of blue hair hanging just above her breasts. Her entire body was covered in vivid blue veins and colouring, catching the vampire’s gaze efficiently as he studied her form in completion. He met her stare once again.

“Wha’?”

“I want to have sex,” she repeated. “Humans have such pitiful desires, I am curious to know why sex is desired above all of the other pathetic wishes.”

He closed his eyes for a pause, “Blue… put yer clothes on and go to bed.”

“No. I want to have sex,” she repeated once again, this time entering further into the office Angel had set up for Spike (“Go to your office, Spike.”), approaching the vampire behind the desk with a graceful stride. “I want to understand.”

“Then go an’ find Percy, whatcha ‘ere for?” He asked exasperatedly, growing uneasy the closer she came. Nothing seemed to slip past the hard skull part of her head and get into that brain of hers; she pushed forward until she came to the edge of his desk and there was where she stayed while she read him.

“You’re afraid of me. Is that why you will not consummate with me?”

Spike scoffed, his stomach clenching. “Afraid? Of you? What for? I’ve died before, it’ll be like another vacation… or not.”

Illyria guided herself around the desk, making her way closer to him. Spike stood hastily from his chair, backing away from the advancing woman and creating some distance. He didn’t know what to think so he turned to his gut but that was no good; poor guy had been rid of sex since getting his soul back and Illyria’s movements were hypnotic and strangely pleasing to watch. He shook his head violently, raising his hands to his head as if a terrible migraine had abruptly hit him. He continued to watch her as he was backed into the wall, gazing down (by not much) and letting his arms fall.

“Look,” he began, his eyes focused on the alien blue ones staring back, “I get it. You’re curious; but I’m not goin’ to be a soddin’ guinea pig for you, a’right? Fuck off.”

“I don’t understand that expression,” Illyria spoke monotonously, “and I don’t care to. I want to have sex.”

Spike pointed at the door. “Go shag Angel, then. Sure ‘e needs it more than I do…”

He trailed off as he watched the dark pastel blue fade into a nice brown shade, the intensely blue eyes darkening a shifting, and the blue veins and patches fading enough to be less noticeable. Not completely gone, but less noticeable. Less… alien.

“Is this better?” Her voice was smooth, gentle, like butter. “Am I more desirable?”

Spike sighed deeply, touching the side of her face lightly with the tips of his fingers. Illyria leaned into his touch, her gaze soft and hooded and failing to break away from his own. Spike didn’t need to breathe, but it felt as if any air that came into his lungs by habit had been sucked out of him. He felt a surge cut through him as if he had been electrocuted. He hadn’t had this kind of tender intimacy ever since—

No. No, we’re not going to think in that direction, right now, are we?

“I’m already naked,” she whispered, pushing hair over her shoulder to expose her chest to his gaze. “You’d be the only obstacle.”

He chuckled, grazing his fingers along the line of her jaw, across her lips, and then down the line of her nose before tapping the pointed tip. “You need to work on your bedroom talk.”

“Rough or gentle?” She asked, teasing the hem of his shirt up his muscled abdomen, feeling the bumps and crevices with her fingertips. “Sweet or harsh?”

“Neither,” Spike stated firmly, but whatever adamancy in his voice wasn’t quite there in his gut. “This—” he directed a finger between the two of them, “—isn’t gonna ‘appen. Find someone else to shag, ‘cause I’m not gettin’ staked for touchin’ Fred.”

Illyria stuck out her bottom lip in an enticing and surprisingly playful pout. Spike cursed under his breath, slouching against the wall almost in defeat. She was relentless, determined, absolutely mental for pushing him so far but eventually Spike felt his knees turn to soup, his blood to water and every part of him feel like it was going to collapse into a puddle on the floor. All because of a little pout and those soft brown eyes staring up at him with such a gentle plea, making his daft arse feel even more stupid for giving in to such a simple thing.

A silly little pout she was still wearing.

“You’re a wicked thing, ain’t ya?” He muttered low, closing off a little of the small space between them to his eyes remained focused on that little lip sticking out. He was tempted to take it between his own and nibble on it with his teeth. Tempted, but not stupid.

Illyria struggled not to smirk, causing her to purse her lips while the corners of her mouth quivered in the conflict not to show her triumphant amusement. “Take it.”

“Stop readin’ my soddin’ mind…” he muttered, his own lips parting in response to the feeling stirring in his trousers. His gaze met hers as his hold on the last thread of sanity seemed to be slipping from him.

“It’s not your mind I’m reading,” she whispered, stepping into him and pressing her slender figure against his. “Your body is a ruthless traitor.”

“You don’t bloody say?”

But the electricity conjuring between them had reached its peak and as he had pictured only moments ago, Spike gave into his desire and took Illyria’s mouth with his own, sucking her bottom lip. Tempted and bloody stupid, he thought, but still he wrapped his leather-clad arms around her slim figure and brought her tight against his hard body. Illyria snaked her arms around his shoulders, accepting his attention greedily and smoothing her hands beneath his shirt to feel his skin and the muscles twitching and moving in response to her touch. Spike, his mouth still on hers in a heated kiss, pushing her toward the desk that was scarcely illuminated by the lights of Los Angeles piercing through the window.

He wanted to stop (that’s a lie). Okay, so he felt like he should want to stop, but what good was it going to do? Her determined exterior was going to keep coming back to him—and if not him, she was going to circle every man in Wolfram & Hart trying to find someone willing to risk their careers or their lives for a bit of nookie. No, Spike was only going to maybe play with her for a bit and then stop when they reached the serious stuff. He didn’t want to turn to nothing again because Angel thought he had taken advantage of her (he bloody wasn’t; if anything, she seemed to be taking advantage of him). On a more impressed note, he was amazed at how he was still able to think while the tightness in his erection got ever more painful with each second he attempted to ignore it.

Illyria’s voice cut through his fogging train of thought, having broken their kiss most likely when she felt his enthusiasm dwindling.

“You’re thinking. Stop it.”

Spike was startled to find she had managed to rip his shirt from his body while he had been kept away in his reverie, staring down at the hands that touched his abdomen like a blind person reading brail. He shrugged his ever-permanent leather duster from his shoulders, chucking it onto the carpeted flooring to reveal more of his lean figure to her. The absolute delight that crossed her pretty features—Christ, she was practically beaming—was enough to egg him on to continue. Spike fondled at his belt buckle, unhooking the leather and tugging it from the loops of his trousers, allowing Illyria’s excited hands to undo the rest and finally even the playing field for the both of them. As soon as they were off, Spike kicked his pants to the side.

“So,” he started, smoothing his palms along her thighs. “Where do you want to do this?”

“You’ve conceded very quickly,” she observed, her tone picking up to an almost sing-song way. “Here. In the room. On the floor.”

“On the floor?” Spike parroted, arching a brow. He turned his down toward the floor, half-heartedly studying the dark carpet. “Not sure if that’s a good idea, luv…”

“Are you afraid of dirt?” Illyria said incredulously, “Women and dirt.”

“Oi!” He stuck a warning finger in front of her smug expression, “Watch it. I’ll leave you empty—God-demon-thing or not.”

“Then I will just break your legs and ride you to completion,” her lips curled at the corners but any kind of smile definitely did not extinguish the fire in her stare. “You are not leaving me in pain like this.”

Spike’s brow furrowed, his eyes meeting her own. There was a pause as his mind processed and finally came to the comprehension of what she meant, the realisation dawning on his chiseled face. Illyria glared at him.

“That was far too much time wasted on you trying to understand my meaning, you…”

She drifted off from her reprimanding sentence when Spike’s fingers dipped between her legs, stroking the silky folds and lightly teasing the swollen nub. She pursed her lips in response and attempts to keep her eyelids open, but inevitably failing and closing them. He continued to circle her clit with the pad of his thumb, his head cocking unconsciously to the side while he studied her suppressed reactions. There was a soft chomp from where her hands gripped his desk and his eyes snapped to see she had broken finger-sized pieces of his oak desk off; he had to admit to himself, it was getting to him. In a good way, of course.

“Still in pain, pet?” He whispered near her ear, probing a finger into the heated wetness.

Illyria still tried to conceal her moans and responses—what bloody for, Spike couldn’t pick it—but when he crooked his long, nimble finger and brushed against the spongy surface of the woman’s holy grail, he was met with the most glorious sight: she arched her back, almost curling it, thrusting her pelvis and his hand against his own hard erection. She released a lewd, strangled groan from deep in her throat followed by the softest but most delicate gasps. He smirked wickedly and with unmistakable amusement.

“Bloody ‘ell, woman…”

With no warning, Spike was shoved by Illyria—pushed so violently, in fact, that he landed back against the floor, his hand briefly detached from his present lover’s sopping warmth. The naked woman followed him down, her shins on either side of his hips, hovering inches above his weeping cock. She stroked her fingers along its length, touching at the pre-cum seeping from the tip with a gentle curiosity.

“Is it crying?” She inquired, tilting her head. Spike stared into her brown eyes to truly see if she was being serious and found something mischievous glinting in the corner. His lips cocked into a knowing grin.

“Yeah. It needs a hug.”

Illyria lowered her upper body, displaying her core’s strength, resting the weight on her forearms on the carpet bracketing his head. Her face hovered a mere inch or two away from Spike’s face, the tip of her nose brushing gently against his, coyly poking her tongue from her lips to taste his lips. Spike greeted her with his own tongue, his hands lifting to smooth along the curves of her thighs, reaching between her legs to tease the sweet spot once again.

“Then I shall put it out of its misery.”

#†; my writing #†; my blog i post whatever i like

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paladin-lynx · 6 years ago

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Human SQUIPtober 2019, Day 6: SQUIP^2

Human SQUIPtober 2019 Day 6: SQUIP^2

Ships Involved: RiverWay (Two River SQUIP [River] x Broadway SQUIP [Ly])

Setting: AU where River and Ly somehow both became human after being SQUIPs for their respective Jeremys, and they now live together. They don’t quite understand how they can both exist, but it isn’t worth questioning it.

Trigger/Content Warnings: None

Author’s Notes: (I know it’s technically Day 7 already, but I got busy, so oh well.) I finally have an excuse to write something for this pairing! I think I tend to write my usual human Squip more like River than Ly, but it’s fun to mess with writing the two of them together. I’ve fallen hard for this ship, and I hope you enjoy! I know I rambled a bit in the beginning, but I just got a little too into exploring River’s mindset versus Ly’s.

Most people said that SQUIPs in themselves defied logic, so River had long since given up trying to figure out how everything had come to this.

Perhaps he’d been granted a second chance. Perhaps it was a punishment for failing his host. Perhaps it was some protocol that he had never bothered to read when he had his code. He didn’t know and frankly, at this point, he didn’t really care to try and solve the mystery, as much as he loved puzzles.

Ly was a whole other story. He wasn’t keeping himself up at night or anything of the sort to figure everything out, but he was definitely more intent on trying to connect the dots. Then again, it did seem like Ly in general had more energy and enthusiasm than River did. As adorable as it could be, more often than not it drove River up a wall.

While they had both once been SQUIPs and had a decent amount in common, in a lot of ways they couldn’t be more different. River was older in appearance than Ly, and to go along with it River felt he was more mature. He spoke more formally, dressed a bit more nicely, tended to act more stoic. River may have been human longer, but he was still adjusting to it after all this time. He had a habit of treating everything like a calculated process like he had before, although being human meant things tended to make less sense.

Ly, on the other hand, acted as young as he looked. He had fully embraced their change in form. He went out and explored the world, talked to others, attended parties, and River was quite certain he’d hooked up with his fair share of people – although he always stopped Ly’s ramblings about how he’d spent the night before it got to those details.

River had contemplated time and time again how Ly had adapted so much more easily than him. Did it have something to do with the 3.0 patch? There were plenty of bugs in River’s original 1.0 programming that had been fixed over time and corrected with Ly. The learning computer aspect had improved immensely, to the point that River wondered if it had gotten too good. River had tried connecting everyone in the school for the sake of making sure Jeremy had friends and the girl of his dreams for as long as possible. Ly, on the other hand, had realized a higher calling and had been intent on using Jeremy to take over the entire goddamn world, with Christine as a bargaining chip.

But with Ly’s upgrades, he’d had a better sense as a SQUIP of the human spectrum of emotion. River had seen it as a nuisance, an obstacle. Ly saw it as a tool. Maybe that was the reason he’d more quickly become used to suddenly having a real-life human brain upon deactivation and then, for lack of a better term, “reactivation.”

It had been long enough that River had moved past his guilt and sadness over having failed his one mission as a SQUIP. Over the years, he’d debated seeking out his Jeremy, but he had a feeling the boy would just shut him out. Actually, River wasn’t even completely sure he’d be able to find his Jeremy.

Because when Ly had suddenly showed up, rambunctious as ever and insisting that they become “roomies,” River hadn’t understood where or how or why. Because here was another young man who had once been a pill-sized supercomputer that had served one Jeremy Heere to get one Christine Canigula – River could still hear the way Jeremy would always dreamily sing-song her name – and had ultimately failed when one Michael Mell had discovered the secret of Mountain Dew Red. River’s Jeremy and the rest of the squad may not even be in this whatever-they-were-in. Ly’s might not be, either. It could be an entirely fresh start.

But it did seem that no matter the timeline or dimension or universe or whatever it was that allowed them to both end up SQUIPs for Jeremy Heere, fate had it set that they would fail. Perhaps because that failure would allow Jeremy to, in fact, end up with Christine and with a whole new group of friends, as well as a strengthened tie to his best friend. River and Ly had both wondered that if a new patch came out, if another SQUIP would go down the same prewritten route with another Jeremy.

River knew that, as comfortable as Ly was in his new skin, he still had his moments. River had had the time to grieve his past. Ly was still recovering from it. Perhaps it was his enhanced A.I. that had caused him to become more attached to his version of Jeremy, or maybe it was because his Jeremy just in general sounded more pathetic and so Ly had had to look after him more closely. River had been attached, too, but it was just a job. He had felt some semblance of betrayal when he had been deactivated, of course. Ly, though, had been more furious to mask the intense hurt he’d experienced. River knew he still sulked about it and that he tended to act casual about his Jeremy to hide the fact that, sad as it was, he missed his host.

River supposed it couldn’t be helped, though. He had times, too, where he wished he’d done better. SQUIPs were meant to fulfil their hosts’ goals, after all. Even if Ly had formulated objectives of his own, he in the end had still wanted to help Jeremy.

But even with his dramatic episodes, Ly seemed to have a better handle on being human than River. He was more outgoing and eager to take advantage of their resurrection, whilst River was still somewhat of an introvert. He preferred staying in and reading a book, versus Ly who would rather hit the town. Maybe it helped that Ly, with his younger attitude and hipper style, was more trendy-cool and could make the most of a confusing situation. He was probably better at pretending he knew what he was doing, with his natural charisma, although River liked to think he was also well-off in that department.

Although as annoying as Ly could be, with his stupid smirks and constant flirting, River supposed he was glad he had some company and someone who could actually understand what he’d gone through.

After all this time, River was just fine pretty consistently. But he still had moments when everything suddenly became too much. The phantom pains of being drowned in Mountain Dew Red, the terror of suddenly becoming human in an unfamiliar place, the unfamiliar sensations of having a physical body and a functioning mind, and everything in between. At times like that, he would just shut down. He’d find a quiet place to calm himself and just get away from the world, pretending none of it existed. He had a feeling, had he still been a SQUIP, such actions would lead to him suggesting going to therapy, but ‘do as I say, not as I do’, as the saying went. Ly had learned to leave River alone when he got into moods like that.

Today was one of those days. Everything had suddenly felt like too much, and River found himself out on the balcony of their little apartment, sitting on one of their cheap outdoor chairs with his legs pulled up to his chest. He felt like a petulant child when he got like this, but it was just how he dealt with it. The sun was starting to go down, and he just gazed out at the red bleeding into blue, trying to keep his mind blank. That wasn’t usually an easy task, though, given how River had a tendency to overthink and overanalyze regardless, and now he had all of the painful memories and uncertainties bouncing around in there, as well. He let out a heavy breath through his nose, fingers curling into the fabric of his pants as he sunk more into himself.

“…Riv?”

He’d been so caught up in thinking about not thinking that he hadn’t heard the balcony door slide open and River nearly jumped, glancing behind him. There was Ly, dressed so casually in shorts and a T-shirt while River was here in his button-up and khakis. It was almost a comical picture. At least they both had good hair. River wasn’t completely sure what to say. Ly usually steered clear of him when he got into slumps like this, but there he was with an unusually soft look of concern painted on his face.

“Did you need something?” he asked quietly, hating how tired his voice sounded. That had to be one of the worst feelings of all, being tired.

“Er, no, I just…wanted to check in on you,” Ly admitted, his tone almost embarrassed, like he knew he shouldn’t be intruding. River wasn’t annoyed with him, like he tended to be. He was more confused than anything else. “Do you need anything, like…I don’t know, water? Tea?”

River managed a little amused smile. “Worrying about me?” He couldn’t say he was entirely surprised by that. Bothersome as he could be, Ly had a tendency to help wherever he could. He was still intent on improving the world, even as a measly human.

Ly huffed, rolling his eyes. “If something happens to you, then the police could pin it on me.”

That pulled a little laugh out of River before he sighed, turning back to the lazily setting sun. He rested his chin on his knees. He often ridiculed Ly for how he tended to ‘perch’ on things, and here he was, with his feet on his seat like a cretin. “…I’m fine, thank you. You can go back inside to your…video games or Tinder or whatever it is you’re doing.”

“Geez, I have some life, you know?” Ly jeered back, and there was a beat before he made his way over and sat down in the chair next to River’s. River debated telling him to go away, but he found he didn’t really have the energy to protest the company. Maybe he didn’t really mind it, anyway.

They sat in silence for a good few minutes before Ly scooted his chair closer to River’s, wincing as it groaned loudly against the concrete. River couldn’t help a tiny smile when he could practically sense Ly’s annoyance at the piece of furniture for ruining what he had probably hoped would be a moment. “Yes, Ly?” he prompted.

Ly hesitated still, drumming his fingers on his leg. “I know that you like to be alone when you…get like this, but you know it would help to…get it out of your system.”

River peeked over at his companion, raising an eyebrow. “And what made you decide to suddenly say something?”

Ly gave a small shrug, looking over at him. “I guess I got tired of watching you feel sorry for yourself.”

River bristled, his cheeks heating up. “I do not—”

“Okay, okay, then…whatever this is. I get it, you know? Maybe I got used to all of these changes more quickly than you because I was more used to everything beforehand, but it still wasn’t easy for me. Sometimes it still isn’t. But it’s…it’s been years for you, and yet you’re still here, falling into a mess at least once a month.”

“You’ve been keeping track?” River muttered.

Ly snorted. “Loosely. You still love sticking to a schedule.”

River chuckled weakly, going quiet again. He wasn’t really sure what to do. He didn’t feel like talking would help him, and even if he did attempt to talk, he had no idea what he’d say. Ly was definitely the more empathetic of the pair, but River was learning. He tended to leave Ly to himself when he had his own slumps, although every now and then he’d leave his dinner, a cup of tea, or some sweet piece of junk food outside his bedroom door in the hopes that he’d see it at some point. It wasn’t much, but he supposed Ly believed the thought counted, sentimentalist as he was. He knew River was trying and had his own little ways of showing he cared.

River sighed again, rubbing his eyes. “There’s nothing to speak about, Ly.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“Mind your language.”

River could almost feel Ly rolling his eyes again. “Old man,” he teased, reaching over to give River a nudge, making River curl up a little more. “Come on. You know you can tell me anything. If it’s serious, I won’t make fun of you. You…you know that, right?”

River let out a breath, finally letting go of his legs so he could sit properly. Just as River had a soft core under his hard outer shell, Ly had a heart of gold often hidden by his immature actions. And River knew that Ly would steal the moon for him if he asked. They were connected in a way that no one else could possibly replicate or even comprehend.

“Of course I know that, love,” River murmured. They always pulled the pet names on each other because they knew it would either make the other melt or make him sputter in protest. But River’s voice was quiet and cautiously fond. He felt like he had walls up, like he wasn’t allowed to be open. He knew he was no longer a machine but damn, sometimes it felt easier to act like he was. “But you also know it isn’t that simple.”

Ly offered him a little smile. “I could help you, you know. With all of the emotions stuff. I’m no therapist, but we already know that you aren’t gonna be able to actually go to therapy. They’d throw you into the mental hospital on day one.”

River scoffed. “It would take more than a day,” he protested, but he did seriously mull over the proposal. Loath as he was to admit it, there were a plethora of ways that Ly was smarter than him. It probably came with having been a more advanced and up-to-date SQUIP, even if River had more experience being a living, breathing human out in the real world.

River paused. “…How would you help me, then?”

Ly hummed in thought. “Well, you’d need to tell me when you’re starting to feel overwhelmed, or confused about what you’re experiencing. Whenever you get like this, you just run from everything until you swallow it all down and can move on—”

River grimaced. “Please don’t phrase it like that.”

Ly snickered. “And you say I’m inappropriate. Anyway, as I was saying, you could tell me when you’re feeling something and I could just…talk you through it. There’s a big difference between knowing what an emotion is by definition and actually experiencing it. Although I’m sure you know that by now.”

River nodded silently. That was a titular statement for their existence if ever there was one. They had all the knowledge in the world in their heads and yet oftentimes they could feel absolutely clueless about how to deal with the world around them. It was the timeless ‘intelligence versus wisdom’ argument.

But River wasn’t sure he would be able to just tell Ly when he was ‘feeling something,’ because Ly was right: he would hide when he was overwhelmed, mainly out of pride. He was supposed to be above everything and he didn’t want to be seen so small, even if it was completely justifiable. Even if he had someone right there who was going through the same thing and constantly extending a hand to try and assist.

A SQUIP’s job was never done, was it?

Change was intimidating, but River was never going to learn if he didn’t get over his fears and insecurities and actually try to embrace it. He would probably make an idiot of himself along the way, but he supposed that was just part of the human experience. Sometimes you had to act a little stupid in order to achieve something. The universe was cruel like that.

Sighing, River tugged down the sleeves of his shirt, trying to get out the wrinkles. “…I suppose I can…try to let you know. But I make no guarantees.”

“Hey, that’s more than I expected to get out of you, so I’ll take it.” Ly chuckled and once again scooted his chair closer, and River knew what he was trying to do. After a moment of hesitation, he shifted so he could lay his head on Ly’s shoulder and shut his eyes as he felt an arm come to rest around his own shoulders.

Ly spoke after a moment, his voice gentle: “What are you feeling right now?”

River cracked open his eyes, noticing the sun was all but gone below the horizon, turning the sky pink and dark purple. He had to think before answering. “…Tired,” he finally confessed. “But…better. More relaxed. Er…thank you, Ly. I do appreciate your help.”

Ly grinned. “Glad to be of service. One of these days, I’ve gotta take you into town with me. You might actually enjoy yourself for once.”

River rolled his eyes. “Are you going to try to get me to hook up with someone?”

“Of course not, boo,” Ly all but purred, and River felt his cheeks go up in flames when Ly pressed a kiss to the top of his hair. “I’ve gotta make sure I’m your first.”

“Oh my God, Ly, shut up. And don’t call me that.”

“You know you love it.”

River just huffed and turned his face more against Ly’s neck to hide his darkening blush.

But he knew that, as always, Ly was right.

#Human Squiptober 2019 #Be More Chill #BMC SQUIP #Two River SQUIP #Broadway SQUIP #RiverWay #this is so all over the place but i wrote it on and off for like six hours so it got messy lol #alas i still present it to you and hope you like it #i'm also sorry the text before the read more cutoff is so much i just couldn't find a better place to split it #without it being weird or misleading #writing #mine #BMC #SQUIPtober #lynx tales

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typicalfictosexualfangirl · 6 years ago

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dare-out (bnha one-shot; shinso x todoroki x mina x f!reader)

a/n: idk this idea just got into my head and yeah i really wanted to write it, i’m gonna use first person pronoun for the reader bcus that’s how i roll, and don’t question the way i write HAHAHA

summary: four people out to do some dares !!

Shoto, Hitoshi and I were lazing on the couch, just some casual netflix and chill while Mina was taking her own sweet time dolling up.

Well, in actual fact, it was only Hitoshi and I watching Lucifer that was playing on the television as his head laid on my lap.

Shoto was leaning against my shoulder, eyes glued to his phone, probably scrolling through Instagram or something. The three of us had bought him a smartphone his last birthday and yeah, we kinda convinced him to download social media so we could tag him in pictures and create a group chat where we share posts of memes and drop not-so-subtle hints of gifts that we wish someone would get for us.

Shoto adjusted himself on my right, shifting his butt further from me so that he was now lying on my lap too.

I sighed, realising that we have waited for Mina for almost 2 hours. “Babe, are you almost done yet?” I yelled from my place on the sofa, struggling not to move too much and ruining the comfortable positions of my two boyfriends.

“Yes!” she staggered down the stairs.

“Finally,” Hitoshi heaved, sitting up. The three of us turned to look at her, to find out the outfit that had wasted all of our times.

She had on a pale blue long-sleeved crop top that showed off her navel piercing that was of a breathtaking amethyst, a grey skater skirt that stopped mid-thigh, and furry ugg boots.

She spun one round for us to take in her entire outfit, “What do yall think?”

“I think,” I paused for impact, “that did not have to take a full one and a half hour,” I finished my sentence, smirking at her.

She pouted, “Bitch.”

“Now that everyone’s ready, can we go and get some food already?” Hitoshi complained.

“In due time,” I turned to him, pecking him on the lips, “but before that, let’s play a dare game.”

This time, Shoto spoke up, “That doesn’t sound good.”

“Aw, it’ll be fun!”

“Yeah, it does sound fun!” Mina exclaimed, wrapping her arms around me from behind the couch.

“So, we will split into two teams, the ladies versus the gentlemen, and the game will last until dinner time,” I explained the basic rules of the game, “the team that gives in on the most number of dares will have to do the other team a favour, deal?”

Knowing that they can never say ‘no’ to us, both Shoto and Hitoshi sighed in defeat.

“The boys can start,” I suggested, looking up at Mina who gave a nod in agreement.

“Okay, we’ll start with..” Hitoshi trailed of deep in thought, “[Y/N], wash your hands in the toilet bowl,” he smirked at me, the rest of our jaws dropping.

After processing the information, I caught myself and smirked back at him, “Easy.”

The four of us headed to the bathroom as I plunged my hands into the toilet bowl, Mina flushing it for me.

Once I lifted it from the water, I started spraying the water at Hitoshi.

“Oh no, you don’t, get away from me!” Hitoshi screamed as I chased him around the house.

Shoto helped me blocked his way, restraining him with a hug to prevent him from running any further as I happily wiped my hands clean on his shirt.

I thanked Shoto while Hitoshi muttered, upset, “I hate you.”

“I love you too,” Shoto smiled at him.

Mina kept her phone away and spoke up, “Okay, Sho, I dare you to order every single thing on the menu at McDonald’s.”

Shoto grinned at the sound of that, whipping out a credit card from nowhere that was very much Endeavour’s, “I can do that.”

“How has he not terminated that card already?” I questioned.

Shoto shrugged, “Probably because he’s willing to go to great extents to make up to us and patch the family back together.”

“Well, whatever. Let’s all go get some food, I’m starving,” Mina whined, shoving us all out the door.

“Says the one who made us wait for 2 whole hours,” Hitoshi stated, earning him a slap on his upper arm. “Ouch,” he rubbed the spot he was hit.

“Guys, stop the domestic abuse and pick up your pace,” I joked.

“You’re the one who abuses us the most,” both Hitoshi and Mina retorted.

I cowered into Shoto’s side. “Sho, they’re bullying me,” I pouted, causing Shoto to let out a chuckle and he patted my hair.

Buying out the entire menu was certainly a once-in-a-lifetime experience. We ended up having an eating competition, that was a draw between Mina and I, and quite a bit of leftover food that we did not touch.

We decided to pull pranks on people with it by immediately serving the food to them as soon as they told the counter their order. There was also one time where a little boy was tugging on his mother’s sleeve, pestering her about wanting to eat what we had, so Mina just went up and dropped a paper bag in front of them. It was all in good fun.

Shoto turned to Mina, our last paper bag in hand, “You see that group of guys there? Go sit beside them and chat them up while eating their fries.”

“Sure, but if I get beaten up yall gotta stand up for me okay?” she waved us off, stalking towards them.

We watched as Mina hopped onto the chair beside one of the guys, starting up a conversation and casually eating his fries. Every time she reached for the fries, the guy’s eyes would dart from her face, to her hand, to his fries, and back to her face again when she popped the fry into her mouth and slowly chewed on it. He tried to move the packet of fries away from her but she would somehow find her way back to it and eat them again. It was truly a hilarious sight to watch.

It was only when the group stood up, the rage burning in their eyes that we decided to interfere, afraid that a fight would break out. Shoto gave them the bag of free food as compensation for the fries that Mina ate.

“Well, that was intense,” Hitoshi commented as soon as we got out of the fast food restaurant.

Mina agreed, “It was scary and hot at the same time, I’d say I’d never do it again but we all know I will.”

We all burst out laughing.

“I wanna give a dare now!” I exclaimed, raising a hand. “Sho, Toshi,” I turned to both boys, “we can’t be selfish so it’s time for us to share your bodies with your fans.”

The looks of horror on their faces made me laugh out loud again. They sure did not like physical affection, unless it was from either one of us.

I placed my hands on their shoulders, “The two of you shall provide fanservice by giving free hugs at the central plaza.”

“Without your shirts on,” Mina added as soon as I finished.

I nodded at that suggestion. “You two can pass it up if you are prepared to do us ladies a favour!”

It was then that Hitoshi was motivated to not let the dare get to them, “Never.” He dragged Shoto by the hand and headed for the plaza, “Come on, Sho, we’re not gonna lose today. We’re gonna prove them wrong and show them that we can do this.”

At the plaza, Mina and I were seated at the fountain, holding up the signs we had made for the boys to give hugs to the members of the public. It was a heartwarming sight indeed, people of all ages going up and wrapping their arms around them, the genuine smiles on their faces contagious and attracting a whole lot of attention, brightening the day of those that were here to witness this exchange.

“They would be so much more popular if they were more willing to smile in public like that,” Mina whispered in my ear.

I nodded in agreement but I couldn’t imagine it. They have definitely become more expressive ever since the four of us started dating, but my selfish ass kinda not want anyone else to see the expressions they could make.

“Earth to [Y/N]!,” I heard Mina spoke as she wave a hand in front of my face, breaking my reverie.

I shook the thoughts out of my head, “Sorry, I was just thinking about that large group of schoolgirls before.”

This caused a smirk to form on Mina’s face. “Ooh, girl, you jealous or something?” she nudged me in the side.

“I guess,” I muttered, embarrassed.

“But you were the one who dare them to do this,” her voice was accusing, even though that was the absolute fact.

“I know,” I heaved a sigh.

“Aw, babe, you know you don’t have to be,” she wrapped an arm around me and I leaned my head on her shoulder, “you mean so much more to us than we can express, and even if those two idiots were to dump your stupid ass, just know that I’ll always be here,” she comforted me.

I gave her a smile as thanks and she leaned down to kiss me, a reassurance to tell me that she meant every single word she had just said.

Shoto had his hands on his hips and Hitoshi had his above his knees, both of them were panting hard.

“Whoa, you guys seem like you just came back from a workout or something,” Mina commented on their sweaty and disheveled appearances.

After catching his breath, Hitoshi spoke up, “Damn, that was harsh.”

“[Y/N], you alright?” Shoto asked me gently, coming to sit on my other side.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, other than being jealous of the group of girls back there, she’s good,” Mina explained the situation in my stead.

I shoved her away from me, “Traitor.”

She stuck her tongue out at me in response while Shoto tilted his head slightly in confusion, “But weren’t you the one who suggested we do this?”

“That’s what I said!” Mina huffed.

“That’s why I couldn’t say anything,” my voice was muffled by my hands covering my face.

Hitoshi sat on the now empty spot beside me. “You know there’s no reason for you to,” he pulled me into his side.

“Yeah, to us you’re irreplaceable,” Shoto added, wrapping his arms around my waist and leaning on me, “it was all thanks to you that we are who we are today.”

“That’s what I told her!”

I grinned. If anyone asked me what bliss was, I’d tell them it was this moment, but it was not only that, it was all the moments I shared with them, all the memories we made together. Four people of different personalities, backgrounds and lifestyles coming together, and sharing a house together. Sharing a life together.

“I’m so glad you guys are a part of my life.”

a/n: THIS IS NOT THE END, I WILL BE BACK WITH A CONTINUATION, MORE DARES, AND MORE OF THESE FOUR

#BNHA #SHINSO X TODOROKI X MINA X READER #bnha reader insert #bnha fanfiction #heartsuharu fanfiction

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gauntie-o-dimm · 6 years ago

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Gaunter & Olgierd | Innocence Lost

(I couldn’t find any GIFs of Gaunter and Olgierd together. So I picked this one - Olgierd is kind of in this picture too :,))

Prompt: “Thing is, I might not be the only one that loves you.” Word count: 3600+ Warnings: Smut, swearing, threesome

The air was cold as I knocked upon the door of the Von Everec Estate, causing me to shiver. Patiently I awaited it to open, music emerging from the other side. With creaking hinges it opened for me, a lady that I'd seen before standing in the door frame. 'Whaddaya want?' I clenched the basket with wine bottles tighter into my hands. 'Mister von Everec summoned me.' 'Let her in, Adela.' I swallowed at the sound of the voice of Olgierd von Everec. I had always found the man intimidating, yet he asked to see me every now and then. Claimed I was the best sommelier in all of the continent, even though I did inherit the vineyard from my father and did nothing of the wine-making myself. Hesitantly, I stepped inside, feeling the warmth of the room come towards me immediately. Some sort of party was going on, like often, and Olgierd gestured me to follow him upstairs, his bedroom, the only place in the Estate where we could find a moment of peace.

'I brought a well-aged bottle of Signon, one bottle of fairly young Kalcava Rouge which has a fruity after taste and a robust Gugulet.' Olgierd sat down at his desk, eyeing me with interest. 'All self-produced?' ' As usual.' I placed the basket in front of him, making him reach out and inspect the contents.

'You're a sweet girl, (Y/n).' Olgierd spoke, smiling sincerely as he took two cups from the drawer, pouring both of us a bit of Signon. I blushed a bit, bowing my head. 'Tell me, how's Geralt? Still a regular customer?' 'Naturally.' The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. My gaze involuntary wandered over the scar on the side of his head.

The redhead handed me one of the goblets, clinking his against it before taking a swig. His eyelids fluttered shut and he hummed lowly, letting the taste spread through his mouth. 'What do you think of it, sir?' He looked at me bemused. 'It's perfect. Just like you.' My cheeks were set aflame. 'You flatter me, sir.' I spoke softly, letting my gaze fall to the floor. A chuckle filled the room as the man stood up, placing the cup down. 'How much will it cost me?' I smiled a bit at his question. 'Ah, we could do thirty for each bottle.' I gazed down to take my coin pouch from my belt, opening it so I could receive the pay.

Moving to stand in front of me, I felt his hand upon my cheek, thumb grazing my jaw. I looked up with a bewildered expression, not sure what he was doing. 'I am so glad you could come over. That party downstairs had started to become a bore.' 'M-Mister von Everec, I-I think I should leave.' I already reached for my basket, but he took my wrist gently. 'You're a beautiful girl, (Y/n)...' 'Sir, I need to attend business. If there's anything else you need, you know where to find me.' My voice nearly broke as I tried to free my arm, yet it was to no avail. 'Shut up.' Olgierd murmured, leaning down to press his mouth against mine. There I stood for a few moments, completely frozen. I didn't move, eyes wide open as I was completely surrendered to his graces. After a second or ten, he pulled back, resting his forehead against mine. 'Hm, just as I imagined they would taste like. Forgive me for being so bold.'

I blinked a confusedly, stopping my attempts to run. Something inside me said that I in fact could not run anymore. 'Sir, I don't know what you see in me, but I am just a girl from a viney--...' 'It's Olgierd, I told you many times. And no, you're not some ordinary girl to me. Ever since I met you whilst you were helping alongside Geralt, fulfilling those wishes, I realized something.' I felt my breath hitch in my throat as his gaze flickered to my lips.

'I have fallen for you.' 'What about your wife?' I instantly asked without thinking twice. 'She has been long gone, you know that. I need to move on. Fuck, I am lonely.' I tore myself from mhis grip, trying to process what has happened. 'Is this a confession?' Olgierd gave me a grin, brow furrowing. 'Perhaps it is.' he muttered, straightening his back.

'Thing is, I might be not the only one that loves you.' I frowned, looking at Olgierd with a confused face. 'Someone else that was part of this pact has taken a rather... Particular interest in you as well.' From behind one of the pillars, I saw him emerge, hands folded in front of him, that one devilish smirk on his face. My stomach fluttered oddly as I looked at both men. 'Hello, (Y/n).' Gaunter mused, smiling.

'I don't know what you mean with that, Olgierd. What possible interest could this man have in me?' I asked, not greeting back the balding man in front of me. 'Oh, don't act so innocent, dear (Y/n).' Gaunter sighed, reaching out to stroke my cheek softly. 'Look at her.' Olgierd cooed, letting out a light laugh, 'She looks so adorable with those big doe eyes.'

I took a step back, shaking my head. 'Please, gentlemen, I don't know why you wanted me here and why you both are acting like I am some kind of goddess, which I am clearly not!' Gaunter chuckled darkly. 'Guess she is more innocent than we expected.' 'What do you mean for heavens sake?' I cried out, running my hands through my (h/c) hair frustrated. 'What we mean, sweet (Y/n)...' Olgierd said, striding around me, halting behind my back. I jumped as I felt a pair of hands on my hips, pulling me closer. I gasped as I bumped into Olgierd's chest, a hard bulge pressing against my butt. 'That we both... want... you. We're just going to share.'

He brushed a strand of hair from my neck, kissing the skin lightly. I shivered, my palms resting on his forearms. I watched as Gaunter took my chin in his large hand, tugging down my bottom lip with his thumb. 'For how long I have imagined slipping my cock into that warm little mouth of yours...' Before I could respond, he leaned in, kissing me for a second. There I stood, absolutely baffled as he pulled back. 'Such beauty...' Olgierd chuckled. 'Look at her face, isn't she lovely?' 'Tell me something, Olgierd von Everec. We are in luck that (Y/n) has two holes. Three, if you count the mouth.'

I felt a hand on my ass, pulling up my skirt. A yelp left me before Olgierd pressed his face into my hair. 'Hush, (Y/n). It is all good now.' 'We are going to give you a good time, trust us.' Gaunter muttered, studying my face with darkened eyes. I felt that Olgierd pushed aside my panties, prodding a long, ringed finger against my rosy folds. I couldn't suppress a moan and my knees immediately gave up underneath me from the sudden, unexpected friction. I wanted to fight, but I couldn't. 'We have her bucking already.' Olgierd laughed, crouching down to help me up.

'No, hold her that way.' Gaunter said, smirking as he unzipped his pants. From his loincloth, he took his manhood, that was standing up straight and proudly. 'I have a little treat for you, (Y/n). Want to have a taste?' I swallowed thickly, looking at his length, that was erect and glistening with pre-cum. My stomach tightened, in a good way. Somehow, the Man of Glass had noticed the change in my expression, for he chuckled. 'Oh, see that? You like that, don't you?' He stroked himself a few times, a lewd sound coming from the friction. I couldn't fight the instinct that I had to run anymore, I had to give in. With a sound, I took his shaft between my lips, sucking on it firmly. 'Oh, fuck. Yes, (Y/n)...'

Slowly, I started to bob my head up and down, taking in his full length until the base, gagging as the tip hit the back of my throat. Olgierd had slipped his finger into me as he sat crouched down next to my trembling being, pumping his finger up and down in an agonizingly slow way. I closed my eyes, humming lowly as Von Everec's ragged breath was heavy in my ears. 'Such a delicious little slut...' he sighed, his free hand running through my hair as Gaunter was grunting and panting, fucking my face by moving his hips. My eyes watered as I lacked oxygen, desperately attempting to inhale some air in between Gaunter's thrusts, yet he only seemed to speed up.

My hand pressed against his hip, wanting to push him away, yet his hand clawed into my hair, keeping me in place. Snot and tears ran down my face as the Man of Glass kept on rolling his pelvis into me, my jaws hurting as my nose became irritated by the patch of pubic hair that brushed my nose with every pound. For a moment I really thought I would pass out, but then Gaunter removed his length from the depths of my throat, making me gasp and nearly topple over for air. Strings of saliva still connected me to his member as his eyes gazed at me intensely, a smirk on his face. 'For someone as innocent as her, she sucks cock pretty well.' He grabbed the bottom of my dress, pulling it up a bit so I could wipe my face dry. Olgierd let out a chuckle as he removed his fingers from me and I winced at the feeling of it. His skin glistened with my arousal, and fuck, I hated it that I felt aroused. A pang of guilt went through me as I imagined the disappointment from my mother who was looking down at me right now from above. It was almost as if I could see her shaking her head. (Y/n), I didn't raise you like this. You're one of them whores at the Passiflora. You are not my daughter anymore.

I barely had the chance to regain my lost minutes of oxygen as Gaunter pulled me up to my feet, legs trembling with a mixture of fear and anticipation. 'Look at that, what a fucking mess... Imagine what she will look like after we're done with her.' The leader of the Wild Ones circled me, hand on my waist, roaming up to the neckline of my dress. I closed my eyes, not daring to meet his intense gaze. With a swift movement, he ripped off the fabric until my breasts were popping out. Shamefully hard were my nipples at that moment, making Olgierd smirk.

'Delicious, like ripe cherries begging to be eaten.' Olgierd took my left breast, starting to suck on it firmly. Now the right side was still exposed, Gaunter latched his mouth until the other, teeth grazing against the tout bud. I lightly moaned, blushing as they looked at me with amused glances, my hands both resting on the back of their heads. I bit my lip as their tongues continued to play with me, soft sounds leaving my throat as they seemed to enjoy it a lot. Suddenly I felt a hand graze against my thigh, I wasn't sure to which one of the men it belonged until I felt a few rings on the fingers, implying that it was in fact the leader of the Wild Ones that was slowly starting to remove my knickers, plunging a finger into me yet again.

I gasped, letting out a small moan as Gaunter let my nipple go with a pop, standing up straight to kiss me. I closed my eyes, enjoying how much warmth came from this man, demon, djinn, I didn't even know what he was, but hell, I was sure what he was doing to me. Feeling a push against my pelvis, I stepped back until I hit the side of the large bed that was located in the room. I sat down, still not wanting Gaunter to break the kiss. Olgierd pushed up my legs, removing my underwear expertly. 'She's soaked...' He dragged his fingers across my folds and I moaned into Gaunter's mouth, his tongue massaging mine for a few seconds before pulling back and facing what Olgierd had just revealed.

'Bloody hell.' the balding man hissed. 'She looks so tight, I am not sure she could fit the both of us up that cunt.' 'She is moist, though. Dripping... I can't wait to fuck that tight pussy.' Olgierd mumbled. Gaunter smirked. 'Let me go first, you really should feel how her blowjobs are.'

Being pushed onto the bed I was, Gaunter grabbing a hold of my thighs. He pulled them over his hips, the shaft of his throbbing cock aligning with my entrance. He didn't push in just yet, only stroked teasingly across the rosy labia which were burning with anticipation. I had sex before, but I was terrified of what he would feel like inside me. I might've imagined having sex with this man once or twice, for could you blame me for being turned on by his intimidating and authoritative nature, but I never dared to dream that it would really be happening one day. As I looked to the side, I saw Olgierd strip down, his manhood standing up straight as well. He moved to crawl onto the bed and straddled my face, inserting his cock into my mouth.

'So warm...' I let out a moan as Gaunter guided himself into me, walls immediately tightening around him. 'Is she still a virgin? Her cunt is so fucking tight...' he muttered, not giving me the chance to adjust to his size. He didn't waste any time and began pounding into me relentlessly and I moaned out loud, thankful that the music downstairs was still going on fine. Olgierd started to roll his hips as well, grunting as he fucked my face. Yet again my eyes began to water. His scrotum hit my chin uncomfortably and his weight felt heavy on me, veins throbbing against my tongue. 'Fuck, (Y/n), just like that.' he hissed, grabbing my hair tightly, almost restraining me from breathing properly. Tears ran down my face and I resisted the urge to gag as he slid in his length way deeper than I expected him to. And the feeling between my legs combined with this... I cursed myself for enjoying this.

Gaunter rested his hand on my hip, pulling me closer, causing Olgierd to nearly topple over me. The redhead let out a chuckle, re-positioning himself before continuing the pace that he had before. The back of my throat was sore already. Moans were unable to escape me, even though the feeling of the Man of Glass pounding me had me trembling and gasping for more. I placed a hand on Olgierd's abdomen, pushing gently to make him shift. For a moment, his gaze flickered worriedly over my face, scanning for any sign of pain or regret. He pulled himself out of my mouth and I gasped, arching my back the second he let his body slip from mine. I gasped for both oxygen and more of the feeling of Gaunter fastening his thrusts. I shuddered, freely letting out the whines that I could let out now.

'Make some room.' Olgierd ordered, causing Gaunter to let himself slip out of me. I winced at the removal and felt cold immediately. '(Y/n), stand up please.' Olgierd instructed and I did as he said, arising with weak knees. Gaunter laid down on the bed, jerking off his length a few times before beckoning me to come sit on his lap, facing him. I obeyed once again, straddling his legs as I slowly eased myself down onto him. Gaunter hissed as he slid in completely, the sound of my glistening skin pressing against his making me eager for more. Behind me, I felt Olgierd get onto the bed, a pair of strong hands taking a hold of my hips. 'This might hurt a bit.' he warned, pressing a kiss against the small of my back before carefully spreading my ass, letting a string of his saliva lube up the entrance. He leaned down a moment, letting his tongue glide against it. I let out a moan, biting on my lip. I was taken aback by how lewd it sounded.

Gaunter smiled, brushing a hair of (h/c) from my face. 'Fuck, if you just keep looking like that I might orgasm right away.' he whispered, his hand cupping my cheek. I shut my eyes tightly as I felt Olgierd pressing the tip of his penis into my ass, a searing pain shooting through my body. 'Calm down, (Y/n). It will ease.' Gaunter muttered, leaning up to kiss me softly. I was surprised by how gently he caressed me right now, whilst Olgierd filled me from behind inch by inch.

When I had adjusted completely to his full size, he leaned down. 'Are you alright, (Y/n)?' I nodded, smiling softly as Gaunter started moving his hips into me. The same feeling as before caused my stomach to clench together immediately, but an orgasm was not there just yet. I threw back my head, moaning loudly. The feeling of both men doing this to me filled me with a desire I had never felt before. Something in this moment told me that this would not be the only time this would happen. I was positive that another meeting would be arranged shortly after this session.

Gaunter sucked on one of my nipples, his hands holding my body in place as he fucked me with a rough pace, his sweaty skin on mine making a lewd sound. His eyes were darker than ever, my entire being trembling with anticipation at the sight of him. The feeling of Olgierd's balls slapping against my butt with each thrust made it even better; Even though it had been slightly painful at first, I had gotten used to it within the minute and I liked it more than was acceptable to admit.

I felt my walls tighten, the familiar feeling of an orgasm building up between my legs and in my belly. I simply forgot how to breathe, the entire sensation of the two men pounding into me at a immense rate making me light in the head. The sounds of their groans and grunts resonated through my skull, making me a bit drowsy. 'Fuck, shit, fuck.' Gaunter suddenly uttered, his hands tightening around my waist. 'I am going to cum so hard...'

As a warm load suddenly filled me, I sighed deeply, making sure that I was in fact not collapsing on top of him. After a few thrusts his high finished and he removed his now-limp length from me, only to replace it with his fingers. He rammed them into me at the same pace Olgierd was stimulating me from behind. Said man had tightened his fingers on my hips, moving them to my ass to squeeze it firmly. 'There we go...' he grunted, thrusting into me one more final time before releasing his load into my depths. Gaunter kept fingering me as my entire body felt warm and on the verge of a climax. As his finger grazed against my g-spot, he pushed me over the edge.

My eyes rolled back into my skull and I moaned loudly, squirting all over Gaunter's naked body and the bed. 'That is one hell of a mess.' Olgierd laughed aloud, letting himself slip out of me. Even though the removal was painful, my high was still going on. My body finally gave up and I let myself collapse, still needy for air and more stimulation. Olgierd brushed his hand against my clitoris for a few moments until both men were sure that my orgasm was finally over. Even though I hadn't caught up to the lost amount of oxygen yet, Gaunter pressed a kiss to my lips.

'Lovely.' he mumbled, gently pushing me off him before standing up. 'Luckily for you Olgierd, you have a few servants that can clean up that... Soaked mess of a blanket.' Olgierd laughed as he stood next to Gaunter, both of them turning to me to admire me, a panting, heavily sweaty mess.

'Next week we will be in need of some more Signon again, (Y/n).' Olgierd spoke, smiling a bit. Gaunter hummed, reaching for his underwear. 'Good to know, I might just drop by.' the near-bald man spoke. I brushed some hair from my face, looking at them. 'Next week you say? You sure didn't mean in two days?' I gave the redhead a smirk. A loud chuckle came from him as his gaze flickered over my naked form. 'You might just be right. I should return downstairs now. People are probably asking where the man of the house went.' I watched them both dress, not saying a word, nor did I move, for my body felt too weak and sore to get into action at the moment. Gaunter was the first man to finish putting on his clothes, walking over and leaning down to kiss me for a moment. 'See you next week... Or in two days.' No answer left my lips, I simply stared at him as he vanished in thin air. Olgierd finished as well, striding over to me, pressing his lips to my forehead. 'You are invited to come downstairs, though I doubt it you can walk right now.' I bit on my bottom lip, watching as he walked towards the door, a slight limp in his step. Leaving me behind, he went back to the party. I finally came to my senses now that I was alone and cooled down, realizing that I was not the pure farm girl that I once was. Even though it might mean earning the disapproval of my mother looking at me from above, it would be worth coming back here time and time again.

#the witcher #witcher x reader #smut #gaunter o'dimm #olgierd von everec #x reader #moans of Temeria

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